“I thought no one was going to talk to me, yet here you are.”
I have no intention of speaking to her. I have nothing to say. And the few questions I do have, she won’t answer so I won’t waste my breath.
“Why are you here? Are you not enjoying, what sounds like, a party?”
Again, I keep my lips firmly closed. I stare at her, taking in the differences, from her usual immaculate appearance to the prisoner version sat across from me. Without her perfectly styled hair, and her famous red lips, she looks pitiful and vulnerable.
I was nothing to her. She felt nothing. What kind of woman is she? I won’t ask, I don’t want her having the satisfaction of keeping information from me. It’s all she has left, she’s going to keep it locked deep in her soul.
I sit, staring, for an hour before I drag my ass up and leave.
It’s not even midnight. I pass my room, and head back down to the party. I scan the bar and this time I want someone who my brothers haven’t been inside. Only, my lungs shrivel from immediate lack of air, and I can’t feel anything but my heart pounding against my chest bone.
Silky blonde hair with blue tips.
Grassy green eyes that could trap a man till the end of days.
A body that you could play with and never grow tired of.
And a personality that’s addictive to be around.
Phoebe McAdams.
My shock at seeing her here turns to anger.
What the fuck is she doing here at all?
She isn’t the type to hang around a biker club. She’s not even the type to party. She’s a good girl. She’s the reasons I got B’s in high school. Keeping my eye on her, I slink back into the shadows of the bar and stay out of sight.
I should have known better when Kristia Bell slings her arm around Phoebe and giggles. Kristia is the devil compared to the angel Phoebe is. To be fair, she’s probably the only reason Phoebe has half a social life most of the time. It doesn’t surpriseme Kristia has found herself in a place like this. She can smell out a party like a coke head sniffing out their next bump.
Warren moves in and it’s not until he tugs at Phoebe’s hand that I move. If he had gone for Kristia, I wouldn’t have given a fuck. He’s not going anywhere near Phoebe.
Warren blocks her view of my approach and without thinking of the following consequences, I slam my hand down on his shoulder and grind out, “Get your fuckin’ hand off her and step the fuck away.”
His laughter is tight with confusion. “Brother? What the fuck?”
His questions go unanswered. Phoebe’s scream shatters the good vibes and the music’s shut off.
“Y-You’re dead!” She looks around, no doubt for Kristia. She locates her and asks, “Did you drug me?”
What the fuck?
I shove Warren out of the way and grab Phoebe by the arm. She looks down at my hand like my touch has made this all the more real to her.
“No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”
She tries backing away from me, but I don’t let her take a single step.
“I’m here, I’m real. Stop freaking out,” I warn her.
She shoves at my chest and I’m semi aware that Luca’s ordering everyone to get their asses out of his club. I become sharply aware when the silence in the bar is deafening.
“How are you here? I went to your funeral.” She begins to tremble. “Oh my God, I hugged your mom when she couldn’t stop crying over your grave!”
Her freak out grows louder and in the corner of my eye, I see Luca edging closer.
I don’t know if I trust him not to handle her if he thinks she’ll be a threat to us. I move closer to her, shielding her from everyone.
