Page 30 of Tripp

“I still can’t believe you stayed here,” I growled, walking around the small room and tossing her stuff into a bag she had opened on the bed. The place was fuckin’ filthy, the walls a dingy white and the seventies shag carpet a horrible shade of worn green. And the smell—holy fuck, it smelled like stale smoke, vomit, and piss. A white-hot surge of anger strangled me at the idea that she thought so low of herself she chose to stay in this dump. “What the hell were you thinkin’, Reece?” I stopped in front of her and lifted her chin so she had no choice but to look at me.

Embarrassment stole over her skin and she tried to move her head, but I tightened my hold, all without hurting her.

“What were you thinkin’ stayin’ in this shithole?” I repeated.

“Stop it,” she whispered, placing her hands on my chest and shoving me away from her. I stepped back only because I saw the sad look in her eyes and I didn’t want to add to her already distressed state. “I told you I didn’t have any money. This was the only place I could afford.”

I couldn’t help but press her for more information. More personal information. “Why didn’t you ask your family for money, then? I’m sure they’d help you out.”

With her back turned toward me, busying herself with gathering the rest of her things, she said, “I don’t have any family. My parents and brother died in a car accident.” She took a deep breath. “And I left my house so quickly I didn’t have time to think about what I’d do once I got wherever it was I was going.”

“What does that mean?” I tried to turn her around but she shrugged away from me, zipping her bag before quickly walking toward the door. Once outside, I decided to let the conversation die—for now.

I still had Hawke’s truck from the night before, and thank God because it had started to rain on the way to the clubhouse.

“When can I start back to work?” Reece asked, tapping her fingers on the door rest.

“Tomorrow, if you want.” My hands tightened on the wheel, a reaction she most definitely noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?” My knuckles were turning white.

“Because of that,” she said, pointing to my hands.

“I hate the thought of you around all those fuckin’ men,” I grunted.

“Are those men the same ones who keep making your club money?” She smirked, toying with a strand of her hair while giving me the coyest smile. While I didn’t like the topic of conversation, I had to admit that I liked the relaxed mood she appeared to have switched into, especially since she seemed so upset moments earlier.

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I like you being in their line of sight, though.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, I loosened my grip on the wheel. “Just stay behind the bar during open hours and we’ll be fine.”

“You meanyou’llbe fine,” she teased.

“Yeah.” I knew it was a lie as soon as the word left my mouth.

Tripp

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the clubhouse lot. “I’ll be right back. Just have to grab the keys.” I jumped out of the truck and was about to close my door when Reece’s voice cut through the air.

“Can I use the restroom?” she asked, clenching her thighs together. “I really have to go and I don’t think I can hold it.” Her face scrunched up while she squirmed in her seat.

“Yeah, okay. Come on.”

Leading her inside, I directed her to the bathroom while I headed toward the bar, having spotted Marek hunched over talking to Trigger. Slapping him on the back, I took the stool next to him. “How ya doin’?” I asked tentatively. His only response was a grunt, followed by a slew of drunken words.

Looking to Trigger, I frowned, to which he simply shook his head. He mouthed, “Not good,” before serving Marek another shot. The only guys who knew about what was goin’ on with our prez were the men who were at the safe house. We agreed not to tell anyone else until we found out whether or not Psych had been telling the truth. Once the DNA results came back, then we’d let Marek decide what to do next. Until then, we swore to keep our mouths shut.

Marek’s cell vibrated on the top of the bar, Sully’s face flashing across the screen before he reached over and rejected the call. “I can’t,” he mumbled before shouting to Trigger to pour him another drink.

“Are you sure, Prez?” Trigger asked, slinging his bar towel over his shoulder. “I think you’ve had more than enough. Don’t you want to sleep it off? Or better yet, do ya want me to take you home? I’m sure Sully’s worried about you. She keeps calling.” Trigger looked to me for assistance, which I readily gave.

“Yeah.” I tugged on his arm. “Come on. One of us will give you a lift home. I’m sure your wife is worried sick.” I looked back to Trigger. “He hasn’t been home yet, has he?”

“Nope. Been planted on that fuckin’ stool the entire time. I’m surprised his drunk ass hasn’t fallen off yet.”

“I ca . . . can hear ya,” he muttered, finally staggering to his feet and walking toward Chambers. “Bring me a bottle,” he shouted before slamming the door to the club’s meeting place.

He left his phone on the bar, and when it rang again, I answered. I probably shouldn’t have, but I knew Sully would be worried. No doubt she’d already spoken to Adelaide and knew Stone had returned home.

---