“It’s only for one night, so I’ll be fine on the couch. I’ll manage a night without a blanket, as well.” She spins on her heel and walks away.
Briefly squeezing my eyes shut, I go to her and take her into the bedroom. Once there, I close the sliding door so Rebel can’t hear us. “It’s not just for one night, Layne. You can’t go home.It’s not safe there. Not until we take those bastards down.” My voice is a low hum and I curse myself for having to say this to her. Ideally, I would’ve had a plan by now, but first I have to at least figure out who wants to take her and why.
“Fuck this,” she whispers and with a few large strides, she’s back in front of me. Her fists bang against my chest. “This is all your fault.” She slams a second time against my chest. “If you hadn’t come to my house, nothing would’ve happened. You’re an asshole.” When she inhales, I hear the restrained sob.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” When she lashes out again, I grab her wrist. “Stop hitting me.” For fucks sake, I understand she needs to get her emotions out, but I’m not a fucking punching bag.
“Stop ruining my life,” she grits out, her face almost pressed against my chin, jaws clamped together. Anger flares in her dark eyes.
I drop her wrist. “That’s not—”
“I left because I knew that everything the club touches breaks.” She stomps away from me, stops in her tracks, and runs her hands through her black hair.
My heart, or the pieces that I still have, breaks for the hundred-thousandth time. Damn, I understand her perspective, but it fucking hurts to hear it out loud like this.
After a few moments I gather myself. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” My voice cracks and I stare at the ceiling.
“Yeah? Is it? That whole damned club of yours is a front for freaking criminals and you’re their vice president.” She gestures wildly with her arms in the air, causing her tank top to tighten around her breasts, and I struggle to keep my eyes on her face. Now is not the time.
I narrow my eyes and grip her chin tightly. She doesn’t know shit, and I can’t tell her either. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Layne. Ten years. That’s how long you’ve beengone. You have no fucking idea what my club does. So I suggest you shut the fuck up.”
Her gaze holds mine. “I saw enough in the time before I left, remember?”
I step forward, her chin still in my hand, and press her against the wall. “Sometimes,” I hiss.
“Sometimes what?”
I release her with a final push against the wall and run my hand through my hair. “Sometimes we’re criminals, but most of the time we’re not. Damn you, Layne.”
“What the fuck, you’re riding your motorcycle with a gun in your waistband.” She rolls her eyes.
I imitate her and say, “Legal under the Second Amendment.” It earns me a shove and I grab her again.
“The California law—”
“Oh, please.”
She waves me off. My stomach turns at the next comment.
“Not to mention the MC’s gun business. You guys make sure kids get their hands on guns.” Her hands are clenched into fists, as if to stop herself from attacking me.
“Layne, stop,” I hiss and tighten my fists. “It’s not the same as when your dad was VP. I can’t and shouldn’t discuss club business with you.” I lift my chin, and look down at her. A wave of nausea washes over me.
She snorts, pulls open the sliding door and gives me a shove so unexpectedly that I step backward into the living room. “You sleep on the couch.” With those words, she slams the door shut.
For a few moments, I stare at the door. Oh, I don’t think so. She won’t get rid of me that easily.
Nine
Ilowermyselfontothe black duvet. Now that the door is closed, the lamp on the nightstand is the only light, I suddenly realize how dark his bedroom is. I don’t care, I’m stuck here. How am I supposed to get Rebel to school tomorrow if I have to be afraid of her or us being taken? Why do those men even want her? What the fuck had Connor gotten himself into? Why did he leave us with so much misery and grief? Why did he have to die? Everything raises so many questions and I can’t go ask him. Why didn’t he talk to me about all of this if he knew he was in danger? Did he know he was in danger? My mind is racing with so many thoughts, and I feel overwhelmed. I press my fists against my temples and let my head sink between my legs.
Kyler isn’t of much help with that fucking body and that smartass mouth. It gets worse as he flexes his muscles. I can’t think about this. My freaking husband got murdered almost three months ago and I’m drooling all over my ex-boyfriend, all the while my and my daughter’s lives are being threatened.
What the fuck am I doing?
Relaxing my fist, I rub my face, pressing my palms to my eyes to stop thinking.
But it’s just too much.
