Page 45 of The Heart We Guard
“She’s not fucking yours,” I mutter to myself.
Yet, my stomach twists.
In any other world, any other time, she would be.
But I can’t drag someone well-meaning and noble and kind into the world I live in.
One where there’s a new rival around the corner. One we know has no issue killing wives and children, given they killed Wraith’s family.
What kind of man would that make me if I sucked her into that? I’ve had dreams. Violent ones. Ones where I died. And ones where they killed Greer like they killed Wraith’s family.
A loud honk comes from behind me. I don’t know which of my brothers hit their horn. But when I look up, the light has turned green.
Everything in me is telling me to climb off this bike, storm over there, and punch the guy’s lights out. Every single feeling I’ve been trying to keep buried is at risk of bubbling over like a fucking volcano.
I hold up the traffic until the fucker lets her go and jogs to a cab on the curb. And only when she walks back into the coffee shop do I give the signal for us to move forward quickly and head for Big Daddy’s.
I haven’t exactly been avoiding riding into Denver since I left Greer’s.
Okay.
So maybe I have.
I’ve found a reason to dispatch a different member of our club every time something needed to happen downtown, just so I didn’t feel compelled to ride to Greer’s house to…check she’s okay.
And checking she’s okay would be the first of many things I’d want to do if I saw the woman who’s been haunting my dreams.
Bikes rev behind me, and pedestrians on the sidewalk stop to stare as we ride by. The female driver in the left turn lane next to me puts her window up.
What does she think I’m gonna do? Reach through her window and rip her heart out from her chest, then eat it before the lights turn green?
I could try educating her, but it’s not worth the effort. Particularly when Big Daddy is waiting for us.
Most of the cars in front of us know exactly what to do. Pull over and let us pass.
There’s a pride in being the alpha dog. Even more, being the alpha of alphas. The brotherhood consists of men who put the club and its members first, above all things. With a commitment to create a life on your own terms.
I just seem to have lost the road map to what my own terms are. I’m uncertain of what I want. Worse, who I am.
There’s been a long and painful list of brothers who, like me, have ended up divorced. But there’s also another generation making it work.
Although, fuck knows how.
I wouldn’t let my wife, if I had one, out of my sight for a fucking heartbeat in this climate, especially after what happened to Ember. Would probably move us into the clubhouse permanently, just to ensure she was always protected.
Not that I’m getting another one of those.
When we pull onto Big Daddy’s property, the parking lot of the building quickly fills up, and bikes spill out onto the street. It’s a large ride-out given the nature of Big Daddy’s concern, laced with an undertone of trouble. Though Big Daddy runs a legal dispensary, he also has an under-the-counter business selling our tax-free weed and other drugs.
“Butcher,” Big Daddy says when he steps out back to join us. “It’s been a while.”
I hug Big Daddy. He’s a cross between one of those TV bail bondsmen and a fluffy, Black marshmallow. “How’ve you been, brother? That daughter of yours settled at college?”
Big Daddy nods. “Sure is. She’s loving it and doing us proud. Tried out for the marching band and not only got a spot but became the brass section captain in her freshman year.”
I got no fucking clue what any of that means, but the smile on his face tells me it’s a big deal. “That’s awesome, man. What did you want to tell us?”
Big Daddy tips his head to Grudge, Smoke, and Wraith. As the club’s vice president, road captain, and sergeant at arms, it makes sense they hear what he knows.
