Was there anything worse than how I felt right now?
There couldn’t be. I didn’t believe it.
Then the door swung open, and I realised the one thing you could guarantee about nightmares was that they always got worse.
19
NASH
I threw up again on the way home. Saint forced water and a KitKat on me and made me sit on a rock at the top of a cliff.
For the third time that night, he put a hand on me, checking my temperature. “You look like you did when your appendix blew up.”
Because I was sick to my stomach, but it had nothing to do with my internal organs and everything to do with the horror show we’d left behind.
Hooks hanging from the ceiling. Blood on the walls, old and new.
A legit torture chamber bearing enough signs of recent use that we’d locked it up again to disguise its discovery.
I pushed Saint away. “I’m fine.”
“Is it concussion?” Ranger wondered. “We bashed heads pretty hard.”
“I’mfine.” I slid off the rock and lit a smoke, cursing my soggy feet. It had stopped raining, but it was nowhere near warm enough to dry us out. “Let’s go home.”
For the longest moment, Saint didn’t move.
Then he swung a leg over his bike and gestured for me to lead the way.
I did, gritting my teeth against the bone-rattling engine vibrations that I usually enjoyed. Everything hurt, but I knew it was all in my head. That if I could just get to them—Orla and Locke—I’d find some fucking relief.
We rode home, reaching the compound before dawn, darkness still cloaking the yard.
I slung my hog into the first available space and took inventory of the bikes and vehicles present. Locke’s Dyna. Orla’s RAV-4. Rubi’s hog parked next to River’s Softail.
I killed my engine and rolled off my bike as my gaze fell on the open garage doors.
Inside, River had Rubi pressed against the wall, kissing him like no fucker was watching, and a long-ago drunken conversation flooded back to me, one I’d cringed away from, awkward and fascinated all rolled into one.“It doesn’t matter that I’m the big spoon, Nashie. Him fucking me is the best feeling in the world.”
I’d never thought about it too hard until now. And as the images in my brain manifested, it wasn’t Rubi and River I pictured; it was me and Locke. I’d dreamed of him fucking me. So. Many. Times. Talked it out with Orla. Fantasised about it with her whilewewere fucking.
But goddamn I wanted to fuck him too.
The notion brought me to a standstill, alerting Rubi and River to my presence.
Rubi meandered out of the garage, lips kiss-red, hair a wild mess. “Fucking hell. Who put gooseberries in your crumble?”
I forced my legs into motion again and aimed my weary body at the clubhouse and the stairs that would take me to the only place I wanted to be.
Rubi caught my arm. “Not so fast. Cam’s in the chapel. Get that shit done so you can dodge church in the morning and sleep all day.”
“It’s not morning yet?”
“Not for you, Nashie-poo.”
There was nothing I wanted to do less than park my arse in the chapel and rehash the bullshit night I’d just lived through to Cam. Part of me craved his familiar company, but I needed a fucking break. Fuck. Maybe I needed a drink. “Get me some rum and I’ll do as I’m told.”
Rubi opened his big fat mouth to respond.
