Page 82 of All That Glitters

I think of Midas realizing I’m not coming back, and smirk. Maybe the asshole will think I’m on a date or something. I think about the guy in the park that day and wonder how things might have been if I’d made a different choice. But then, I wouldn’t be pregnant, and I wouldn’t wish my baby away for love nor money.

“You know what, that sounds amazing. As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I’ve got something you can borrow to sleep in, and we can run your clothes through the washer and dryer so you have clean stuff for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Actually, it sounds perfect. I forget how much I missed having girlfriends.”

She looks at me sharply. “They cut you out when you left?”

“No. If anything, it’s me holding back. Their loyalty lies with the club and to some extent, Midas. Not that I think they’ll go to him and spill my secrets, but if it’s a command by their president—let’s just say I don’t want to put them in that position.”

“I get that. I…I’ve not had girlfriends for a while, either. None of them wanted anything to do with me after…him.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came along, isn’t it?”

She grins, the first genuine smile from her since I walked in. “Yeah, Hazel, it really is.”

A girly night with Del was just what I needed, and though I’m tired from working all day after going to bed far too late, I feel far more positive than I have for a while. Yes, things are hard, but they could be worse, and I’m not alone, even without the MC. I have people who care about me, and that’s something I never thought I’d have. Having been entrenched in MC culture for so long, I thought I’d be completely alone when I walked away. It’s part of what made me stay for so long. It doesn’t have to be that way. I’m hardly social-Sally, but I’m heading in the right direction. And I don’t need a big social circle, just a little village to have my back and let me have theirs.

I climb off the bus and head back to my apartment, humming a little tune that’s been playing on rotation on the radio all day. I glance around, but the place is quiet like usual. Even so, I stay vigilant. I’ve had too many scares in my life to become complacent about that kind of thing.

I have my keys out, ready to let myself in, when I notice my door is ajar. I pause, my heart in my throat, knowing I closed and locked it. Baby brain means I check and double-check to make sure. I pull out my cell and contemplate whom to call. One of the MC brothers would be here in a heartbeat if I needed them to be. But when they realize this is likely Midas’s doing, they’ll back off and leave it for us to figure out. What they don’t get is there is nothing for us to figure out, and when they do nothing, they’re enabling his behavior.

Swallowing fear, I dial 911 and hold my thumb over the call button as I nudge the door open with my foot. I keep my keys in my free hand, ready to gouge someone’s eyes out if I need to. When nobody jumps out at me, I take a small step inside.

I feel my stomach drop when I see the destruction. The sofa cushions are scattered across the floor and torn to pieces. There are slashes in the sofa itself, as if someone has taken a knife to it. The kitchen cupboards are hanging off, and a few are completely broken, lying on the floor with discarded and trampled food. I swallow a whimper at the level of anger and violence used to do this and suddenly rethink what I said to Del about Midas being dangerous. This is beyond being mad that I didn’t come home. If he could do this to my home, then what could he do to my body if he turned those fists on me?

I freeze for a minute, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, fear forcing vomit to rush up the back of my throat. I rush to the sink and throw up my lunch. I heave until I have nothing left inside me before turning around and taking in the carnage once more.

No, Midas wouldn’t do this, would he? I think of the way he protected me against my neighbor?—

My neighbor. I look to the wall separating our two apartments and choke down a sob. Now he would do this, I just know it. He thought he was entitled to take what he wanted from my body. He would absolutely take what he wanted from my apartment and trash the rest to prove a point.

I grab a knife from the knife block and head toward the bedroom. I’m pretty confident the place is empty, or they’d have made their move while I was puking my guts up. Still, I won’t risk my baby’s life on a feeling. I push the door open and bite my lip. If I’d hoped for a reprieve, I’d have been disappointed. The bedroom is even worse than the rest of the place. My mattress and bedding have been shredded, my pillows have been slashed open, feathers scattered over the mess. My clothes have been piled up in the center of the bed, and judging from the smell, urinated on.

I lift my cell with a shaky hand and blank the 911 call before dialing Del. She answers on the third ring, but my mouth is so dry that it takes me a minute to get my words out.

“Hazel? You there?”

“Del?” I manage to choke out her name.

“What’s wrong?” she barks.

“Someone broke into my apartment and destroyed it,” I whisper.

“Fuck. I’m on my way. Get somewhere safe.”

“They’re long gone. I just don’t know what to do. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Bullshit. You’ll come stay with me. Pack a bag. I’ll be with you in forty minutes, tops. If you see or hear anything that seems off, call the cops.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me, Hazel. I know you’re taught to do the opposite when you’re in an MC, but you’re not in an MC anymore.”

“No, I know. I promise.”

“Good. I’m leaving now, okay?”