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Prez picks up the conversation from there, telling me how the guard was his cousin’s husband who owed him a favor. He had him watch out for me so I wouldn’t spiral and do something stupid like tie my bedsheet around my neck.
The plan was for the guard to drive into the river, where there was a dam built about a mile away. The guard will report that he was able to unshackle me from the van, but was unable to keep ahold of me, since I’m so much bigger than him and I got swept away. Nothing of my body will be found because of the dam. Effectively, I’m dead.
I’m free.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings. I’m speechless. It was a simple but effective plan. A plan Finn came up with.
Finishing the last thread of conversation, Prez says, “We’ll get you out of here as soon as they call off the search for your body. They’ll suspect you may have escaped, but since your shackles were checked by two guards and no one knew you were traveling, it’s unlikely they’ll put that together.”
“How did I get out of the water?” That guard was pretty big, but he wasn’t as muscular as me.
“I told you that you were heavy,” Pete says, rubbing his injured leg. “My knee is still fucked up and we had to pull your dead weight.”
Fuck. Is it true? Am I really free? What does this mean?
Chapter 27
Finn
It’s so hard to sit by while the guys are talking to Rax. I can hear everything they’re saying from the kitchen. I down a glass of wine, rubbing at the center of my chest. I had a feeling Rax would be pissed, but I didn’t think he would try to attack me. Prez tried to warn me, telling me to wait until they could talk to him, but I wanted to see him. I needed to see that he was okay when he was awake.
Brushing his hair while he was asleep—or knocked out from the sedative—humming to him was the highlight of the last few months for me. It’s the happiest I’ve been since I was dragged out of that cabin by SWAT officers.
My heart broke when I saw him charging at me, rage and pain contorting his normally handsome face. I should have listened to Prez.
Putting the glass in the sink, I just start drinking straight from the bottle. I don’t want to get drunk; I just want to run away from this rejected feeling in my chest. After months of missing him, our first meeting was a disaster.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I jump, dropping the bottle of wine, causing the bottle to break and glass and liquid to scatter everywhere.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, looking up at Prez. “Sorry. I’m jumpy.”
His hard face softens a little and he nods. “I bet. Look, give him a bit. He’s impulsive, but he’s not stupid. He’ll realize what we did was the right thing.”
I nod, my bottom lip trembling for a moment. “Yeah, okay. Where is he?”
He inclines his head to the sitting room. “With Zeke and Pete. I gotta head out and get back to the charity ride meet up. At least one of us will be around at all times, probably not ranking members, but someone from the club until you can either figure this shit out or Rax sends you away.” I gasp when he says that. That never even crossed my mind. “He might,” Prez says in a low voice. “But I think he’ll see reason.”
Prez pats my shoulder and walks away, slipping out of the back door.
With nothing better to do, I clean up the mess I made and climb the stairs of the safe house in Louisiana and lie in the bed, closing my eyes and hoping this is all a bad dream.
This place is as far away as we could think to get, while also being close to an escape route. Zeke got this place from someone who owes him a favor and they’re letting us hole up here for the next few weeks.
A hard knock on the door wakes me and Zeke pokes his head inside. “Can you come down? We need to talk.”
Nodding, I sit up and stretch, pushing my short hair back from my forehead. I used the restroom and wash my face, looking at my reflection. I’m pale, the dark circles under my eyes not quite gone. My usual bright green eyes look dim, like most of the life has been drained out of me.
I try to pinch my cheeks to bring a little color to my face, but that doesn’t work. Giving up, I splash water on my face to wake myself up a bit and leave the bathroom.
Dragging my feet, I walk down the stairs, eager and afraid to see Rax again. I don’t want to talk. I want to skip the hard stuff and go back to Rax loving me again. I would kill to have him tell me that again. He only said it once. Not nearly enough.
Everyone is sitting at the dining room table. When my eyes land on Rax, he narrows his eyes at me and I feel his anger coming off him in waves. I stop in my tracks, swallowing roughly. Is he still upset by my actions, even though his brother’s explained everything? Rax wasn’t easy to read in the best of times, and now, it’s impossible.
Zeke gets my attention when he pats the seat beside him, directly across from Rax. “Have a seat. We need to iron some shit out.”
Taking slow steps, I slide into the seat, my eyes on my hands. I can’t look up, because I’ll look at Rax and he’ll fly across the table to try to get to me again.
No one says anything for a moment, then Zeke says, “I’ll stay here for the next few days, then Pete will be back. After that, we’ll rotate out, staying a few days at a time. During that time, you two need to get your shit together.”
