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Over and over, I stomp.
My rage. My broken heart. My regret. It all morphs into one giant ball of emotion.
As my eyesight tunnels into black hole that threatens to suck me into its void, I become aware of Slash. He wraps his arms around my upper body and tries to drag me away from the destroyed phone.
I shake free of him.
In slow motion, he parts his lips to speak.
I punch him straight in the mouth.
Silencing him.
If only I could silence the tempest in my head that easily.
As I clamber up the ladder leading from the underground bunker to the barn that the Shamrocks built over the top of it, my legs shake. Every atom in my body rejects Sander’s message. My brain pleads for the ability to go back in time so I can keep my mouth shut.
If I’d allowed Slash to teach her to ride...
If I hadn’t kissed her that day…
If I hadn’t warned her that she might realise how unworthy I am of her…
If, if, if…
If only my whole world wasn’t falling apart.
2
LILY
“Have you seen my phone?” I ask my best friend, Nadia, as we finish cleaning up after the potluck dinner Inadale put on as part of the town’s New Year’s Eve celebration. “I swear I left it on the counter.”
“Um, I think, I think… um,” Nadia stammers, her cheeks reddening as she glances over my shoulder then returns her focus to me. “Don’t get pissy, but Sander borrowed it ’cause his went flat.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “His lack of preparation somehow warrants an imposition on my behalf.”
“You know what he’s like.”
I leave Nadia’s glib response unanswered.
After giving the countertops a final wipe over, I dry my hands. My stepmother pops into the kitchen and offers us an appreciative smile once she’s completed a once-over of commercial-sized scullery we’ve spent the past hour tidying up. She gives me a thumb’s up, a moment before all colour drains from her face when she notices Joseph Kingsley, local MP and Western Australia’s current Minister for Police, striding in our direction.
Although I’m not a fan of the police—being the daughter of a biker and all—I don’t allow people like Joseph to intimidate me. His prejudice is unwarranted so he can stick any snotty attitude he wants to direct at me where the sun doesn’t shine. The Black Shamrocks MC isn’t like other motorcycle clubs. They don’t sell drugs or women, and they mainly toe the line between right and wrong as set down by the founding six members when they started the MC upon their return from the war in Vietnam.
It mightn’t be an orthodox lifestyle, but it’s one I adore.
Which is why I find Charlie’s reaction more amusing than concerning.
“We’ve tidied everything up. Put all the leftovers in containers in the fridge.” I continue on like the boss of the police isn’t bearing down on us with an impatient air about him. “I’ve tidied everything up. The dishwasher is finishing up the final load.”
“Good. Good.” Charlie sneaks around the corner and disappears into the shadows. Her whispered request is barely audible, “Tell me when he’s gone.”
“Who… Minister Kingsley?”
“Yes.”
Our conversation ends when the man in question strides into the kitchen. He ignores me, posing his question at Nadia. “Have you seen Charlotte? I must speak with her.”
