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I hated keeping this crap from him.
He’d been like a brother to me for so long now that it didn’t even feel like he was my leader. He was just family, that’s all there was to it.
When my sister and her boyfriend were struggling to pay their rent, he offered up one of the apartments the club owned in town, just to help them get by. He did it without even a second thought because to him, if I cared about them, so did he.
He’d got me through jail time by visiting me whenever he could, sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month, but it kept me sane.
I hung my head. “Man, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“How about at the beginning?” he offered, walking toward me.
“It’s—”
“Not your story to tell. I get that shit,” he cut in, coming to a stop in front of me and folding his arms across his chest. “But what happens when that story has a tragic ending. One that we could have prevented together, then will you regret not telling it?”
I pounded my fist against the wall again. “She’s trying to keep you out of it. She’s scared that if you get involved that she’ll drag you down. It’s why she gave up Har. The fewer things that can be used against her… the better.”
He nodded. “I understand what it’s like to want to push people away, so they don’t get hurt, but you remember what happened don’t you?”
I cringed, the memories of seeing Chelsea broken and battered in her hospital bed, not knowing if she would wake up, or whether her brain had suffered too many injuries. We’d almost lost her, all because Optimus had spent too long trying to drive her away and instead found herself in the middle of a fucking war.
Optimus was right, Sugar couldn’t go at this alone. I knew she harbored guilt and fear that the club would somehow pay for mistakes she’d made, but what she needed to understand was that there wasn’t a day that went by where I wouldn’t take my brothers problems on my shoulders if it meant he would have less to carry.
What was the point of being a part of the club if you couldn’t rely on them to stand beside you in your time of need?
I sighed. “Let me go get her. Just enjoy the night with the boys here, and we can talk tomorrow.”
He nodded, falling into step with me as I head back down the hallway. “Where is she?”
I halted in the doorway to the main room where people were dancing and joking with each other. “Promise not to punch me in the face?”
“No,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.
“She’s at Eric Deanwell’s house.” I flinched back, expecting the rage to come from him but he didn’t move.
“Eric Deanwell?”
“The one and only.”
He shook his head. “Go, and fucking get her,” he said, his voice a mixture of shock and disappointment. “You’re right, we’ll deal with this shit tomorrow because right now, I need to get so drunk that I forget what you just told me, and don’t come with you and beat the fucking shit out of him.”
“Noted,” I commented, shooting him a quick salute and ducking through bodies as I headed for the door.
The ride was quick, and I was thankful for the fact that asshole Deanwell lived in town. All I wanted to do was get to my woman and figure out what the hell had happened.
Pulling up in the fancy suburb made my skin crawl. It wasn’t a wonder why Sugar was so desperate to escape this kind of place. I could already see people peeking out their curtains, I could imagine with their fingers on the ready to hit 911 as I strolled up the path.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I murmured as I eyed the two oversize front doors that were made out of heavy wood. They looked like they could keep out a fucking tank.
Overcompensating much?
I even laughed as spotted the door knobs—fucking gold, of course.
Probably goddamn real gold, most likely paid for by the club with the amount of business we’d handed him.
I shook my head as I slammed my fist against the door.
All I wanted was to get Sugar and get the hell out of this place.
I didn’t belong here, and neither did she.
