My rear tire looks a bit low. I may need to pull it over to the garage and top it off with the compressor before hitting the highway. A low tire and some gravel can screw up anyone, even seasoned riders. We need to be extra careful and prepared with the talk of the Iron Fists being in town as well. Last thing we want is to be caught unprepared by some dickwads with an axe to grind.
“Daaaaaamn.” Saint laughs and points at my tank, clearly amused by something.
“The fuck?” I grit, pulling a smoke free and lighting it. Fucker’s losing it, I know it. Sinner needs to reel his homeboy’s shit in.
“You pissed someone off, brother.” Sinner chuckles, shaking his head, and I finally come to stand beside them.
Sure as hell my tank is scratched up—deeply. This was no accidental brush up or dip from someone. This was intentional and caused some serious damage. Taking a deep breath, I run my hand over the deep indentions. My scarred palm sits on the warm metal, and it hits me.
It’s a motherfuckin’ B.
“Motherfuckin’ woman, Jesus Christ. I’m gonna strangle her ass for this.”
“You need help taking care of whoever did this?” Saint offers, and I shake my head. I’ll smack her ass cherry red for pulling something this ballsy.
“Nah. I know exactly who did this. I can handle her on my own.”
Sinner’s eyes widen. “Shit, no way, it was Bethany? You pissed her off pretty bad for that one, huh?” His charcoal irises glance to Saint, an amused grin painted amongst the dark scruff overtaking his jaw.
“I didn’t do shit to her. Bitch is fucking crazy in the head. She’s gonna put me on my death bed with her antics if she keeps it up.”
There’s nothing I can do besides order a new tire to be delivered because I’d bet my left nut that’s her doing as well. I’m sure there’s a hole somewhere if I look close enough; hell, maybe one in the front, too. Glad we came out pretty early; would’ve been bad if it was at night and I didn’t notice right away.
How she came up with this in the first place is beyond me. You’d think I made her life hell with the torture she put my bike through.
If it were anyone other than her, I’d be hunting them down for retribution. You don’t mess with a man’s bike. It’s like rule number one in this lifestyle. I need to call Spin at the other club, too, and see if he and Twist can repaint and then airbrush my tank this week. This blows and not in a good way.
Looks like I’m borrowing Scot’s truck again. I hope for B’s sake she’s not home, ‘cause this is going to take more than the drive home for me to calm my shit. She has some serious explaining to do, and she’s either sorting it out to be fixed, or she’s paying me in pussy. Whatever it is, she better get on board, because she crossed a fucking line.Again.
I end up stopping for gas for Scot’s truck and then driving around for an hour trying to think and cool off. Cooling down is not my usual behavior. Normally, I’d find the person and make them pay in however I saw fit, but, this time, it’s different.
I don’t want to do something that she won’t be able to forgive me for. Why I care, I don’t know. Do I have feelings for her? Of course, I do. I had a soft spot from the moment I pulled her onto my lap in that stupid bar.
She was lit up on alcohol and painkillers, but that’s not what I saw when I looked at her. I saw someone who was damaged like me, yet she was beautiful. Somehow, she’d survived and was put in my path. Then I lost her and thought maybe I was being an idiot.
Clearly, I wasn’t since she’s the mother of my child. I don’t care what anyone says, what anyone tries to make you believe, but when a woman has your child, she automatically carves out a piece of you. I could hate her with every breath I have, but, in the end, she carried and gave birth to my son. For that alone, I’ll owe her forever.
I should despise her for what she’s done, but after seeing how good she is to Maverick, I can’t. I ought to, I know it, but I don’t. Truth is, I want her, and as each day passes us, my anger from her deceit dissipates, and my hunger to have her grows.
I’ve never wanted a woman so badly in my life like I do her, and especially after pulling something crazy like she did today. It makes me want to fuck her until she begs for my forgiveness. I want her to plead with me to make her mine, so I don’t look like the weak one in this. When it boils down to it, I am. I’d probably do anything she asked, and that’s so goddamn scary, to let someone own you like that.
Pulling up to my house, it all looks the same. Well, the same since she and Mav have arrived. The front porch light shines brightly, as does the one over the garage. The blinds are closed, but I can see Bethany left the kitchen light on over the sink, and I’d bet there’s a plate full of whatever she cooked waiting for me in the microwave, too.
It’s something I never had growing up or throughout my life—consistency and care. My father’s wives never did it; that’s for sure. Hell, they never had a chance to. Life was probably terrifying living with a man whose moods were constantly swinging from one side to the other. It was rough for me being his son, can’t imagine having to be married to the bastard.
I don’t want to be that way with Bethany. I know I’m a bit moody and quiet, but that’s just who I am. I never want her to fear for her safety when it comes to me. Her sanity maybe, since she drives me just as crazy it seems.
I bypass the kitchen, going straight for the room she’s taken over since moving in. She belongs in my bedroom with me, but we haven’t hit that level yet. She wants her space, and I’m attempting to give it to her.
Maverick ought to be knocked out by now, so he shouldn’t hear shouting if there turns out to be any. While arguing may be a natural part of a relationship, I don’t want my kid witnessing his mom and me going at each other. Her actions today tell me she wants a fight.
Pushing the door open, Bethany’s gaze meets mine, and instantly her eyes widen. She knows she fucked up. I probably look like an angry bear storming in while she’s in her normal nighttime attire. The first time I saw her wearing only her cami shirt with no bra and a pair of panties, I thought my dick was going to pop out of my pants on its own accord.
She’s already beautiful—the kind of classic beauty that she thinks makes her look plain. She’s nowhere near ordinary, she’s perfect. Pair that with barely any clothes and it’s enough to tongue-tie me, making me think of other things I want to do with her. Not right now, though. I need to get my point across.
“You fucked up,” I growl, grabbing her by her biceps and slamming her onto her back against the bed.
Grabbing at my hands, she sputters, “Please, I’m sorry, I know, okay?”