Page 569 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Of course.” I affirm her belief, even though I can’t share it. I used to be that way too—thinking fate would see me through and guide me on the right path.
And then I met Crackers and discovered what true turmoil feels like.
“How are you doing?” Her whispered question nearly undoes me all over again.
I force the corners of my mouth upward. “Better.” I ache for a sunny spot, nestled in a big chair downstairs. The illusion of safety and security. But first… responsibilities. “Think I’ll start the day with a quick shower.” If for no other reason than to prove to myself it’s not as scary as it seemed last night.
“Yeah, sure.” Dagne stands and collects her makeup. “I’ll be in Hooch’s room if you need me.”
I wait for her to leave, keening my ears for the telltale creak of the old floorboards that indicate she’s passed the point before his doorway. Satisfied I’m not about to be interrupted again, I snatch up my phone and head across to the bathroom to quickly relieve myself. Toes turned toward each other, I perch on the porcelain and scroll my media for any updates. There are a few tags and a message from one of the part-time girls who come in on the weekends, but other than that, nothing. At least, nothing from the man I’d hoped cared enough to ask.
He was so damn cut up yesterday while I shook between his sheets, the murder in his eyes as clear as day. But I guess fools will believe what they want when it comes to matters of the heart.
He doesn’t love methatway. He never will.
Not when one look my way reminds him that I’ve shared the same intimacy with no less than three of his brothers. If I’d believed we’d be anything other than adversaries, I would have turned down the idea of living in the clubhouse when it was offered my way. But I guess that’s why we don’t have crystal balls to tell us the future—because if we did, I’d still be trapped in a fucking house lacking love, looking for an excuse to see an emotionally unattached biker one more time.
I drop the phone onto the floor between my feet and bury my face in my hands. It was there, the day we sat in the yard and practiced his verbs—adoration. He looked at me as though I’d saved his soul, as though with one kind gesture I’d restored his faith in humanity.
And then I made the mistake of sleeping with him.
“Dumb, Beth.” I slam the heel of one hand to my temple, repeating it with each added, “Dumb, dumb, dumb.”
I’d been warned the first night I set foot in this place.“Whores never become lovers, sweetheart.”
If only I’d listened.
CHAPTER SIX
Crackers
Digits left. The motherfucker up and scarpered before the goddamn sun came up. Hooch is convinced the traitor never hit the hay, waiting until Pres went to bed before he took his leave. Goddamn asshole would have had to push his bike out of the lot to avoid waking us. And why?
He hasn’t said it, but Pres is pretty damn sure the asshole has gone after his woman. And if he’s done that, then I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to take it one step further and capitalize by adding another name to the list: Beth.
I’ve never been happier to skid my goddamn tire into the driveway of the Fallen Aces, Fort Worth clubhouse.
Hooch dismounts, leaving his bike running as he heads for the porch. I kill my engine and park up behind his—all fucks be damned if we block the way for anyone else. There shouldn’t be anyone coming or going that matters a shit, anyway.
“Where’s Dagne?” Hooch hollers as he crosses the threshold.
I hear her timid voice before I see her, shielded by his broad frame. “She uh… she left.”
“What the fuck?” The tendons in his neck strain when he hesitates at the base of the stairs.
Beth flinches, the sheer volume of his rage sending her coiling back on herself. “She left you a note upstairs.” Her hand shakes when she points toward the stairs, the other fisted in the loose T-shirt draped over her chest.
MyT-shirt.
The thud of Pres’s boots rises as he leaps the stairs two at a time, presumably to see what the note entails. If Digits has fucked with his woman, then all bets are off. The motherfucker will get what was owed tenfold.
“He’s not angry at you, babe.” I take a step toward her, the sight of her slender frame encased in my baggy shirt doing shit to me that has no rightful place when it’s comfort I want to give her. “He’s scared.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her lips twitch into a quick half-smile. “Is that why you’re back so soon?”
I nod, aware that she doesn’t need to know more. “When did she leave?”
“About an hour ago, I think.” Her gaze moves from my eyes, down to my forearms, and settles on my boots.
