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“Nothing out there for me to make my own, Gunner.” With my past, we both know I’m right.
“You know as well as I do, that’s not true, brother. I know you, Savage, you don’t do anything without thinking it through. You had to care for Honor on some level besides the basic wanting and lusting for her. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucked her.” Gunner scowls at the mention of me with his sister.
* * *
After leaving Gunner’s, I hit the road, needing to be alone.
Too much shit is swirling around in my head. All of it about a woman I shouldn’t have even been thinking of in the first place. Let alone touched. Images of the night before filter through my mind.
All of what Gunner said to me has me confused as shit. I get him wanting his sister happy and asking if I care for her. It’s what I would have done if . . . fuck no, I’m not about to go down that rabbit hole. No fucking way. I swore a long time ago I wouldn’t let anyone close to me. Not with what happened in the past. Not after all that I lost and left behind.
I hit the throttle, and the thundering sound of my bike hits my ears as I speed down the road heading for nowhere in particular. I just need to clear my head. To stop thinking about Honor. To get the memories of last night out of my head. To erase everything that has to do with her. Everything to do with my past.
I don’t know what the fuck it is, but having been with her is bringing shit up in my head that I try never to fucking think about.
Fuck. Shit. Motherfucking hell.
Spotting a local bar, I decide to pull in and get a drink or maybe a fight. Something to get my mind clear of everything fucking with me.
The moment I step in the bar, the bartender nods in greeting while taking care of another customer. I make my way over to the bar and take up one of the empty stools, bracing my arms on the edge of the bartop.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, coming to stand in front of me.
“Jack straight.”
“You got it.” Tapping his knuckles on the bar, the bartender moves to fix my drink for me.
I nod in thanks when he sets it in front of me and hand him a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep it and let me know when I owe more. Just keep the drinks coming until then.
“Got ya,” the bartender remarks, taking the hundred and putting it in the register.
I watch as he cashes out the hundred, takes an amount for my drink out, and sets the rest aside, adding a note to it.
Sipping the Jack, I shove all other thoughts from my head. It seems to start working, at least for the time being. But then nothing ever works for long.
A group of guys come in, and one of them starts talking shit while the others laugh. At first, I don’t pay attention, but then the name Honor is mentioned, and I turn to them. I hear one of them talking about how he’s going to get ‘sweet Honor’ to give it up to him next weekend and I lose my shit.
Hopping off the stool, I take two steps to the group and yank the asshole who spoke around to face me.
“What the—”
He doesn’t get to finish before I have my fist pulled back and nail him directly in the nose. A moment later, I’m fighting the whole group of them. But having heard them talking about Honor, sure, it could have been a different one, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I take them all on like a rabid dog tearing up bone.
The bartender and a few others break the fight up as the police come in. Great, just what I need, for the cops to come in and lock me up.
* * *
“What in the hell were you thinking?” Rebel snaps, stalking toward my cell, waving the officer away, Rogue right behind her. The expression on her face is one of woman fury, but it’s the one on Rogue’s that gets me, considering he’s grinning. He doesn’t like to see his woman riled, but he’s also used to it. Doesn’t take much to make her, either.
“I wasn’t.” I grunt honestly, leaning against the bars while holding her gaze. I’d been waiting for hours on end for them to set bail or find out what was going on. I used my one call to call Rebel right after they booked me.
“Well, you’re a damn idiot. Do you know who you beat up?” she demands, planting her hands on her hips.
“Nope.” The word comes out with the P popping. I really didn’t give a fuck who he was still, I ask her anyway. “Who did I beat up?”
“The grandson of a senator.” With the way she states, I know she’s more than a little pissed with me.
“Great.” That isn’t what I want to hear or expect, but the fucker had it coming for what he and his friends were talking about. “So, you getting me out of here or what? I’m ready to get out of here. Or do I have to sleep here?”
