AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Without another word, she shoved her feet in her boots, let herself out of Race’s back door and marched her way back to her own house. She knew fucking Race would be the biggest mistake of her life. She’d seen him with the other women he fucked at the clubhouse and not once had she ever seen him be so purposely hurtful to any of them.
If he was trying to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything other than a quick fuck, message received. She would never let him know how deeply he’d cut her.
Opening a drawer, she found a spoon and opened her ice cream. She sat on the couch, the television turned to nothing in particular as she gorged herself on chocolately, marshmellowy, nutty goodness.
Fuck Race Walker.
6
It had been five days since the disaster with Bellamy and he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d seen her car coming and going, he’d wonder if she was still living there or not. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if a moving van showed up and packed her off somewhere. The thought of her not being next door didn’t sit well with him. For some unknown reason he liked having her right there to harass anytime he wanted.
But it wasn’t harassing when he fucked her on his kitchen table when she came to his house to have it out with him about the refrigerator swap. No, that was flat out cruel. He’d known it at the time it happened, yet he didn’t try to apologize or smooth things over with her. He’d seen her eyes start to water and felt like a complete dick.
She didn’t let the tears fall, though. Nope. Her face went completely devoid of any emotion. Then she got her ice cream from the freezer and left out the back door without a backward glance. Maybe if she would have called him out on being an asshole or cussed him out, he wouldn’t feel so bad about what he’d done.
Had she talked to Calliope about what happened? About how he’d fucked her on his kitchen table, then less than fifteen seconds after he’d come he’d thanked her and kicked her out? And to make matters worse he told her to be careful crossing the yard on her way home? Never in his life had he ever treated a woman so poorly, so callously. Sure, he’d had to get brutally honest with a few women thinking to find a permanent place in his bed, but those kind of women knew the score going in.
He was ashamed of how he’d acted toward her, but to undo it could be worse. The more time he spent with her the more he liked being around her and that couldn’t happen. She wasn’t old lady material. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d start to believe it.
Something across the yard at Charlotte’s house caught his attention. A dark figure was stepping out of the shadows and moving toward her back door. “What the fuck?”
Race quickly went to grab his gun off his nightstand, shoved his feet in his boots and slipped out the back door. As quietly as possible, he stole across the yard, coming up behind the person trying to break in. He was within three feet of the intruder, his arms extended with his gun out and his finger on the trigger. “You better have a good fucking reason for breaking into this house.” At the sound of his deep, rumbly voice, the figure froze.
“You need to step back slowly and turn around,” Race ordered. “Now.”
“This isn’t what it looks like.” The man’s voice sounded familiar. Where had Race heard it before?
“I won’t tell you again. Step back and turn around slowly. I don’t have a problem shooting you in the back. My neighbor might not like the idea of a dead body on her back deck, but she’ll get over it after she hears about how you were trying to break in.”
It was dark back here under the cover of trees and there was only a sliver of moon for Race to see by tonight and he couldn’t get a good look at the man to see if he recognized him. In a move almost too quick to track, the man in black spun around and knocked Race’s gun out of his hand.
If that’s the way this guy wanted to play it, he was more than fine fighting dirty. Race leaped at the man in a tackle any defensive lineman would be proud of. The faceless man grunted on impact, staggered and fell back into the door. They bounced off, landing on the deck with a loud thud. Race was on top and taking his first punch before the man had a chance to catch his bearings. He got another well placed hit in before the man beneath him punched him in the side with two quick hits. The man lifted his hips and tossed Race off, quickly following him and landing on top. The move knocked a heavy metal chair over causing it to crash loudly as it landed.
A hard right hook to his jaw momentarily stunned him. No matter. Race was used to down and dirty fighting. He clapped both his hands over the man’s ears, the move not quite as effective considering the man had on a knit cap. The two were scuffling back and forth, no clear advantage for either when the back porch lights came on. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop them from trying to kill each other.
They were both kneeling, one hand clasped in the other’s shirt, the other arm cocked back ready to fly when the feel of cold water splashed over the both of them. The shock of the cold water was enough to finally break them apart.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Bellamy stood in the doorway, two empty pitchers in her hand. She was dressed in her pajamas. The long-sleeve shirt did nothing to hide the fact her nipples were hard. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head and she looked downright fuckable. He scowled at the other man, not wanting him to see Bellamy in such a way.
“Isaac? Race? What are you guys doing out here?” Bellamy’s mouth was pinched and her eyes shooting fire. You would think both men were five-year-old boys getting scolded for misbehaving instead of grown ass men, one of which was the president of a motorcycle club.
Race turned to the other man. Who the hell was Isaac and why was he trying to break into Bellamy’s house? The other man turned to face him. “Preacher?” He turned to Bellamy. “You know Preacher?” Turning back to the crime lord, he asked, “What the fuck are you doing breaking into Bellamy’s house this late at night? How the hell do you two know each other?”
“He’s my brother, you idiot.” Bellamy was looking at him like he was a few bricks shy of a full load. How was he supposed to know she and Preacher were related? As far as he knew, Preacher didn’t have any relatives.
“She’s your sister?” he asked Preacher. As the president of the Sons of Redemption he had information on all the important players and their connections. How was it that he didn’t know that Bellamy was Preacher’s sister?
“Yes.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Bellamy was your sister?” Race’s fists curled at his sides.
“I don’t have to tell you my personal business.” Preacher’s hands curled into fists at his sides as well. Clearly they were moments away from swinging at each other again.
“Why didn’t you tell me Preacher was your brother?” Race demanded of Bellamy. Why couldn’t he get a straight answer from either of them?
“Oh my God. You two need to go away. I have to work in the morning.” She slammed the door shut and turned off the light, leaving them kneeling next to each other in the dark. He could clearly hear the locks being thrown. Apparently, they had been dismissed.
“Well, now you’ve done it,” Preacher accused as if this was all Race’s fault.
