“Where?”
“She wanted dropping off just outside of town. I assumed it was a friend’s place.”
“You gave her a lift out of town?” Blood rushes to my head. I can’t think straight as I stomp towards Kane, fists clenched.
“What did you want me to do, let her walk down the country lane? It’d be dark by the time she got back.”
I fist his t-shirt. He’s almost as big as I am and just as fierce. “You should have brought her to me.”
Kane narrows his eyes and looks at my fists, crumpling his shirt. He’s calmer than he used to be. At one time, I’d be a dead man for this. “She said you didn’t want her.”
I let go and take a step back, fisting my hair, needing to punch something.
“She overheard something I said. Of course I fucking want her. She’s all I want. But I can’t let the club find out until I’ve talked to her brother. I was trying to throw them off the scent.”
Kane scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit. Get in the truck. I’ll take you to where I dropped her off.” He turns back to the dog and points to the workshop. “Belle, basket.”
I call Faith again, but the phone goes to voicemail. Then I text the club group chat.
Text: Faith’s missing. If anyone sees her, let me know ASAP.
“Still nothing?” Kane asks as he drives down the bumpy country lane.
“Nothing.” I rake both hands through my hair, gripping the back of my neck. “She heard me. I said I must be stupid to date her, and she fucking heard me.”
Kane nods slowly. “Sounds like it.”
“I didn’t mean it.” The words burn like acid on my tongue. “I didn’t mean a goddamn word of it.”
“You find her and tell her. The lass was pretty beat when she arrived at the house. But you can make it right.”
For a second, there’s an understanding between us. A silent brotherhood of men who love women we probably shouldn’t.
We don’t talk much for the rest of the ride—just the thunder of the engine tearing down country lanes like the devil’s on our heels. And maybe he is. Because I know if she ends up back at that house—with him—I’ll burn the place to the fucking ground.
14
FAITH
The familiar aroma of cigarettes hits me as I walk into the house. I never thought I’d be back here, but I guess Mum was right all along about bikers. I mean, she was married to one.
Bottles line the worktop next to a sink full of pots. Seems nobody’s taken on my chores since I left.
With a sniffle, I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie and fill the sink with warm water, squeezing out the last of the washing up liquid from the bottle on the sink.
“I told your mother to do that.” Nigel says, startling me.
I turn around to see him leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Where is she?”
“Out. It’s two for one on drinks at bingo.” He rolls his sleeves to his elbows, then pulls out a tea towel from the drawer. “Want to dry and I’ll wash?”
I take the old worn out towel from him and dry the dishes as he places them on the draining board. “How can you put up with Mum?”
Nigel shrugs. “She needs help with her drinking. But I don’t stay for her. I stayed for you.”
“For me?”
“I wanted to make sure my muffin was taken care of.”
