Page 15 of Trick

TRICK

These fuckers are filthy. Empty glasses litter every table, and the floors are sticky with spilled beer. There wasn’t even a party last night. Since I came back, the clubhouse has been on strict lockdown. Only brothers and family members are allowed in the building. Out-of-towners and brothers from other chapters need to call in advance before turning up.

Howler is doing everything he can to keep everyone safe, and with each day that passes, I see the toll that takes on one of my oldest friends.

I blink against the starkness of the strip lights overhead as I start clearing the nearest table of glasses.

These days, there’s a peace I find from doing mindless tasks. I don’t like thinking too much—it gives my mind space to deep dive into places I don’t want to go.

I also like getting here early. I’m one of the first in this morning, so the clubhouse feels unnaturally still. I prefer the quiet before everyone arrives. It’s the only time of day when I don’t feel like a caged animal being gawked at.

I load the glasses into the dishwasher before heading back around the bar to collect more. By the time I’ve filled it, the room is clear, so I move on to wiping the tables.

As I clean, my mind wanders to the conversation I had with Heidi yesterday. It fucking infuriates me how she views her place in this club, her place in my life. We let things slide for way too long. Giving her space was the worst fucking mistake we could have made.

I could have made.

Crow was my friend. I owe it to him to take care of his woman after he was murdered. No, scratch that. Heidi was my friend too, and now, she has walls built around her that no one can penetrate—though I’m starting to see past hers and glimpsing the pain she carries with her.

Maybe it’s because I can recognise it now, but we are two sides of the same coin, only I’d moulded my trauma into something destructive.

She’d retreated.

I lift my head as the door opens across the room, dragging me out of my mindlessness.

I freeze instantly as Skye steps inside, yawning and dragging her feet as if she’s half-asleep still. I doubt she expected anyone to be here yet when she came down from the room she shares with Rage, and she hasn’t seen me. I don’t want to startle her, but I also don’t want to creep around in the background.

She must be over twenty weeks now, probably closer to twenty-four, but her bump is hidden beneath a shirt that’s so big on her, it has to be Rage’s.

That familiar acid burns my gut as I remember what I did to her that day. I hope one day she’ll forgive me, but I will never forgive myself for turning into a piece of shit animal.

Her footfalls come to a screeching halt as her gaze finds mine. Regret floods me as she blanches and presses a hand against her stomach protectively.

I straighten my back slowly, trying not to be a threat as neither of us moves. suspended in the moment.

“I was just… I wanted a drink.” Skye pulls her shoulders back, trying to show me she’s not scared, but her eyes tell a different story. I respect her bravery in the face of her fear.

“You want me to make you one?” I ask, throwing an olive branch down, but she doesn’t take it.

“No. I can do it.” She takes the widest route to the bar, avoiding me completely, and that ugly guilt eats me alive.

“Skye?”

She pauses, peering over the top of the bar that is between her and me. “I just want a drink, Trick. I’ll get out of your way as fast as I can.”

That cuts me worse than any physical wound, and I know I should let her go—and let this go—but I can’t.

“I’m sorry.”

Her smile is thin and her eyes are hard. “I’m sure you are, but if you’re looking for forgiveness, you’re not going to get it from me. You could have hurt my baby.”

She’s right. I absolutely could have. I was so incensed in that moment, I couldn’t think rationally. I just wanted to destroy Desmond Richardson in the same way he’d done to me. I didn’t consider his daughter was an innocent party. I didn’t care.

I glance down at her stomach, the rounded slope of it a little more visible when she has her hand there.

“Is the… is the baby okay?” I ask.

Her jaw tightens at my question. “My baby is fine.”

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