Page 26 of Protector

Jamie would go back to the club and hunt down the men responsible, and I would fight to be the mother they deserved. I closed my eyes, seeing Jamie’s tears.

When was the last time I’d seen him cry?

It had to have been Kate’s first birthday when Mikey had stayed over. He’d always kept his heart under lock and key, but in those rare moments of emotion, I realized just how good he really was. And I’d fallen in love with him a little more.

What if I’d broken him?

If my plan backfired, then I’d just sent my husband into a suicidal downward spiral by taking away everything he loved. What if the club wouldn’t take him back?

No.

I couldn’t let myself think of the alternative.

Because, if I was wrong, then we were all dead.

Chapter Five

Grey: 2001

“Jesus Christ, Grey.”

I rolled over, blinking against the sudden brightness streaming in through the open door. “If you’re wakin’ me up this early, your ass better have brought coffee.”

“Coffee?” Slim laughed. “It’s five o’clock in the fuckin’ afternoon, dickhead. Bear got some intel on the Serpents. Club’s just waitin’ on you. Get up.”

The pounding in my head demanded I sleep off the hangover before doing shit, but I’d spent the better part of six months trying to find the fuckers who laid hands on my wife.

I peeled myself out from under the damp sheets, stumbling over my boots and last night’s clothes as I took in the unfamiliar room. “Where the fuck are we, Slim?”

“Motel, just outside of Pearland,” he answered before looking up at me. “Fuck! Put some goddamn clothes on!”

My cock jutted up against my belly, clearly not giving a damn that morning wood was typically reserved for the morning. It didn’t matter that she’d ended things between us; every day I woke up harder than a fucking rock, with the image of her in my head.

That was all it took.

It was just like the old days. I should’ve been impressed that an old fuck like me could walk around with a constant hard-on without the help of a little blue pill.

Comedian had tried sending me whores, but I refused to touch another woman. I’d made a vow, and if that meant I spent the rest of my life jacking off six or seven times a day to thoughts of her like some teenage boy, so be it.

“You hear me, fucker?” He turned around. “Jesus Christ, Grey! The fuck is wrong with you?”

I watched, mesmerized, as my hand moved up and down the shaft like it didn’t even belong to me anymore. “It’s doing it all by itself, Slim. Polite thing to do would be to let it finish.”

“You ain’t hungover—you’re still strung out. What the fuck did you take?”

My hand continued stroking as I sauntered over and took a swig from the half-empty bottle of tequila on the dresser. I scanned the room, just as curious as Slim to see what I’d done.

The weeks and months since leaving her had been spent finding new and creative ways to fuck myself up. If I did it just right, I’d buy myself a few hours where I didn’t see her broken body.

I didn’t have to watch her self-destruct just from me touching her or see the message they’d sent in the form of blood and bruises.

The numbness kept me sane until it was time to kill again. Then, and only then, did I allow myself to feel it. We may not have found the three responsible, but the trail of bodies left in my wake told me I was getting closer.

My eyes landed on the bag of blow sitting on the nightstand at the same time Slim’s did.

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “I’ll never understand why in the hell Bear allowed the club to vote you back in as Pres. You’re a fuckin’ train-wreck, you know that? And, if there’s anyone who should be completely fucked in the head, it’s still not you—it’s her!”

He was right.

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