Page 35 of Come Back To Me

“Travis,” Dean snaps. He turns to her. “Mollie, I’m going to need you, if what you’re saying is true.”

She sighs for sure this time. “It is. I give you a week. And that’s being hopeful.” Turning, she starts walking away.

“I have a kid on the way, Mols.”

I see her body coil, mirroring my own. Mollie doesn’t turn around. Instead, she tightens her grip on her things and leaves.

I shift on my feet, but she’s gone. As soon as that door closes, a weight is lifted, before a barrage of baggage tumbles on top of me. I’m filled with remorse. Relief. And then an incomprehensible amount of anger.

Turning to look at Dean, I’m just about ready to tear him to shreds for mentioning he’s having a kid to her. He fucking knows the significance of it, yet he still threw it out there.

Stood face to face, fists clenched, he just stares at me. Still. I quickly realise I have to bury whatever it is that’s about to rip out from me before I end up doing something I’ll later regret.

Taking a breath, I swallow, my hand cupping the back of my neck. Fuck, this is harder than I thought. “What do you need?” I ask him, my words forced from my mouth. It’s the best I’ve got.

He looks up, and I know the answer.

“Go. I’ll call Sonny. He might still be in contact with that paralegal officer. Worth checking if what she’s saying holds any weight.”

Dean rubs his face. “She wouldn’t have risked seeing you if it didn’t.”

My fists uncurl. He has a point. Like he wouldn’t have risked mentioning having a kid if it didn’t hold any significance.

“Call him, see what he says. I’ll call Vincent, let him know we have complications our end. With any fucking luck, nothing else will come up before we sit down with Costa.”

I nod my head at his instruction.

Blowing out my cheeks, I realise I need to let off some steam. When did everything get more serious? There’s sweet fuck all we can do but get ready; prepare ourselves for what’s to come. I need Dean on top form—need the mate who deserves to wear that fucking president patch after all the shit he’s been through and done for this club.

Out the corner of my eye, I notice one of the girls who works here looking at me with hungry eyes. She’ll do. “It’ll be alright,” Isay, trying to reassure myself as much as him.

The way he looks at me and doesn’t say anything, I hope I’m right.

Once Dean’s gone, I go in search of Stacey. She’s young, blonde, fake tits, fake hair, fake life. Fake. Which makes what I’m about to do so much easier. It’s not real. There’s no connection. Nothing more than on demand pussy. Not all the girls are like this, most work the bar and keep things ticking over. But she is.

She steps out of the kitchen with Red, both girls stopping at the entrance. Lifting one arm, she hangs herself off the door frame. She’s confident, which I like, but not on her. “Looking for me?” she purrs, pushing herself forward and into my personal space.

My mind sees Mollie. “Get in there.” I nod towards the clubhouse bedroom.

She steps forwards, trailing her hand across my front as she goes, the smile on her face one of complete satisfaction.

“You joining?” I’m going to need a bigger distraction.

“No,” Red answers shyly, unlike her. Her loss. I don’t dip my dick where there’s drama anyway.

I turn and walk into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

“I’m glad I caught your eye,” Stacey purrs, standing with her weight on one foot, her short dress sat high on her hips. “You look stressed, baby.”

She has no idea. Seeing Mollie again has wrecked my head. Walking forward, I stand directly in front of her, my size compared to hers completely dominating. Her breath hitches when I look down at her. “Are you going to help me unwind?”

Chest rising and falling quickly, Stacey bites her lip looking up at me through her lashes. “In any way you want,” she says, like the greedy little whore I know she is.

I push her to the bed, dropping her to her arse.

She smiles, clearly turned on by my complete lack of fucks for her. It’s messed up. But it’s what I need right now.

I spin her, pushing her body down the bed, her head hanging off the edge, her hair trailing down the side. “Pull up your dress.”

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