Page 15 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

POSEY

The bus pulls away from the station. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Impulsive and selfish, that’s what I am and continue to be. But I have to fix whatever my situation is before I return to Thunder Rock. Before Dakota comes home from her honeymoon.

My shit is not her responsibility.

So that’s why I am on the bus headed back to California, hoping like hell that I survive this stupid plan of mine. Because, believe me, it is stupid. Really fucking stupid. But I’m doing it anyway because that’s who and what I am.

Stupid.

The good news is that taking the bus is a lot cheaper than driving my Mercedes. The bad news is that it’s going to take almost seventy hours of traveling, and I didn’t bring clothes or anything with me. Just my phone and my purse.

I’m once again reminded— by myself—that I’m not the smartest person in the world. My impulsive actions may have been bad decisions… lots of bad choices, but I’m trying to make this right. However, maybe this wasn’t exactly the way to do it.

Just maybe.

My phone buzzes and alerts me over and over to incoming calls and texts. I ignore all of them. They’re from Ivy. Justin Whitaker. Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to think about him, about being with him.

Everything about that man was perfection. Not just physically, although that was better than anything else I’d ever experienced in my life, but I’ve never felt so at ease with another person.

Ivy made me feel whole, and I can’t believe that after only knowing someone for a few days, I have fallen this incredibly hard for him.

This in and of itself causes me to hesitate, especially since I’m on my way to deal with a very large decision that I jumped into because I thought I had found my future.

Again… I’m stupid.

I fall asleep knowing that I’ve obviously not changed, even in understanding my situation. I am repeating shit over and over. But I’m going to try to be different, to change the trajectory of my life. At least, that’s what I continue to tell myself in hopes I’ll believe it.

The bus pulls into the Sacramento depot about sixty-five hours after starting the trip. This is one impulsive decision that I can mark off my list to never make again. I feel absolutely disgusting and exhausted.

I’m also still a few hours from home. Just the thought of having to call a rideshare for a three-hour trip makes me want to cry.

When I take my phone out of my pocket, I realize it’s completely dead. Not only did I come on this adventure with no clothes, but I also didn’t bring a charger with me. Tears well up behind my eyes, and as much as I try to blink them away, instead, they roll down my cheeks.

And just when I think I might be stuck in Sacramento for much longer than I want to be, a very familiar car pulls up to the curb right in front of me. Two years ago, the sight of this car would have given me butterflies.

At this moment, it causes my stomach to churn.

The man in the driver’s seat does not turn the engine off, nor does he open the driver’s door. He just waits. And waits. I can feel his gaze burning into my skin from behind the tinted glass of the passenger window.

I know what he wants, and right now, he’s going to get it because I have no other choice. I hate that. Hate this. Hate him. Hate me. I also have to admit that I hate that I’ve put myself in this predicament. He is getting what he wants, and I know right now he’s gloating about that.

I reach for the car door and wrap my fingers around the handle, and although I refuse to show any expression on my face, inwardly, I’m taking in a deep breath and trying to calm myself before I tug the handle and open the door.

“You look like shit,” he announces instantly.

I haven’t even set one foot into the car, and I’m already being told something negative about myself. I probably do look like shit, though. It’s been three days since I’ve showered, changed clothes, or even brushed my teeth. I likely smell too— bad .

“I’m sure I do,” I murmur as I sink down in the seat.

Every inch of my body, inside and out, screams at me to run far and fast. The problem is that the only place I can run is to our home.

And since we’re not divorced, even though I’ve filed papers and we haven’t lived together in two years, his name is the only one on the lease, and as far as the world is concerned, his home is mine.

So he drives us home, and with every single mile that we move closer to the house, I feel sicker. The entire drive happens in complete silence. But that silence is filled with emotion, and that emotion is anger.

Red-hot anger. It consumes the space and threatens to physically choke me.

It’s that intense. It’s so bad that I can’t even think straight.

I don’t think of asking him how he knew where I was or anything.

I just focus on breathing and hope like hell that I’ll survive whatever is no doubt coming my way.

IVY

“The last bus took off for California half an hour ago,” I announce into the phone.

Piggy is working today, but thankfully, took my call. He’s also on his way here to the bus station. The person who isn’t here is Posey, and she is the only one I want to see right now.

“Stay there,” he demands.

I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do, but catching a three-day bus to California is certainly not something I would ever do. In fact, I cannot fathom how a princess like Posey is going to fare on that fucking trip.

A few moments later, Piggy comes careening around the corner in his unit, slamming on the brakes in front of me, causing the tires to chirp. Then the door flies open and he unfolds from the front seat.

Rocking back on my heels, I almost laugh.

Here we are, him in his uniform, me in my suit and tie, both of us appearing to be the most upstanding members of society, and yet we both share the same tattoos beneath our clothes.

We share the same brotherhood that is, without a doubt, laced with illegal activity.

I would trade nothing about my life at the club, and I have a strong suspicion Piggy feels the exact same way. So when he clears his throat and stands there, unspeaking, his fists on his hips, I know something is very wrong.

“What did you find out?” I demand.

“He’s undercover, alright,” he begins. I wait for the rest, wondering when he’s going to get on with it and, at the same time, not wanting to fucking hear it. “He’s been deep undercover. He met your girl when he was trying to get an in with her boss.”

“Are you telling me there was drama with a fucking winery?” I ask.

He snorts. “You have no idea. That winery has been under surveillance by the Feds for smuggling fucking cocaine with their deliveries, along with cutting and packaging it on site right there.”

“And was Posey involved?” I ask.

He shrugs a shoulder. Honestly, I can’t picture the woman I’ve come to know the past few days being involved in something like that, but who the fuck knows. People are capable of crazy fucking shit.

“Anyway, what I could find was that this guy was the agent chosen to go undercover. Problem was, he couldn’t keep his nose clean.

I don’t know if I’m worse because I’m still working as a cop while being part of the Vicious Reapers or if he’s worse because he completely abandoned his duties and fell headfirst into this organization.

He met and married Posey quickly and then disappeared for a while. ”

“Now he’s back,” I say.

Piggy snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

“What?”

I watch as he lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his short hair as he clears his throat.

“I don’t know where he’s been. But being gone for two years isn’t a small thing, especially when you’re part of a syndicate like this.

There is something fishy going on here. I don’t know what it is, probably because I still can’t figure out his real name. ”

I don’t ask him why he can’t. It doesn’t matter. My body urges me to get on a plane and go to California immediately.

To save this woman, to be her knight in shining armor.

The problem with that is not only do I have clients waiting on me to do my fucking job, but the reality is that I don’t know her. We fucked a few times. I liked that fucking, and I like her, but I’m not ready to truly go all in with her.

My phone rings, and I dig it out of my pocket only to see that it’s Cidney. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer on speaker so Piggy can hear. I don’t know why, but I feel like this is going to be bigger than just her checking in.

“Have you found her?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“No, I haven’t. The bus has already left.”

“I think Lainey and I need to tell you everything we know.”

Piggy and I flick our gazes up to meet each other’s, and his expression matches my surprise. Instead of asking Cidney what the fuck she’s talking about, I end the call and head toward my car. Piggy does the same, going to his police car, and we take off and head to the bakery.

I send Cidney and Piggy a text to meet there. I’m not sure what they’re going to tell me, but I’m glad they have information because at this point, after what Piggy’s told me, I’m starting to fucking worry about Posey and what the fuck she’s mixed up in.

I’m sure that whatever this is she’s gotten into with Lucian Whitmore will most definitely not leave the club unscathed, but I also know that if she is here for help, which I think is the case, there is no way in fuck that Bullet will want us to ignore it.

Posey is the only family Dakota has. She’s Vicious Reaper property.

And when I get her back, she will be my property, too.

I might have been somewhat pretending to want more with her, but I know it was a lie because I loved every second of being near her.

There is no way I’m going to be able to let her go.

Posey Bennet is mine—was mine the moment that sexy-as-fuck red car pulled into the clubhouse parking lot. Now I just gotta get her name cleared, get her free from this fucker, and get her back to North Carolina.

Simple as that.

The thought makes me snort. Simple. Yeah. I have no clue what kind of connections this asshole has. This could undoubtedly turn into an all-out fucking war if I’m not careful, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid in starting this whole thing.