Page 48 of Filthy Savage

I’m surprised there’s even a peephole. I wouldn’t have thought that a rustic cabin in the woods had one, but it’s right there. I can’t help but wonder if it was added later. Pushing the thought aside, I smile as I look at the man who greets me.

Guts stands in front of me, a sight I never imagined would bring me calmness, and yet he does. Opening the door, I tilt my head and step to the side to let him in. He doesn’t make even a twitch to move.

“Guts?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t protect you from the inside, babe. I’ll stay out here. Got a chair and all,” he murmurs, lifting his hand and extending his finger to point at the rocking chair on the porch.

It’s an upright, hard-looking wooden rocking chair, and I can’t imagine it will be comfortable. But I also don’t think he cares. These men of the Dark Horse MC are made from steel, I swear.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice softer than I intend it to be.

Guts smirks. “I’m sure, babe. You do your thing, and I’ll hang out here and make sure you’re safe until my night replacement comes.”

“Thank you.”

I don’t know what else to say or how to say it. A thank-you doesn’t seem like enough. He’s protecting my life from something that may or may not be an issue. An unknown danger. It shouldn’t bother me. This is nothing other than precautionary… at least that’s what Evan is claiming.

I don’t know who or what to believe at this point. Everything that’s happened—with Clink, with jail, and then this wholeMafia group in Shreveport and whatever happened there—I find myself confused by it all and wondering why—just why.

Instead of asking Guts what’s happening and trying to get more information from him, I decide against it.

Knowing him, his allegiance and loyalty, he probably wouldn’t tell me anything anyway. They never do, these men of the Dark Horse. They keep everything a secret, hide it all, and then down the road, into the future, sometimes you find out, and sometimes you don’t.

Leaving Guts alone on the porch, I lock the front door and head into the living room. I gather my laptop and decide to try and get some of the work done that I didn’t even attempt to tackle earlier.

Thankfully, I have peace and quiet in the cabin to do just that. Flicking on the television, I find something that can play in the background. I need some kind of white noise if I’m going to power through the work that is waiting for me.

I send one email after the next, tweaking, creating, and invoicing once, twice, three times, and on and on until my workload for the day is complete. Lifting my gaze to the television, I frown at what’s been playing in the background. I had no idea when it changed, but it’s a cooking competition show.

My stomach growls, and that’s when I find my phone and check the time. It’s well past my dinnertime. Forcing myself to stand, I walk the short distance to the kitchen. I wrap my fingers around the handle of the fridge, gently tug it open, and bend slightly so I can survey the contents.

I already know what’s inside, but I’m not sure what I’m going to actually eat. There are a lot of ingredients and not a whole lot to eat without cooking. And when I went to the store with Evan, I had planned on making meals for two in this little love nest of a cabin for us, but I find myself alone again, as always.

Frowning, I turn my head and glance at the closed door. “I wonder if Guts would eat with me?”

Sadness washes over me. I’m not a great cook, but there’s something about making a meal for the person you’re sharing your life with that is so intimate. I wanted that. I was afraid of this, knowing what I knew about the club, about the women in the club. I had hoped that things were different, that this world could be different…

Walking toward the door, I tug it open and look out to see Guts standing against the wall, one foot propped up and his knee bent.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

He turns his head, his eyes finding mine. “I shouldn’t be eating on the job,” he grunts.

“I’m hungry, and I don’t want to cook for one,” I say with a smile.

There is a moment of silence. I can tell he’s weighing the options in his head. He’s probably not supposed to eat, but at the same time, he’s also a man and no doubt hungry. Laughing softly, I wait for his answer.

“Then I could eat,” he says with a grin.

Closing the door, I hurry toward the kitchen and get cooking. I shouldn’t be as upset as I am. This is a special circumstance. It’s not like Evan is down at that awful clubhouse. He’s out of town, supposedly figuring things out in an effort to keep me safe and help my brother.

So, as much as I want to be upset and angry, as much as I want to demand that Guts tell me what the hell is going on and what exactly Evan is doing, it doesn’t matter. I can’t focus on that. I have to think about why I’m here.

Humble.

My brother.

He is why I am here. Sure, I have feelings for Evan. I’m falling in love with him, or maybe I never fell out, and I’m just continuing to love him. I’m not sure, but it feels very overwhelming.

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