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I shove him again. “If I’m yours, why did you break my heart?”
Another shove. “If I’m yours, why did you throw everything we had away instead of talking it through like I begged you to?”
Shove.My puny hands are no match for him. He’s theTerminator, completely unflinching. But he backs up each time I shove, accepting my anger like he knows he’s earned it.
I have Gauge against the wall, my fists shaking at my sides. “Don’t you dare claim I’m yours! You had your chance, and you fucked us over, Gauge. You have no say in where I sleep or who I associate with. Stop throwing tantrums or starting fights because you’re upset that I’m moving on.”
My heart galloping in my chest, I spin on my heels and stomp back into Flay’s bunkroom, I slam the door so damn hard the hinges rattle. I don’t know my own strength!
A fire and brimstone voice rents through the air. “What the fuck is going on?! I swear if any of you assholes wake Jo, I will put you on bathroom cleanup for a month.”
“Lovers’ quarrel, Prez.” Triple inform Atlas from the other side of the door.
Atlas grunts. “Gauge, you need to leave Opal alone.”
“You’re not allowed to enter this room while she stays here. This is her sanctuary. You have no business meddling in it,” Reaper adds.
“She’s sleeping in his bed,” Gauge seethes.
“Some trust you got there. I’m sleeping in the basement, you jackass,” Flay hisses. “The bunk is hers.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Too fucking bad. Like Opal said, it’s out of your hands.”
“Gauge,” Atlas says firmly. “You made your choice. Leave her be.”
“Fuck this shit!” Someone stomps away, and then a door slams shut. I don’t need to see who’s leaving because I already know. My heart grows colder the further Gauge moves away.
CHAPTERFORTY
GAUGE
Escape is my number one priority. I need to get the fuck out of here before I murder all my brothers. I start my hog, the roar of her engine sounding as angry as me. On the road, I open her up, gunning her down the highway.
When a man is drowning in his sorrows, he might as well do it with an alcoholic beverage.
Mickey’s is pretty dead for a Monday night. Suits me fine. I’m in no mood for making small talk.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it works at Mickey’s. The old man is manning the bar tonight, which means if I want a drink, I’m going to have to chat. I plop my ass on the barstool, chastising myself for coming to our MC’s local water hole when I should have known better.
“Don’t you look like a kicked puppy,” Mickey taunts in a haggard voice, compliments of being a chain smoker. He leans against the polished bar top, eyeing me curiously. “What’s your poison tonight? The usual?”
“Tequila,” I correct. Whiskey is my drink of choice, but when I want to get shit-faced, tequila is my vice.
Mickey gives a low whistle between his teeth, pouring me a shot ofPatrón. He slides it across the bar to my waiting hand. “Let me guess. Lady troubles?”
“You could say that.” I toss back the shot. Mickey already has the next one lined up. I throw that one back, too.
It’s not long before I feel the old buzz of poor decisions in my head. Mickey places aMGDnext to me. The man knows his customers. I always chase tequila with a beer.
After a handful of shots, my mouth is loose. “She deserves better than scum like me.”
Mickey shrugs. “Then become a better man.”
I scoff. “It’s not so cut and dry, old man. She’s good and pure, and I’m the big bad wolf blowing apart her heart. Some fucker hurt her, and now I wonder if I filled in his vacancy.”
“Who hurt her?”
