Page 6 of Misery and Ecstasy

I shudder at the thought and grimace in pain.

“This isn’t a hotel. Get moving, sunshine.” Still partially drunk, I look up into the officer’s gaunt face. He flashes me a shit-eating grin, knowing I’m still too fucked-up to beat his ass. Even if I took a swing, I’d probably miss, letting whatever strength I could muster pull me down onto the floor in a heap.

Grunting, I grip the bars of the cell I spent the night in to help lift myself off the padded slab of concrete they dare call a bed. Everything hurts. I feel like every muscle in my body has been pushed to its limit. The burn from my cuts scream from my elbows and knees as I bend my body, forcing it to follow the officer down the hall. Luckily, I was almost out of road before my bike dropped and I landed in the grass. Otherwise, I would have been sobering up in the hospital.

Everything I’ve done to lessen the pain in my chest over the last two weeks has been for nothing. It lingers, stronger than ever, pulling me down as though my heart has been filled and coated with steel.

Once we’re around the corner, I’m immediately hit with the most unwelcome beam of sunlight imaginable. I shield my eyes from it, the movement throwing me slightly off-balance. Purposely keeping my gaze away from the entrance to the police station, I focus my attention on the older woman at the front desk. Stopping before her, I’m handed a large plastic bag containing my personal effects.

“Sign here, please.” Taking the pen she offers, I scribble a line across the paper before reaching inside the bag and locating my sunglasses. “Thank you. You’re free to go.”

I turn, but before I move my feet, I reach back into the bag and dig out my cigarettes and lighter. The moment I pull them free, I light up and take a drag, not bothering to wait until I’m outside.

“All right, on your way, Hoffman.” The officer grabs me by my tattered shirt sleeve and practically hurls me through the doors.

I stumble but manage to catch myself before falling on my face.

Okay, let’s get this over with…

Raising my eyes, I look for Royce, but it’s not him I find staring back at me.

Oh god.

I lift my sunglasses onto my head as though they’re preventing me from clearly seeing who’s here. Standing before me, looking as judgy as ever with her puckered lips and cocked eyebrow … and her dumb necklaces…

And… And her stupid, gorgeous brown hair that I dream of raking my fingers through.

She’s the one person I won’t be able to hide from.

The last person I want to see me like this.

CHAPTER FOUR

MCKINSEY

Draven looks like shit.

Shit that’s been trampled over by a herd of cattle, sliced to bits by a tractor blade, and flung through the air only to plunge back down onto the earth in a blood spatter pattern that would give even Dexter a run for his money.

It does nothing to stop my pussy from clenching at the sight of him.

I’ve never seen him appear so out of sorts. I mean, it’s not like I’m overly familiar with him. But the anger etched on his features currently… It’s like I’m looking at someone I’ve never met. Like there is a beast residing inside of him I’ve never seen come out before.

I thought I had a much better read on people. But this isn’t the first time the MC has made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.

When Royce called me this morning and added picking up convicts at the police station to my list of duties to perform for the club, I told him to go fuck himself.

Well, okay. Maybe in not so many words, but I made it known that I’m not his errand girl.

He didnottake that well. Luckily, Delilah grabbed the phone as he started berating me, and she was able to diffuse his anger. Once Royce calmed down, she got on the line and explained the situation to me. I agreed, for her sake, but also because I was alittlescared for my life if I didn’t comply.

I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t nervous that this is actually a setup to get rid of me. My suspicion is outlandish, I’m quite aware of that, but a task such as this one is not part of their usual playbook, and it has me on edge.

Maybe I made the club angry somewhere along the way? Maybe they decided after all this time that I knew too much?

To be clear, I know thebare minimumabout the club. Only those minute details that were imperative to learn in order to aid in Harleigh’s and Delilah’s progress.

Now here I am, standing in front of a man I barely know, who I would never voluntarily choose to help. With his pinched eyebrows lowered, he shakes his head at the sight of me.

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