Page 11 of Strider's Misstep

I’ve never explained to her my reasons. And worse, my own guilt at my actions made me keep my distance, so both of us dealt with our loss on our own.

My gut clenches as I admit how much I hurt her. Unable to bear seeing the grief at my own loss mirrored in her eyes, and knowing I was the cause of it, kept me away. It was easier not to talk to her than face up to what I’d done. I’d tried to justify my behaviour to myself—she’s just a club girl. She knows the score. No strings, no attachments.

The truth was my own feelings ran deep for her, emotions I couldn’t allow. Having never asked her, I told myself that what I felt was one-sided. It was different for her.

Me? I knew I could cope with things I couldn’t have. I’d been doing that for a very long time. But Jasmine? Well, she would be fine.

I’d been both wrong and blind. This book? I can feel her in every word, every sentence, every page.Thisis the longing deep from her heart.Thisis the ending she wanted. The prez and the club girl making a new start.

Eventually, the combination of the Jack I’ve consumed and my emotional turmoil has me passing out. Surprisingly, I wake with my mind full of clarity and a decision about a course of action I’ve not considered before.

While there are reasons things between us can never be as apparently we both wish they could, at least I can give Jasmine an explanation as to why. She deserves that, at least.

CHAPTER FOUR

JASMINE

“Hey, Butch. Watch out,” I shout.

The prospect jumps, heeds my warning, and gets the near-burning bacon off the heat. He gives a wide grin in response to my rolling eyes. Sometimes, I think I’d prefer to do all the kitchen duties myself. Supervising can give me hives.

“This enough eggs?” Kat, the club girl who’s been here the longest, asks in her lazy drawl.

Leaning over to check, I respond, “Sure, honey. That’s more than enough.”

“Impossible!” Shout laughs, entering the room and having overheard. “We’ll eat everything you serve up.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Kat winks at me.

Laughing, I go check that the coffee pot doesn’t need a refill, and finding it does, am just about to undertake that task when loud stomping footsteps approach.

“You. With me,” is barked out.

We all swing around but it’s me who Strider is clearly pointing to.

Brushing my hands down my jeans, I hate the way my heart rate speeds up. Nowadays, any attention from Strider is so unusual I can’t be unaffected. But it’s immediately apparent this is no request for a booty call.Have I fucked up?

Swallowing rapidly, I nod. “Sure, Prez. How can I help?”

Deigning not to answer, he simply stands back in silent invitation for me to precede him out of the door. Then he places his hand on my lower back to guide me. His touch burns, resonating through to my soul.I’ve missed him so much.I swallow hard, trying to stop feelings I shouldn’t have from overwhelming me.He’s not mine. He’ll never be.As far as I know, he’s about to chuck me out of the club.

The feeling he’s had enough of me intensifies when I realise he’s pushing me toward the front door. I wait for him to stop, to say some form of the words, “get out”, but nothing comes from his mouth.

Once through the portal, he pauses, half-turns toward his bike, then lets a long breath out. Changing direction, he heads to one of the club’s SUVs and opens the passenger door.

All my stuff is back inside in the small room I’d had assigned to me. Everything I possess in life, and, crucially, my laptop. Without that, I can’t work. Rather than simply obey him, I put one hand against the side of the car and push back.

“Not like this, Strider.” Again, I swallow hard. “You want me to leave? I’ll give you no problem. But at least let me go pack first.” Unless… A little voice says maybe he thinks I’ve learned too much about the club. If so, there’s no way he can leave me alive.

Is this it? Is he going to kill me?

“Fuck, Jas. What are you thinking? You’ve gone white.” Taking his hands off me, Strider takes a step back. “I’m not kicking you out. I’ve just got something I need to show you.”

I’ve spent three years of my life loving this man, but love is not totally blind. I know it’s one-sided. And when the emotion isn’t reciprocated, trust and love don’t go hand in hand. If Strider wants to get rid of me, he’ll make some excuse to get me into the car.

Strider’s a big man, and while my eyes flick left and right, he’s still standing too close for me to try to get past him. Stronger than me, there’s no way I’d be able to push him out of my path.

“Jas,” he says in an imploring tone. “Please don’t make this hard.”

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