Onyx’s mom is a formidable figure. Though I suppose to be de facto queen of an MC you have to have balls of steel. “I don’t know what you mean,” I lie.
She lets out a sigh. “Emily. Don’t kid a kidder. You went through some shit, believe me I know what it’s like to feel like you’re helpless, but shutting yourself away won’t help. Talk to me.”
It all comes out then, along with the tears that start streaming down my face. “They let him out. He’s on house arrest but what if he finds a way around it? I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do,” I sob.
“Oh honey. Why didn’t you call? Onyx would help you,” Queenie says, her voice laced with concern.
“I know,” I say. “But I don’t want him getting involved. I thought he was going to kill Brennan. I don’t want that on my conscience. You’re all good people. You don’t need my shit.”
She gives a dismissive laugh. “Sons of Rage is an outlaw club. You think a bit of trouble’s gonna scare off my boys?”
“That’s not it,” I protest. “It’s just…” I stop. I don’t know what to say.
“Is it being alone that’s worrying you?” she asks.
“Being alone. Not being able to pay my bills because I’m scared to go into town and meet new clients. Thinking back to that day and what could have happened if Onyx hadn’t turned up when he did. Take your pick…” I pause, realizing how pathetic I sound. “I know I should just pull myself together, but I can’t.”
There’s silence for a few moments and then she speaks. “Have you been given a trial date yet?”
I answer, “No.”
There’s another silence. “What if I said I think I know a way to keep you safe, and help out the club at the same time?”
Okay, I’m intrigued now. “Tell me,” I say, suddenly feeling like this spitfire of a woman might hold the answer to my prayers.
Chapter 8
Onyx
It’s been two weeks since that asshole held Emily hostage. And almost two weeks since I last spoke to her. I’ve still been keeping an eye on her cabin, but I decided I needed to back the fuck off. She didn’t need me creeping around her. I figured if she wanted me then she knows where to find me.
The lack of phone calls or texts tells me that she’s doing just fine.
I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t hurt.
I just wish I could think of a way to protect her. Ma’s been acting weird, asking me if I’m okay, so I guess she’s picking up on my mood too.
But today’s another day and I imagine it will be pretty average. I like the rhythm of my life, being part of the Sons of Rage MC, helping run our club’s private businesses, supporting our affiliate clubs and spending time with my family and club brothers. I was born into this life and raised in the club. So, why the fuck wouldn’t I love it?
I run through my mental list of tasks for the day. I need to process the paperwork from last night’s ride. Inventory sheets that need to be reviewed and signed. I have a meeting with Jasper about the new parts supplier. It’s all straightforward, stuff I can handle without overtaxing my brain.
I check my phone again as I cross the main room. Checking for messages from Emily has gotten to be a bit of a habit over the last couple of weeks. I’m not terribly fuckin’ surprised to find that she hasn’t texted. The silence since then has driven home the fact that regardless of how I feel about her, she clearly doesn’t feel the same way.
I slip the phone into my pocket and head to my office. I don’t make it more than a few steps before I see Emily in the flesh, right here in our clubhouse. She’s sitting with Queenie at the big table near the back wall. They have folders spread out in front of them and seem happily engaged in conversation. I come to a staggering stop.
The first thing I feel is a pathetic sense of relief. She looks good. Really good. Sitting there talking with my mom.
The second feeling that jumps immediately forward is a crushing sense of disappointment. She’s here, and she didn’t even tell me she was coming. She hasn’t talked to me in weeks and just popped up out of nowhere. I’ve been good to this woman.
I keep my expression neutral as I walk closer, but when I see her all my irritation evaporates in an instant. She doesn’t look like she’s doing quite so well up close. When she glances up at me, her pretty brown eyes look a bit panicked. She freezes for a second and then glances around, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her shoulders are stiff. It’s one of the tells that let me know she’s under stress.
I notice all the small details that others miss, like the dark circles under her eyes that she’s tried to cover up with makeup and the slight tremor of her hand when she tucks her hair behindher ear. This is what Emily looks like when she’s trying to look normal but isn’t doing well at all.
I stop in front of their table. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say bluntly.
My ma gathers up her folders and excuses herself, giving Emily a warm pat on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a bit to talk,” she murmurs. Turning to me she gives me a stern look, and mouths for me to be nice.
I slide into the chair my ma just vacated and ask, “Want to tell me what in the everlovin’ fuck is going on here?”
