Page 29 of Loch
“Not in this lifetime.” Nate’s voice was deep behind me, making me jump a little. I knew Bocca was only messing around. But apparently, Nate didn’t like it even a little. His hand came to rest at the small of my back and I bit back a smile. “Or the next. Fuck! Just, not ever.” It was hard not to feel giddy over the possessiveness going on right now. It was moments like this that made me wish for more with Nate. However, it never seemed to last long.
“Loud and clear, brother,” Bocca mumbled into his beer.
“So, you gonna tell me what actually happened, or should I continue to let my mind run wild?” I asked trying to ease the weird tension hanging thick in the air. Nate’s hand slipped away from my back, but he lingered there, so close that I could feel the heat coming off of his body. My breath caught in my chest and my heart was racing. This seemed to be the normal reaction from my body whenever he was near. You would think I was used to it, but it felt new every time.
“I got shot. Don’t worry that pretty little head, girl. Nothin’ major,” Bocca replied. He said it with a casual tone and shrug. I wondered if this was his first gunshot wound. “One in the ass. That shit ain’t cool, man.” He downed his beer and I got him another one. I almost want to laugh. The fucker got shot in the ass. If it wasn’t such a serious thing, it would have been funny.
My mind raced with all the reasons to why he would be in a situation where he could be shot. I knew Nate was more than likely there when it happened and it was a cold shock to my system. Nate could have been shot. My body tensed and I knew they both noticed. I was starting to sweat from all the panicking thoughts. I gave some excuse and made my way around the bar to check on the others. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want Nate to say something to try and ease my fear. And I definitely didn’t want him to even know how scared I felt about the thought that he could have gotten hurt.
I tried not to over analyze what had happened with us. He hadn’t exactly been avoiding me, but he wasn’t inserting himself into my life more than normal either. So what was there to think? He thought it was a mistake and didn’t want to admit it to me? Were we just going to go in like nothing happened and never talk about it? The girl in me wanted to know what was going on in his mind and if I meant anything to him. The girlpartsof me wanted another go-round or two.
Feeling slightly insecure and wrecked, I decided it was best to just play along with his plan. I didn’t let on that I was a wash of emotions inside. I did my best to shake it off. It happened, it was done, end of story. Right? Yeah, I was a damn mess when it came to Nate and I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
The rest of the night I tried to keep everything light. I made it my mission to lift the spirits of everyone who was there, most of all Bocca. I made him laugh. Although, I was sure whatever kind of pain medication he was on made me seem funnier than I actually was. Nate and I didn’t say anything else to each other for the rest of the night, but I could feel his eyes on me at all times. The one time I broke down and looked at him, he gave me a tiny half smile. It was almost sweet and made me wonder if he had a soft side he wanted to unleash. The hot and cold of the Nate situation was dizzying.
The next few weeks that followed, I didn’t see much of the guys outside of the bar. And even then, the times they came in turned scarce. There was something going on, but I had no place to ask. So, I kept my mouth shut and did my job. At the end of the night, I went home and let the worst thoughts eat me away. There was too much going on. I still had horrifying nightmares every night. Only now they were a mix of Lance coming after me and whatever darkness surrounded Nate. I just couldn’t seem to turn my mind off. I woke up every time in a shaking sweat. Then I would cry myself to sleep again. The images that played in my head were different but always had the same horrifying outcome. Then they started to morph into one thing.
It was always started off with Lance finding me and it always ended with Nate’s death instead of mine. I tried to keep things wrapped up, tight. I hoped that the problems would go away and wouldn’t spill into the rest of my life and the people around me.
But it seemed that my mind was trying to make me see differently. I couldn’t let myself crack. That was not an option. I still held onto the idea that this was my problem and I had to deal with it. The thing was, I didn’t know how to. I didn’t have the first clue on what to do. Other than running, that was. To keep moving so the bad things couldn’t catch up to me. But I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to move. Something about being in that small town felt safe. It felt like home. For the first time in years, I was surrounded by people who wanted to be around me. People that cared about what I had to say and listened to my stupid stories. People that looked out for me. And I hadn’t realized up until that moment that I craved that in my life. For the first time, I was starting to feel whole and settled.
I decided there was only one thing to do, keep my walls up and hope for the best. Push forward and hit everyday head on. There was no way Lance knew where I was. He didn’t know anything about me. I kept my shit private and the one person who could’ve helped him was dead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Loch
A month went by and the mood at the club was a mix of anxiety and anger. The silence from the Dogs only reinforced the feeling that something was off. Perhaps laying low was the best thing, but we didn’t like to be blind. And that was what we were. Buncha guys wearing blindfolds in a pitch black room. Whatever was coming was not good, and we could all feel it deep in our bones. We just didn’t fucking know when it would hit us. Everyone was stressed out and on edge, and nothing Cal or I did would ease that.
I had been spending more time at the clubhouse. I’d gotten behind on the paperwork for the bar. Paperwork that didn’t really matter, if I was being honest. But if it was ever going to be a legit place, then I needed to keep up with it.
I decided to head there. I figured I could spend the afternoon making sure everything was was kept up. I also wanted to make sure the orders had been taken care off. I knew Reagan and Chris were staying on top what they could. I had no doubt that in my absence they would keep the place looking as decent at it could look. The bar should’ve been stocked and the money locked up in the top draw of my desk every night. That was pretty much the only thing I needed from them.
Word had gotten around that Reagan somehow managed to draw in more townies to come to the bar. I didn’t doubt it helped that most of us were hunkered down at the compound. Not that we were hated in town. But I got the idea that people were under the assumption that the bar was our place. They stayed away out of respect, in a way. Even though, I doubted if any of us would care if they inhabited the place. It was always nice to have a different face to talk to.
Reagan even convinced me to order some karaoke machine thing. She set up Thursdays as the night dedicated to that. It gave me a headache just thinking about it. But if it made her happy then, fuck, she could have whatever she wanted. She had also added more bottles of liquor. She even kept up with fresh fruits and shit to make those girly drinks she went on and on about. I never once saw her drink one, though. It brought people in and part of me was happy. It was turning into a real business. I needed something positive to look at in the middle of the shit storm around me.
Reagan and I never talked about that night. A whole month went by and all I wanted to do was touch her, to kiss her, but I held myself back. When she came to me, it was usually about the bar. A few times, it was to ask if I could fix something for Ethel. I had a feeling that if Ethel hadn’t of asked her to ask me, she never would have. I wanted more, but I could tell she still had her walls up. The fact that she left that night was proof that she wasn’t ready for things to turn into anus. Not that I was sure it was a good time for me, anyway. I never wanted to put her in danger, and things were very much that right now.
I checked in with Cal, finding he had nothing new to tell me, then headed to the bar. It was a little after three and I knew Reagan wouldn’t be there yet. The bar was locked up, so I parked around the back and let myself in the rear entrance with my keys. I prayed that I would go unseen and no one would come pestering me about club shit. I figured it was best to not open just yet and if my bike was out of sight no one would think to stop.
I walk the floor to find it much cleaner than a week ago when I’d stopped by. The walls looked like they had been scrubbed down. The tables and chairs the same. Don’t get me wrong, the place was still a shit hole. Only it wasn’t a sticky shit hole now. There was a little area in the back of the bar that had been cleared out. The karaoke machine was now sitting in the middle of that space. There were definitely more bottles along the back wall behind the bar. I shook my head at the blueberry vodka. This isn’t a fucking club, I thought. Then I laughed. Reagan was trying and I was grateful for it. Even if she had no idea that I eventually wanted to turn the place into a legit business, she was helping work towards that goal. It was the little things she did sometimes that really got to me. Like somewhere we were connected on a different level. Like she just knew what was going on in my head and life without me having to tell her.
Shaking off the strange emotional feelings I was having, I took a mental stock behind the bar. Then went to the stockroom and did the same. Seeing that everything looked like it had been taken care of, I headed into my office. The old, leather chair creaked under my weight as I sat down. The noise made the place seem too quiet and still.
I looked up to find a poster on the wall in front of me. One that wasn’t there the last time I’d been in the office. It was in black and white. A woman with pin-up style curves was straddling a bike. Her back was facing the camera. She was topless. But her arm was outstretched holding the handlebars, blocking the view of her nipple. A tattoo of a tiger like it was stalking its prey covered her back. Her long dark hair in big curls cascading down her back, obstructing part of her tattoo. She was wearing a pair of tight, black pants and high platform stilettos.
I found myself smiling and thinking of Reagan in place of the woman on the poster. What I wouldn’t give to see her sitting on my bike topless. My dick started to stir in my jeans. It was almost pathetic how quickly I could get hard just thinking about Reagan. I wanted her, there was no doubt about that. But I wantedmoreof her, too. I wanted it all. A dull ache hit my chest knowing it would never happen. I found myself mindlessly trying to rub it away with my fingers.
I brushed those thoughts away and started counting money. After that was done, I locked it up in the safe. I added up what the bar had made every night and saw the numbers, while still small, grew a little more each night. I got lost in thoughts of how life would be after this shit with the club was all over. Would this place make it? Would the club make it? What the hell else could we open to make money?
The impending danger was making its way to the front of my head. I sighed and leaned my forearms on the edge of the desk. The weight of it all hitting me hard. My head hung as sadness and frustration washed over me.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.” Reagan’s voice broke through the silence sometime later. I was so in my head that I didn’t even hear the door open. My head snapped up and I looked at her. “Hey,” she said, her tone held a tenderness to it and her face softened as she looked at me.
“Hey,” I said in a deep, croaked voice. I cleared my throat as she stepped closer, closing the door behind her.
“You alright?” Her eyes looked sad for a moment. I imagined they mirrored mine. She walked around the desk and I leaned back in the chair so I could look at her.
