Hatchet pulled off his helmet, shaking loose his messy blond hair. His broad shoulders flexed under his leather cut.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his bright blue eyes appraising the haphazard stack of clothing still on hangers in my backseat.
I turned to walk back into the house. “I’m moving.”
“Where? Why?”
I paused in the doorway to the bedroom. “Good question. Do you have a spare key to Merrick’s house?”
He chuckled. “Nope. That place is Fort Knox now. Paranoid bastard put in a security system when Kenna moved in.”
Well, fuck. I needed a Plan B. I grabbed my pillow off the bed and ripped the pillowcase off it. It stank of cheap perfume. “Put this in my truck,” I said, shoving it to his chest.
I threw open a large suitcase and began to open dresser drawers, tossing in socks and underwear. I pushed past Hatchet into the den, grabbing a framed photo of me and my father wearing the leather cut and patch signifying he was a founding member of the Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club.
“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.”
