Page 61 of Dancin' with Demons

The moment he’s out of earshot, I turn to Renee. “I’m so sorry.”

Her brows pull together as she tilts her head a little and stares at me. “For what, Ray?”

“For bringing this problem to work,” I say. “I completely understand if you need to let me go. I just—“

“Stop it,” she snaps. “Whatever happened to you, whatever this shit is, it ain’t you’re fault. I’m not firing you because you clearly have a stalker or something. We don’t turn our backs on our people like that, sweetie.”

“Is there anywhere I can sit where I can’t see that shit?” I swivel my head around, scanning the back of the parking lot.

Renee stands and holds her hand out to help me up. Wrapping her arm around my shoulder, she guides me away from the diner to a pickup truck that’s parked facing the building. Walking around the back, she pops the bed open and pats the tailgate.

“Hop up here and try to focus on your breathing,” she says as I follow her directions. “Your shoulders are shaking, and your teeth are chattering, and I doubt either are from the weather.”

Shit. I hadn’t even noticed.

Renee walks away, and I lean forward, baring down on my palms as I curl my fingers around the edge of the tailgate.

What the fuck am I going to do?

More importantly, who the fuck is doing this, and what the hell do they want?

Closing my eyes, the memories that go with those pictures flash through my mind like the worst horror movie ever made. The only difference is I can’t comfort myself by saying they aren’t real because I lived it. Everything is very much real, and as much as I thought I was over everything that happened to me, the ache running through my body as my mind recalls the pain I went through makes me realize I’m not over a damn thing.

Clasping either side of my head hard, I start to rock as the first wave of sobs hits me, and all I want to do is scream.

Chapter 23

Renegade

I can’t remember the last time Catacomb called Church for only the officers, but damn if I ain’t sittin’ at this huge fuckin’ table with damn near no one here. I don’t want to be here either. Catacomb knows it, too. I’d rather be home with Savior or sittin’ outside my woman’s job to make sure nothin’ happens to her. I know my protectiveness is gettin’ to the point of aggression and part of me cares and wishes I could chill the fuck out, but a bigger part of me is still in the mode of makin’ sure nothin’ and no one every gets near Raylynn again, or Savior, at all.

“So, let me get this right, Prez,” Archangel says, sittin’ forward and glarin’ at Catacomb, “you’ve suspected Hammer wasn’t on the up and up for over three years and never thought to mention it? Like, I don’t know, when we patched the mother fucker in, maybe?”

Catacomb huffs. “Like I said, I didn’t have shit for proof, just a gut feelin’. If I got rid of every brother that occasionally gave me a bad feelin’, we’d be lookin’ for a new fuckin’ Enforcer because the last three years was nothin’ but bad vibes about Renegade.”

“Don’t bring me in your shit, Cat,” I snap, “and don’t make it sound like I’m anythin’ like this traitor cunt. You knew exactly why I was so fucked up. We have no fuckin’ clue why Hammer is doggin’ my woman. It ain’t the same and you know it.”

He sighs and runs his hands down his face. “You’re right. This may very well be my fuck up, and if it is, we can bring it to the club and I’ll take whatever blow back there is. Right now, though, we need to figure this shit out before someone gets hurt.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you got enough evidence for us to bring him in for a formal hearin’ with the club. We show the video you got, play ‘em all the audio, lay shit out, and see what the brothers think.” Freeway leans back in his chair and nods toward me.

Sittin’ in this room with just these men, I realize how much I have to lose right now. This isn’t just about me and Raylynn.

“Guys,” I say quietly, restin’ my forearms on the table, “this isn’t Somethin’ we can be wrong about. The deadass truth for me is that if Somethin’ happens to Raylynn and Savior, I won’t bounce back a second time. Call me weak or whatever, but for real, I can’t survive without ‘em. Raylynn . . .” I sigh and grumble under my breath as myself, “she’s literally my heart. She ain’t here, and the one in my stops fuckin’ beatin’.”

I glance up to seven sets of eyes glued to me, faces stern, not a hint of smile or nothin’. Finally, Archangel clears his throat.

“You ain’t weak, Renegade. And we might not love ‘em like you do, but there ain’t a man in this room that don’t love your woman like a sister and Savior like a niece. Ain’t a one of us that wouldn’t die for ‘em, too.”

“I know,” I say with irritation, shovin’ myself back in my chair. “I just can’t fuckin’ think right on this. If it was happenin’ to Sandra, Lacey, one of the clubwhores, I’d be focused, and I should be fuckin’ focused now, but I swear, all I can think about it the million fuckin’ what-ifs runnin’ through my head every fuckin’ second they’re not in my sight.”

“Welcome to lovin’ someone, brother,” Catacomb says as he claps my shoulder at the same time his phone rings as he walks past my chair to the front of the room. “Catacomb.” He has his phone to his ear and immediately his eyes widen and go right to me. “James, slow down, what happened?”

The moment the name is out of my prez’s mouth, I’m on my feet pullin’ my phone out and hittin’ Raylynn’s name in my call log. It rings five times and goes to voicemail.

“Aight, man,” Catacomb says, holdin’ his hand up for our attention, “we’re comin’. Tell Ray to sit tight.” Slidin’ the phone into his back pocket he moves around the table past me and we’re all followin’. “Someone left a bloody gift for Raylynn outside the diner.”

“What kind of gift,” Archangel asks as Catacomb stops in front of the doors leadin’ to the clubhouse.

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