Page 145 of Tempting Fate

If it wasn’t for Isaiah, Hunter, and Cub refusing to give up on him, he wouldn’t have survived.

Those three boys are the heroes of this entire disaster. With the Shamrocks’ leadership out of action, they handled all the logistics. They got rid of Alex’s body. Cleaned up the not-so-safe house. Assisted the brothers who were ambushed to get medical attention. Disposed of the evidence linking the club to the hit made on the Bishops in retaliation. Helped organise the funerals of the men who lost their lives that night.

Weston. Tank. Our youngest prospect, Rider.

Unfortunately, the main villain—my father—hasn’t shown his face yet. He’s been holed up at Doc’s. Refusing visits. Declaring he has nothing to answer for. Since everyone has been careful to keep me from overhearing too much, I’m not sure whether that’s true or if Dad is hedging his bets because he knows Bear made off with anything that could implicate him.

In the face of the stonewalling that I receive every time I ask when Zeke will be back from this mystery mission he’s on, I’m beginning to worry that there might be a second villain in the sorry tale that is my life.

My stomach churns, and I gently lay my hand on it.

“Fuck, Cherub,” Slash’s voice is mournful as his gaze flits between my belly and my face. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then sets me on the edge of the bath. “I’ll get Nads.”

Once he’s gone, I hobble over to the door and lock it. I relieve myself without an audience. Never one to admit when I’m beaten, I unbutton the nightdress I’m wearing and let it drop to the tiles. The disposable maternity underwear Bebe brought for me follow. I use my toes to lift them into the bin. It’s humiliating, being this useless, but it’s an improvement on the first few days when I had to be undressed by Nadia, Charlie, or Crystal, and held upright under the warm water because my legs refused to cooperate. Slash wasn’t exaggerating when he said he’d been carrying me around for days. My grip on reality was snapped by the reappearance of Alex’s monster, but slowly and surely, my head is clearing, and the emotions I’ve been suppressing are seeping into my psyche.

Holding my hand under the water, I wait for it to warm up. As I’m twisting the cold water tap to adjust the temperature, the sound of a heated conversation erupts from the other side of the door.

“I’m telling her,” Nadia declares.

“Just give her a couple more days of peace,” Slash cautions in a low voice. “He has to come back for the funerals. With Brutus still out of action, he’s in charge. He’ll see sense after they sit down and talk.”

My best friend is scathing as she says, “He better not come back. I’ll pop a cap in his arse and set his corpse on fire if I see him.”

“I might’ve told him somethin’ similar.” Slash inhales noisily. “I was pissed at him when I said it… thinkin’ that was the wrong move now. If you can keep your mouth shut for another day or two, things will work themselves out. I’ll drag him home by his nut sack if I have to.”

“He doesn’t deserve to get off that easily. She deserves to know.”

“It was his baby, too. Don’t think he’s gettin’ off easy at all.”

Edging closer to the door when I realise that they are, in fact, discussing Zeke’s absence, I hold my breath as I wait for Nadia to say something else. There is silence for a moment, then she breaks what’s left of my heart with her next statement.

“You’ve got two days to get him back from Sydney… after that, I’m telling her the truth. We can’t keep lying to her. It’ll just make things worse when she finds out. We’ve both been down that path with Cherub before. No way am I covering for him a second longer. He’s lucky I agreed to Sander’s stupid plan in the first place ’cause I’ll never forgive Zeke for desertin’ her like this.”

I’ve heard enough.

My fingers tremble as I flick the lock open. On wobbly legs, I step under the shower head and lift my face toward the ceiling. Tears stream down my face, but I pretend it’s only shower water that’s rolling down my cheeks. My heart may know better. Thankfully, my head is on board with blocking out my reaction to the truth I just overheard.

Zeke left me.

Shaking that thought out of my head, I do my best to pretend I’m oblivious to the tentative way Nadia approaches me. Unlocking the door like that wasn’t exactly subtle. No doubt they’re both wondering if I heard them. It’s cruel, yet I take a little bit of pleasure from knowing that they’re now treading lightly on the edge of the same rug that was just ripped out from under my feet.

“Heya, Anna. You’re looking better today.”

I swipe at my wet face and lick my lips. Straightening my shoulders and holding myself as tall as I can, I push through the ache gripping my heart and the soreness that is slowly leaving my body to offer her a tight smile, then a nod. When Nadia’s eyes widen at my fake poise, I feel my chin wobble. It takes a second to get myself back under control, but I manage it.

“I feel better… not perfect, just not as delicate as I have been.”

“That’s—” She pulls the toilet lid down and perches on top of it. “—good.”

An uneasiness grows between us that I do nothing to dissipate. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Nadia drops her gaze to her phone and starts typing. As soon as I’m sure her attention is off me, I mentally zone out, reaching inside myself and grabbing hold of the strands of numbness that held me captive five years ago. Back then, Zeke fought his way past my mask to force me to feel again. Now, he’s the reason I need this escape.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

Alex’s attack isn’t what broke me this time round.

The man who asked me to trust him is responsible for smashing everything that we worked together to rebuild. We created a life—literally and metaphorically—and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me it was over. It takes a second to mentally dig through all my internal scar tissue to find the detachment I’m looking for. Once I find it, I grasp hold of it with every ounce of willpower I possess. My gaze lowers to the shaver Charlie dropped off for me at some stage. I haven’t been interested in, or capable of, personal grooming.

In truth, I’m still not.

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