Chapter 8 #2
“I need you to pick us up,” I say firmly, looking behind me to make sure we aren’t being followed.
“What?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “Wait, what’s that noise? Where are you?”
I hear his chair scrape back like he’s standing, and I imagine him running his hand through his hair.
“No time to explain. We need a car. I’ll text the address.”
“Hell, what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be upstairs.”
“We snuck out.” He inhales sharply before the line is cut off.
Twenty minutes later, a car slows by the kerb. I get in the front, leaning over to kiss Drifter, but realise it’s Gears.
I frown, sitting back and pulling the seatbelt on.
“He’s pissed,” Gears explains, staring straight ahead.
“He’ll get over it,” I mutter, ignoring the pang of guilt in my chest.
I rest my head back and stare out at the passing streetlights. My head is already pounding, and my mouth feels way too dry. And on top of all that, my anxiety is back ten-fold. Being reckless was not the fun night out I had planned.
DRIFTER
How could she be so fucking stupid? She knows the risk of being out of the compound without some kind of protection. We aren’t fifteen anymore. I wish she would start taking this shit seriously.
I slam my phone on the bar as Clay takes a seat beside me at the bar.
“I’ll sort this, Pres.”
“We all need to get our women in line. This shit cannot happen again.”
“Honestly, I’m shocked, I mean, I know this is something Rochelle has done in the past, but Belle is usually scared of her own shadow,” he mutters, shaking his head. His body is tense, and I can tell he’s worried.
My phone pings, and I take a look at the screen.
“Gears has them,” I inform him before placing my phone back on the bar.
Rock paces somewhere behind us with his phone pressed to his ear. “Red, are you fucking kidding me right now?” he yells. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? You’re meant to be a mother. Responsible. Grown-up.”
And in this moment, the last twenty-four hours hit me hard. This is Rochelle taking control, trying to make sense of whatever’s happening in her crazy little head. But I wish she wouldn’t jeopardise her own safety in the process, or that of Red and Bella.
My phone rings out, and I stare at Hell’s name bouncing across the screen. I don’t have the strength to argue right now, not over the phone.
Rock drops onto the stool beside us.
“Can you believe it, she fucking hung up?” he grumbles.
Clay sniggers. “Yeah, I can. She’s a law unto her own.”
He shakes his head. “This is a new fucking low. They know of the dangers.”
Five minutes later, the door swings open, and the women walk in. The room fills with the sound of their laughter, like what they did hasn’t earned me a hundred more grey hairs.
I exchange a wary look with the other two, and then Rock is up and out of his seat, followed swiftly by Clay.
I remain still, trying to contain my anger as I clench my jaw and drum my thumb against the bar. I keep my back to them, not wanting to even look at Hell right now.
I feel her approach, then she lowers onto the stool beside me, eyeing me cautiously.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I slowly turn to face her, and she has the decency to wipe the smile from her face.
“Don’t,” I snap, “because right now, I’m struggling to find the words, Hell.”
A flash of anger passes over her face before she pushes to her feet and storms off in the direction of the stairs. I watch her go, then I glance over my shoulder at where Rock and Red are toe-to-toe, screaming at one another. And then I see Clay’s shoulders sag in relief as he embraces Bella.
Gears takes the seat Hell vacated and slides the car keys across to me.
“Thanks, brother,” I mutter.
“Pres?”
I look up, noting how he glances behind us to check no one is listening. “It’s not good,” he mutters.
“What do you mean?”
“They came face-to-face with a Steel Delinquent.”
I stare for a silent moment, his words sinking in. I pick up my glass and knock the whiskey back, wincing as it burns. “Fuck.”
“One of them grabbed Red’s arse, and, well, we all know how that shit goes down with Red.”
I groan, knowing exactly how Red would have reacted to that.
My phone vibrates and I open an incoming text message.
Unknown: You shouldn’t leave them unattended . . . rookie mistake.
Attached to the message is a photo of our women in the booth, relaxed, not even aware they were being watched. I slam my phone back down on the bar, hearing the screen crack under my strength.
“They’re okay, Pres,” he adds, trying to sound reassuring. “Rochelle got them out of there pretty swiftly.”
“Well, good on her,” I say, my words laced with sarcasm. “They’re my responsibility. I should be keeping everyone safe, and she’s making that impossible by pulling shit like this.” I sigh. “I thought this bullshit ended when we were fucking teenagers.”
I run my hand over my face before grabbing my phone and heading towards my office. It looks like I’ll be spending the night there because there’s no way I can go up to Hell without losing my shit completely.
I lie on the couch in my office, looking at the picture they took of my ol’ lady. I’m thankful my phone still works despite the small crack evident in the corner of the screen. I pinch the screen to zoom in. She looks relaxed, the most she has in a long time, but I can’t help but be angry with her.
There’s a gentle knock on my office door, and I swing my legs around to sit up.
“Hell, not now. I need time to cool off,” I shout through the closed door.
There’s another gentle knock, and I throw my phone on the couch and storm to the door, swinging it open. “I said—”
My words die on my lips as I take in Siren.
“Not now, Siren,” I murmur. I go to close the door, but she presses her hand to it.
“Please Pres.” She sounds worried, so I relent, opening the door wider. “Thanks,” she whispers.
“What is it?” I ask, closing the door behind her.
“I need your help,” she mutters, avoiding my eyes.
“With?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
She swallows, slowly bringing her eyes to mine. “It’s my brother.”
Her words fill me with dread, and I immediately shake my head. “Not a fucking chance, sweetheart.”
“But—”
I put my hand up to stop her. “He went against this club. You can’t come asking for favours.”
She closes the gap between us, looking up at me desperately. “But the Steel Delinquents are threatening to torch our house if he doesn’t agree to working for them,” she blurts out. “Please.”
These fuckers are everywhere. I sigh. “Fine, I’ll sort your house with some protection.”
“Oh my god, thank you,” she says, throwing her arms around me.
I stiffen beneath her touch. She looks up at me, our eyes locking, and the world narrows until it’s just us. Her gaze drops to my mouth, lingers there, and she wets her lower lip, slow and deliberate. My mind doesn’t catch up, like we’re in slow motion.
She rises onto her toes and presses a tentative kiss to my lips. It’s barely there, like she’s waiting for me to stop her. I don’t, so she leans in, deepening it, her mouth moving against mine, her tongue brushing mine in a way that steals my breath for half a second too long.
Then it hits me. Sharp. Wrong.
I pull back abruptly, pushing her away before the moment can take anything else from me.
“What the fuck was that?” I growl, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
She smiles, pressing her fingers to her lips like she’s remembering the details. “I’m so sorry,” she says breathlessly, but she sounds anything but sorry.
“This shit,” I indicate between us, “it’s never going to happen.” My chest heaves with anger. Guilt.
She nods, her lips pressed together tightly as she heads for the door. She stops, her hand on the knob. “Pres?”
I glare at her, my jaw clenched in irritation.
She sighs and leaves without another word.
What a fucking twat. I begin to pace, my fists balled in anger. What the fuck have I done? I slam my fist through the drywall, and it smashes into pieces, dropping to the floor. How could I be so fucking stupid?