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Instead, she turned back to the papers and wished she’d never said yes to Bones weeks earlier. In a moment of pure anger, she cleared the workbench of everything, sending all the documents flying in the air.
Looking at the paperwork as it scattered on the floor, she saw something that wasn’t a dossier. Picking it up, Riley read the information. Temple found the guy who had piggy-backed off Glitch’s computers. He wasn’t in any rival MC, but he was a brother-in-law of one. She would start with that motherfucker and see where that got her. Her phone pinged, bringing her attention away from the papers.
Bones: Don’t let him walk away.
Riley: Temple found some information on the computers. As soon as I know more, I’ll make sure it gets brought to Gypsy.
Bones: Okay. Anything on the men who stabbed Preacher?
Riley: No.
Bones: Let me know if you do.
Riley: I will.
Bones: Preacher likes you. Don’t walk away.
Riley: . . .
Bone: Riley?
Riley: What if I hurt him?
Bones: What if he hurts you?
Riley: I just need a little time.
Bones: I get that.
Riley: Thanks.
Tossing the phone back down, Riley needed to figure out her next move. She needed to figure out her feelings for Preacher. Bending down, she started picking up all the papers from the garage floor.
ChapterTwenty-Four
After cleaning up all the papers, she went for a drive, taking every turn at high speed. She screamed at God and the devil, beat her fist against the steering wheel and banged her head against the headrest. In the end, Riley parked her car at the cliffs and looked out over the ocean, wondering what it would take to swim out so far, she couldn’t make it back.
Her past kept her from having a present or a future. In her heart and her head, she knew the death of Scout’s friend wasn’t her fault. There was nothing she could have done differently. Nothing could have saved Mitch. Scout couldn’t deal with it, and she definitely couldn’t suffer alone.
“It’s not my fault,” Riley screamed into the darkness. “It’s not my fault,” she whispered into the silence. It wasn’t her fault. Grabbing her phone, she sent a text to The Muthers’ group. She needed a fresh start.
Riley: Hey gang, I’m out. Not sure when or if I’ll come back. Whip, I’ll get with you later. Scout . . . I’m sorry about Mitch. I hope you can find peace.
Riley stared at her phone, her finger hovering over the buttons. Everything in her screamed for her to hit the send button, but she held off as she looked out at the dark water. The reflection of the moon danced in the waves as her mind fought her heart over the decision to walk away from The Muthers.
If she stayed, it would be more of the same. If she left, it would be a new start. Either way, she felt alone. “Screw it.” Her finger hit send as she closed her eyes.
As different messages came through, she looked at the phone. Each meant something different to her. Scout didn’t comment, though Riley didn’t think she would. Putting the phone away, she started the car and backed onto the blacktop road. Shifting into first gear, she hit the gas and headed back toward Lampsing.
For the first time in a long time, she took the drive back nice and easy. Two hours later, she sat in her car, parked in Preacher’s driveway. The lights in the living room were on, and she noticed no extra cars were there. She had choices—leave and don’t look back, or stop being a chicken and get out of the damn car.
Shoving open the car door, she stepped out and took a deep breath. Knowing Preacher would want answers—answers she wasn’t sure she could give to him—she headed for the door. With the house key in her trembling hand, Riley put one foot in front of the other.
It took less time to walk to the door than it did for her to unlock it and walk inside. When she made her way into the living room, she found Preacher sitting on the sofa, watching dirt track racing on YouTube. “Hey.”
Preacher looked up. “Hey.”
“Sorry.”
