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“Oh, c’mon…”
He narrowed his eyes. “Back the fuck off, or I’ll have you thrown out on your fat ass.”
“You don’t have to get nasty, Trax.” The sound of a familiar voice to his left had him jerking his neck. Meg was scorning him with her gaze. A reprimand from her held a little clout among the brothers. She was Mick’s old lady, a woman he’d grown to respect.
“Honesty, Meg, that’s all I’m giving.”
“Kinder, Trax, that’s all I’m suggesting.” He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. Her throwing his own words back in his face was something Meg was known for doing. Of all the old ladies, Meg was his favorite. She kept her nose out of club business, was sweet on most of the girls, even the ones who practically threw themselves at Mick. An offer he never once indulged in.
He once asked Mick how Meg could even tolerate it, and his answer was simple. “Told me a long time ago. If I wanted to be with other women, it was my choice. Never wanted me to be with her outta obligation. If I wanted the free pussy, I was more than welcome to it.”
The admission shocked Trax. A lot of men took what was offered, even with an old lady at home, but he hadn’t heard of their women okaying it. “Really?”
“Yeah, said if I wanted to fuck other women, then I should. But if being with others was my choice, then she would make her own. Didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want only her. I never wanted anyone but her. You got a good woman…you do anything and everything to keep her. Sticking my dick in some skank for release isn’t worth what I’d lose. Besides, no woman here or anywhere can come close to Meg. So, there’s no concern. I got it all, don’t need nothing else.”
With Mick’s words and Meg’s playing in his head, he turned to Val. “Back the fuck off.” He smiled. “Please.”
“Asshole.” Meg giggled.
Val turned but abruptly stopped, staring at the door. “Oh wow.” Her tone was hushed.
He glanced up at her, and her eyes were wide. He followed her stare to a tiny woman standing a few feet away. What the hell? She was an absolute wreck. Her clothes were torn and disheveled, her shirt torn down the center, hanging on by only a few buttons, giving way to her bra. Bright red, inflamed scratches lined her chest near her neck. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking out from what he thought was a bun. Dark lines streaked down her face, her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, and there was dried blood under her nose. Even beyond the mess, he knew those eyes. A light brown shade. Fuck.
He swiveled in his seat and bolted up. “Cheyenne?” His voice was low.
Meg rushed toward her, but Cheyenne immediately backed away, scanning the room until she locked her gaze on him. Her face tightened and hands balled. He watched in shock, and her whole body trembled.
“You!” She pointed at him. “You fucking liar.” Her tone was strangled, but there was no hiding the rage behind her words.
Trax stalked toward her, but she met him halfway. Getting a closer look, his heart skipped a beat. There was no way of denying she’d been fucked up and attacked. His heart pounded against his chest, but he remained still, not fully comprehending what stood in front of him.
“What the fuck happened?” Gage asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
Her gaze jolted to him, and she unleashed her fiery anger. “You lied, that’s what happened. I asked you for one thing.” She held up her finger, which shook. “Something you said you owed me, and you couldn’t even follow through. One fucking thing after what I did for you all.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Kase emerged from the backroom, snapping his jeans and pulling up his zipper. Nadia followed and gasped when she caught sight of Cheyenne. She cupped her mouth. Trax understood the shock on all the women’s faces. It was obvious this woman had been beaten.
“Fuck you, fuck all of you. Why offer to do something if you aren’t going to do it?” She pointed to her face and whipped her head, glaring at Trax. “See me, take a good fucking look because this is your fault, you son of a bitch. I helped one of yours, held his fucking hand while watching his brains practically pour out of his fucking skull, and you can’t make good on one promise to help me out. Fuck you, you piece of shit.” She scanned the room waving her hand. “All of you, fuck you all.” The tears streamed down her face in dark lines he attributed to makeup. Her eyes were bloodshot, and one barely opened.
In a hundred years, he’d never forget the sight of her in front of him. This vision would haunt him, he knew it. He stepped closer, but she darted to her left, knocking into another brother who braced her arms. She was like a rabid animal and skittered away to the center of the room. They had fucked up, and it was breaking him.
“Mick?” Meg’s voice caught his attention as her lips curved into a frown, and her eyes welled. The last thing she needed to hear were the details of her husband’s death. Making the ID of his body was hard enough once he was cleaned up, but Cheyenne giving her the gory details was too much.
Trax lunged forward, grasping Cheyenne’s arm lightly. He needed to get her out of hearing distance from Meg in case she shared any more details. She thrashed, and he tightened his grip to keep her from leaving. His intent was to shut her up, not hurt her. She screamed out in a pained cry.
“Get off me. You’re hurting me.” She tugged her arm and cried out again. He wasn’t sure if it was shock or pure adrenaline meltdown that had her yelling. Whatever it was, he needed to get her in the back and to calm down.
“Get her in the back—now,” Kase shouted.
Trax pulled Cheyenne against his chest in hopes of guiding her to the back. He gingerly locked his arms around her and carefully tried to guide her down the hall.
“Wait, this is her, the one who stopped for Mick?” Meg rushed forward behind him, holding his waist.
“That’s me. The moron who helped the poor guy who was fucking bleeding out in the road. I should have left him, and then I wouldn’t be here with you fucking assholes. I should have just let him die alone.” Her voice was strangled and on the verge of menacing. This was not the girl who walked in there a week ago. This girl was scared and venomous, fear and anger taking over and spewing her words. She wanted them to feel the same pain that was reeling through her own body.
Meg rounded his back.
“Sweetheart,” he warned. Something had happened to Cheyenne, something bad, but he was not going to let her words strike Meg.
