I hate it. Deep down, it makes me want to squirm.
Raven doesn’t even try to distract me with a glare. She witnesses the very same things, her lips pressed together in a tight line.
What is going through her head? She’s not really giving any goodbyes. Sure, she had a swift chat with Ripper, a brisk comment to Judge, wishing him luck.
I suppose that’s what comes with being a loner. Outside of her sister, she doesn’t try to get close to anyone. She doesn’t have anyone to miss.
Yet, when the time comes, she stands at my side to watch them all leave. With the pinch of her brow, I’m left to believe that she may care more than she lets off.
If I ask her about it, she’ll most likely give me her answer with a punch to something important.
With the roar of bikes disappearing in the distance, an unsettling sound of silence follows as everyone returns to the bar and pretends everything is fine. It’s impossible not to feel uncomfortable. So many things can go wrong tonight.
As much as I don’t want to think about Steelwood losing this fight, there’s a chance that Crimson Road can win. If they take out Judge and Ripper, what’ll happen to us? Will our club survive the loss, or will we fall apart? What if I lose the one place that makes me feel like I’m… something?
A sigh rolls through me, and I stare longingly at all the bottles of booze right there within my reach. A few shots would help numb all of these concerning thoughts immediately.
What other distractions are there?
Turning around on my stool, I take in the other club members.
In the corner, many of the usual women who drift in and out of the club are hanging out. Judge probably told them to stay here, where it’s safe. Makes sense.
Whatdoesn’tmake sense is why I don’t immediately consider drifting over to them as a way to distract myself.
Rosie has her legs resting on top of Jazzie’s, both women watching Aqua as she talks with her hands. They don’t seem bothered enough to deny a fun time.
I like them. They’ve got a talent for making people feel special. Under their attention, I don’t feel like… nothing.
Swallowing down the start of another groan, I tear my eyes away to look at something else. Something that won’t remind me that I’m not allowed to let my thoughts run down such a pitiful path.
Across the other side of the room, Hammer busies himself at the pool table. Instead of seeking out a partner and playing a game, he’s got his attention on the redhead planted in front of him.
He doesn’t look like he’s worried about the outcome of tonight, not while he’s tucked between her parted thighs.
I groan low in my throat in jealousy.
“You don’t have to sit here.” Four seats away, Raven fiddles with a jar of cherries. “With everyone together like this, you can finally take a break.”
I watch as she adds another stem to her pile before she flicks her tongue against her lips to catch the drop of juice clinging to them
I swallow thickly. Great. Three times now. This time, I’m not just thinking about her touching my dick. I’m thinking about her sucking it, too.
“Everyone is distracted by their loved ones. They won’t watch you like I would.” Yeah, that’s it, Jinx, because her safety is my top priority.
She huffs, rolling her eyes. Mentally, I do the same. We both share the same frustration toward me. Just the same, neither of us moves, glued to our seats. Minutes pass, and I can see the frustration on her face growing by the second.
If she started complaining, I wouldn’t even mind. But then, that would mean letting me in enough to know what she’s thinking. That’s something we both know she won’t do.
Ghost is a nice distraction, keeping the group up to date with Judge’s location. The closer they get to their destination, the heavier the air feels.
Leah then makes her appearance, looking exhausted like she’s just finished a shift at the clinic. Beneath the exhaustion, the panic is clear as day as she hugs her medic bag close to her hip.
Shit, she couldn’t stop by to wish him luck. Poor woman.
Raven notices too and frowns before capping her jar and putting it away. Looking more bothered than usual, she doesn’t return to her seat. Instead, she doesn’t leave any space at all between us.
“This place is a drag.” Returning to my side, she doesn’t sit. Instead, she turns and does a sweep of the worried expression glued to people’s faces. There’s a small shift of her body, a discomfort. Does she do well with times like this? “I’m leaving.”
