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As soon as I cross the Arizona border, I let out a heavy sigh. Home. As much as I want to drive the car straight toward Casa Grande—I don’t. I point it toward Phoenix. I can find a shithole on the bad side of town to rent and a job for cash at a bar easily enough.
Once I’m in town, I find a motel for the night and pull in, parking in the back. I know I can’t park in front. Even though I’m pretty sure he isn’t out yet, I don’t want to take any chances.
I carry my bag into the room, lock the door, slide the chain across it, and then shove the back of a chair beneath the knob. Only when I feel as safe as possible do I take a shower. It’s a quick one, and then I dress for bed and crawl between the sheets.
Lying back on the pillow, I look up at the ceiling and let out a sigh. The room is clean, old but clean, and I’mhome.
A sense of calmness washes over me.
I didn’t think that just being in Arizona would make me feel this way, but it does. This is where I belong. I should have never left. Guilt creeps up my throat, and I question myself all over again. Maybe I should just call Agony and tell him everything.
I roll over to my side, bring my knees up, and stare at the door. I am a horrible human. I’m keeping his baby from him, selfishly. Just because I don’t want to tell him the truth. But my reasons for not wanting to tell him the truth aren’t selfish at all. I don’t want him to kill Douglas and go to jail. I don’t want him to be hurt.
The selfish part of me keeping everything to myself is that I don’t want anyone else to feel sorry for me. To pity me in any way. I don’t want a lot of things, but what I do want is Agony. I want to feel his arms around me, his lips on me, and him moving inside of me.
I want it all.
AGONY
Ending the call with Reese was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wanted to stay on the phone with her. I wanted to know where she was and help her. But at the same time, I can’t keep doing this shit with her.
It’s a never-ending cycle, a circle that is on a continuous loop.
It’s clear that she doesn’t trust me.
Doesn’t want me.
Doesn’t give a fucking shit about me.
So, I’m not going to bring her ass back here just to have her run again. Fuck that all the way. If I bring her ass here, it’ll be to stay and be mine.
It’s been a couple weeks since I hung up on her, and I haven’t heard back. Not a fucking word. As pissed off as I am about that, I’m also worried. She wanted my help. I denied her that, and now it’s radio fucking silence.
Every fucking day, I look at my phone and hope there will be a notification of some kind. But there hasn’t been shit. So, instead of focusing on that or on drinking my anger and pain away, I’ve been working.
Day in and day out. Nights. Every waking hour, I work. When I’m not physically working, I’m on my phone looking for cars. I’m determined to make this legit thing work for the club. I’ve got a commercial retail space now, and I’ve started thinking about that, too.
My mind won’t stop—it’s spinning in a million different directions about a million different things. After checking my phone yet again, I shove it into my pocket, then start to clean up the warehouse. It’s another late night, and I’m beat to shit.
After locking up the shop, I climb on my bike and head toward the clubhouse, but then pause. There is something niggling in the back of my mind, a feeling. A sensation of being watched. Turning my head, I look behind me, but there is nobody around. That doesn’t mean no one is there, though. It just means I can’t see them.
I’ve been in this life long enough to know that you can be watched without getting even a glimpse of the person who is doing the watching. Hell, I’ve done it my damn self. So, I’m under no illusion that my senses are off and there is nobody there. Instead, I’m cautious.
Instead of riding straight for the clubhouse, I decide to go somewhere else. I haven’t been out of Casa Grande in a while. Even though it’s close to midnight, a long ride sounds perfect, like just what I need.
I head straight for Phoenix.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do there, but that’s where I go. The ride is quiet, though the scenery of darkness and street signs leave quite a bit to be desired. I check my rearview mirror the entire time. It appears as if I’m not being followed, but appearances don’t mean shit.
Moving through the downtown area, I pull up to a bar that I know is an affiliate of the club. It used to be located out in the middle of nowhere, but like us, they went legit, so they moved to the middle of downtown.
Though they aren’t as swanky as the other bars and restaurants around, people love coming. It’s almost as if they think it’s an experience rather than just a bar. A biker bar at that, with regular but fantastic bar-style food and a limited drink menu. The early twentysomethings soak that fucking shit up. They love it.
It makes me wonder if the club could pull something like this off in Casa Grande for legit income. I bet we could. It might not be on the same scale just because we aren’t Phoenix, but I think it could work. I tuck the idea into my back pocket to bring up to Legacy at a later date.
I park my bike, walk into the bar, and am surprised to see it’s not just busy, it’s goddamn packed. And it’s all twentysomethings, just as I knew it would be. Working my way through the crowd, I make my way to the bar. Taking the only empty stool, I sink down.
“Brother,” a voice growls beside me.
