Still worrying about the door situation, I walk down his gravel driveway and take off running when I hit the road in the gray pre-dawn cold. I don’t look back at the house. I don’t let myself look back at the house because I need to put as much distance between this man and myself as possible.
I wanted and chose Jake. I would never have chosen a brother from the Sons of Rage, much less their sergeant-at-arms. Jake was warm, funny, considerate and a wonderful lover. Jinx is nothing but danger in my world.
My hands are shaking. I open my purse, take out my phone and order a rideshare. It’s less than twelve minutes out. Time seems to stand still. Eventually, a green Honda Civic pulls in, driven by a man in his fifties. He cheerfully says good morning because today is just another day for him. I get in the back seat, close the door and try my best to act normal. I end up pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window and staring out at the scenery moving past.
Chapter 4
Jinx
Iwake up more relaxed than I’ve been in ages. Before my eyes open, images of last night begin filling my head. I reach out for Nora, only to find the other side of my bed has long gone cold. I realize with no small amount of disappointment that it was just a one-night stand for her. I’d hoped for the chance to become more. Turning over to look at the space where she slept, I can still see the indentation of her head on the pillow. I feel an ache in my chest for what might have been.
I force myself up because I refuse to wallow in whatever the fuck this is over a woman. She was just looking for fun, a no-strings hookup so she could lose her virginity. I should have known she wouldn’t want someone like me. I’m the bad boy every woman wants to have fun with but doesn’t want to keep. That fact has never been driven home harder than in this moment.
I lean against the front of my shower as the hot water falls over my back, thinking about how it felt to hold her in my arms. I don’t do intimacy, but for some reason, even though I only knew her for one night, my life feels emptier. That’s a stupid fuckin’ thing for a grown-ass man to be thinking about after a one-night stand. I’ve had hundreds of them and never found myself gettin’ damn emotional afterward.
Once I finish my shower and get dressed, I go downstairs to make myself some coffee. One look at the front door tells meeverything I need to know about how Nora feels about me. She didn’t even close the door all the way, much less lock up behind herself when she left. The chill morning air is coming in through the two-inch crack. A person only locks up if they give a damn about the person they left behind. It looks like she only had one thing on her mind when she walked out this door, and that was putting as much distance between herself and me as possible. Fuckin’ fine, she can be like that if she wants. I refuse to give a fuck about people who don’t give a fuck about me.
Deep down inside, I know I’m only soothing my bruised pride. I stomp into the kitchen, throw a coffee pod into the coffee maker and slide my go-cup under the drip. Standing there, staring out my kitchen window, I think about how I would have heard a car pulling into my driveway. That means she probably walked out to the main road to meet a ride. If she wanted to make a clean getaway without me realizing, that was the way to do it.
Nora’s a smart woman. I bet she gets underestimated a lot in life. For half a second, I’m more impressed than pissed. Then I remember she walked out on me, and irritation circles back around. It sucks that the only woman I’ve really clicked with in ages chose not to stay and try to get to know me better.
***
Six weeks later, I’m still angsting about Nora in my downtime, like the big fuckin’ fool that I am. Of course, I haven’t had a lot of free time to dwell on her in the last few weeks. I’ve had to put my shop back together, bring myself up to speed on Striker’s new security protocols for all our club businesses, and keep my eyeballs peeled for the fuckin’ Hyenas. The stupidfuckers show up out of nowhere on those souped-up bikes of theirs, hit hard and are gone before we can respond.
Still, among all the chaos, I managed to remake little Maria Delgado’s Communion ring. Seeing her eyes light up when she tried it on for the first time made the late nights that I put into remaking it worth it.
The Hyenas are back to spying on us with drones. Striker knocked one outta the air with a slingshot. The crazy fucker got a good laugh outta crashing their high-tech shit with his low-tech slingshot. Truth be told, so did I. The drones had cameras so the Hyenas will know what happened. Maybe that’s the point? They’re just trying to intimidate us.
Striker has created a makeshift office in the back of the salvage yard office building. He laid claim to the empty room a while back after announcing that the clubhouse basement was like a fucking faraday cage. Having no Wi-Fi or cell reception might be good if you’re trying to keep a low profile, but I guess if your job is to provide IT services for an MC, then it’s an essential requirement. I wonder if all IT brothers are as eccentric as ours. It doesn’t matter because he’s shit hot when it comes to anything tech-related.
I walk in this morning to find that Striker’s upped his game. He’s got his desktop running with two large, curved monitors. A laptop is sitting off to the side running some kind of code. He’s got that infernal CB squawking in the background. He likes to monitor the police and ambulance chatter while he works. He glances up from the laptop running code to greet me.
“You got that face on. The one that looks like someone kicked your puppy,” he says.
I frown at him as I drop down in the seat on the other side of his desk and help myself to a slice of cold pizza from the open box on his table. It looks like it’s been congealing all night, but it’ll do for breakfast. Going by the number of empty energy drink cans piled up, I guess our tech genius has been pulling an all-nighter. “I don’t have a face on,” I mutter while chewing.
Jerking his chin towards the mini fridge, he says, “Yeah, you do. I got more of those energy drinks, if you want one. Help yourself.”
I can’t get to the mini fridge fast enough. I grab a can, pull the tab, and guzzle half of it down in one refreshing gulp. “Thanks, brother. You don’t know how much I needed that.”
Striker grins. “You look about as awake as I feel.” Pausing for a second, his expression turns serious. “Wanna talk about what’s been botherin’ you, brother?”
I take another sip of the drink and eye my half-eaten slice of pizza.
“Is this about a woman?” he says, before I’ve decided if I want to get into it with my best friend or not.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, I reluctantly say, “It’s a whole situation.”
“Women usually are. You want to see what I can find on her?”
I shrug. “Yeah, no. I want to know more about her. But I don’t want to stalk her or anything like that. It’s just I can’t get her outta my head.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Jinx. We’re not gonna stalk her.”
“I don’t want to fucking stalk her. Just… I don’t know. Get some answers. No one ghosts me, and the way she took off, I just wanna know why. Reckon you can find out about her in a way that doesn’t violate her privacy?”
“I might be able to help ya on that. There’s a lot of information that’s considered public information. We’ll just grab some of it discreetly.”
