Page 59 of Zeke

I hit Zeke again, only this time Kira steps between us before I can do more. She pulls me into a hug—a hug like I’ve never had from a friend before. One of comfort and caring, things that haven’t been a part of my life—outside of me and my brothers—until now. I’ve been in clubs and been nomad with other women bikers. We’ve been friends, but none of them ever felt like Kira does. Like a sister more than a friend.

Her embrace calms me so that I no longer feel violent, but I still cry in a way I haven’t since I found out Walton was dead. I cling to her like she’s a lifeline, and I sob into her shoulder.

After a few minutes, I glance up and see Zeke looking down at me, pity in his expression.

My rage boils up in me again. I don’t want his pity. “I don’t need someone who helped take my brother away from me, who’s responsible for my other one’s life being on the line, to feel bad for me. Save it for someone you didn’t fuck over.”

“I know you’ll take your anger out on whoever you want,” he says to me. My hands tighten into fists behind Kira’s back.

“But this isn’t the fault of anyone here. Wizard and a rival club attacked them. Not me, not Eden, no one—not even Savage, who’s the one paying the price. But Eden’s the one who took out the other guys and got Savage to the hospital so they can take care of him. If it wasn’t for her. Hemighthave died, but as it is, he’ll be fine. Which means you should be thanking Eden you still have a brother alive. What’s done is done. Your other brother was a monster. Time to grow up and put blame where it actually belongs.”

Zeke turns around and walks out of the kitchen toward the stairs. I watch him go, catching a glimpse of Country who stands nearby, looking like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Julia,” Kira says, pulling away from the hug but leaving her hands on my shoulders. She opens her mouth but closes it, apparently lost for words. She can’t hide the fact that she’s looking at me with the same pity Zeke was.

“Save it,” I say angrily, throwing her arms off me.

I could go to my room and cry, but that’s not the way a biker deals with stuff. There’s one thing that will always clear our heads and comfort us. That’s the sound of an engine, the feel of it rumbling between our legs, the wind in our hair.

Instead of going to bed, I run out into the night and get on my bike, then take off to I don’t know where.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

Country

Icould hit something.

It had been a perfect dinner—our first real date, Julia and me, and she seemed as into it as I was. After dinner, when we went outside, I knew it was my chance to kiss her.

Until her damn phone went off.

Now I stand here while she looks at her phone, but the longer she looks, the more horrified she seems.

“What the fuck?” she says, and I can hear in the tone of her voice that something isn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, dreading the answer and feeling disappointed about the interrupted kiss.

“Something bad happened at Kira’s.” She doesn’t need to say more. Kira is the first friend she’s ever had who wasn’t part of an MC. I would be no better than some of the other guys she’s told me about in her past, who only cared about one thing with her, treating her like a cut slut instead of the strong, independent biker she is. I want to do better—tobebetter.

We head home, riding side by side through town way faster than we should, and we’re lucky no cops flag us. We race up the long driveway to where the bikes are parked. I think Julia might still be moving when she dismounts, running up the stairs into the house. I follow her, trying to keep up, but as I run through the living room, I hear my name.

“Country!”

I stop so fast I nearly fall over and look at who called out to me. I see Eli sitting with Justice and Brawler.

“Hey,” I say, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen, where Julia talks to Zeke and Kira.

“We’ve got a problem,” Eli says.

“So I heard,” I reply, taking a step into the room. “Something about Kira, or the bakery, or…?”

Eli holds up a card and says, “This came on some flowers that were left for Kira on her doorstep.”

I take the card from him and read it. I get a weird crawling feeling up my spine at how creepy it is.

“Gross,” I say. “Do we know who it was? Rivals? Or average run-of-the-mill stalker?”

“No idea,” Eli says. “Which is why we’re treating it like it’s a direct threat on the Kings until we know otherwise. Even if it’s not, I think most of us can agree that some extra protection at the bakery is a good idea.”

---