Page 20

Chapter twenty

Rage rides me hard as my tires eat up asphalt and my pipes sing through the air, creating a vicious melody that belies my anger.

Fucking Heather and her goddamn bullshit.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I also can’t lay all the blame at her feet either. Bailee was right that I was leading Heather on by not correcting her assumption that we were getting back together. You would think after the way I kicked her out of my house when I woke to her sucking my dick without invitation that she’d take the hint. Obviously not, since she’s trying to mark territory that’s not hers and start unnecessary shit between me and my Hummingbird.

And Bailee . . .

My fingers grip the handlebars tighter as I recall the shit that went down in her living room.

When I realized what Heather did, and Bailee asked me if I’d been with Heather since she’s been back in my life, I knew she needed only the truth from me. So, I was fucking honest and told her about the blowjob and the kiss Heather fucking tried on me. As if those confessions didn’t condemn me enough in Bailee’s eyes, I finished the job by being even more honest and admitting to telling Heather we’d try to work it out if she gets sober.

Hell, I knew it was an asshole move when I did it. If a guy ever pulled some shit like that on Lyric, I’d be tempted to cut his fucking tongue out and make him choke on it so he wouldn’t be tempted to do something so damn stupid again.

When it comes to making sure Lyric is happy, I do everything in my power to give it to her. She loves her mom. Having her sober would make my daughter happy, so I did what I had to do. Maybe I should regret it, but I don’t because it seems to be working. I haven’t seen Heather high since the night I told her that, and I’ve been paying as much attention as I can given everything else going on. The only thing I do regret is that all of it led to my Hummingbird being hurt by me again.

Remnants of her pain chase me as my bike picks up speed in a bid to outrun the broken pieces.

Needing something to burn this anger off—anger at Lee for not listening to me and letting me explain more, anger at myself for allowing us to get in this spot to begin with, and fucking anger at Heather for having the goddamn audacity to act like she owns me—I head toward Dirty Wrench.

We’re behind on some customers orders, and without seeking violence or grabbing a club whore or piece of fender fluff to fuck—which strangely isn’t appealing to my head or my dick in the slightest—sliding under the hood of some vehicles and getting dirty is the only way I’m going to be able to work out all this fucking aggression burning inside me.

Bryson is already elbow-deep in a motorcycle that was brought in two weeks ago. He glances up when I storm in, but as a man of few words, he wisely offers only a nod before going back to work.

I head into the office to hang up my cut and grab my coveralls, sliding them over my clothes, then stomp back out to the bay.

There’s too many jobs in the lot outside to know which is next, so I grab the clipboard full of work orders and read over the top one before signing off on it. I hang it back up, grab the set of keys for it, and make my way out to bring it into the bay.

For the next five hours, Bryson and I, and a few others, stay hard at work to crank out some of the jobs. Most of the shit was simple, so there wasn’t much to work my aggression out on. Without it having a place to go, it only continues to grow despite the peace I found working on the vehicles.

The guys have been giving me leery looks and wide berths. Not that I blame them.

After the wrench slips from the nut for the third time and I split my knuckle open again, I let out a roar and throw the motherfucking thing across the shop. It lands against the glass window between the shop and lobby, and I know I’m fucked when it shatters.

Bryson walks over, wiping his hands on a towel. “Nothing good is going to come from that much anger, man.”

“Like you got room to preach,” I growl, climbing to my feet to grab the towel sitting on my work cart. “You’re still holding on to so much fucking anger at your bitch of an ex for what she did while you were locked up that you can’t even see what’s in front of your face.”

His laugh is full of darkness. “Of course, I am. I spent five goddamn years in prison for that cunt, and she fucked around on me while I was doing it. Don’t regret doing what I did, but I fucking hate that I did it for a bitch of a wife who couldn’t love or respect me enough to not fall in love with someone else. Never gave a fuck that she got her needs met somewhere else, but my wife falling in love with another man while I had to watch my back every damn day after catching a second-degree assault charge over her . . . there’s something straight fucked-up about that.” He lifts a brow. “You telling me you wouldn’t be carrying around anger at her for that shit?”

My smile is vicious and bloodthirsty. “Nah, fuck that shit. I’d have slit her throat, the motherfucker she fell in love with, and then tossed both their cold corpses in the fuckin’ garbage dump where they belong.”

“She’s the mother of my kid.”

I shrug. “He’s got a dad, don’t he?”

“We’re not talking about me. You need to get your head straight, man.” He nods toward the broken window. “Wraith is going to have a fit about that. What are you going to tell him?”

“That I was pissed-off and threw a wrench through it. No reason to lie about it.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I need to get on my bike and get this fuckin’ anger burnt out.”

“Want someone to ride with?” he asks.

“Come or don’t. My fucks are out. Be prepared in case there’s trouble,” I tell him as I head into the office.

Once I’m cleaned up, we send the other guys home and lock up the shop before heading out.

Night has fallen and the moon is full, a strong guiding light as we head to our bikes. The open road is my freedom from all the bullshit going on right now, and even as my rage continues to rush madly about inside me and Bailee’s pain nips at my back wheels, there’s still a peace found here that can’t be replicated.

Unless I’m with my Hummingbird.

As the thought crosses my mind, I realize the validity of it.

I think it’s always been that way, and it’s why she’s always scared the fuck out of me.

There’s no more running, though. Tomorrow, she’s going to listen to me. We’re going to fix this because her not being in my life isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate on.

A blinding bright light hits our side mirrors, and I grit my teeth as I move over to get out of the way so the fucking asshole can get around us. When that’s not what happens, my lips curl into a delighted grin because I know shit’s about to go down and these motherfuckers are about to experience a rage of epic fucking proportions.

Bryson glances over at me, and I give him a nod, letting him know this is the trouble I was warning him about.

I don’t know who the fuck it is, but they had to have been watching the shop, unless this is just some random. That’s the least likely fucking scenario though. Not in my goddamn life.

Bryson glides his bike closer to mine. “What’s the plan?” he yells.

My brain starts working through road maps, running through the options to find the best spots that will have the least chance of us getting killed.

Too bad we’re not going to get to implement them. These fuckers are ready to start the fight now if that goddamn bullet that barely missed is any indication.

Holding the handlebars tightly in one hand, I reach into my cut with the other and grab my gun from my shoulder holster, flicking off the safety. Then I lift my left foot up so I can grab the other gun strapped to my ankle.

The bike wobbles as another shot rings out, and with a growl, I turn quickly and fire a shot over my shoulder. It’s fucking dark, and their damn headlights make it where I can’t see shit, so I don’t even know where the hell I’m aiming. I’m hoping I get lucky enough that it hits fucking somewhere vital on either the driver or the vehicle.

“The goddamn plan is stay fuckin’ alive,” I holler as I pass over the other pistol I was finally able to yank from my ankle holster.

We both take carefully aimed shots over our shoulders as we try to keep from laying our bikes down.

I’m watching the road in front of us as Bryson lets off another shot. My eyes flick to the side mirror just as a sharp pain pierces my shoulder, yanking a grunt from my chest.

The lights of the vehicle go back and forth for a second before a loud crunch of metal and glass against asphalt accompany it. Bryson and I slow our bikes enough that we can turn around and head back toward them.

Smoke slithers through the mangled metal, and angry hisses of broken hoses greet us as we reach the wreckage.

Blood drips down my arm as I climb from my bike, the slow glide building the inferno that was already burning inside me.

A groan escapes the man hanging halfway out the upside-down vehicle, and I aim a toothy smile at him as I reach in to grab a fistful of bloody hair and pull him the rest of the way out. “Oh, good. You’re still breathin’. That means I get the pleasure of killin’ you up close and personal.”

The man blinks pain-filled eyes at me, and I can tell he’s still a bit doozy from the crash.

I lean him against the broken vehicle, not giving a shit when he cries out from a piece of metal going into his skin. “Who are you?” I tap the barrel of my gun against his cheek. “I’d pay attention if I was you. I’m in a bad mood, and I’m really mean when I’m in a bad mood. Who the fuck are you?”

The man’s eyes become a little more focused. “Someone sent to take you out.”

“Well, golly gee, don’t know what gave that away.” Placing my gun under his chin, I glance over my shoulder at Bryson. “Check the van. If there’s anyone else, bring them to me.”

He hesitates, and I wait him out. This is a choice he needs to make on his own. It’s a path he needs to take on his own. The darkness is there, begging to be let out, pleading for a chance to make an entrance and show its true self and what it can do. He just has to be willing to let it.

I almost smile when I see it come over him, but I keep my eyes locked to his, allowing him to see the same darkness in mine. Sometimes, all you need is to know you’re not alone.

Bryson gives a perceptible nod and takes off to the other side.

I turn my attention back to the man under my gun. “Who sent you after me?”

“You understand loyalty.”

Which means he’s not going to give me shit.

There are ways to make him talk. Most people break in the end, but that means bringing the club in, and if this is Killer’s man, I’m going to have another set of problems on my hands before I figure out how to tell Wraith what the fuck is going on.

Heaving a sigh, I nod. “You’re right. I do. Useless to me if you’re not goin’ to give me anything. See you in hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” he says right before I pull the trigger.

Fucking fuck.

Goddamn it.

Stepping back, I let the lifeless body fall from my grasp and lift the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe the blood from my face.

Fucking hate close shots. They’re messy as fuck. Now, I’m going to have to ride the rest of the way home with this shit all over me.

I kick the fucking body at my feet in a fit before turning away to help Bryson.

He’s dragging another man out by the arm, and I wince at the awkward angle he’s got it.

Ouch.

Not that it matters. Motherfucker will be dead shortly anyway.

“Who do we have here?” I ask as I reach them.

“No clue. He’s decided he’d rather bite his own tongue off than tell me anything,” Bryson answers.

When I glance down at the guy, he’s got blood pouring from his mouth and his lips are curved into a bloody smile.

“Huh. I wonder if he knows he’s goin’ to die from that?”

The man’s eyes widen, and I laugh. “Oh, shit. Really didn’t fuckin’ know that? Ain’t walkin’ out of here regardless, but you should’ve been a lot smarter before bitin’ off your tongue if dyin’ wasn’t your intention.”

He starts to scoot backward, but Bryson lifts a booted foot and places it on the wound in his abdomen to stop him. The man writhes, letting out a sound I’ve heard so many times in this life that I’m surprised it hasn’t followed me into my sleep yet. His is more off-key without his tongue, but the tune is still the same.

“Wastin’ time here. He’s useless to me, same as the other.”

I lift my gun, but before I can pull the trigger, Bryson is already putting a bullet between his eyes.

He peers over at me. “What next?”

“Now, we get their bodies back in the van, set it on fire, and get the fuck out of here. The guns are clean, so we have nothing to worry about there, and the fire will destroy anything else.”

We work in tandem to get it done as quickly as possible, making sure to create the fire so that it reaches the two areas where the guys were shot so there’s no sign they were ever outside the van. It also takes care of the blood that dripped from my shoulder.

“Shit. Why didn’t you fucking say you were shot, man?” Bryson asks when he sees me holding my shoulder. He turns toward me and pulls my hand away. “Fuck, I can’t see shit. I need to check this out before we leave. Come on. I keep a kit stashed in the bag on my bike. We’ll have to use the flashlight on your phone, so you’ll have to hold it.”

While he grabs his kit, I climb onto my bike and pull my phone from my pocket, turning on the flashlight as he makes his way back to me.

He snaps on gloves, grabs a small pair of scissors, and cuts away the cotton material of my t-shirt so he can see the wound. His head tilts this way and that, then he pokes at it gently, earning him a hiss from me.

“Thankfully, it’s not that bad. You got fucking lucky. Just a deep graze, but it’ll need sutures. You good without anything to numb it?” He chuckles darkly. “Never thought I’d be doing them in the field after murdering someone, but here the fuck I am.”

“Get it done, so we can fuckin’ go. Don’t like bein’ in the open like this with the fire attractin’ attention.”

“Fuck. Shit. Yeah, okay.” He’s fast as he gets the shit ready, and he doesn’t even give me notice before he’s shoving the fucking needle through my goddamn skin. “Figured it’d be better if you weren’t prepared for it.”

A few minutes later, he shoves everything back into the kit and stands. “You’re good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I nod. “Hey, Bryson.” He peers over at me as he climbs onto his bike. “That darkness inside you? I’d make friends with it if I were you. Because the last thing you want is for it to be your enemy. It’ll end up eatin’ away at your soul until it’s the only thing left and you’ll be nothing more than a memory. Embrace it instead of tryin’ to hide it away like it’s something to be ashamed of. Probably wasn’t always who you were, but circumstances created it. Be a magician and weave it to fit who you are now so you can be at your highest potential, wieldin’ it to protect everyone you love.”

We take off into the night, leaving the death and destruction behind us as we continue our journey back home.

In the meantime, as Bryson faces and accepts the darkness that resides inside him, it’s time I come to terms with the feelings that reside in me. Feelings for my Hummingbird. Feelings that I’ve run from for too long. Back then, they didn’t overpower as badly as they do now. It killed me to walk away from her then. Fucking hated doing it, but I felt like I had no choice. This time, I’m not sure there’s ever going to be a chance of me walking away.

Bailee fucking Sterling is my goddamn divine intervention.