Chapter 15
Fifteen
The bedroom door is slightly open, and the bed is empty. My hand instinctively goes to his side, and the sudden realization that he’s gone aches in my heart. I can’t just leave everything behind and keep the promise I made. It was selfish, but Connor just died three months ago and I…
I turn my head toward the living room, let my gaze pass over the couch where I put Rebel to sleep yesterday. Empty. The blanket lies over the back of the couch and there’s not a sound inside. Maybe she went to the bathroom for a moment?
But a few minutes later, it’s still quiet. I push the comforter off of me and carefully get up.
“Rebel?”
I tiptoe into the living room, unsure why I’m being so quiet. I search the small apartment, but can’t find my daughter anywhere. Shit. Did I oversleep? I check the clock; it’s nine o’clock. Thank God I packed her bag yesterday. With a sigh, I walk back to the bedroom.
Suddenly, there’s a loud banging on the door. “Layne, you awake?” A deep male voice rings through the door, but it’s not Kyler’s. That’s one thing I know for sure. Then again, who is it?
“Yes?” I answer hesitantly. I stare at the black door as if it’ll suddenly become see through and I can see who’s behind it.
“Can I come in?”
Good question. Though surely the person wouldn’t ask if it was an intruder? The voice triggers a vague sense of recognition in the back of my mind. I simply cannot associate the sound with a face. Like you want to say something and it’s on the tip of your tongue, but it doesn’t come out.
“Yeah, sure,” I finally say and grab a knife from the block on the countertop.
The door creaks open and Ballistic’s dark-blond hair emerges.
“Hey, it’s me, Brooks.” He lifts one corner of his mouth into something that should resemble a smile. It makes him a little more boyish.
“Eh, hey,” I mutter and let go of the knife. My stomach twists into a knot as he opens the door further. “Kyler’s not here,” I blurt out.
“I know.” He steps inside and closes the door behind him. With a few paces, he’s in the kitchen and sits down at the small breakfast bar. With a frown, he points at the stool next to him. “Do you have coffee?”
My gaze moves from the stool to the kitchen counter and lingers on the Keurig. “No, but I can make it?”
“Could use some, I guess.” Ballistic shrugs quietly and puts his fist under his chin.
Silently, I get to work and say, “I need to change.”
In the bedroom, I put on my black jeans and a gray top. I quickly brush my hair and go back to the kitchen barefoot. The coffee maker has finished brewing, and I clear my throat. “Something in your coffee?”
The only response is a head shake. I pour some milk into my mug and then slide his mug over.
“I thought you might like to know what happened to that asshole yesterday.” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks at me over the rim of the mug.
With a tilt of my head, I say, “Kyler said you guys let him go. Though I expected more from you.”
His eyebrows go up. “From me?”
Silently, I nod and blow into my cup. “Your reputation precedes you, Ballistic.” I add a wink to give him the impression that I’m totally at ease.
His fingers stroke my trembling hands. Busted. “Laylay, how long have you known me?”
I close my eyes when I hear that nickname and am thrown back to easier times. At least, for me. The image of that blond teen, in his ragged jeans and threadbare shirt, flashes before my eyes.
“I haven’t seen you for a decade, Brooks,” I finally blurt out, croaking as I open my eyes again. “Who knows what the club has turned you into?”
His intense, icy blue eyes almost burn a hole into my forehead, and a deafening silence hangs between us. After a few minutes, he tilts his head and says, “What happened to you?”
I swallow. “What, nothing. Except what you already know. Why?”
A frown appears on his forehead. “When your father was—”
“Seriously? You’re going to talk about my father?”
He ignores my words. “You’ve never said that shit about the club or its members when your father was alive, Laylay.” With a sigh, he continues. “Your father…” He pauses.
“My father missed my mother so much that he drank himself to death and drove his motorcycle into a truck. At a hundred and fifty miles an hour.” I say it as if it doesn’t matter to me, but the thought alone shatters my heart all over again.
“Where does this hatred for the club come from, Layne?” He looks at me with a concerned look in those eyes of his.
I close mine to escape his. “No idea. Maybe it’s because you make your money illegally, at the expense of others.”
“The drugs and the guns?”
A nod is my response; I am well aware of their involvement.
When Dad was vice president, there were runs weekly to pick them up or resell them.
After Mom passed away, I noticed more and more how often he had to go away for the club.
At first I stayed at Kyler’s a lot, but later I was old enough to stay at home alone.
“We don’t do weapons anymore, Laynie and drugs a lot less than back then. But you haven’t heard that from me.” He makes a zipping motion with his thumb and forefinger in front of his lips.
My mouth opens a little, and for a moment I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m not saying everything we do is legit, but we have found other ways, and some of it is legal.
” He drains his mug. “That’s really all I can say, because, well, you know the rules.
” He gives me a knowing look. “It’s not like old times, and the club really doesn’t turn us into people we’re not.
” Slowly, he slides off his stool. “I may like to wipe assholes off this earth or torture them a bit…” He chuckles.
“But they didn’t turn me into a stone-cold killer.
” He walks toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee, Laylay.”
“Brooks, wait…” But the door’s already closing behind him. “What the fuck was that?” I whisper.
It takes me a while to let the conversation sink in.
I find it especially hard to answer the question of where this hatred for the club comes from.
My father’s death played a part, but truthfully, it wasn’t related to the club.
It was the love for Mom that destroyed him.
Looking back, all I recall from the club is the feeling of warmth amongst everyone. It’s like having a huge family.
With a stack of plates in my hands, I stare across the field. In the distance, Kyler comes walking toward the house. He wears a tight black T-shirt under his new cut with prospect on his chest.
“Layne, put those plates on the table outside.”
A shiver goes through me, and I startle out of my daydream when Abby calls out to me.
“And stop drooling at my son.” A wide grin appears on her face, and she winks as she catches my gaze.
As quickly as I can, I set the plates down, and go back inside to get the rest of the cutlery.
When I step outside a moment later with the knives and forks in my hand, I just about bump into Kyler.
“Hey, Lay.”
“Does your cut fit well?” I ask jokingly as I set the plates down.
“Sure looks good on me.” He says it with a half smile and a tug on the leather. His gaze wanders to the table. “Set an extra plate. Your dad just drove into the yard.”
My heart skips a beat. “Dad’s back? Really?”
“Would I ever lie to you, baby?”
I push the cutlery into his hands and start running.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory. I remember how he smiled at me that day I arrived at the bar. At sixteen, I knew my dad’s drinking was getting out of control.
Mom had died a year earlier and Abby had taken me in as if it was a given. A lump formed in my throat. I should visit her, see how she’s doing. Something is still stopping me, though.
There was nothing wrong with this place, and if I’m honest, I don’t hate the club. It’s my irrational fears that have driven me away.
All the musing about the past has caused me to lose my grip on time.
I look for my phone, which I find on the nightstand. It’s two thirty, and I decide to call Teagan.
“Hey, girl. I have to work another two hours, but then we can have coffee. If you’re up for it.”
“Hey, um. I have a bit of a funny story,” I begin cautiously.
Teagan doesn’t seem to hear me. “You weren’t home yesterday, but I haven’t had time to call you yet. Shall we go to the bakery?”
“Teag, you’d better not go to my house again. It’s not safe. And I can’t come to the bakery either.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“What are you talking about? What’s going on, Layne? Where are you?” Panic echoes in Teagan’s voice.
I swallow and grab a pen from the table. “I’m at Kyler’s. There were men trying to kidnap me and Ky and Pax happened to drive by at the moment. They saved me.” I click the pen on and off and on again.
“At Kyler’s?” She snorts. “Quite a coincidence that he came by just in time.”
And off again.
“They pointed guns at me and threatened me, Teagan. Yesterday, while Kyler and I were getting clothes, someone fired shots at us. They wanted me and if he hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I’d still be breathing.
” A deep sigh escapes me, but miraculously I keep the tears at bay. I click the pen back on.
“Weapons?”
“Yes. Two men, a black Escalade, and guns.” Then the sob comes, and the first tear falls down my cheek.
“Jesus, Layne. Kyler would never—”
“Kyler had nothing to do with it. I’m so glad he drove by when he did. If that hadn’t happened…” Another tear falls. “I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened then.” Slowly, I sit down on the couch and let go of the pen.
“I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
“Not today, Teagan. I can’t handle that today.” I shake my head and wipe the tears from my face.
“Okay, okay. Are you alright?”
“Miraculously I am.” I startle when the door opens and Kyler walks in.
“Hey, Lay.” His voice is soft, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t know how I’m going to react.
“Hey, Teag, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Take care of yourself. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Will do. Talk to you soon.” I end the call and put my phone on the coffee table. I look at Kyler and let my breath escape. “Where were you?”
“Business.” It’s a hum deep in his chest, a sign that I shouldn’t ask more because it’s club business.
Frankly, I’m starting to get less and less annoyed by that.
I know that’s how it works, and by now I understand that sometimes it’s really better not to know.
Ky comes over and sits next to me on the couch, taking my chin in his hand. “You okay?”
Damn, I don’t want to let him know that yesterday’s incident bothers me more than I said, but my eyes are probably red. “Fine.”
“Bullshit, but okay.” He narrows his gaze at me and sees straight through my lie. My cheeks get hot.
I decide to be honest. “Yeah, but I don’t feel like replaying last night.”
“You don’t?” A playful look appears in his eyes.
“Not everything. Not the talk about old choices, about the club,” I sigh. “When you ask how I’m doing, you mean—”
“How are you doing? And not just because you got into a gunfight last night, but in general. It’s not nothing. They killed your husband, you’re in danger, and Rebel’s caught in the middle.
He casually puts his arms on the back of the sofa, but his gaze doesn’t participate.
That is directed at me with an intense look.
The gray seems to swirl and causes me to shift uncomfortably across the leather.
Something tells me he wants to know if I’ve changed my mind, but I can’t answer him.
I haven’t decided what to do yet, even though I’ve told him I’m staying.
It’s not that simple to decide over Rebel’s life, especially so soon after everything that’s happened in the last few days.
And as if I’m speaking of the devil, she comes running into the apartment. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey honey, how was school?” I open my arms, and Rebel hugs me. As soon as she’s sitting next to me on the couch, we lapse into an easy conversation about school. Kyler’s making jokes.
And for now, all seems forgotten.