CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Starlet
Love isn’t supposedto hurt, it’s supposed to heal all wounds, right? Not with Brick—not even when I’m sheltered in his arms after making love for two hours, drenched in his masculine scent, and so exhausted I can’t stand up. No matter how close I come to falling asleep, the reality of tomorrow, the burden of knowing where I’m going cracks me in the face like a fist.
And then there’s Juanita…
Feeling guilty for not finding the time to call her, I reluctantly peel myself out of Brick’s embrace and search for my purse in the dim light. I check underneath the sofa which is a pull-out bed. Then I spot it on the floor by the front door. How did it get over there?
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I need to talk to Juanita.”
He rolls onto his side and looks at me. “Haven’t told her yet?”
I shake my head, nervous about it.
“She’ll understand.”
“No, she won’t. She’ll tell me to fight, to tell you and the Crusaders to fuck off.”
“Is that what you want to do, Starlet?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, looking conflicted. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”
“Why don’t I believe that?” Is he giving me a hint, a way out of this mess?
“I can be.”
“B-but you’d get into trouble, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m a big boy, Starlet. Wouldn’t be the first time I pissed off a prez and decided to head to another state.”
“But you just got here. And I thought you were up for a VP patch.”
“I am.”
“Doesn’t that mean something to you? Aren’t you tired of wandering across the country without a place to call home? I get the whole nomad thing—it’s sexy in a way. But a man needs to set down roots sooner or later. You’re thirtyish, right?” Funny, I’ve never asked his age. Growing up in an MC teaches you to keep your mouth shut and not get too personal with people. If someone wants you to know something, it’ll come up eventually.
“–Ish,” he says.
I throw him a crooked smile.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Just a baby.”
“Older than you,” he brags.
Technically maybe, but inside, where my heart is set deep in my chest, I feel haggard—used up and spit out. Age is a state of mind. “I’m going to step outside and call Juanita.”
He nods, and I gather my clothes and get dressed before I open the door.
My best friend answers on the second ring. “Dear God,” she says. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Sorry.”
