“Have a seat,” Mayhem waves his hand toward one of the chairs facing his desk.
I expect him to walk around it and sit as I lower myself into the chair, but he doesn’t. I’m just grateful to not be holding myself up anymore. My ability to hold it all together is fraying.
“Addyson,” the rumble of Mayhem’s voice has me snapping my head up to look at him while pushing my hair out of my face.
I should have grabbed something to pull it up. But I’ve never run for my life before. Clearly, I need to work on my execution. The expectant look on the face of the biker looming over me has me fidgeting in my seat. Did he ask me a question?
I glance around at the four men who have fanned out around the room. They’re close, but I don’t feel crowded. If they did it on purpose, I appreciate it. If not, I’m all for happy accidents. They are looking at me with a mixture of wariness, curiosity, and expectation.
Well, fuck.
I blurt out, “I’ll take Hammond Whiskey if you have it. But if you don’t then I’ll take a shot of vodka or rum of any kind. I’m sorry to say that I will not drink tequila. That’s a night of catty bitchiness no one needs,” I decree with a swipe of my hand.
Mayhem sits back against his desk and does something that stops everything.
He smiles.
CHAPTER 5
MAYHEM
Tearing my eyes away from Addyson is an impossibility. I can feel my brothers looking at me, but I don’t care. I can’t even glance their way. This woman, my woman, has all my attention. As she fucking should.
“I didn’t look back, not even when I got in my car and started to drive,” she murmurs the words, her story spilling out between sips of whiskey and deep breaths. My eyes lock onto her lips as she raises her glass and finishes her drink with a long swallow. When she looks back at me, I can see the fire and the fear in her eyes battling it out. “When I couldn’t take it anymore, I looked in my rearview mirror. A man was standing in the middle of the street and watching me drive away. I have no idea if it was Wagner or someone else, but I think it was him.”
Fuck. My woman is all courage and grit.
You would never guess by looking at her. She’s wearing a pairof jeans and a pink sweater for fuck sakes. Pink. A pink sweater.
While sitting in my office in the Charleston chapter of the DSMC’s clubhouse she looks completely out of place. And perfect.
I want her to stay.
Swallowing hard I give a nod and force myself to look at how my brothers are reacting to what she’s gone through in the last two days. They’re all on edge and I can tell that Ripper wants to jump out of his chair and track down the dirty cop who freaked out my woman. They don’t know who she is to me yet, but there are lines even we won’t cross.
Women and children? Innocents? You don’t touch them. You protect them with everything you are.
“Thank you for walking us through the last two days,” I keep my voice soft, hoping it helps her feel comfortable here.
I’m so close to her that I could reach out and touch her, but I hold off. It’s not easy to control the need. Fuck, when she was talking about listening to Kendra Wagner being murdered on the phone, I desperately wanted to pull her against my chest and comfort her.
But my instincts tell me she’s close to breaking. She needed to be able to hold onto her strength. All I could do was fist my hands together and promise myself that she’ll fall apart in my arms when it happens.
The unshed tears in her eyes gut me. But I’m so damn proud of her. When she squares her shoulders and gives one nod of acknowledgement, that feeling of pride grows. She’s so damn strong and I don’t even think she realizes it.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Duckie askes the question. His tone is more thoughtful than accusatory, but I still want to knock is teeth down his throat. I shoot him a look, and he grimaces while looking sheepish as fuck, but his question isn’t without merit.
The clicking of Anchor’s fingers on his laptop pauses as we wait for her answer. I swear we all hold our collective breath as we do.
“The computer phone system we use has things built into it to alert the police anonymously. I followed the company’s protocol about how to handle the situation,” she defensively shoots toward my SAA, her eyes narrowed in warning when she looks his way.
I don’t like her looking at him at all, even if it’s clear that he’s on her shit list at the moment. Duckie is undeterred and holds his hands up in surrender while he tries to stop himself from smiling at her attitude. When the corner of his mouth twitches, Addyson huffs and rolls her eyes in annoyance.
“I’m not blaming you for anything, sweetheart,” he tries to placate her, and I let out a low warning growl at his use of a pet name. She’s mine.
“Look,” her tone turns serious as she shifts to be able to face my brother head-on, “when I’m working, I get calls from all over the place. Everyone’s information is supposed to stay protected. It’s for the customers’ benefit, of course, but also mine. They don’t know who they are calling or where we are when we answer phone calls. I broke the company’s policy by writing down Kendra’s information in the first place and it was just a coincidence that she lives,” she pauses and swallows hard, her voice thinning, “I meant lived, in Charleston. I could be fired forthat alone, but then I went and made it worse by downloading the recording of the phone call and making a copy of it.”
That has us all perking up.
