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Chapter Twenty-Three: Dare

Friday afternoon

Jericho and I packed up the truck and Curly was ready to leave for the lake. I couldn’t wait for this weekend with Red. Memories of our last trip had revved me up, so I’d packed some special toys.

My phone rang, but I’d left it on the chair. I hopped over the side of the pickup but it quit ringing before I got there. Red’s number flashed on the caller ID, but her phone went to voice mail when I called back. I left a message. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can’t wait for the trip.”

Curly and Jericho headed out, but I drove back to the shop for my last client. When I walked in, Red wasn’t in the front, and the place felt too quiet. In the back, Zayn and Rock stood talking but both turned and stared at me.

“What’s up with you two?” I frowned. “And where’s Red?”

“Gone.” Zayn said. “Her sister is in the hospital and she’s headed to Oklahoma City now.”

What the hell? It must’ve been real bad news, but that didn’t explain why she hadn’t called back.

“You haven’t heard from her? She said she’d call you.” Zayn scuffed his shoe on the floor.

“Would I be fucking asking you if I’d talked to her? She didn’t even leave a message when she called.” Anger filled me. I turned and kicked the trash can across the room. My heart pounded and the first signs of panic clutched me. No way, I shut that down—I was done with panic attacks.

She knows the rules
,
call
,
leave a message.

I flicked my phone and brought up her number, calling again as I stared at the two guys. “Straight to voicemail.” I waited for the beep. “Best fucking call me, Red, now.”

The door jingled and I pointed at Rock. He hurried up to the front and brought the client back. I buried my anger and shoved my phone in my pocket so I could focus, nothing cleared my head like working.

Mason wanted those stupid angel wings on his back, but it wasn’t my back. I prepped his skin and laid the transfer down before I began with the needle and ink. I focused on how the wings fluttered and the tattered edges of feathers. I checked my phone during the break, but nothing from Red. Anger and worry mixed in a sour sludge in my gut. Was she okay? And why hadn’t she asked me to go with her? I hated thinking of her out there alone dealing with all her baggage and her sister. She needed someone to have her back.

Rock took care of checking Mason out while I paced the workroom, but the walls started to close in on me. “I’m headed up to her place. Call me if you hear from her.”

I paced the living room, debating what to do. If I knew the hospital, the sister’s name, something, then I could go to her, but even then, not for hours. Jericho was on the road, and he’d have to direct me in, even if I knew where the hell she was.

This was exactly the reason I didn’t do people, you couldn’t count on them. That Red’s inconsiderate ass still hadn’t called pissed me off and reminded me how weak I really was. A hole had formed where my stomach should be from the gnawing fear trying to spread.

Heading to the kitchen for a pop, I saw her phone charger on the counter and her bag on the floor.

Motherfucker
,
no charger.
I
bet her phone is dead.
How could she be so irresponsible?

I threw the charger into the wall. It cracked and fell to the floor in pieces, but it didn’t satisfy me, just made me more furious since this proved I wouldn’t be able to reach her anytime soon.

A knock sounded and Rock walked in looking like he’d rather be gutted than be here.

“She called the shop just now, I tried to—”

I moved toward the door, needing to get to the phone—to Red.

“She hung up before Zayn could even call you.” Rock stood braced for a punch.

He thought I would hit him. I wanted to, because the rage made me want to fight, to hurt, to burn the world down.

“She made it, is safe. That’s all I got before she hung up.”

“Did she even fucking ask for me?” I hated asking that question.

“Her sister interrupted her, the doctor came in and she was gone almost before she’d said hello.” Rock looked away from me.

I nodded, holding tight to my rage. “Go on, I’ll see you Monday. If she fucking calls again, remind her I’m alive and would like to be called.”

He hurried out of the apartment, slamming the door closed behind him. I stomped out after him, remembering to lock the door. I revved the bike’s motor and sped away, pushing it past its normal limits. I needed the speed to blow away the anger, but it didn’t work. At the club, I grabbed bottles of whiskey and headed for my room. I left a message for Jericho, telling him we wouldn’t be there, and then I opened the first bottle of whiskey.

Somewhere near the third bottle, I started thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Her car could quit, her sister could screw with her, she could get carjacked, she could be in a damn accident—the list of dangers was endless. Normally I loved danger, but not when I couldn’t be there, be sure everything worked out. I stumbled out into the empty hall and pounded my head against the wall, trying to shut out the visions of Red hurt and bloody.

“Fear is for fucking losers,” I shouted, and threw the whiskey bottle down the hall, but the shattering sound of glass hitting the floor did nothing to satisfy the nasty mix of shit churning inside me.

What right did she have making me depend on her, want her, and then disappear without a word?

* * *

Monday morning, Jericho kicked down my door, waking me up. I’d spent the whole weekend drinking until I passed out. The dark oblivion had been the only time my fucking mind didn’t try to turn me weak.

“Damn this room stinks,” he complained. “Get your ass up and in the shower. You have clients in two hours and your girl is headed home. You shouldn’t look this damn pathetic.”

The cold anger I’d nursed charged through me, overflowing into a righteous rage.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, and headed to the shower.

Once I felt half human I left the club, making it to the shop about ten minutes ahead of my appointment, a quick touch-up and planning session for a new piece. I was just finishing up when the front door jingled and I heard her voice. That dark hole in me laughed at the way I longed to hear more of her voice—earthy and sensual.

She walked in with a sad air then stared into my eyes with this expression of hope.

Really? She just showed up and wanted to pretend she hadn’t fucked up.

“Angel, honey, show Mack to the front for me. I need to talk with Lila.” I turned from her and that confused expression. “Glad you showed up, finally.”

“I called the shop...my sister was—”

“What’s so fucking difficult to understand? You ain’t here, you call me.” I rounded the table and stalked toward her, my anger taking over. “You didn’t tell me where you were, when you’d show up.”

Her gaze darted to the others—Rock and Weasel stood frozen, and Zayn stood off to the side. She’d get no help there because they knew just as much as me that she’d gone beyond and now she had hell to pay.

“You forget how to dial a goddam phone?” I snarled at her. “You could’ve been dead for all I knew.” Flashes of her dead replayed as if on cue.

“I called, you didn’t answer. My phone died. I only knew the Marked Man—”

“You fucking want your job, follow the fucking rules.” I closed in until I stood inches from her. Smelling her sweet citrus scent, my pulse pounded.

No way she can miss my point now.

A transformation happened in front of me, but not the one I expected. She didn’t crumble with sincere apologies, instead, her spine straightened and fire replaced the disbelief on her face.

The same fire that I always craved filled her now. I’d never wanted to bury myself inside her so much as I did right now. I wanted to strip her, spank her ass and fuck her on my table, making her understand she was mine.

“Step the hell back from me,” she yelled at me. “Move back.”

I faltered, Red didn’t yell, and the swirling hurt in her narrowed eyes was a wake-up call. I paced away from her, trying to get a grip.

“Shit happens. Phones die, sisters are crazy, and so are bikers apparently.” Her voice broke so she paused. “I came home to you, but if I’m not welcome—”

“Goddammit, Red—”

“Stop there, Dare—you cool the fuck off before you speak to me again.” She strode up, standing chest to chest with me.

No one did that and it pissed me off even if I respected her moxie.

“I’m going upstairs, you go collect your shit, and talk to me later.” She moved toward the back door.

“To hell with this.” I stormed out of the shop, pissed she decided she was the wronged one.

Bullshit.

I rode for an hour or so before I headed back to the club, spending the night nursing a bottle and bitching with Jericho. He laughed at me and told me to let it go, but I couldn’t.

She was wrong.

It was simple to say—I fucked up. I won’t do it again.

* * *

The next morning I woke up not hungover for the first time in days. As I showered I thought about Red, and those green eyes full of hurt haunted me. I’d been a thousand kinds of pissed off, so I’d gone too far, not even giving her a chance to apologize. With my anger only on a slow burn in my gut, today I could get through this without losing it—give her the chance to talk to me.

With a better attitude, I drove into town and parked. Not even ten yet, so we had plenty of time to talk it out and move right on to the make-up sex I was more than ready for.

I unlocked the door and strode inside. She lay curled on the living room couch. Her red-rimmed eyes opened, looking up at me. It looked like she’d just dropped there, she even had on the same clothes.
Fuck
,
what did I do?

“Shit, Red. Come here.” I waved her toward me.

She shook her head and curled up tighter, hiding her head under her hands. This was how she’d looked after Thorn hit her. My god, I’d beat her up—just not with my fists. Guilt slammed into me and I had to make it right.

“Oh, baby.” I picked her up, hugging her tight to me.

Her arms went around my neck and she squeezed back, leaning into me. Exhaustion lined her face and I wondered if she’d even slept yesterday. I was an asshole for letting my anger run away from me. She hadn’t deserved that.

“I was so worried, but I shouldn’t have laid into you like I did.” I kissed her head and held her. Slowly the tension eased in her muscles and she peeked up at me.

“I should’ve figured out a way to call you back. I’m sorry.” She nuzzled my chest.

Those were the words I’d wanted to hear. “You call, I don’t answer, and you leave a message.” I sat down on the couch with her in my lap. My pulse beat faster thinking of all the things that could’ve gone wrong.

“Yeah, got it.”

“You write my number in your purse, you get it from the guys if you call.” I’d never thought about it, but I didn’t have her number memorized either, so we needed a plan to keep this from happening again. “Don’t leave me a message I don’t get until Monday morning.”

I knew I needed to let it go, but she had to understand because I never wanted that gut-wrenching dread stalking me again.

She winced, but didn’t speak.

“You can’t do that shit to me. Promise me, never do it again.” I tilted her chin to meet my gaze.

She dipped her head. Minutes passed and she was so quiet I thought she’d gone to sleep in my arms, but then she snapped up her head, looking directly at me.

“What exactly am I promising? Never worry you, never act without calling you for approval, never call without leaving a voice mail?” While exhaustion lined her features, fire shot through her expression. “What’s my crime?”

Where did this come from? We’d been so close to ending our fight, now she gave me attitude.

“Red, don’t start with me.” I growled the words.

She popped off my lap and paced the apartment. “Or what? You’ll hit me like my dad? You’ll belittle me in front of our friends?” She turned and pointed at me. “But then you already did. Or will you walk away from me? Tell me, Dare. I don’t do vague threats.”

“You’re winding me up again.” My own anger boiled up.

“No, you’re doing it.” She turned to me. “Stop blaming me for your hang-ups. Own them, whatever they are.”

What the hell did she mean? This wasn’t about me.

“You screwed up,” I shouted at her. She had screwed up, not me.

“And I apologized.” She threw her hands in the air. “But you need more blood from me. I’m bled out.” She walked over to the door and held it open. “I don’t remember your apology.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again before stomping out of the apartment. I rode my bike for hours again, turning the conversation over in my head, not sure where we’d gone off the path. One minute we were making up and the next she was yelling, I was yelling, and we were both as raw as we’d been yesterday afternoon.

Shit. I didn’t do dramatic, and I didn’t argue, or ever apologize, especially when I’m not wrong.

Tomorrow we’d both be cooled down enough to put this in the past.

I parked at the club when the other half of the conversation hit me.
Own your hang-ups
,
whatever they are.
At the time I’d been focused on the apology she thought I owed her. Now, I considered her words another way.

Did she know? No way, if she knew about my stupidity, she wouldn’t even want me back. Were we apart? I should walk away, but I was too weak. The idea of giving up Red—it made my chest burn. No, she’d see it my way.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Lila

Wednesday dawned and dread settled in me. With no word from Dare last night after our fight, cooking the club breakfast felt more like punishment instead of pleasure.

Will he be there?
Are we done?

I’d slept eight hours of the last forty-eight and cried too much. I spent my days vacillating between outrage and despair. I loved him, but he didn’t trust me, let alone love me.

Since my mother died, not a single person I loved had loved me back.

I never learned. I continued to be punished for loving someone too broken to love. He didn’t read very well, or he had other issues. But didn’t we all? No one escaped life without scars.

I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and tied my hair back. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I’d tried to cover up the worst of my red-eyed sorrow at work, but this morning I didn’t care.

I’d charged my phone, but I wasn’t answering it because Dare didn’t call or answer my calls. And I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.

At the club, I dove into cooking—the first escape I’d found. I stirred batter and jammed to the tunes blaring in my ears. I jumped when a hand settled on my back. I turned off the music and stared at MJ.

“You look like shit.” She moved in like she’d hug me.

I held my hands up, stopping her.

“Want me to finish?” The pity in her expression hurt the worst.

“Am I not welcome?” It took my last reserve of strength to ask.

“Always, even if he doesn’t get his head out of his ass.” MJ smiled at me. “Hang tough, it’ll work out.”

I snorted and returned to mixing batter. My escape ended once it was time to set up in front. I sucked in a fortifying breath, held my head up and pushed through the door. I kept my gaze averted from Jericho’s table but Dare’s laugh reached my ears. I moved on and did the work. I’d hidden physical bruises for years, but they didn’t hurt a fraction of the emotional wound eating me from the inside out. Once I called for breakfast, I returned to the kitchen, determined to clean up and open the shop.

I restocked the counter and ignored the gazes following me.
Let them stare
.

What did it matter? Nothing mattered anymore.

I attacked the dishes, needing something to distract me from my own sadness. Unfortunately, dishes gave me entirely too much time to think. And my mind revolved on a one-track circuit—Dare.

The kitchen door swung open, and I kept working not wanting to chat with whoever came inside.

“Red.”

His voice froze me, and tears leaked from my eyes. I wiped my hands on the towel and slowly turned to him. My gaze darted from ovens to refrigerators, unable to settle on the man across from me. Pain grew with every glimpse of him. He’d wrapped himself in anger, and I couldn’t see how this ended without me driving away from Barden, my SUV packed, starting over, again.

“You get me, yet?”

He meant,
You punished enough
,
yet?
You suffered enough
,
yet?
Do you know your place
,
yet?

I dropped to my knees, hands behind my back, gaze lowered to the ground. I’d heard the guys talking about the submissive pose. This is what he needed to feel like a man again.

“I guess you got it.” Satisfaction blended with his words.

“Yes, master.” I spoke to the floor.

“Enough, Red. Stand up.”

I stood.

“Look at me.”

I did with tears streaming down my face. My father’s fists hadn’t caused me to cry, but now I couldn’t stop crying. I loved him so much, but this might be more than I had in me.

“Stop it.”

I stared at him.

“Red.” His voice broke.

“May I speak, master?”

“Quit acting like a sub. What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you need.” My tears choked the words.

He stepped back. “I don’t need
this
.”

“You enjoyed punishing me. Putting me in my place.” I spoke to the floor. My love couldn’t keep my soul from shriveling at this sacrifice.

“That’s not—”

“You tell yourself it’s teaching me a lesson, whatever. Different words for punishing me.” My words soft, the weight of what was coming pushed me low. I folded in on myself until I knelt on the floor again, head bowed.

He turned away from me. “Stop, I don’t want you like this.”

My world disintegrated. I’d sacrificed all I could, and I wasn’t enough. “Just say the word.”

He shook his head, his back rigid with tension. I gave him the only thing I had left. One final gift. “Then I’ll say it.”

For him, I’d do anything, be anything, and say anything. Burned out from the hurt, the rage and the sadness, I knew what needed to be done. I loved him so much I’d say it for him. We’d agreed on the word that ended our ride—
enough
. If I wasn’t
enough
, then he deserved his freedom.

“Enough.” The word echoed in the silent kitchen.

I refused to let us suffer, I’d cut parts of me off before to survive. I’d survive his loss too.

Dare’s boots echoed on the tile floor. The door squeaked as he passed through it and out of my life. Tears streamed down my face, but I held the sobs back. Grief weighed me down and I used my remaining bit of strength to push myself to standing.

Dare walked out of my life.

No.
No thinking of him.

I grabbed my purse and walked to my car. I’d given more and more, even my independence because I loved him, but giving him freedom chained my heart in sorrow.

I started my car and drove away from the club. The numb detachment melted away, leaving a gaping hole where pain poured out in a gushing flow. If this were a physical wound, I’d be dead.

About a mile down the road, tears obscured my vision so I pulled to the side letting my grief pour out as racking sobs. My phone pinged but I ignored it. Eventually my tears ran out, but they’d be back.

I dug in my bag for tissues to blow my nose. My head throbbed and I couldn’t face the chore ahead of me—starting over sucked.

I grabbed my phone and read the text from Zayn.
Take
the
day
off
.
I
have
it
covered
.
Dare
won’t
be
in
this
week
.

I stared at the utilitarian words. A manic laugh bubbled in me, but I didn’t let it escape. I feared another torrent of tears. Did it mean I had the week to clear out?

I typed a single letter.

K

And hit Send.

I restarted my car and headed home. I don’t remember the drive or the walk up my stairs, but I ended up in bed with the covers pulled over my head.

* * *

The ring of my phone woke me slowly. I had a vague feeling it’d been ringing for a while. I stretched and grabbed it, afraid to even hope it’d be Dare. It wasn’t so I let it go to voice mail. I flipped to missed calls—seven, all from Jericho. My phone rang again. I swiped Answer. “What the fuck?”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Jericho’s cheery voice grated on my nerves as I’m sure he’d intended. “I’m heading out with my guys for two weeks—shop’s closed. You be ready to report for work when we get back.”

“Wha...” Questions swirled too fast in my mind to speak. “I have...”

“I gotta jet, get your shit together, we’ll be back in two weeks—you staying.”

“Is that a question?” I huffed.

“Nope, a command.” He hung up. The freaking frustrating idiot hung up on me.

Now what do I do
? Work was out, and I didn’t have many friends—okay I had one friend, but I was in no way ready to deal with Rachel or anyone, really. I trudged back to bed and decided to worry about it another day.

Lying in bed and eating chocolate lasted two days. By Saturday night, my bed had become like a prison. Tomorrow morning, I would get a life. This was new territory—breaking up without running away.

Sunday I woke up before eight in the morning, unable to sleep longer. The shower haunted me as memories of Dare and me flashed in my mind. I forced myself not to rush through my shower. His presence marked my apartment, making me cringe with memories of what I lost and how lonely I was now. My bed was my only refuge, his scent and our memories mixed to comfort me, and I could almost pretend he was away on club business instead of gone forever.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around me. Picking out clothes had been too hard before the shower.

“Glad I didn’t have to drag you outta bed.” MJ sat on my couch with coffee in her hand.

I startled but didn’t drop my towel. I needed better locks.

I strode past her and into my bedroom for clothes because talking to her in a towel wasn’t an option. After I’d dressed in a shirt and jeans, I joined her in my living room. The pain in my chest had become a dull ache, always present, but it didn’t double me over at the moment.

“He’s a goddam idiot.” MJ handed me coffee.

“He’s not a topic I’m discussing with you.” The edge I teetered on would crumble if I did a replay.

“Everyone else is talking about it.” MJ stared me down.

I looked away. “Go talk to them.”

“I have been, but now it’s time for you to get back on the saddle.”

She didn’t just say that?

“Rock and Rebel both like you. Some other guys, but not Jericho.” She sounded forlorn ruling her son out.

“He’s Dare’s best friend. And hell no.” Saying his name caused a stabbing pain where my heart used to be.

“He needs an old lady.” She grumped, frowning at her coffee. “And you an old man.”

“MJ.” I waited until she met my gaze. “Back the fuck off. I’m not some piece of meat to be passed around. Don’t talk to me about who to date again.” This time she looked away from my hard stare.

“I promised...” Her face crumpled.

“I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t it.” I needed to get my priorities in order. “Do you want me to stop cooking?”

“No, do you?”

“I’m good.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about this, and now, well it’s awkward.”

I needed her to say it and get out of the apartment before my resolve to leave dissolved.

“In our club, Mama is a title of honor.” A wistful smile flashed and disappeared. “And not because it’s part of my nickname. Guys use it as a way to thank someone, but until you, they didn’t use it all the time for any one old lady or girl. It’s your nickname, and that’s big. Huge. When the Old Man retires, the club will need your influence, they’ve picked you, with or without Dare.”

I blinked away the tears that his name brought to my eyes.

“I’ve heard those boys saying it even after Dare screwed the pooch. It’s not because you’re with him.” She sighed and for the first time MJ appeared old to me. “Speaking of the club, while Jericho and several of them are gone, some may try and poach you, whether you’re willing or not.”

Shit.
The hits just keep coming.

“I’ll stay off the radar.” I had no desire to see any of the bikers.

“Girl, you light up anywhere you are. No, you use Rock or Bear, both stayed behind.”

I wanted to punch something. I finally had no desire to run to another man, and now I needed protection. Rock wasn’t an option. He had a thing for me, and I never would for him.

“You got Bear’s number? He might need a heads-up.”

MJ wrote the number down for me. She stood and started to speak, but instead shook her head and left.

I texted Bear.
Can I be your property for a couple weeks?

He responded in seconds.
As long as I don’t have to fuck you.

I put my hand over my mouth trying to swallow the laugh. I typed my response.
That’s what I plan to avoid.

Sure, Mama. I’ll bash heads for you.
He obviously understood the situation better than me. It never occurred to me my opinion might not matter.

Thanks.
I figured he stayed behind because of a lover. Biker work ethic wasn’t that strong. So I typed,
Introduce me to the guy.

The fuck? Don’t answer.
He wasn’t so hard to figure out once I dug under his prickly defenses.

I styled my hair and applied makeup for the first time in almost a week, and a bud of optimism shot through me.

I decided to distract myself by shopping. I had extra money in the bank, so I called Rachel. When she didn’t answer I remembered she and her girl were gone this week to Vegas. So much for my plan for Rachel to divert me.

I bit my lip as memories of Dare zipped through my mind. I stood still and focused on my white walls until the memories had been shoved behind the locked door where all my other nightmares lived.

“No.” I shouted the word in my empty apartment. The memory dissolved, and I tasted blood from where I’d bitten my lip. Pain ricocheted through me until I longed to curl up, but I didn’t. I was done with that.

I started on Main Street, needing to meet the shop’s neighbors before venturing further. After three shops, I had to lug my purchases back to my apartment. I’d bought a new lamp, a soft sofa blanket and a new set of plates. I decided to start across the street at the boutique on my second trip. I’d only been in that one time, but pretty clothes sounded perfect and I hadn’t stopped by Black Label since my lunch with Andi.

The door jingled when I walked in. The smell of polished leather hung in the air. Around me were racks of clothes that instantly made me drool.

“Can I help you?” A short girl with a pixie cut dyed teal smiled up at me. “Hey, great to see you again.”

I sorted through a rack of tanks and halters on clearance, picking out five. I laid them on the counter.

“You’re dating the sexy one, Dare?”

And like that, the pain I ignored almost brought me to my knees.

“What? You okay? Did I say the wrong thing?” She squeezed my arm. “I don’t filter, all my friends say so.”