Page 9 of Wild Side (Vicious Reapers MC #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

ZADIE

Climbing out of the Jeep, I dig through my purse and find the room key.

I open the door and slip inside, closing and locking the door behind me.

My car is the only one in the parking lot, so I assume it’s quiet and safe here, but also, I’m not taking any chances.

Placing my purse, keys, and bakery box on the small table in the corner, I let out a heavy sigh.

I flip the lid of the box open and reach for the cupcake, my emotional support cupcake that I wisely bought myself earlier. I knew I was going to need it. I just wasn’t sure how much. Now I know.

It’s because I’m a coward.

I start to sit down in the single small chair next to the table but decide against it. I need a soft bed. I don’t care if I get crumbs anywhere. I’m the only one in the bed, and it’s not mine.

Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, I peel back the paper that’s wrapped around the cupcake before I open my mouth wide and take a bite. I can feel the buttercream touch my nose, and I would care… but I don’t.

Closing my eyes, I chew the soft cupcake and try my hardest not to cry. I’m interrupted in my self-pity by my phone buzzing in my back pocket. Opening my eyes, I let out a sigh, then reach for the device, unlock it, and look down at the new notification.

It’s from Sable.

Wrinkling my frosting-tipped nose, I read her message.

SABLE: Did you tell him? I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back your father.

Lifting the back of the hand that isn’t holding my phone, I slide it across my nose to wipe the frosting off, then, because I’m alone, I lick the back of my hand. This is probably the best buttercream I’ve had in my entire life, and I don’t want to waste an ounce.

I saw him. I didn’t tell him.

SABLE: You fucked him.

I did.

I’m not sure I should admit that. If she’s doing what she’s doing with my father, I don’t want her to tell him. Obviously, she’s not above telling him my secrets since he now knows where I am, and I’m not the one who gave him that information.

SABLE: Damn, girl. He must be good.

The best. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I try to shift the conversation.

I’m telling him tomorrow. I need a decent night’s sleep. I’m exhausted from traveling.

None of which is a lie. I am tired, bone tired. I’m also nervous and overly stimulated. I need to rest my body and mind. Sable promises to hold my dad back another day. I don’t really care. He can come barreling into town if he wants to.

Unfortunately, I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.

Crumbs and all. Turning my phone notifications to silent, I find the remote control and turn the television on.

I flip through the channels until I settle on an old episode of Catfish before I lean against the headboard and finish my delicious cupcake.

I’m not sure how long I sit with my back against the headboard watching television, but long enough that I nod off, and when I wake up, something else is on, and I feel completely out of my element.

Frowning, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and decide to take a quick shower and change into my pajamas. I can’t believe I fell asleep with the lights on and the television blaring. I don’t know if I’ve ever done that before.

After I’m showered and changed, I turn the lights off and slide into bed. Changing the channel, I find a movie as background noise, then reach for my phone and decide to do a little scrolling. I feel wide awake, and since it’s three in the morning, there’s not much else I can do.

I have a few notifications on my phone, and when I open them, I’m surprised to see that they aren’t from Sable. They’re from my dad. One missed call, a voicemail, and a text message.

My dad and I aren’t super close. He raised me, but it was very much a totalitarian household. I didn’t have a voice. I did as I was told, because my father’s word was law. Which is why I was always the good girl, never got into trouble, and have always followed his rules… until now.

Communication was very much a one-way street and still is with him. Orders are given. Orders are followed. He doesn’t necessarily call me, and when he does, it’s to dictate something.

But this?

This is different.

DAD: Call me. I’m worried about you.

Worried?

He told me I ruined my life.

The time stamp reads an hour ago, which tracks since it’s a three-hour time difference.

I think about ignoring the message, but it bothers me.

Never, not once, not even when we’ve been on lockdowns, not even if someone has been gunning down members, has my father ever expressed concern to me about me.

Finding his name in my phone, I touch the call button and hold it to my ear as it rings.

It only rings twice before I hear him clear his throat and grunt my name as my greeting.

That’s normal. That is how he always answers the phone, which is a bit of a comfort to me, considering his messages were not like him at all.

“Sorry, I didn’t get your messages. I was sleeping.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, he clears his throat again before he speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me it was someone from North Carolina?” he demands.

“I’m handling it myself,” I state.

I don’t want to get into an argument over this. It’s not worth it. What’s done is done, and I just need to take it one step at a time. Step one was telling my dad, step two was flying out here, step three is telling Maverick. I haven’t gotten there yet, so I still need a little more time.

“Absolutely fucking not,” my dad snaps. “You omitted some important information from me. This shit is unacceptable.”

God. Sable. I could kill her. I don’t say that, though. It’s pointless. “I’m handling it. Let me do this.”

“No,” he snaps. “This is the club, and you are in the absolute fucking wrong by going there without me. That’s not how this works.”

Tears fill my eyes. I don’t understand why he’s being this way, and if I’m doing something wrong, it’s because I don’t know whatever made-up rules he and these men have. Their secret society, their shit, I don’t know anything about it. I haven’t been allowed to know anything.

My father has never let me know this part of his life. Sure, I know a few basic things, but only because I’ve been in lockdown or something like that. I’m not like Sable. I was never allowed to spend time down there.

Those men are my uncles, sure, they’re my father’s men, but they’re strangers to me and I to them. Seen, never heard from, and certainly never touched.

“Stay the fuck there and do not go down to that clubhouse until I’m there. This is not in your control any longer.”

He ends the call, and I pull the phone away from my ear to stare down at it.

Shit.

I don’t even try to sleep. There is no way I’ll be able to. I am on a countdown to tell Maverick everything. Nothing like having the looming pressure of my father coming here and no doubt causing some kind of drama to speed up my process.

MAVERICK

Sleep is for the fucking weak.

And apparently, I’m not fucking weak.

I don’t know what I am at this point. Leaving Zadie outside the clubhouse felt wrong. Then again, her being here feels right, but also, why is she here? I can’t place what the fuck is going on, but I also didn’t want to have a conversation.

I wanted to fuck her again, then sleep. The rest could come in the morning. Now it’s morning, I haven’t slept, and I can’t get her out of my head. Glancing down at my phone, I wince at the time—three in the morning. I haven’t even closed my eyes.

I can’t.

Every time I close them, I see her. Tugging my cut back on, I walk out of my bedroom as I slip my phone into the inside pocket. The clubhouse noise is down to a dull roar. Music has been turned down, there aren’t any clinking glasses, no loud talking, and no pool is being played.

There are a few moans in the distance, no doubt sucking and fucking going on, but nothing in the bar area as I walk through. That is, until I hear my name being called. I know who it is. I’ve never in my life needed to or wanted to distance myself from my brother.

Our road names are Maverick and Goose for a reason. Where there is one, there is always the other. Except in this. Something changed the moment I laid eyes on Zadie, and I can’t figure it out, but I need the space to do that.

“You going to her?” he asks.

Turning my head, I look over my shoulder to see my brother standing a few feet away from me. He’s wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. His arms crossed over his chest, his gaze pointed directly at me.

“Need to know what she’s doing here,” I state.

He dips his chin slightly, though he doesn’t break his focus before he speaks again. “Whatever hold she’s got on you, time you figure that out. I feel like I lost my fuckin’ brother.”

Arching my brow, I turn around to face him. He has my attention. “Lost me?” I ask. “Because I’m not fucking women with you?” I ask.

Even though I know that’s a lie. I have been fucking women with him, just not with the same vigor I used to, or as often. My mind has been completely fucked up, and I need to get my head on straight.

“Not just that. Everything. She’s got you twisted up and fucked up.”

He doesn’t allow me to respond to his observation. Which is fine, because I don’t even know what I would say to that. So, I say nothing. Instead, I watch him walk away before I turn and continue to make my way outside and to my bike.

Climbing on, I start the engine, closing my eyes as I inhale a deep breath. I let it out slowly, open my eyes, and turn my bike around, riding for the exit gate and then toward the motel.

Toward Zadie.