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“Shit.” She ducked her head and turned her back. Why the hell was he there? She’d given him everything. Damn, she should have gone to the police last night the second they’d left. Her finger twitched against her keys.
Her best bet would be to get into her car and leave. With a full tank of gas, she could drive for hours.
Go now! She rushed to her car, glancing over her shoulder, but stopped. His motorcycle was parked in the spot, but he was nowhere to be seen. She jerked her head to the left. Nothing. Where the hell had he gone?
“Hey.”
She jumped forward as her heart lunged into her throat, and she gasped for a breath. His hand landed on her arm, and she instinctively ripped it from his hold, swinging around and losing her footing. She spread out her arms for balance, but it was too late. She felt herself falling back and braced for impact. Her hands darted down to the ground on her sides, but her ass made contact first with the gravel.
“Fuck.” Trax rushed forward, but she scurried back on her hands and legs, essentially doing a crab walk.
“Stay back,” she snapped. It was meant to sound authoritative but came out more like a desperate plea. He immediately halted and raised his hands. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze locked on her stare. She drew in a breath and licked her lips. “I’ll scream if you come any closer.”
Something happened. His eyes drew down to the ground, and his head shifted across the lot. It was impossible to miss his hushed curse. It seemed to be directed more to himself than her. Trax rested his hands on his hips. He wasn’t looking, but she was. Like a hawk with prey, she refused to look away. If he was going to do something, she wanted to see it coming.
“Not gonna hurt ya, Chey.”
Her heart pounded so heavy her breathing labored. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s not what you said last night.”
His gaze darted to hers. The corners of his eyes crinkled, but not from smiling. His tense lips pursed. “I fucked up last night. That’s why I’m here now.”
She snorted and crawled back another inch on her hands and feet. “I don’t need an apology. I just need you to go away and leave me alone.”
“Fuck, let me just help you up.” He approached her, and she panicked. She scrambled to get up without giving him her back, which was impossible. His hands gripped her forearms, and she struggled, but her strength, or lack of, was no match for his. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. “Relax, I said I’m not gonna hurt ya.”
That was rich, coming from a man who’d threatened her less than twenty-four hours prior. How could she have been so damn stupid?
She pulled her arms from his hold, but he didn’t let go. “Yeah, and I’d believe you ’cause you’re so damn trustworthy. Get your hands off me.” Her tone raised to a high pitch. Surely, anyone would back away, not wanting to garner unwanted attention. Trax tightened his grip and leaned forward.
“I’m sorry for last night. You pissed me off.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Is that the new standard? Someone pisses you off, and you threaten them with bodily harm.” She leaned closer. She wasn’t sure where all her courage came from, but she went with it. “Good to know. Now, can you please get your fucking hands off me?” She twisted her body in hopes of loosening his grip. His eyes darkened, but he released her and stepped back. It was a small gap of separation. If she tried to run, he’d only have to reach out, and she’d be locked in his hold again.
She drew in a breath and scanned the lot. No one. Damn.
“Chey?”
She slowly glanced at him again suspiciously.
“I was a dick last night.”
She squinted her eyes. “Understatement.”
He sighed and his jaw tightened, but his chin dipped in a shallow nod. “Yeah, it is. I got no right to ask you to hear me out or forgive me. The way things went down, the shit I pulled?” He inhaled. “Unforgivable, and I know it.”
Cheyenne bit her lip and shifted on her feet. This was not at all what she had expected. Not knowing how to respond, she remained silent and watched him.
“Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but this thing with Mick.” He paused, seemingly conflicted with his choice of words. “It’s on me. Losing him…” Trax dropped his head, hiding his face, but he couldn’t mask the sorrow in his voice. Taking on another’s pain wasn’t something she was accustomed to feeling, but it was so raw with Trax. His voice changed saying his name, and his throat bobbed. She hadn’t fully grasped the magnitude of Trax’s loss until now. Do not feel bad for him, Chey.
“Finding the person who went after Mick is what I gotta do, for the club, for Meg.” He glanced away. “For me.” She lifted her hand, reaching toward him, but quickly pulled back and tucked it into her pocket. Comforting Trax after everything he’d put her through last night was not a smart decision. However, he didn’t seem like the same man.
His gaze lifted back to her. “I fucked up last night when I heard you really saw the guy. My head just went to you standing in the way of finding him. Like you picked a side,” he paused, “and it wasn’t mine.”
Why the hell was she feeling compassion and a sense of guilt here? Probably because the man in front of her had saved her ass last night. And while his tact was appalling and horrifying, she could understand it better. She now knew where his head was at. It didn’t excuse his behavior from last night, but at least she understood why he acted the way he had.
And he saved my ass last night.
“Would they have hurt Macy? Your guys?”
