Page 14 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

POSEY

Cidney’s phone rings before either of them can respond to what I’ve just told them. She answers it, then says that she will be right there. I don’t have to guess. I’m sure it’s Ivy who called her. A few moments later, we’re gathering a box of pastries, another coffee each, and heading out the door.

Before I walk out of the bakery, I look back at Lainey, who hasn’t responded to my verbal diarrhea, and apologize.

“I unloaded, and I’m really sorry,” I say in a whisper.

She lifts her hand and waves it around. “We’re all family. Nothing to be sorry for. Anytime you want to come over and just unload, you go right on ahead.”

I don’t know how this girl, who is clearly not even thirty years old, is more mature and has her life far more together than I do. I can’t deny that I’m thankful for it. In the few hours I’ve known them, both she and Cidney have made me feel more at ease than any other women I’ve ever been around.

Granted, that hasn’t been a lot. I’m not really a girl who has ever had girlfriends. But I see the appeal now, at least with ones like these. Cidney and I make our way back to the office, the first few feet in silence, then she speaks.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m sure I will be.”

“Posey,” she whispers.

Shaking my head, I lift my iced coffee and wrap my lips around the straw, taking a sip before I speak.

The words I say, I’ve been thinking about for a long time.

This whole thing, while Lucian is definitely the problem, could have been avoided if I had just paid attention instead of wanting to live in a fantasy.

I chose to stick my head in the sand, so whatever comes my way is on me. In fact, I should just pack my car up and drive back home to face him in person. I know I should, and I’m avoiding it again, pretending and hiding from the facts.

“I am really confused by everything that is my estranged husband. I don’t know what to think about him, mainly because I don’t even know him. He’s a stranger to me. I married him in hopes I would be able to truly start my life.

“He promised me things, and I accepted everything on the surface, choosing to look no deeper. I ignored anything that could have been conceived as a red flag, and now I’m paying the price for my chosen ignorance.”

My words are the truth. This is my chosen ignorance, and I’m running from the consequences of that again, hoping I can avoid it. But there comes a time when you need to accept it and deal with it head-on.

“I need to go back.”

Cidney’s eyes widen, and she turns to me. “No, Posey. Let Justin and the others help you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I almost, almost laugh in her face— stupid is my middle name . But I don’t say that. Instead, I shake my head a couple of times, clearing my throat before I respond to her words. There’s nothing wrong with what she’s said. In fact, letting others help me was my whole reason for coming here.

But I was wrong.

Just in talking about Lucian and my situation, I realize that I am seriously wrong in more ways than one. I should not have come here for help.

The mess I’m in has absolutely nothing to do with this group of people, with Dakota, and I came here knowing that whatever shit Lucian has swirling around him is no doubt swirling around me and will affect all of them.

It was selfish and wrong.

I need to make it right, and the only way to do that is to leave. Sooner rather than later. If I stay any longer, I’m going to fall in love with Ivy. Madly, deeply, wholly in love with him. It would be easy to do.

Just thinking about walking away from him makes my entire chest ache. But I need to do it. I’m not free right now. I need to get away from Lucian, away from all binding ties with him, and then maybe I can come back and be with Ivy if he still wants me.

Thankfully, the conversation ends as we walk into the office. Ivy is standing at Cidney’s desk, his arms crossed as he shifts his gaze up to meet mine.

“You get some desserts?” he asks.

His voice is soft and so damn sexy that I wonder if I can really walk away from him. I’m not sure it’s physically possible. I want to stay right here… No, that’s a lie. I want to crawl into his arms, naked, and I want him inside of me. To stay inside of me for as long as humanly possible.

So yeah, I need to walk away from him and handle my shit. What I don’t need is to disrupt their whole world. I knew it when I arrived, yet I came here anyway, acting just like I always do— impulsively .

IVY

Something is wrong. Really fucking wrong.

And as much as I want to sit down with Posey and demand to know what the fuck it is, I don’t have that luxury.

My second meeting of the day has changed plans and he needs me to meet him for lunch.

He can’t get away from the office. Sometimes, it’s part of business.

So, as I drive toward my lunch meeting, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck else today is going to bring. My thoughts have been completely consumed with the idea that Posey’s husband is undercover.

Why her?

What is he undercover for?

What kind of blowback does that look like for the club?

A million questions swirl around in my head on a loop, replaying over and over. All I want to do is get to the bottom of them, but I can’t do that shit right now because I need to work. And as much as I want to ignore my clients, that’s just not the person I am.

Plus, my dad would have my ass if I behaved that way. I might be in my forties, but I respect my father too much to give the law office he started a bad reputation. Especially when the reason would be because I want a woman.

Pulling into the diner parking lot, I let out a sigh.

I really am trying to save my heart from fucking exploding, but it is increasingly difficult when my favorite fucking thing at this place is the chicken fried steak covered in gravy, fried okra, and coleslaw with a side of baked beans and half a dozen rolls.

Unfolding from my seat, I move toward the front door. I can already see my client seated. He’s got his phone out, and his fingers are gliding across the screen with fever. This client is a bit more intense than my embezzlement one.

This one was accused of sexual assault. Claims he didn’t do it.

Claims a lot of things, none of which I actually believe.

But it’s not my job to be the jury. It’s my job to represent him and defend his case to the court.

I won’t be mad if I lose this one, though.

The good news is that his checks have all cleared. The bad news is he’s a douchebag.

The meeting goes as planned. I tell him about the few ways we can approach, as I try not to eat my weight in rolls, and he fights me on it and tries to encourage me to attack this woman’s sexual history.

That’s something I won’t do. If she’s trying to get a payday, if she’s trying to ruin his life, we can look at her personal background, get character witnesses and all that shit, but I’m not going to dig into someone’s sex life. I can’t be a hypocrite, not like that.

“I’m going to work smarter,” I say. “You get one woman on that jury that is offended we’re slut shaming this girl; you’re cooked,” I state.

Although, maybe that’s exactly what I should do because I am not going to be mad if this fucker goes straight to fucking jail. I might even smile and wave as they load his ass up on the bus.

Leaving the diner, I lift my hand and give him a wave as I sink down in the driver’s seat of my car. I have one more meeting today and some paperwork to do before I can end my night with a good drink and a good fuck. Both things I’m looking forward to, one more than the other.

It doesn’t take me long to get to the office.

I unfold from the car and make my way inside, wondering if I can finish off my heart-stressing meal with something sweet from Lainey’s bakery.

Nothing she ever makes disappoints, and I’m pretty sure she put at least one of her specialty blueberry muffins in that box.

“Why haven’t you returned my call?” Cidney asks as soon as I step into the building.

Looking at her, I arch a brow at the sight of her. She’s not sitting at her desk the way she usually does. Instead, she’s standing midstride, almost as if she’s been pacing. My brows snap together, and I tilt my head to the side in question.

When she doesn’t say anything else, I explain to her that I was at a lunch meeting, something she already knows. “My phone was off. I haven’t turned it on yet. What is going on?” I demand.

It’s not like Cidney to question me on anything, but she is my cousin, so the boundaries of boss and employee have always been blurred. There has never been an issue about that, though, and I’m wondering what the fuck is going on.

“Posey is gone.”

I blink slowly, unsure that I’m understanding the three words she’s said to me properly. “Posey is gone?” I ask when she doesn’t elaborate.

“She’s gone. I went to the courthouse to drop off some papers. She didn’t want to go with me, said she was going to stay back here and help me with some filing. When I came back, she was gone.”

Even though my body wants to freeze and digest those words Cidney has just said to me, I don’t allow myself to do that. Instead, my feet move because I know with certainty that this building is under camera surveillance at all times.

Rushing past Cidney, I walk into my office and around my desk. She is on my heels, no doubt realizing just what the fuck I’m about to do, and I quickly turn on my computer and log into the camera system.

Instead of asking her what time she left, I just go back to when I went to lunch.

The interior of the office is not monitored, except for two specific areas.

My office and John’s. If there were a breach of any kind, our offices have the most valuable client information.

What is out in the other parts of the building ain’t worth shit.

I watch the footage of me leaving. About ten minutes later, Cidney walks out of the front door and climbs into her car. I stare at the front, but the next motion is Cidney coming back. So, I switch to the back of the building, to the time frame of when Cidney left.

That’s when I see it.

The door opens, and Posey steps out. John is right behind her. She smiles up at him, and I can’t do anything but stare. What in the actual fuck? They walk to his car, get inside, and they drive off.

Straightening from my position, I rush over to John’s office, and without knocking, I burst through the door. Luckily, he’s not with a client, but he is eating an éclair, his eyes lifting to meet mine, half the damn thing stuffed into his mouth.

“Where the fuck is my woman?” I demand.

His eyes widen, then he chews his food before he swallows it. “She asked me if I could give her a ride. That’s all.”

“To where?” I demand.

He shifts his gaze over my shoulder, no doubt to Cidney, who is standing behind me, then flicks his attention back to meet mine before he answers me. “The bus station.”

What. The. Fuck?