Chapter 22
Chief
One consequence of being the man everyone depends on is that people eventually mistake discipline for nature.
After enough years of being the calm one, the reliable one, the person everybody turns to when things go wrong, people stop seeing the effort behind it.
They assume self-control comes naturally.
They assume restraint is effortless. They assume that because you rarely raise your voice, rarely lose your temper, and rarely let emotions dictate your decisions, you have somehow stopped having those emotions altogether.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
For me, control has never been the absence of temptation. It’s always been the decision not to act on it, choosing the sensible path when a less sensible one would be infinitely more satisfying. Most of the time, I am very good at it. Lately, however, my resolve has started to crack.
I spot Sadie before she notices me. She’s sitting outside the clubhouse, a coffee mug wrapped in her hands, watching Owen and several other children race around the yard while Moose charges after them with all the elegance of a runaway freight train.
Every few seconds, another burst of laughter drifts across the open space between us, and each time, her attention automatically follows Owen.
The habit seems completely unconscious now.
No matter what else is happening around her, part of her attention is always fixed on her son.
I take a seat at a table near the entrance where I can watch them but keep my distance.
Watching them together should be an uncomplicated pleasure. Instead, a familiar ache settles somewhere beneath my ribs.
A few nights ago, I walked into the bar and saw something I’ve been trying very hard to forget ever since.
I hadn’t intended to interrupt. I certainly hadn’t intended to become a witness to Sadie fucking two of my best friends on the clubhouse pool table.
Unfortunately, once an image embeds itself in your head, wishing it away rarely works.
Since then, every attempt to focus on club business has eventually led me right back to the same place.
Back to Sadie and the soft slope of her hips, the way her eyes locked onto mine as she reached her pinnacle, yet she didn’t look away.
Her expression was excited, aroused, and inviting.
I know I could have joined them right then and there, and God, did I want to, but there’d be no going back.
Sadie isn’t the kind of woman to want the kind of sex I participate in; few are.
Sure, she’s clearly open-minded, but I can’t imagine my unique tastes doing anything but scare her away.
Even so, I can’t stop myself from fantasizing about it, about her, about what it would be like for her to totally surrender to me.
Trigger’s already halfway in love with her, whether he admits it or not.
Shadow isn’t far behind. Dash hides his feelings beneath jokes and charm, but I’ve known him too long to miss what is happening beneath the surface.
As for me, I’ve spent the last two weeks pretending that none of it affects me, convincing myself that if I focus on surveillance footage, security plans, and finding the bastard leaving notes at Sadie’s house, I can avoid acknowledging what has become painfully obvious.
My strategy to avoid falling under her spell like the others has been a complete failure.
I haven’t looked twice at another woman since Sadie entered my life.
More troubling still, I haven’t wanted to.
That realization irritates me because I know exactly where this road leads, and I have spent too many years building a reputation as the man who keeps his head when everyone else loses theirs to find myself in this position.
I’m the calm one. The reliable one. The leader.
Those labels have followed me for years, and none of them leave much room for becoming another idiot chasing after a woman. Especially this woman. Especially when three of my closest friends are already orbiting around her.
A shadow falls across the table, pulling me from my thoughts.
When I glance up, I immediately know something is wrong.
Sadie lowers herself into the chair opposite mine and wraps both hands around her coffee mug, but the easy warmth that she usually radiates is nowhere to be found.
The dark circles beneath her eyes seem more pronounced than usual, and there is a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Got a minute?”
The fact that she even has to ask makes me want to smile.
“For you, always.”
She blinks, giving me that same look of surprise she saves for when I’ve said something charming that catches her off guard.
I wasn’t trying to be charming, just honest. For a few moments, she says nothing, staring down into her coffee as though deciding where to begin.
The hesitation alone tells me this matters.
Sadie is not generally the sort of person who dances around a subject once she has decided to bring it up.
“What happened?”
She exhales slowly. “It’s Ethan.”
The name is enough to sharpen my attention. I lean back slightly, giving her room to talk.
“He keeps calling.”
My jaw tightens. “How often?”
“Almost every night.”
That isn’t good. The fact that she looks uncomfortable even discussing it makes it worse.
“Drunk?”
She nods. “Most of the time.”
I stay quiet. People usually tell you more when you let silence do some of the work.
“He complains about money constantly now,” she says after a moment. “At first I thought he was just venting, but lately he’s been asking if I’d consider stopping the alimony payments for a while.”
My eyebrows rise despite myself. “He asked you that?”
A humorless laugh escapes her. “It gets better. He actually asked if I could loan him money.”
For a second, I genuinely wonder whether she’s joking. The expression on her face tells me she isn’t. “What did you say?”
She finally looks up. “What do you think I said?” she asks dryly, with the faintest smile.
“Fair point.”
Unfortunately, her smile vanishes almost as quickly as it appears. Sadie rubs her forehead and stares out across the yard. “He just feels different lately.”
The words linger between us. Different can mean many things.
It can mean unstable. It can mean desperate.
It can mean somebody whose life is beginning to come apart at the seams—someone who could become dangerous under the right amount of pressure.
Neither of us says those words aloud. We don’t need to.
Before I can respond, Owen’s voice carries across the yard. “Is that your whore dress?”
Sadie and I fall into stunned silence. I slowly turn my head toward the swing set while Sadie closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath. Owen’s talking to one of the club bunnies who’s looking equal parts shocked and amused.
“Owen!” Sadie calls out, rushing over with a horrified expression on her face.
“Daddy says that Brielle’s red dress is her whore dress,” he explains, which does nothing to help things.
“Don’t use that word, it’s nasty,” she says, glancing from Owen to the club bunny.
Brandy, the club bunny, seems unfazed by the interaction as she wanders off, but Owen looks thoroughly confused by our reaction. As for me, I’m more concerned about what other things he’s heard his father say.
“Oh God,” Sadie groans as she sits back down beside me a few minutes later.
I watch Owen for a moment before looking back at her. The feeling that settles in my chest isn’t anger, at least not yet. It is something quieter than that and considerably more dangerous. Anger burns hot and fast, but concern lingers. Concern has a habit of making you act.
I push back my chair and stand.
“Chief,” Sadie says, her voice low and warning, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I just want to talk to him.”
The concern in her eyes deepens. “Don’t start a fight.”
That almost makes me laugh. “If I was planning to start a fight, I wouldn’t tell you where I was going.”
The smallest smile tugs at her mouth. It’s enough.
***
An hour later, I’m standing outside Ethan’s house. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it looks like a regular suburban family home with a wraparound porch.
Ethan answers on the third knock. The look on his face darkens, letting me know he’s aware exactly who I am. “Let me guess, you’re one of the Wild Riders my wife’s been shacking up with.” He spits our club name out with obvious distaste.
I ignore the insult, for now, and I don’t bother to correct him that Sadie isn’t his wife, not anymore, he made sure of that when he decided to sleep with his secretary. “We need to talk.”
For a second, I think he might slam the door in my face. Eventually, he steps aside and heads through to the living room. I follow. He drops into an armchair and folds his arms while I remain standing. The choice is deliberate. People are often more honest when they’re uncomfortable.
“What do you want?” Ethan asks sullenly, like a teenager who’s been called in to see the principal.
“Sadie says you’ve been calling her a lot.”
His jaw tightens. “She’s my wife.”
This time, I can’t resist correcting him. “Ex. She’s your ex-wife.”
The correction lands exactly where I intended it to. His expression hardens. “You bikers really don’t know when to stay out of other people’s business.”
“If somebody is threatening a woman under my protection, it becomes my business.”
His eyes narrow. “Oh, and there it is. I can’t believe Sadie is stupid enough to fall for this whole white knight routine.” The bitterness in his voice is impossible to miss. In my experience, bitterness often stems from jealousy. “I see through your act, even if Sadie is too naive to.”
Again, I force myself to remain focused, not to lose my cool, and not to get dragged down into debating Sadie’s relationship with us. I’m glad Trigger isn’t here, he’d have punched the guy’s teeth out by now. “I’m going to ask you a question,” I say calmly. “I want an honest answer.”
He laughs. “Good luck with that.”
“Did you leave the notes?”
For the first time since I arrived, he looks genuinely surprised. His reaction is fast enough to make me reconsider, not entirely, but enough to give me pause.
“What?”
“The notes Sadie has been receiving.”
His confusion appears genuine. “What notes?”
I study him carefully, watching every movement, every expression, every shift in posture. Years of leading the club have taught me how to read people, and right now I don’t think he’s lying.
“I didn’t leave any damn notes.”
The answer comes instantly, without hesitation or calculation. That doesn’t remove Ethan from the board entirely, but it does move him several places down the list.
“What I did do,” Ethan says, leaning forward, “Was tell her you people aren’t safe.” There it is. The real issue. He doesn’t want us anywhere near Sadie; he doesn’t want her, but that doesn’t mean he wants us to either. His gaze hardens. “You should stay away from my wife and son.”
For the first time since arriving, I smile. It’s a small smile. The sort that usually makes people nervous. “Ex-wife.” I remind him again.
The word lands like a slap. Ethan visibly flinches.
That seems to be what he’s struggling with most. He doesn’t care about Sadie or the possibility that somebody is stalking her.
The thing that bothers him is that Sadie moved on and it bothers him is that she doesn’t belong to him anymore, even if he doesn’t want her.
I’m guessing the things aren’t going so well with his new woman.
Especially going by what Owen overheard.
Maybe Brielle wised up to his behavior as she wasn’t trying to hold a marriage together for the sake of a kid.
I turn toward the door. “We’re done here.”
His laugh follows me. “You think she wants you? You think you’re good enough for her?”
I pause—the question stings, far more than I would ever admit aloud.
I think about the way Sadie smiles at Owen.
The way she argues with Trigger. The way she looks at Shadow when she thinks nobody is paying attention.
The way my entire life seems to have become divided into before her and after her.
I think that maybe he’s right, maybe I’m not good enough, but none of that changes my answer.
“I think,” I say quietly, “That the only thing that matters is what Sadie wants.”
I leave before he can see the expression on my face, the weakness, because I honestly don’t know how much longer I can pretend I don’t want her.