Page 354 of Hell Hath No Fury
"Last chance, Jules."
I gave in, desperate to feel anything but this writhing, tearing helplessness.
"Fine." I stomped across the lot, following him around the building. "But you better not kill me."
He glanced back, chuckling. "You're a terror, you know that, right?"
I fell into step beside him. "Why didn't you come? She would have wanted you there."
His steps faltered. "It was for the best, trust me"
I watched him in the dim light of the moon, the shadows playing over his features. "For you, or for her?"
His jaw tightened. "For Caitlin."
My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Caitlin? I don't understand?"
Pope's father, Frank, had married Jen's mother, Caitlin, when Jen had been a toddler. Three years older than his new stepsister, Pope had taken one look at her and fallen in love. The two siblings had been inseparable throughout our childhood and into their early adult years until Pope had made a decision that had caused an unmendable rift within the family.
He stopped, his piercing blue eyes searching my face. "Frank isn't happy I'm home."
I glanced at the patch on his chest. "You joined a rival club. I doubt anyone in that bar is happy with you."
He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well, they can get fucked."
Realisation slammed into me. "You stayed away so Frank wouldn't make a scene."
Pope sighed. "He's scrubbed all reference of me. And he forced Jen and Caitlin to do the same."
My heart clenched. I'd known what his decision had done to their family. I'd listened to Jen bemoan the situation, raging against the stubborn men in her life. Being outside the club I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. I'd assumed they'd put aside their differences for Jen's final journey.
It appeared Frank wasn't so willing to forgive.
My hand found Pope's in the dark, his calluses grazing my palm. The heat of his skin cut through the cold that had penetrated my bones. As much as I would never allow myself to lean on a man, the weight of his hand, the solidness of him soothed me. Here was a person hurting just as much I was. A person who understood the scale of loss this world had suffered with Jen's passing.
Entwining our fingers, I squeezed gently.
"You're a good man, Pope." My lips quirked. "Even if you look like shit right now."
His blue eyes met mine, searching for something I couldn't define. Like a caress his gaze raked my face, meandering over every freckle, down my nose, and across my cheeks to settle on my lips. His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long as his thumb stroked across the knuckle of my hand.
His eyes lifted to mine once more, a spark passing between us. I couldn't say why but I felt as if I had just sold my soul to the devil in an unspoken agreement.
Behind us, the door to the bar flew open, bouncing against the side of the building as a garbage bag of trash was tossed into the alley.
I jumped, breaking our intense moment.
What was that?
Pope kept hold of my hand, halting my retreat. "Follow me."
And like a lamb to slaughter, I allowed him to lead me into the shadows.
CHAPTER TWO
Jen's wake had been organised by her uncle, his biker bar home to her club family. While I didn't understand the club life, I knew these people had loved her dearly and wanted to celebrate her life.
The property sat off one of the main routes out of town. Surrounded by cattle and countryside, I figured it was perfect for the rough crowd that frequented it—no cops, neighbours or tourists to worry about.
