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“But Rax, he—”
“I fucking said no!” I bellow, standing and looking down at Zeke, breathing heavily. “Do not touch him. Do not watch him. Leave him be. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“He—”
“Fucking leave it, man!” The guard walks over and places a rough hand on my shoulder. I don’t react, lest he cut my visit short. I sit down heavily into the chair and put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, man,” I tell my best friend, finally looking at him. “Forget about him. Spread the word. Leave. Him. Be.”
Zeke stares at me for a moment, analyzing me in that way he’s done since we were kids. “Why?”
I know what he’s asking. Why not have him taken care of him like we did Antonio? Why let him continue to keep breathing when he not only betrayed me individually, but the club by making us look weak?
Sighing, I try to run my hands through my hair and encounter knots. Smiling slightly, I look up at Zeke and say one word: “Love.”
Grunting, Zeke says, “Yeah, okay. Anyway, Shane can’t get up here until next month. Has some shit out of town, then he said he’s working on your appeals. He doesn’t want to come back without some news, so he made me his messenger.” He rolls his eyes good naturedly. “You’ll be moved soon. Something about this being a transition center for you?” We both shrug. “They won’t tell him shit until you’re on the way. As soon as you’re settled, we’ll visit and put money on your books. You’ll be good, man. We’re here with you. You’re still a part of the Devil’s Mayhem.”
Feeling choked up for the first time in my life, I nod and put a fist to the window. Zeke bumps it and I hang the phone up, looking over at the guard. He nods, uncuffs my wrist from the bar and cuffs my wrists together and guides me back to my cell.
I don’t turn around to look at my best friend.
Chapter 24
Finn
Reverdale, Two months later
Lifting the blinds, I see another bike parked across the street from my house, the biker with the Devil’s Mayhem MC patch staring at my house. Sighing, I close the blinds and tuck the blanket around myself. I haven’t done much of anything since I’ve been back home. I tried to go to work the day after I was brought home, but news vans were everywhere. I finally had to give up living a normal life for a while and go home.
The bikers started showing up a few days ago, when the last of the news crew went home. Guess they didn’t want their threatening presence to be caught on camera.
Speaking of the absence of cameras, my mother comes out of her room with a suitcase packed. She huffs when she looks at me, dropping the bag near the door. “You need to do something. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you no more. You’re home. Shake it off and stop being a bum.”
I’m stunned. I was fucking kidnapped. Does she expect me to just shake that shit off just because I’m in this house. “Mom …” I say, not knowing what I’m going to say in my state of utter disbelief.
“Don’t ‘mom’ me,” she says in an irritated tone. “Get up and get back out there. Hell, you’re famous now. You can write a book, get some royalties, make your rounds on the daytime TV shows. I can come with you.”
I sit up and glance at her. She has fucking dollar signs in her eyes, already planning a book deal for me and us touring the country so I can tell people about my ordeal. But I don’t want to tell anyone. I don’t want to say anything about the time I spent with Rax. That’s for me.
Flopping back down, I pull the blanket over my head. “I’m not doing any of that. I just want to shut out the world.”
The blanket is snatched from me, tossed to the side. My mother stands before me, hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. I sit up, trying to give her my undivided attention. The sooner she’s done talking, the sooner I can shut out all the chaos in my mind and around me.
“Now you listen here,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “You need to earn your keep around here. You ain’t worked in weeks.”
“I have been to work! Just not full time. For fuck’s sake, I was kidnapped!” I shout, standing up and facing her.
“Yeah, months ago! You need to bring in some more money. You don’t know what you put me through.”
“Mom, I didn’t ask to be kidnapped! I didn’t ask—”
She slashes a hand at me. “I don’t wanna hear it. My life was turned upside down when you left. Now you owe me. People have been calling to set up interviews. Turn your phone on and schedule one.”
I haven’t turned my phone on because of that. I’m tired of people calling, asking me for a few words or a comment for an article or to appear on a show. I don’t want to do any of that. I don’t want to be used. I refuse to be used.
“No.”
My mother’s eyebrows dip and a flash of anger crosses her face. I sigh. I’m the spitting image of my mother, same blonde hair, green eyes, plump lips, and button nose. She even dyes her hair at the ends—always has. That’s why I started doing it, hoping it could bring us closer together.
That didn’t work.
