Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
My stomach flips, and my chest feels hollow—like my heart just sank straight through me.
What the hell is she talking about? How am I supposed to know if she made the right choice? It sure as hell didn’t feel right to me.
But hey, who the fuck am I, right?
Just the son of the Renegades MC president. The son of a criminal.
I press my palm to my forehead and stare blankly into my underwear drawer.
I’ve always said I respected her decision. I told myself it was her life, her path, her choice. But deep down?
“Why wasn’t I enough?” The words fall from my lips, too soft to be meant for her—but she hears them anyway.
The sheets rustle behind me, and then I feel her—hands sliding gently around my waist.
“That’s not true,” she murmurs. “You were enough.”
“Was I?” I turn to face her, jaw tight. “Because it never felt like it.” My voice drops, low and bitter. “I respected your decision, Layne, but only because I thought… I thought you didn’t love me enough to stay. If you had… you wouldn’t have left. And definitely not with him.”
I pull away from her touch, but there’s nowhere to go—I’m still half-naked, standing in my own damn bedroom with nothing but a towel clinging to my waist.
Frustrated, I yank open the drawer and grab the first pair of briefs I see. Then jeans. A T-shirt. Anything to put a layer between me and this conversation.
“Kyler—”
I don’t wait. I need space. Air. Something that doesn’t smell like her or sound like her voice.
Barefoot, I tiptoe into the living room and jam my feet into my shoes. A minute later, I’m storming down the stairs and into the bar.
“Whiskey. Rocks. Make it a double,” I mutter to West, the prospect on duty.
As he pours, he squints at me. “Everything okay, Boss?”
“I’m not your boss,” I snap, grabbing the glass and turning away. I don’t want to lie to anyone tonight, but I sure as hell can’t tell the truth either.
I make for the couch tucked in the far corner—quiet, dark, safe.
Away from questions. Away from her.
I drop down hard and pick up a beer coaster from the table, spinning it between my fingers like it might distract me from the mess in my chest. I take a long pull from the glass, let the whiskey burn down into the hollow parts.
Of course, it doesn’t take long. My brother drops down beside me without asking.
“One of those nights?” he mutters, nodding toward West, then at me.
“Not now,” I grumble.
“I didn’t even say anything yet.” He undoes the bun on his head and shakes out his blond hair like we’re not having a moment. Like this is normal.
He runs both hands through it and glances over. “This okay?”
I roll my eyes and take another drink. “Like I can stop you.”
“No.” Pax picks up his glass and grins. “What’d she do?”
“Why’d you assume this has anything to do with Layne?” I rest my wrist on my knee and stare into my glass.
Meanwhile, Pax swirls his whiskey and strokes his lower lip with his thumb. “Because women push us to drink?”
“Good point.” I sigh and sink back into the sofa. “I don’t want to talk about it, Paxton.”
“Paxton?” A slight pout forms on his lower lip. “If we’re going to say that, we’re getting serious. Kyler.” He flashes another wide grin, but his eyes remain emotionless. Sometimes I wonder if he still feels anything after what happened with Violet. “Anyway, The Kid called.”
I turn to my little brother, glad for the distraction. “About what?”
“He said he had some information for us. Wanting to discuss it privately, he asked us to visit.” He shrugs.
I put down the coaster. “So that’s why you came? If that’s the case, why don’t we leave now?”
“Good question.” He downs his glass and gets up. “When you’re done crying, I’m ready to go.”
I get up and shove him against his shoulder. “Shut up, man.”
Outside, I get on my Indian, start the engine, and kick up the stand.
We park two streets over from the club. It could be a trap, so we want to check things out first. We linger on the street corner for about fifteen minutes. To look inconspicuous, I light a cigarette and watch the crowd. My gaze wanders over the rooftops, but there’s nothing unusual to be seen.
“I seriously feel like it’s legitimate,” I tell Pax.
He takes another drag and looks up. “Hmm,” he grumbles. Then he exhales the smoke through his nose, throws the cigarette butt on the ground, and stomps it out. ”I think so too. You coming?”
I walk with him to the club entrance. The security guard eyes us when we reach him and raises an eyebrow when his eyes fall on the patches on our cuts. “Renegades?”
I nod. “We’re here for The Kid. He called him to talk.” I point at Pax, telling the guard in the most bored tone possible, looking back at four giggling girls, who are staring at Pax’s ass. I chuckle as the security guard mumbles into his microphone.
"Go right ahead. VIP area.” He steps aside so we can pass. Paxton walks in front of me as we make our way through the crowd in the club. We take the stairs and spot The Kid sitting at his usual table. Without saying a word, we slide into the seats across from him.
“Gentlemen,” he says, leafing through some papers. “Something to drink?”
“Two Cokes.” Pax folds his hands on the table.
Bill nods to the security guard next to him, who then speaks into his earpiece. “Just a moment.”
I lean back and let my eyes drift over the dance floor below. From up here, their lives look effortless—just music, movement, and laughter. But I know better. Each of them is carrying something. Debt. Addiction. A broken heart. An aching body.
Every single face hides a story.Even with your closest friends, there are things you’ll never know. And if you’re lucky, you find someone who lets you in.
Still, we’re all floating on our own little islands—alone, yet surrounded.
Life’s strange that way.
“Right,“ says Billy. I snap out of my reverie. “I called you.” He’s looking at Pax. “And you brought him.” Now he nods at me.
“Shaking him off was quite a task. He’s a first-degree clinger.” Paxton shrugs with a smile.
“I heard there’s something going on with Vanderberg?” It’s obvious he’s trying to gauge our reaction.
“Let’s just say we” — Pax waves his hand in the air — “have a minor disagreement.”
“Interesting. The rumor mill is churning.” The Kid leans forward on the table.
“That’s certainly interesting. I assume you didn’t call me to discuss gossip? You would’ve been better off calling him.” He points his thumb in my direction.
I scoff and shake my head, but don’t say a word. Before walking in here, I decided to trust my brother and let him lead this conversation. I can always step in if things go wrong. Without him, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.
“I know where he is.” He opens his hands just as the waitress arrives with our Cokes.
As soon as she walks away, I take a big sip. Paxton does the same after saying, “Why would we be interested in that?” His thumb ring clicks against the glass as he picks it up.
“One of the rumors, Paxton Young, is that Vanderberg dropped off a corpse at your doorstep. Another claims a Knights of Mayhem MC chapter got wiped out.” He pauses, letting the words sink in.
“I’ve got a feeling those two tales might be connected.
” The grin that spreads across his face is slow and unsettling—like the Cheshire cat, but darker.
Paxton lifts a shoulder. “If those rumors are true, then yeah, maybe. But they could just as easily be unrelated. Who took out that chapter? Whose body was delivered? Too many unanswered questions. For all we know, it’s just smoke.”
And somehow, Pax’s face doesn’t give a damn thing away. Mine, on the other hand—my fists are balled tight under the table.
Billy The Kid shrugs, unbothered. “Shame. I figured you’d be a little more eager for answers.”
“Maybe we are,” Pax says, running his thumb slowly across his bottom lip. “But maybe not for the reasons you think. Differences of opinion are easier to resolve with the right leverage.”
Billy tilts his head, considers him like a man deciding how to play his last card. “I’ve got my own reasons for bringing this to the table. But if that man gets wind of things and bolts? The info’s worthless. And frankly, I’m not willing to pay the price just to help you settle your shit.”
Pax’s voice doesn’t waver. “You’re saying you want him gone?”
Where the fuck does he get this level of calm?
I’m two seconds from snapping—every nerve in me buzzing to launch across the table and rip the truth out of Billy’s smug mouth. Give us the name, I want to yell. Give me the goddamn name so my best friend can put that monster in the ground where he belongs. So Jen can finally have peace.
And then it hits me.
That’s why Paxton can breathe through this. Why he can stay composed.Because she wasn’t his best friend’s wife.
She wasn’t his best friend’s everything.
“Let’s just say,” Billy murmurs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “I won’t be shedding any tears when that man stops breathing.
Same reason I pointed you toward the harbor.
Some people don’t deserve to keep walking this earth.
”He downs the drink in one smooth motion, then sets the glass down with a quiet clink.
“That said… I’m still not sure I can trust you with what comes next. ”
My brother doesn’t blink. “Let’s just say,” he echoes, “that if we have anything to say about it, he’s already living on borrowed time. This disagreement we’ve got?” He spreads his hands. “It’s not small.”
“How not small?” Billy’s voice cuts, his stare drilling into Pax like a blade.
With a dramatic sigh, Paxton leans back against the wall, pouting like he’s bored already.
“If I had to guess? I’d say about ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of the Atlantic Ocean big.
Want me to spell it out with flashcards, or are we good?
” He lifts his eyes just enough to meet Billy’s gaze, calm and deadly.
“Crystal,” Billy mutters. “But if he walks away from this, there’ll be consequences.” He lifts a finger and points it squarely at Pax.
That’s my cue. “With all due respect, man,” I say, finally speaking up, “you’re not hiring us. So don’t act like this is a goddamn contract negotiation.”
He huffs a sigh and motions to one of his guys. The man steps forward, pulls a folded paper from his pocket, and slides it across the table to Paxton.
“Don’t fuck this up.”
When we get back to the compound, I park my motorcycle, and say, “Send Dad a message that we need to go to chapel first thing tomorrow.” I nod toward his jacket pocket where the info sits. “We need to discuss this and come up with a plan.”
"Fine. Half past eight? Norah’s taking Brooks’ kid to school, right?"
I’m amazed that he would even contemplate that. Maybe those punches did help. “Yeah, half past eight’s fine. See ya tomorrow.”
Paxton turns the wheel and lifts his feet.
Then he drives down the path that leads to his cabin.
I climb the stairs to the landing and quietly step inside.
Next to the door, I take off my shoes and stare at my bare feet, thinking back to the argument I had with Layne earlier.
I shuffle past the couch where Rebel’s sleeping, her deep breathing now a familiar sound.
Her dark-blond hair’s spread across the pillow.
I kiss her on the forehead. “Sleep tight, Shorts.”
I slide open the bedroom door and catch sight of Layne. She’s curled up on her side in my bed, a book resting in her hands. When she looks up at me, her eyes meet mine over the top of the pages.
“Hey,” she says softly.
God, this is exactly the kind of moment I want waiting for me every night.
“Hey. I thought you were already asleep.” I glance at my watch—half past midnight.
She shrugs the shoulder that’s barely visible beneath the duvet. “Couldn’t sleep after that fight.” She sets the book down with a quiet sigh. “I think we need to talk.”