Page 49 of Fletch

I don’t see Axel’s fist this time, and it’s not until I’m on my back staring up at the ceiling that I realise he got me good. My eye throbs, and I slam my foot hard on the floor to keep my calm. “Stay there,” he hisses, pointing a finger in my face. I clench my jaw to stop myself spouting some remark that’ll just earn myself a full-on beating. “You don’t call the shots here, I do. She wants to take this club down, so you don’t get to decide if you’re done with her. We continue with the plan.”

“And the drugs?” I ask.

He holds out a hand, and I grab it warily. He pulls me to my feet, and I sit back in my chair. “You move them when she’s with you.”

“What?” I ask, my brows reaching my hairline.

“She knows you’re hiding something. If she comes back tomorrow with a dog, you’re done. You move the stuff while she’s with you. Drop it at the gym and place it in this locker.” He passes me a key with a number on it. “Tell her it’s a clean set of gym clothes you keep there for whenever you want to drop in the gym. Shadow is gonna do what he does best,” he says, slapping Shadow on the back. “He’ll get some shots of you two together. She can’t deny being involved if she’s with you.”

I bury my face in my hands then nod. “Okay.” It’s a good plan, and if this all comes crashing down, her case against us will fall apart. “I’ll call her now.”

“No,” says Nyx. “She was gutted earlier when you rejected her. Let her come to you. It’s less suspicious.”

“Listen to him,” says Grizz. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

Nyx grins, nudging his shoulder into mine. “I’m the master,” he whispers. “Told yah.”

Gemma

I walk around the car for a third time. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m hoping this makes it look like I do. I groan because who the hell am I kidding? I’ve never purchased a brand-new car before. My last was second-hand, and I kept that until it died. I pull out my mobile and send off a picture to Fletch, hoping he’ll offer some words of advice.

The sleezy salesman makes his way back to me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. “Wanna go for a ride?” He dangles a key in the air.

“Actually, I’m waiting for my friend to message me back. He knows more about cars than me.” I glance at my phone and will it to light up. I know Fletch is mad at me, and I get it, but he knew my job before he slept with me and I never promised to back off. With my father and Karen breathing down my neck, it was unavoidable.

“It’s hard to make a decision without feeling the power of the engine rumbling through your body.” He scans me with his beady eyes for extra measure.

The sound of a motorbike fills the air, and I pray it’s him coming to my rescue. A minute later, Nyx stalks in as he pulls off his helmet. “Let’s go,” he says clearly.

“Go where?” I ask.

“This piece of shit will rip you off,” he says, grabbing my hand.

“Hey, that’s slander,” the car salesman yells after us.

Nyx gets on his bike and passes me the spare helmet. “Where did you come from?” I ask, wondering how he got here so fast.

“I was in the area, so Fletch sent me to get you.”

“Oh.” I throw my leg over the bike and push the helmet on. Nyx pulls me closer to him, just like Fletch does, and then he pulls my arms around his waist and starts the bike.

A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the clubhouse. I glance around nervously as I step off the bike. I’ve been lucky so far, not getting caught with Fletch, but it’s the middle of the day, and who knows what my father could have put in place behind my back.

Fletch is talking to a woman when we go inside. He’s laughing with her and jealousy instantly burns me. He glances my way before turning his attention back to her. I wait a few minutes before he finally heads my way. “Everyone knows that jackass on the High Street is a rip-off.”

“Clearly not everyone,” I mutter.

“I’ve gotta stop by the garage to get my gym bag, then I’ll take you to a decent salesman.”

“Thank you.”

He makes no move to grab my hand as he leads me back out to his bike. He climbs on without helping me with the helmet, and when I slide on behind him, he doesn’t grab my legs the way he usually would to drag me closer. In fact, when I take hold of the bar behind me, I fully expect him to pull my arms around his waist, but he doesn’t and I’m disappointed. Somehow, I’ve fallen back into Cameron Fletcher’s trap.

We stop at the garage, and he runs inside, returning seconds later with a gym bag. He lays it across my lap and gets back on the bike. “Shouldn’t we secure this?” I ask.

“You’ll have to hold on to it.”

“I can’t, I’ll fall off the bike.”

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