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Thinking he could still possibly be in danger from that asshole, I jump up and get dressed, pulling my boots on without wasting time with my socks. I shove them in my front pocket as I turn off the coffee pot. The man may not have much but the place burning down with what little he does have would be super crappy.
I didn’t see him pick up any keys before walking out because I was too busy checking him out, but I lock the door behind me anyway. I could easily pick the lock if that’s what he needed.
I descend the stairs as quickly as possible without falling, unconcerned with anything but this gut-deep need to see him and make sure he’s okay. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, wanting to protect someone on this level. I don’t even feel this when out on a job, knowing what we’re going to face when we raid a compound full of sex-trafficked women.
I stop short, but not fast enough, when I hear voices. It leaves me standing like a deer locked in headlights as Ugly turns from the bar to face me.
There’s no look of shock or surprise on Ugly’s face.
Drake looks a little pale and regretful, but it has nothing to do with him. He has nothing to lose. The man is no doubt wondering how I’m going to react, not because of what it could mean for him.
“I left my debit card the other night,” Ugly says. “When I called yesterday, still feeling like complete shit, Drake said I could swing by this morning and get it. He put it behind the bar for me.”
My jaw flexes, my teeth grinding with understanding.
The man has always had an issue with me not being as willing as him to let people know about my proclivities. This seems as easy a way to force my hand with it all.
It’s a setup. Him coming down first so he could open the door for Ugly to walk right in rather than me being down here when someone knocked, giving me the chance to hide.
Kudos to him though. It was well thought out and executed.
“Thanks again,” Ugly says, sliding the card in question into his wallet before turning back to face me. “See you at the clubhouse, man.”
My eyes are slow to pull from his retreating back to the bartender.
“Alex,” he says, making his way down to the end of the bar to get to me.
I don’t bother waiting, making my way quickly across the bar toward the front door.
And to think I was worried about him and the trouble his damn ex could cause.
Was this some sort of intervention? A way for him to make me admit things? Was he not listening when I told him I’m not confused, that how I feel about who I truly am is bone deep, not some vanity reason or concern that people would look at me differently?
“Alex,” he snaps, and I hate the tone he’s taking with me right now but I’m too pissed to face him. Anger simmers inside of me like an active volcano, and it’s not going to take much for me to explode.
I call upon many years of controlling my emotions when he catches up with me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“I forgot,” he says. “He called, and it wasn’t a big deal. Then you showed up.”
I freeze, wanting to believe him.
“You wanted to go upstairs, and it’s all I could think about. I was trying to get him out quickly. I would’ve texted a warning, but I left my phone up in the apartment. I—”
“Likely story,” I mutter, shrugging off his hand and walking out.
He must realize I’d never believe his lies because the man doesn’t follow me into the parking lot.
Chapter 28
Drake
The morning somehow drags and goes by too quickly all at the same time.
It seems like an eternity between Alex leaving the bar and the first customer showing up, but somehow the lunch rush is already over, and the afternoon lull has begun.
I wanted to follow him out, make him believe me, but the man had already made up his mind before Ugly even explained why he was here. I don’t know how he can think so poorly of me after the night we shared, but shit, maybe I’m the one getting lost in him and the feelings aren’t returned at all.
I’ve considered going to the clubhouse to speak with him. But if he lost his mind at the sight of one of the club members witnessing him come out of the back hallway after having to unlock the door for Ugly, then I can’t imagine it would go over well for me to confront him in front of all of them.
I know how it looks. I could tell by the look of betrayal of what he thought had happened.
