6
Raine
I'mout of my goddamn mind. Haven is a piece of gold, and I'm trash. I watch as she makes her way around the side of her house, slipping inside the door. I can leave now, but instead, I wait for her to appear in her bedroom window.
She presses her hand up against the glass and waves goodbye. Now, I should leave. Put the truck in drive, Raine. At the sight of a six-figure sedan crawling down the street, I peel away from the curb, wondering if anyone realizes that the mayor's salary in this town wouldn't cover a mortgage for a house this size, or a car like the one rolling by.
Normally, I have jobs scheduled throughout the day on Saturdays, but evidently, it's a big party weekend, and all my clients are hosting in their backyards.
I pull into the lot of Crow's apartment, finding his bike parked out front. Guess it's still early to be opening the bar up. That sucks. I was hoping to get some sleep for a change. He's been up banging some chick for the past two weeks, and I'm starting to wonder if it's getting serious. Obviously not serious enough that I've met the woman, but Crow typically likes to keep things moving. Out with the old and in with the new.
I take the stairs up to the second floor and grab the key from my back pocket—or go to grab the key thatwasin my back pocket.Shit. I try the knob, thankfully finding the door's unlocked. I'll worry about the key later. I walk inside to a smoke-filled room where Crow and the chick of choice are sprawled out on the couch—my bed—watching TV.
"Bro, this is Kacee. Kacee, Raine." I step in a little closer, getting a good look at her.Kacee. Never knew her name but, yup… had her on this couch before.Shit.
"Oh," she says. "Hey, Raine."
"You two know each other or some shit?" Crow asks her.
I take the moment between the question and her answer to scratch at my chin with guilt I shouldn't have. How could I have known he'd be sloppy seconds?
"Yeah," she says with an accent I still can't decipher. I want to say she's from New York, but if she is, what the hell is she doing down here in Louisiana?
"Ah, no shit, from where?" Crow presses, still completely unaware of what may or may not come out of her mouth. Maybe she'll lie. It would be best for all of us if she did.
"We fucked last month. Right here, on this couch." Her bluntness drives a nail through Crow's head, and I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that she hasn't met Crow's other side. Not just anyone can run a biker bar. A bar owner in the town of Sutter may need a couple of loose screws to manage a particularly hot-headed crowd every night, and well... Crow fits the role nicely.
He stands up from the couch, first pressing his fingers into his temples where his bulging veins are growing thicker by the minute. As red as his face is turning, I can't imagine how high his blood pressure must be but he does his best to blow the steam out of his mouth first. However, I've seen this whole scene before. With every new breath, he takes, a little more fury grows within him. "Why the fuck didn't either of you tell me?" he hisses.
Kacee looks at me with surprise and then back at him. "I had no idea," she says, whining a little. "Anytime I've come or gone, he hasn't been here, or he's been asleep on the couch with his back facing the wall.”
Crow laughs softly, cynicism corroding the sound. "You fucked him on this couch, you dipshit," Crow mumbles softly to her. The softer he gets, the more rage he's suppressing.
"What the fuck?" she groans, standing up from the couch. Is she wearing last night's clothes or does she wear leather pants during the day too? "It was dark in here, and I left when we were done."
"How many people have you fucked in this complex then?" Crow asks her. The first beer bottle has been thrown, and it shatters against the wall. The sound echoes in the hollow of this decent size room that holds one couch—the scene of the crime—and one entertainment center.
Kacee jumps and clutches at her chest. "Jesus! I'm sorry, okay? How the hell was I supposed to know you two were roommates?"
"You could have mentioned it at some point in the past three weeks," Crow yells back.
No one is looking at me, and I'm beginning to feel like a very unwelcome fly on the wall here. I had no idea, though. I would have told Crow. I have no shame or anything to hide. She did kind of suck in the sack, though, so I'm not sure what he's getting all huffy about. Crow has girls fawning all over him every goddamn night at that bar. Chicks like Kacee go to Crow's just to find a guy specifically like him. Then there are girls like Haven, who have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.
"Well, I'm sorry," she shouts. "Maybe I didn't want to scare you away."
"For real?" he asks, his tone calming to a gentler volume.
"Yeah. I mean, I like you," Kacee says to him, grinning with one brow raised.
"I like you too," Crow says, softening up like a goddamn fuzzy bunny.
The two of them move toward each other, and without regard for me standing here, Crow scoops her up as her legs straddle around his waist. Clothes are flinging in the air, and it seems like the perfect time to go find my missing key.Jesus. I am never fucking sleeping again.
I leave the apartment and hop back into my truck, searching the seats and everywhere in between. Maybe the key fell out when I was taking my shorts off earlier. The thought of walking the mile back to the dock makes me want to forget about the key, throw my seat back and take that nap right here. Except it's hot as a dog's ass after a huge load, and the truck's dark interior amplifies the temperature.
I drive the few miles down to the edge of the woods and make the trek back to the dock. Well, this was a waste of an hour. It's not here. Crow's going to fucking kill me. His landlord charges two-hundred bucks for missing keys. I'll pay for it, but it'll take me a bit to get him the money. And that's pretty much the last thing I want to waste two hundred on. The only other place it could be is somewhere in the acre of land surrounding Haven's house. I doubt there's any way I'll find it, but I have to at least try.
When I make it back to my truck, I rev it up and glance at the clock. How the hell is it four already? The Sheriff's Ball or whatever the hell it’s called, starts at five, which means Haven's parents must be gone by now. There are only a couple hours of sunlight left, so I better get over there if I want any hope of finding the key.
