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Chapter 8
Fall. My favorite timeof year for numerous reasons, but mainly because the season reminded me of the person I loved most in the world. The guy I fell in love with at seventeen. My country boy. My Spook.
I would do anything for him, sell my soul to keep him safe, and tell a million lies if it prevented one more minute he didn’t have to suffer or live with the pain of his past.
For two years, fate pushed us apart. I understood the reasons behind the club’s decision to send him away. They didn’t keep it a secret. But I hated that my father didn’t let me say goodbye or tell him I would wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant I would be with him in the end.
Family comes first. Family is blood and the club.
But what about my heart? And the guy I loved?
Second to the club. He wasn’t blood. He didn’t wear a patch.
I had to let Country go.
God, that hurt. So. Fucking. Much.
Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days. All that time apart.
He never stopped loving me or fighting to keep us together. Loyal, faithful, and steadfast. I couldn’t ask for anything more in the guy I wanted to bond with for life.
When the day arrived that Country was scheduled to come home, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I cleaned the house. Baked cookies. Took three hours to get ready and pick out my outfit. My heart had been the lightest since I learned he was shot outside a police station.
All the heartache vanished when I heard the motorcycle stop at my house. Somehow, I knew it was Country.
His face lit up when he saw me, and the love that poured from him soothed my battered, broken soul. It was like we had never been apart. Every touch reignited the passion we held for one another, and it burned brighter than ever.
The night passed quickly. Country fell asleep as I slipped from the bed to use the restroom and then downstairs for a bottle of water. I wrapped a robe around my waist and belted it before sneaking downstairs. I hoped my father and Micah wouldn’t catch me like this with tousled hair and flushed cheeks, smelling like sex and my Spook.
I opened the fridge door and took out a cold bottled water, sipping on it as I leaned against the counter. I never suspected that I wasn’t alone.
“Heather Sturges, we meet at last.”
My body froze, staring into the shadows of the dark kitchen as a stranger approached me, stopping at the island a few feet away. I opened my mouth to scream when he shook his head, lifting his phone to show me a video.
No. It was live, not a recording.
Country slept on my bed, unaware of the man who stood beside him, pointing a gun at his head.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, terrified they would shoot him and I’d be forced to watch.
“No, but close enough.”
I didn’t laugh at his humor as bile rose in my throat. “Who are you?”
“A friend from Henry’s past.”
Henry?
The man wore a dark mask that concealed his features, but I could tell my confusion amused him.
“He goes by Spook now. Or should I say Country?”
