I drove him to his bike, following his instructions. I felt good. I felt really good, like that kind of warmth in the belly you get from high school flings. We had hope—real hope.
When I finally got to his bike, I realized I had no idea how to say goodbye. I parked, unbuckled my seat belt, and leaned forward—but Asher hurried out of the car, as if he didn’t want to touch me, and got out.
But just before he shut the door, he looked at me. And the look wasn’t the Asher of the last hour or so.
It was the Ash I had married.
“I’ll…see you soon, I guess.”
With that, he shut the door, not waiting for my reply. But he didn’t need to wait for it. He knew what it was.
Hopeful and grateful.
Asher
Ireally wanted to believe that Callie was overestimating what last night meant.
I wanted to believe that she took away too much from it. I wanted to believe that I just saw it as a courtesy to see her. I wanted to believe that I’d just gotten sucked up in the moment, but that in the end, nothing was going to fundamentally change. We weren’t going to get back together, we weren’t going to even stay in contact for her safety, and that was that.
I could have excused that the morning after, if not for one really fucking fatal flaw.
She and I would have to ride up to Las Vegas together, even be in the same apartment for a time.
God fucking damnit. It was really easy to get away from someone when you only saw them by chance. It was virtually impossible when you were scheduled to do something—and your life depended on it.
Over the top? Not given the fact that the Black Reapers still largely held my life in their hands. They were a more merciful club than the King’s Men, but there was no such thing as a forgiving MC. At best, they banished you; at worst, you begged for death before they finally gave it to you.
Why the fuck did Sonny have to pull that one? Why the fuck did Callie have to run into him? Why, why, why…
It was kind of brilliant, to be honest. It entangled me more than I was before. I was just trying to save my own ass this whole time. I suppose Callie not being killed would be nice, but…
Who are you fucking kidding, idiot? She’s the one you care about more here.
It’s certainly not you.
That much was painfully true as evidenced by the next task I had before me.
Meet Crush.
* * *
There was something extraordinarily hilarious about meeting the man who could save my ass in the most indirect manner at a fucking Starbucks. I mean, for fuck’s sake, on a normal day, the place was filled with hipsters, cute college girls, and older ladies who tried to be overly friendly with the baristas, and here tonight was going to be two very tattooed, very angry men who would be discussing…something.
Something that I hoped worked in my favor.
The first time that I approached the Starbucks, I didn’t even park. I drove by it slowly. I had to make sure that Crush hadn’t invited some of his King’s Men friends—most especially King himself. I didn’t see anyone, but that would do absolutely nothing to quell my paranoia. If anything, it would only elevate it since I would assume everyone was in adjacent buildings or rooms.
When I did park, as I normally did, I parked as far away as I possibly could. It made my walk a good five minutes longer than otherwise, but it wasn’t like I was a fatass that couldn’t walk more than twenty feet without dying for breath. I approached the Starbucks, walked inside, and saw him in the corner.
Crush.
He was a little different than I’d remembered him. He’d gotten additional arm tattoos. He’d lost some weight and gotten more muscular. He’d grown a goatee, a rather odd look for someone with red hair, but if anything, it gave the hint of someone working for the devil.
Which, judging from the stories I’d heard about him, was probably accurate.
There were some people that were feared even by their own teammates and friends. Crush was the epitome of that. It may have been an exaggeration, but people loved to tell stories of him shooting prospects and club members in sheer anger. The only reason I suspected it was overwrought was because I’d never seen anyone just disappear after meeting with Crush.
But I’d certainly seen them come back bloodied and bruised. Some more so than others.
