Page 43 of The Grief We Hold

He tugs a key attached to a long chain from his jeans and unlocks the door. “Wasn’t expecting company,” he says when I take in the messy unmade bed and laundry in a pile by the door.

“It’s okay.” It’s not dirty. Just untidy. There isn’t dust on the surfaces, and the room doesn’t smell. In fact, it’s actually a lovely room, with two walls painted cream and two painted a deep midnight blue. There’s a large bed in the middle of the wall to my left. An open doorway reveals a bathroom with a counter that looks like it’s from a solid piece of wood. A white sink with tall taps hovers over it.

But my favorite part is a soft armchair by the window that looks out over the most spectacular view of the mountains andthe gentle wind of the river. Even the protective bars can’t detract from it.

Wraith places my bag on the bed, then hurries to the armchair to remove a pair of jeans carelessly thrown over it. “I gotta go. You sure you’re going to be okay in here?”

“I’m fine. Go.”

He nods and walks to the door where he pauses with his hand on the handle. Then he spins on his heel, walks back to me, and cups my cheeks. “Need one more taste before I go, Blue.”

And then he kisses me again. I’m grateful, in this instance, that my body responds before my brain. Because this time, I kiss him back with all that I am.

It’s safe and reassuring. My knees shake as his arms envelop me. Thankfully, he ends the kiss before my brain can kick in to end it first.

He runs his thumb over my mouth. “Love those fucking lips of yours. I’ll send Ember.”

And then he’s gone.

It takes less than five minutes before there is a knock on the door. “Raven, it’s Ember. Wraith sent me.”

I jump from the armchair and hurry to answer the door. The most stunning woman stands on the other side. She’s curvaceous. With long wavy strawberry-blonde hair and a wide smile, she’s almost intimidatingly pretty.

“Hey, Ember. Come in.”

“Thought you might need a drink,” she says, offering me one of the two glasses of wine she’s holding. “I’m so excited Wraith invited you.”

“Oh my gosh, I appreciate that. Thank you. My nerves are a little shot right now.” I take the glass, and I raise it to knock against hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, indeed. Hope you like a crisp Sauvignon. I brought it from my bar because Lord knows the clubhouse wouldn’tknow good wine if it was drowning in it, and I’m not drinking beer for however long this goes on for.”

“You run a bar?” I take a seat on the bed, sitting cross-legged near the end, and gesture for Ember to take the chair. “And are you with a biker too?”

“I own the bar Whiskey Fever in town. And, no, I’m not with a biker because the biker I was in love with turned me down cold. No one wants to touch the president’s daughter. But, before we discuss my sad story, you and I need to talk about Wraith. Because everyone seems really surprised that you’re here.”

Ember’s breezy honesty is refreshing. Reassuring. I already like her. I take a sip of the wine. It’s crisp, as promised, and perfectly chilled. “To be honest, evenI’msurprised I’m here.”

Ember’s laughter puts me at ease. “Then I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

14

WRAITH

“What do you need?” I ask as I stride through the chaos of the clubhouse bar to Butcher.

There’s a hierarchy when we call a lockdown. Senior patched-in members have their own rooms. Then there are two outbuildings behind the clubhouse, each sleeps eight in bunks. Usually, they are used by other patched-in members and prospects.

So, the bar becomes a campground with sleeping mats and inflatable mattresses for those who don’t have a bed.

“Need you to stop thinking with your dick and focus on locking us down tight. I want rotas for surveillance. And I want each senior member paired up with a prospect so they can learn what we do in this situation.”

“On it. I’ll build a two-hour rotation until it’s dark, then switch it up to four-hour blocks through the night. They’d be fucking stupid to come at us after hitting the grow-op. They have to know we’d be prepared for them.”

Butcher shrugs. “Who the fuck knows? Didn’t think they’d hit the grow-op. They obviously know more about us than we know about them if they knew where to find it.”

“Then we got to assume they’re heading this way and will come straight for us until we decide they aren’t. Let me get to it.”

“Where’s the girl?”

---