Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAINEY
I don’t want to be a fuckin’ babysitter forever.
His words play on repeat inside my head. Over and over. I don’t know what I thought was going on, but I wouldn’t have ever imagined he felt like I was a burden. Those words, him saying them to Bullet, and them laughing about it, make me physically ill.
I’ve never wanted to be a burden to anyone. The opposite, actually. I always felt guilty that Axton had to watch over and take care of me. He gave me the deposit for my bakery. He never said I had to pay him back, but I have been.
I’m almost finished.
The fact that other people think I’m a burden practically kills me. It’s not anything I’ve ever wanted. Wringing my hands together in my lap as Viking drives us home, I make my decision.
I’m tired of being a burden.
No more.
Not ever again.
I’m going to broker my own contract with this guy, whoever he is. I’m going to do what I know will help the Vicious Reapers without anyone else ever feeling they need to protect me again.
I am not going to be that person any longer. I’m no victim of circumstance. I’m not a damsel in distress who needs to be protected… or rather babysat. I’m over thirty years old. My life is pathetic for my age, but I’m still over thirty years old.
I’m taking control, and if it’s a mistake, at least I tried.
Viking doesn’t want anything to do with me, and he’s made it clear, even if I didn’t want to see it.
Even if I didn’t want to believe it. He’s not only shown me, but he’s told me more than once.
There was something about hearing him say that tonight—that he’s babysitting me—that was the end for me. I don’t need to hear anything else.
Once we’re back at my place, I open the car and start to make my way toward the front door when I hear tires screech.
My entire body freezes, and I turn my head.
My eyes shift in the direction of the noise, and that’s when I see that same black car from earlier barreling toward us before it stops.
The tires squeal some more, screeching to a complete stop, and then the doors fly open.
Two men step out of the car, and I begin to step backward, or at least my brain tells me to, but my body is still frozen.
My feet are stuck to the ground, as if they’re cemented there as the men approach.
And then my thoughts catch up, and I realize my feet are stuck there because those men in black suits are carrying guns, and those guns are drawn.
“Stop where the fuck you are,” Viking growls behind me to them.
Nobody stops. In fact, they chuckle. Though I don’t find anything about this humorous.
“Stand down, biker,” one of the men barks.
It’s two to one, and I’m pretty sure even though Viking could take them both in a fistfight, he won’t be able to take them in a gunfight.
I watched a man get shot right in front of me a few years ago, and I don’t think I could handle that again, so I hope he practices caution and doesn’t do anything crazy.
Then, before anyone else can say a word, the back door of the car opens, and I watch a man unfold.
It’s him.
It’s the man from the other day.
The one who approached me outside the bakery.
He’s handsome, something I thought the first time I saw him, and he’s still handsome, even as he approaches me.
His hair is short, combed and gelled, his suit neat and tidy, and his shoes are what I would consider dress shoes.
He looks like he’s getting ready to go to his fancy desk job at an investment bank or something.
“You’re here for me.”
My words come out as a statement because that’s exactly what it is. It’s not a question. I know he’s here for me. He continues to close the distance between us, unspeaking. He approaches me, tilting his chin slightly as he looks into my eyes.
My breath hitches when he reaches out, his thumb and index finger pinching my chin. I didn’t expect him to touch me, and I didn’t expect to like it if he did.
“I am,” he states. “I’m Paul.”
Viking curses behind me, but I ignore him. I can’t break eye contact with Paul. If I do, something might happen to Viking. And while I’m not happy about the babysitter comment he made to Bullet earlier, I don’t want anything to happen to him.
“Okay,” I breathe.
“Okay?” he asks.
“What the fuck?” Viking hisses behind me.
Paul’s gaze flicks behind me to him, then he jerks his chin up slightly before he shifts his gaze back down to meet mine. This feels very much like a do-or-die situation, and the last thing I want is for Viking, or anyone really, to die.
“You want me to go with you?” I ask. “Then okay.”
He arches a brow, no doubt surprised that I’m saying okay so easily, so freely. He probably came here expecting a fight, and he would have gotten it, too, if I had felt any differently. I feel his fingertips slide down the back of my hand before he hooks his index finger to my pinkie.
“Then come on.”
His words are barely above a whisper, only loud enough for me to hear. He doesn’t sound mean or scary. I don’t know if it’s fake or not, but I want everything to be real—his soft touch, his whispered words, everything.
“Nothing is going to happen to Viking, right?” I ask.
Paul looks behind me again, then frowns. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asks, his tone a bit harsher, sharper.
I almost laugh. Because it’s just that damn funny.
This man is anything but my boyfriend. Clearing my throat, I say something I probably shouldn’t.
It’s smart-assed and snarky. Not just that, it is going to tell him that I was eavesdropping and that it hurt my feelings, which sucks because I didn’t want him to know either.
“Nope,” I state, popping the p. “He’s my babysitter.”
Paul’s lips twitch as he slides his gaze back to meet mine. His dark eyes shouldn’t look so inviting, and his smile shouldn’t be so sexy, but they are. He tugs my pinkie, and I follow behind him.
I should ask him about my clothes and the fact that my house is right here with all my things inside, but I don’t.
I follow him to his car. I probably shouldn’t be doing this.
I should have forced my way to that meeting with Bullet.
But this is easier. He’s right here and so is his car…
and nobody is going to get hurt in the process this way.
I slip into the seat next to him, sliding over the smooth leather, and the other men walk backward and fold into the front seat of the car.
The engine is still running, their guns are still pointed at Viking, and then the one in the driver’s seat shifts the car into Reverse and zooms us away in complete silence.
Only when we’re a few miles down the road does Paul clear his throat. I turn to face him, my eyes finding his. I don’t know why, but I want to believe that this could be something. It’s nothing but stupid hope.
I’ve come to hate hope.
And yet, I’m still filled with it—stupidly. I don’t know if I’ll ever not have hope. But as each day passes, it begins to fade a bit more.
“I would like to talk about terms,” I state. I’m really trying hard to be not only strong but also confident.
Paul chuckles, his eyes searching mine. “I can’t believe you came with me so easily,” he states. “If you want to discuss terms, we’ll talk to Lorenzo. We’re going to his place right now.”
Okay then, I guess that’s that. Now is the time for me to demand my terms, or at least request them. If I want to continue running my bakery and even have a chance at a relationship with Axton and Millie, this is my time. We can have it all in writing.
If they say no, all I can do is hope for their protection and safety.
There it is again.
Hope.
VIKING
I watch as the black car drives away with Lainey inside. I’m not sure what the fuck to do. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life been this fucking lost. My entire body is frozen solid.
I froze.
I fucking froze.
I don’t think I’ve ever done that before in my entire life. I’ve never been one to shy away from danger of any kind; the opposite actually. I’m usually the first one to jump to whatever needs to be done to handle the situation.
But I’m frozen.
And Lainey is gone.
Once the car is gone to the point where I couldn’t follow it even if I tried, I take my phone out of my pocket and make a call to Bullet. It doesn’t take him long to answer; two rings, and I hear his voice grumble through the phone.
“Those fuckers just ambushed me. It was three to one, and they got Lainey.”
There is a moment of silence. Admitting that they took Lainey from right in front of me, when I was close enough to tug her back and throw her behind me, fucking kills me. And I refuse to tell him that she went willingly.
At least not yet.
I’m sure he’ll find out, but I don’t want to be the one to say it. I could go to my fucking grave without anyone knowing what happened.
I feel like a pussy.
“What the fuck do you mean they got Lainey?” he asks.
“Exactly what I said.”
Silence. Then he clears his throat. “Lorenzo’s crew, I can assume.”
“Lorenzo’s crew,” I grind out. “Two gunmen. I don’t like this, not in the fucking slightest.”
“No goddamn shit,” Bullet barks.
In the long and tense silence that follows, I wait for what to do next. I’m still standing outside like an asshole with no idea of what the fuck to do. I can’t go to Piggy. If I tell him I couldn’t protect his sister, he’s going to end me. I should have just fucked her at this point.
“Come to the clubhouse. I’m calling an emergency church.”
He ends the call without allowing me to respond. Not that I have much to say. I don’t. I fucked up. Lifting my hand to my chest, I ball my fingers up and rub the center of my chest as I wait for my heart to beat. It feels like it’s stalled.
Fuck.
Piggy is going to know exactly what the fuck happened. And then he’s going to try and fucking kill me over it.
Jesus goddamn Christ.
I don’t know what to do at this point. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t even go to church. I should stay far away because I don’t know if I’m going to walk out of that room alive or be wheeled out dead.
Maybe I can go nomad. I’m pretty sure running is going to be the only way my neck stays attached to my body. I should have just had sex with her the way I wanted. At least she’d be in bed, she wouldn’t be running around, and she sure as fuck would not have run off with that fucker in the suit.
Goddammit.