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For a moment, I felt a prick of guilt, but I stifled it back and kept my armor up.
“You’re right. I don’t know you, and I’m okay with that,” I said, giving my final blow.
He was silent for a beat, studying my face. “Then next time you get drunk, call someone else.”
With that, he stood up and showed himself out of my tiny apartment.
As soon as the door clicked behind him, I let out a pent-up growl and flopped onto the couch. His cologne lingered in the air and my whole body was still reeling from the effects of him. My skin was warm and as I replayed the argument, it morphed and I was imagining the look in his eyes if I had given in to him and let him have his way with me. I lay on the couch craving his touch, imagining his lips moving on my skin, and his fingers all over my body. I squirmed on the couch, letting my imagination take over, but then just as quickly, snapped myself out of it, cussing myself for getting so carried away. I jumped off the couch, threw the bag of groceries in the trash, and went to get dressed.
Chapter Three
I took a shower to get rid of any trace of Cooper’s smell on my skin, and then left to go back to Steelrods and get Cherry Bomb. It was dark outside and I got a weird déjà vu feeling as I stepped outside. I stood on the front steps, taking an extra moment to breathe in the fresh air. My head was still pounding but the pain was becoming duller. I knew I could go to the bar, get a couple more drinks and be feeling much better, but for some reason, the idea just seemed to be too much. I just wanted to get my bike, maybe go for a little ride to clear my head, and then go back home and climb back into bed.
Steelrods was only about a mile away from my ap
artment. I normally rode Cherry Bomb because it gave me an excuse to go for a ride, plus a lot of times, there were other bikers there and everyone would go off for a ride together at night. I thought about calling a cab to come get me but in the end, decided to walk. The side streets were quiet. The only thing I could hear was the clicking of my boot heels as I walked along. I desperately wished I had brought my headphones with me, because my mind was chattering away. No matter how much I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cooper and the whole weird conversation.
When I finally arrived at Steelrods, the only conclusion I had come to was that there were too many questions and not nearly enough answers.
The bar was open, but I didn’t linger. I went around to the side, where I knew Tank would have stashed my bike the night before. There was a light fixture on the side by the door that led to the kitchen. As I got nearer, I could tell something wasn’t right. I glanced behind me but the alley was empty. Cherry Bomb was parked by the back dumpster but it wasn’t until I got closer that I could see what was wrong.
“What the…” I bent down to investigate and saw the word “whore” had been carved into the leather of my seat.
I backed away from the bike and covered my mouth to stifle my sobbing. I pressed my eyes closed and leaned against the wall of the bar. I didn’t even have to wonder—I knew who had done it. Marx. The look in his eyes as he had glared back at me when he left last night was a warning, not a parting shot. I wiped my cheeks and took one last look at the damage before I turned the corner and went back inside to find Tank.
“Holy shit. I’m sorry Allie,” Tank said as we stood over the bike.
“It’s not your fault.” I placed a hand on his arm.
“I’d bet anything that Marx did this,” he said, looking my way.
I nodded. “I know. Are there any security cameras out here?” I turned and scanned the edge of the building but didn’t see anything.
Tank shook his head. “Not really. There’s one up there.” He pointed at the front corner of the building. “But I don’t think it’s facing this way. I’ll have Dean pull the footage just in case, though.”
“Thanks, Tank.” I ran my fingers along the cuts in the leather, the rough edges that spelled out the despicable word.
“It’s not true, you know.”
I nodded, gulping back the lump in my throat. “I know,” I replied, my voice barely over a whisper.
He came and set his huge arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go check with Dean and I’ll get you a drink.”
I let him take me inside the bar and he led me into the back office. He introduced me to Dean, the security officer that was on hand in case things got out of control. I had seen him breaking up fights before, but we had never officially been introduced. I sat next to him at his desk while he scanned through the footage from the camera that Tank had pointed out in the alleyway. It played out on one of the split screens on the monitor on rapid speed. I tried to keep up, but it was just making my head hurt even worse than before. As I sat and watched, it was all I could do to keep a fresh batch of tears at bay. I hadn’t been embarrassed to break down in front of Tank. He’d known me long enough to know that’s not how I normally am—but I didn’t want everyone else that wandered by to see me have a meltdown.
I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but for some reason it did, so I took deep breaths and held my shit together.
“There!” I jumped up and pointed wildly at the screen. Dean froze the video and I could clearly see Marx walking away from the building, in the direction of the alley. Unfortunately, the angle wasn’t the best and I couldn’t really see his face, but I knew the walk, the hair, what he had been wearing that night. It was definitely him.
“Let’s go forward and see if we can catch a better shot,” Dean said, starting to move the video forward in half speed.
I sat on the edge of my seat, fingers tapping the plastic chair at a rapid pace until Dean cast me a sidelong glance and I stopped, curling my nails into my palms to control the nervous habit.
The camera showed Marx entering the alley, but that was it. The bike was in somewhat of a blind spot and Marx had kept his face down the whole time, as if aware he was being watched, so there was never a clear shot.
I groaned and flopped back in the chair. “Fuck.”
“Tough break,” was all Dean said.
