Chapter 1 #2
“For fuck’s sake, what’s going on?” Hatchet asked insistently. He grabbed my arm gently, his calloused fingers brushing against my skin, and forced me to face him. “If you don’t tell me right now, I’m calling Merrick to get his ass back here.”
I gazed into Hatchet’s concerned eyes. “I caught Luca fucking another woman.”
His grip tightened before I pulled away, my face heating.
“I’m going to kill him,” Hatchet growled.
I shook my head. “I just want to be out of here before he gets back. He’s doing a heart transplant, so I have”—I paused, looking at my watch—“maybe five hours, if all goes well. Less if the patient dies on the table. Now, help me carry this chest. It was my grandmother’s.”
Hatchet grunted as he lifted one side of the chest, his biceps straining against the constraints of his black T-shirt. “What’s in here? Rocks?”
I bent to grab the other handle, muscles straining as we hoisted it off the floor. “Family photos. My dad’s knife collection. The bones of my dead lovers.”
Hatchet smirked. “Are we playing two truths and a lie?”
I shrugged. “I’ll never tell.”
We lugged the chest into the back of the truck and headed back into the house to carry out the river table.
“Anything else?” Hatchet asked, surveying the house.
I placed the stopper in the sink and turned on the water.
“Nope. I have the rest covered.” I opened the kitchen cupboard, filled with expensive, handmade crystal stemware.
I took a glass in each hand, remembering when he insisted we replace my mismatched stemware from college.
I pinched the fine stem and admired the swirling glasswork and pinpoint-small bubbles for a moment before whipping the glass on the edge of the marble countertop.
Glass exploded, skittering across the floor in every direction.
By the time the cupboard was bare, water spilled over the rim of the sink, creeping across the mahogany floors. A slow smile spread across my face at the destruction before me. This was just the beginning.
Hatchet slid onto a barstool at the counter. He rested his chin on his hand, smirking as he watched my path of ruin.
I moved to the pantry and dumped flour and sugar out of containers, letting the ingredients mix with the water across the floor.
I cackled as I spotted a container of tropical fruit punch powder.
I unscrewed the top and began to sprinkle the powder across the expensive white wool carpeting throughout the entire home.
With any luck, Luca would be delayed, and the carpet he’d custom-ordered would be a damp, red mess by the time he got home.
I returned to the pantry and grabbed a can of anchovies, gagging as I ripped open the tin top and carefully dropped a tiny fish into each floor vent.
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Hatchet mused, his thumb absently grazing the neatly trimmed blond beard along his jaw.
“He crossed a line,” I hissed. “He fucked her, so I’m fucking him.”
Hatchet reached for an apple and bit into it. “Have you decided where you’re moving?”
I shrugged. “I’ll stay at the clubhouse until Merrick gets back.”
Hatchet rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, no. Bad idea. There’s a fucking rager of a party planned for tonight. It’s going to be a bunch of drunk assholes excited that Zaddy Merrick is gone and they can be irresponsible for a few nights without him shutting shit down.”
I rolled my eyes. “I grew up a Maverick kid. I can handle a few drunk bikers.”
Hatchet tossed the apple core onto the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your brother would kill me for allowing it,” he murmured.
I marched up to him, shoving him off the stool with both hands. He stumbled sideways, his boot slipping on the slick, red-tinted floor.
“No one ‘allows’ me to do anything,” I snapped.
“Sure, doll,” he drawled.
Rage crept up my throat, and I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t call me that. I’m not one of your conquests.”
Hatchet held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Got it. Now, is there anything else you need to fuck up, or can we get out of here?”
I glanced around the room. “I wish I had glitter,” I muttered.
“What?” Hatchet asked, confused.
“I wish I had glitter,” I burst out. “I could do so much damage with glitter.”
Hatchet smirked, his eyes sparkling. “You’re crazier than your brother. It’s kind of hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stand down, man whore. I’m not trading one cheater for another.”
Hatchet threw his hands up. “Hey, I’ve never cheated.”
I stood, hands on my hips, to survey my handiwork. “Any other ideas?”
“You could pee in his mouthwash?”
I tilted my head in consideration. “Too subtle. I like him knowing with certainty that I’ve fucked him.” My phone pinged. I glanced at it and grimaced. “Besides, the patient died, so he’s on his way back. He wants to talk, and I’m not sticking around for that.”
Hatchet surveyed the damage and whistled. “Wish I could see his face when he realizes the wrath of Hurricane Merci.”
I grinned and waved my phone. “I’ll change the password to our security cameras, and we’ll have a watch party tonight.”
Hatchet raised a brow. “If you have cameras, how’d he get away with cheating?”
My stomach rolled. “He’s been disabling them a few times a week since March. I thought it was a problem with our Wi-Fi.”
“That fucker. Sure you don’t want to stay? I’ll kick his ass for you.”
I grinned. If I asked, every Maverick would be at my doorstep, ready to defend my honor. It was why I loved the rough-and-tumble men I called family. “I know. But we still work at the same hospital. A clean, mature breakup is better for everyone.”
Hatchet raised a brow as he glanced around the flooded room. He kicked a chunk of broken glass with his boot. “Right. Clean. Mature. That’s exactly how you’re handling this.”
I shrugged as we headed toward the door. I paused at the sink, where the water still streamed steadily over the edge. I worked the gaudy, heavy diamond engagement ring off my finger and set it on the counter before striding out the front door.
Hatchet’s bike roared away, and I stared in the rearview mirror at the place I’d called home since moving back to Texas a few months ago after graduation. My heart ached for what could have been, but I also felt a strange sense of relief.
Like the time I’d played Dorothy in my high school production of The Wizard of Oz, it felt like the performance was finally over. I’d grown up in the gritty world of the Lone Star Mavericks MC. I’d never truly fit the role of Luca’s future dutiful wife.
With the wind blowing in my hair through the open window, a sense of freedom I didn’t even know I’d craved surged through me.