I drag a hand over my face and take a deep breath as I step off the porch and start walking back towards the clubhouse.
Images rise in my mind of her pressed into that corner. The way she kept her arms around her cat even when she was shaking so violently that she could barely hold herself together.
It hits me again how easily he could have ended up harming or even killing her. The guy was batshit crazy. I could tell that much by looking into his eyes. His gaze was cold and calculating. Something about him creeped me the fuck out. He had that serial killer vibe about him.
I glance over my shoulder at her cabin. Its windows now have that familiar soft glow around the edges, and Frisky is back in his rightful position keeping watch on his territory. He’s looking right at me, like I maybe shouldn’t have left.
I left because she didn’t ask me to stay. She is safe now and doesn’t need me smothering her.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and keep moving to stay warm. If Emily only knew how often I ride by to check on her, she’d probably call me her stalker. It started as simple passes on patrol nights, but somewhere along the way I began slowing down just to see if her porch light was on.
Salting her driveway on snowy days became routine because the thought of her slipping on ice when I could do something to prevent it seemed wrong. It fell in the category of doing good deeds. I restock her firewood when the stack dips too low because I need to know she’s always warm.
I know everything about her property because I visited there so often as a kid.
Since her grandfather passed away, she has no one. I fill the void, quietly, while she’s not looking. My caretaking has slowly turned into a minor obsession. I pay attention to everything that has to do with Emily. I know she works from home, but she goes to town on the first and third Mondays of every month, when everyone else is at work. She does her shopping and such on Mondays because she’s convinced it helps her avoid not only crowds but traffic too. I know what kind of soda she drinks, where she gets her hair cut and which friends she likes to have lunch with. I know all about the daily rhythm of her life. That means that I can tell immediately when something isn’t right.
I know somewhere along the line friendship turned into love. At least for me. But I’m not an asshole. I know Emily has only ever seen me like a friend, or maybe a brother, so I’m not gonna ruin what we have.
By the time I reach the back gate of the clubhouse, clouds are gathering overhead. I open the latch and step through. Before I can make it to the clubhouse, Mica steps out from behind the corner of the tool shed. As I approach, he searches my face.
I jerk my chin at him, “Did you see to the dogs?”
“They’re kenneled.” He falls into step at my side. “How’s Emily?”
“Shaken up. But she’ll be okay.”
“Wanna tell me what got into you back there? You tore that man apart. By the time I broke it up, he was having a hard time breathing,” he says, voice even. “I think you broke his goddamn nose and cracked some ribs. Damn bro, you whaled on him long after he stopped fighting back.”
I try to brush it off. “That bastard deserved what he got and then some.”
Mica’s eyebrows fly up. He steps closer, his expression too damn perceptive to suit me. “If I hadn’t pulled you off him, would you have stopped?”
I feel the denial rise in my throat out of instinct, but lying when we both know better feels pointless.
Whatever expression crosses my face must give me away, because Mica says, “Fuckin’ hell, brother. You would have beat that stupid asshole to death.”
I stop short in front of him. “You seem to be forgetting the part about him deserving it.”
“I didn’t forget shit. Emily was scared but he didn’t physically harm her. He was totally in the wrong, but do you really think he deserved to die?”
I look away, my jaw tightening. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes. That fucker is serial killer crazy.”
“Says you,” my brother shoots back hotly. “Dad didn’t raise stone cold killers, Onyx.” He lets the words settle a beat before adding, “Maybe think about what you’re doing before you end up crossing the line.”
Discomfort twists in my chest, because he ain’t wrong. I did lose my shit on that fancy-ass intruder. “He’s on the run from the fucking law. He might have killed his girlfriend. You want an asshole like that terrorizing Em? Does that shit sit right with you?”
Mica studies me one more moment, then responds grimly, “No, of course it doesn’t. But we don’t do vigilante justice in this club. You know that. If you want to kill someone, that’s a group decision and handled with care so there’s no blowback. I know you have a thing for her, but don’t let that cloud your judgment.”
I give him my best dead-eyed stare. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Mica just glares back. I thought I was being subtle with me watching over Emily, but it looks like my brother figured me out. I get defensive. “Are you trying’ to get me to beat your ass today? ‘Cause that’s what this is starting to sound like.”
“Just don’t want you making mistakes you can’t come back from,” he mutters.
“I don’t fuckin’ need remedial classes in being a club officer. Stop being an annoying little prick and get out of my face.”
I stomp off deciding I need to do something with my excess energy and irritation.
