Page 16 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
POSEY
Lucian doesn’t speak a single word to me.
He’s completely frozen me out, which I’m okay with at this point because I don’t really want to speak to him.
When we arrive home, I head straight for the bathroom and lock myself inside before I take a long, hot shower.
I wash my hair, my body, everything, as I try not to cry.
I fail.
Tears stream down my face just as I finish with my hot shower. I turn the water off and try to stop my crying, but I fail again. The tears keep coming, and as much as I want to pretend that everything is going to be okay, I know it’s not.
Failure. I can add that to my list of attributes alongside selfishness.
When I walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I’m cursing myself for not bringing a change of clothes into the bathroom. As soon as I walk out, I see Lucian sitting at the base of the bed facing the bathroom door, his eyes focused on me, anger swirling in them.
“So, you want a divorce?” he asks.
Pulling the towel a bit tighter, I stare at him, almost wondering if he’s truly asking me that. I am in complete disbelief at the simple question.
“Lucian,” I whisper.
Staring at this man, I don’t feel anything. I’m not sure if I was ever in love with him, but if I was, I assuredly am not any longer. I feel nothing aside from disgust and anger when I watch him from across the room.
“You could have gotten me killed filing that shit,” he spits.
I don’t speak. Mainly because I have no idea what he’s talking about, and more importantly, I don’t want to know what he’s talking about. As far as I’m concerned, this man is no longer my husband. I haven’t had the faintest idea of what he’s been doing the past two years, and I do not care.
Staying silent, I watch him, waiting for him to continue.
As much as I want to ask him what he’s talking about, I don’t want him to have the slightest inclination that I care for him in any way.
Because I do not. Impulsively marrying this man was a mistake.
One of my biggest mistakes, I fear, and one that isn’t going to go away easily.
“You don’t know who or what I am. You don’t know who you work for. You’re just fucking flitting around life like a goddam pathetic butterfly.”
His words should hurt. I flinch from them, but not because they hurt me. Because of their bite. They are as good as a slap across the face, a punch to the gut, whatever it is. Holding on to my towel for dear life, I watch him, waiting for him to stand from the edge of the bed.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he pierces me with his eyes. Trying to cut me with his look and his words. I try not to let him. I’m not sure if I fail or succeed, but he does stand and close the distance between us.
Tilting my head back, I lift my chin, looking up into his eyes. Searching his gaze with mine as I wait for whatever is about to happen. Because I know he’s thinking something , I just can’t tell what. Because I don’t believe that I ever knew this man.
“Do I even know your name?” I chance asking.
“No,” he states. “Well, you know the name you need to know.”
“And the divorce?” I ask.
Silence. His gaze searches mine for too long. I feel uncomfortable, but I’m not going to tell him or show him any sign of that. Pressing my lips together, I tilt my head to the side as I wait for his response.
“You’re asking for a divorce, but we’re not even married.”
I take a step backward, and my breath hitches at his words. “What do you mean?” I hiss.
He lets out a bark of laughter. “Did you think I would really marry you?”
I press my lips together and roll them a few times. I don’t know what to say or how to respond to him. He’s telling me that I don’t know his name and that we’re not married. So why can’t I just walk away?
“Lucian, I don’t understand.”
He laughs, though it’s without humor. It sounds cruel to my ears. I take another step backward, though I’m not sure why I’m trying to get away. There is nowhere for me to go, especially in this towel, and Lucian knows this.
He reaches up and wraps his fingers around the side of my throat. “You left after I came back. Why?” he demands. “Did you not want me back?”
“I want a divorce,” I state.
He shakes his head a couple of times, never looking away from my eyes. He is focused. Connected. I remember the way I felt when he used to look at me this way. I don’t feel it now. Instead, I hold my breath, waiting for him to get on with whatever the fuck he’s going to get on with.
Lucian leans forward until his mouth touches mine. A chill of dread slides down my spine at the simple touch. One that I used to welcome. But I won’t ever forget how he made me feel a few weeks ago or how he hurt me.
“I can make you disappear, Posey. You have no family. You have no friends. Your employers will do as I say, the way I say it. There is no divorce to be granted because we were never married.”
“Why did you leave me just to come home two years later, hit me and threaten me, and now drag me back here?”
His lips curl up into an ugly smirk. “I didn’t drag you back here, baby. You came on your own.”
And then his hand squeezes, effectively cutting off my air.
My vision begins to spark, to pepper with spots, and then everything goes dark.
It’s as if it’s all happening in slow motion.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
I try to scratch and tug at his arm, but nothing happens, and then there is darkness.
Complete and utter darkness.
IVY
After Lainey and Cidney tell me everything they know, I realize I was right. Posey was hiding some serious fucking shit, the main thing being that she has no idea who the fuck she’s married to.
Not a goddamn clue.
After listening to and thanking Lainey and Cidney for their information, Piggy and I head back to my office to have a discussion and form a plan. The only plan I can even begin to imagine is to board a fucking plane right this goddamn second and go to her.
“We gotta figure out if this fuck will come after us. We don’t need any more heat on the club.”
“We don’t,” I agree.
Piggy and I both nod a couple of times, but I know what I’m thinking, and I can guess he feels the same way, at least somewhat. I want Posey here, mainly for selfish reasons. Piggy wants her here because he knows it will make Bullet and Dakota happy.
Mainly Dakota, but that, in turn, makes our president happy. And a happy president means a happy club. Piggy deals with enough drama at work. The last thing he wants is an unbalanced club. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way.
“So we stay here and research,” I state.
It’s the last thing I want to do, and I hate the fact that I’m suggesting it to begin with. It doesn’t feel like it’s the right move to make. The man inside of me wants to run to California. I want to claim my woman and slay her fucking dragons.
I want to let my control snap and just go with my baser instincts alone. I don’t do that. I’m more controlled than that. At least I should be. I’m a fucking attorney. I’m a fucking member of the Vicious Reapers MC. I cannot let a woman make me lose my control.
So I fight every fucking urge inside my body to go after her.
Even though that is all I want to do. I want to run straight toward her, rescue her, and bring her home. I don’t do any of it. Sinking down in my desk chair, I lean back and look at the ceiling for a moment before I shift my attention back to Piggy.
“Let’s start with what Posey’s financial situation looks like. I think that will be the easiest way to know what her involvement could possibly be,” I begin.
Thankfully, I have access to a credit check program for potential clients and research purposes.
It doesn’t take me long to look up Posey’s information and, at the same time, to discover that she is indeed not on the take.
Unless she’s squirreling cash away, this woman is doing her job and nothing more.
“She looks clear to me,” I murmur.
“I couldn’t find anything on her. Not even a parking ticket. For all the bullshit she’s had in her life, I think this woman is much like Dakota. Shit circumstances and trying her fucking best to get out of them.”
Well, it’s good to know that she’s not in trouble with the law. But what we need to figure out is how the winery and her supposed husband are involved in all of this.
“Who are the people running that winery?” I ask.
There is a moment of silence, and I watch as Piggy’s fingers slide across the computer keyboard of his laptop.
Then he clears his throat before he lifts his gaze to meet mine.
I’m not sure how to read the expression on his face, but when he shifts in his seat uncomfortably, I know that whatever he’s got to say cannot be good.
“Unfortunately, her boss is not as clean as she is. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Clearly, every single item points toward a criminal syndicate. Don’t know what he’s involved in—cartel, Mafia, no fucking clue. Doesn’t really matter at this point.”
“What do we do?”
He flicks his gaze to meet mine. “You want to wade in on this?” he asks. “You gonna claim her as your old lady?”
“She’s Dakota’s aunt,” I state.
He snorts. “Yeah, she is, but you know as well as I do if I called you about Aunt Suzie, the club would not wade in with this kind of operation.”
I know he’s right. Bullet might want to just because she’s all Dakota has, and it would make her happy. But Bullet isn’t here, and we don’t even have all the information. We’re piecing shit together, and it is not looking good.
“I can’t go there and deal with it myself. I have three cases right now that need my attention. I have to be here for them.”
He looks down at his feet, then slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Want me to call the closest club or see if there’s a nomad? Bullet would be cool with that.”
Piggy is right. Bullet would be cool with that. I’m not sure what the right move is here. She left. She didn’t ask for help. But at the same time, I’m not sure she knows what the fuck she’s walking into.
“I’m going to call the club over there,” I say. “Maybe they know more about this winery and the people running it.”