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My brows snap together as I stare at the blank television on the wall. “What do you want?” I ask, wishing he hadn’t found my cellphone number and at the same time wondering how he even got it in the first place.
He hums, and I roll my eyes to the ceiling. He is always this way. It’s constantly a big secret. Everything he says and does is that way. It’s so damn annoying. I wait for him to continue, knowing that when he has something to say, you have to wait for him to get it out, because he can’t stand it.
“Cyrus is dead,” he slurs.
He’s drunk, too. Taking the phone from my ear, I look down at the time. It’s only eight in the morning, and he’s already drunk. Then I realize that he probably hasn’t gone to bed yet. He’s still trashed from the night before.
“Do you think I’m sad about this?” I ask. “Or that I even care?”
There is a long moment of silence, then he clears his throat. “It was probably your husband who did this. And if it was, I’ll find out, and you’ll be taken from him. If you think I won’t be able to find someone to buy you, you’re sadly mistaken.”
His words are meant to scare me, to reel me into some kind of submission, maybe even to force me to spy on Itch in some way or do some of Dutch’s dirty work. I will not do any of the above, not a single thing, and if he doesn’t like it, I don’t care.
Dutch and Raul have washed their hands of me. They did so the moment they gave me to the Devil’s Hellions Motorcycle Club. Little do they know, or realize, that I washed my hands of them a long time ago.
“I don’t know what my husband does or doesn’t do,” I state. “What I do know is that you are not in control of me anymore, Dutch. And I would guess that Raul has no idea you’ve contacted me, and if he did, he wouldn’t be pleased. I’m not sorry your asshole of a friend died. But it wasn’t by my hands. Even though I wish it were.”
Ending the call, I block the number and toss my phone down on the bed. Then I stand up, take a deep breath, and walk to the bathroom to take a shower. Today is my first day of work, and I have to be ready on time for Reese to pick me up.
It doesn’t take me long to shower, and I avoid looking at my phone while I finish getting ready. Wrapping the towel around me, I make my way into my walk-in closet and look around. I don’t have much in here at all, but I grab a black sleeveless cotton top, a pair of light-wash jeans, and a pair of black booties for my feet hoping it’s acceptable enough.
Only when I’m dressed and ready for the morning do I grab my phone from where I discarded it earlier in the center of my bed. Reaching for the device, I clear my throat as I look down at the screen.
Nothing.
Not a single missed call or text message. I should be relieved that Dutch didn’t find another way to contact me, but I am filled with disappointment that Itch hasn’t even texted me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I shake my head once and walk out of the bedroom, shoving my phone into the small purse that holds some cash, a lip gloss, and nothing else—because I have nothing else.
Making my way to the fridge, I wrap my fingers around the cool stainless-steel handle, tug it open, and grab a cup of yogurt. I peel the foil lid off, sink my spoon down into the thick yogurt, and just stare at it for a moment. I don’t know what I’m thinking about, and I don’t have time to waste.
Forcing myself out of my thoughts, I turn back to my yogurt and eat it quickly while waiting for the sound of Reese’s car to pull into the driveway. It doesn’t take long, maybe five minutes, before I hear it.
Finishing the yogurt, I leave the spoon in the sink, throw the cup away, and gather my purse when I freeze in the middle of the living room.
“I have no keys,” I whisper to myself.
I was left in his home, alone, with no transportation and no keys. I stand in the middle of the living room long enough for Reese to knock on the front door. Hurrying over, I tug it open and tell her my dilemma.
“Leave the back door unlocked and go through the back gate?” she offers.
“That’s actually a great idea.”
And that is exactly what I do. A few moments later, I’m sitting in the front seat of Reese’s car as she drives us to work. I’m equally nervous and excited to start my day. A new day, a new beginning, and I can’t wait.
ChapterTwenty-Four
ITCH
Eventually,I make my way home. When I arrive, I’m surprised to find it empty. Piper isn’t outside, she isn’t in her bedroom, she’s nowhere to be seen. Glancing at the clock, I frown. It’s past noon and well into the early evening. She should be here. I don’t know where the fuck she would even be at this point. She’s got no car.
Sinking down at the dining room table, I face the chair at the front door, and I wait.
And wait.
As the minutes tick by, surprise turns to anger, and by the time the sun sets, I’m pissed off. Red fills my vision as I wait. And wait. And wait.
Then a noise behind me startles me. My vision clears for just a moment, before I realize who it is who’s walking through the back door. It’s my wife. She looks sexy as fuck wearing jeans and a black top. Her hair is styled, with waves and curls. She’s also got a face full of makeup.
The anger fills me all over again. In an instant. “Where the fuck were you?” I demand.
