Page 29 of T-Bone (Steel Demons MC #11)

Faith

L eaving while T-Bone was asleep was a cowardly move and I could admit that because I was a coward. I knew that if I told him I was leaving, I’d chicken out. Or worse, I’d let him talk me out of going alone and I couldn’t do that.

No matter what he said, no matter what his Prez or his VP said, they had people here who loved them, who would miss them if they were gone.

I couldn’t let them risk getting caught up in this mess for me.

So, I left. I packed up all of my things, stuffed them in the trunk of my car and snuck out of the clubhouse like I was breaking in rather than leaving.

My heart raced even after I was in the safety of my vehicle, and I needed a quick minute to catch my breath.

I hated that feeling of guilt like I was doing something wrong when I was doing the right thing for everybody.

T-Bone would be mad, probably spittin’ mad, but by the time he woke up it would be too late, he would be too far away to have a say in any of it and that was the way it was meant to be. This was my fight.

Even though I knew I was doing the right thing there was a part of me that hoped he would be able to forgive me, which didn’t make a lick of fucking sense because we weren’t even friends. We were two people thrown together by unique circumstances and had explosive physical chemistry. That was it.

Yeah, that’s the lie I’m telling myself and I’m choosing to believe it.

Driving in the desert at night was soothing yet terrifying.

The night stretched out before me, my headlights skittered across the bugs and the creatures as they chose the perfect moment to cross the road.

The darkness was the perfect cloak for my thoughts that went from Gemma and what her life had been like for the past three years to T-Bone, who hadn’t strayed far from my mind since I left his bed.

Why?

It had been years since a man occupied my thoughts the way he did, and even I could admit that it was more that disappointing him.

Why was it a man who was wrong for me in every way?

He was a criminal where I was the law, although technically neither one of those things was the full truth.

But still, our lives were different. We were different.

In the real world, outside this little bubble, we had no chance of survival.

Right?

It didn’t make sense but there was something more than sex between us. I knew that. I felt it. And yeah, maybe that was part of the reason I’d run like hell into the night.

Alone.

No matter what, I worked best alone.

I let out a long, heavy breath and focused on the road instead of the man taking up too much space in my brain.

I crested a small hill and hit the gas, smiling as the cool night air touched my suddenly overheated skin.

Suddenly, headlights cut through the darkness behind me and it took me seconds to realize that it wasn’t a car with one wonky light, because of course it wasn’t a car.

No, it was three different headlights attached to three motorcycles.

The Ghost Riders.

My heart sped up instinctively, my grip tightened on the steering wheel, and I applied a bit more pressure to the gas pedal. It didn’t matter, those bikers caught up quickly, confirming that they were who I thought they were.

“Shit.” This was the halfway mark between Steel City and Shiloh Valley. Too far to get to Gemma in time, and too far to head back to the clubhouse.

This is fine. I’m fine. I can do this.

I yanked the wheel hard to the right and took the first exit I found, hoping to steer them as far away from Shiloh Valley as possible. I hit the gas harder, putting more distance between us as a plan began to form.

Reaching for my phone, I pulled up T-Bone’s number.

I was almost grateful to hear the automated voicemail, and kept my voice even as I began to speak.

“I know you’re pissed,” I began, basically pouring my heart out while being chased down by three angry bikers who would, if given the chance, kill me without a second thought. “I’m sorry.”

A loud hiss tore through the night air right before the tire started a loud, clunking noise that I knew well.

Because it was just me and Chloe and Mom, all the so-called men’s work fell to me.

Changing lightbulbs, tightening our constantly leaking sink, keeping the oil changed in our shared car, and yeah, even changing flat tires.

I knew that loud hiss was all the air and the life going out of my tire.

I was well and truly fucked.

I did the only thing there was left to do, I gunned it until the bikers’ headlights were just a faint memory and then I booked it the hell out of the car and headed straight for the thick group of trees that I hoped—really hoped—wasn’t a forest.