I do not want to be here. I’m standing outside of the club’s safe house in Manchester. It’s a small four-room house on a side street off the main town. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you were looking for it. Yet, it is close enough to the main drag that too much shit would bring down the cops. That way even if rival clubs finds it, we still have an advantage.

What am I doing here? Fuck that is another question all together. I left the club with the intention of getting drunk, getting laid and forgetting Carrie was even around. What I did instead was call Mary. I hadn’t talked to her since the day they pulled her away from me at the Courthouse. I made it known I did not want her visiting me at the prison. It was a fucked up thing not to check on her when I got out. I know that, but I just cannot deal with people. I spent the night feeling guilt at the pain I heard in Mary’s voice and drinking myself into a stupor with a bottle of vodka. I woke up a couple hours later, just like always—covered in sweat, my heart pounding out of my chest and screaming.

I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand and fight the memories that are always there demanding to come to the forefront. Fuck, I may never be ready to deal with people again.

I know I can’t deal with the party going on at the club tonight. That is going to piss Dragon off, but the way I figure it, he might as well get used to the feeling when it comes to me. I pull my hand down and stare. It trembles and shakes, mocking me. What the fuck has happened to me? What happened to the man who walked in the world with a one finger salute, not giving a fuck? What happened to the man who went to war and faced anything without fear? I’m a coward. I can’t even live with myself. I haven’t got my revenge yet, because I can’t bring up the courage to even see the ones I would have to face. I haven’t even helped the club exact revenge against a man who is only fucking with them because of me. I am a waste of breath and I know I’ve said it a million times over, but I’m so tired. So fucking tired that deep down inside it feels as if I am literally drowning. It takes all the energy I can muster to get out of bed every day. What the fuck does that make me? I am rotting from the inside out.

I take an unsteady breath and walk up to the door. I close my eyes and bite my tongue to let the pain focus me. I’m a pansy-ass-sorry-mother-fucker. I knock once…twice…then bring my hand back and push them both into my jean’s pockets. I don’t want Bull to see them shake. Fuck, I don’t want to see them shake.

Bull opens the door, the gold studs in his ears shining under the glare of the porch light.

“Dance,” his voice is dark and even more pissed off than normal. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why. Sorry, Fucker, you’re not going to get pussy tonight—at least not from Carrie.

“You going to let me in?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Come to relieve you.”

“Hell no.”

“Just fact man, Drag needs his enforcer at the club tonight with the Atlanta Chapter in. He doesn’t want Carrie to be alone. So, I am here,” I say, lying through my damned teeth.

I’m not even sure why I’m here. Yes, I am avoiding the party, but I could have done that from my room at the hotel. Something inside of me is pushing me towards Carrie. Maybe it is because of all the shit she has gone through; maybe it is the anger I have towards her. Maybe I’ve drunk so much that my brain cells have completely left me. I did not the-fuck-know. All I do know? I am standing here in front of this damn safe house at seven o’clock at night, lying to my brother and planning on spending the night with a woman I…shit, it’s a woman I want—I’ve always wanted. It’s also a woman I blame, whether she deserves it or not.

“I’ll call and have him send Six out.”

“Six is working the bar tonight with Lips. Just get going man, I think I can babysit for one damned night.”

“And give you the chance to spew more of your poison at Red? I don’t think so brother.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, I won’t bother the bitch. I’m going to lock the doors, grab a bite to eat and sleep. I won’t say two damn words to her. Now quit being a prick and let me in.”

He backs up to give me room to get in. I walk by him and scan the combined living and kitchen area. It’s separated by a small half wall and then open where the table and chairs are. Carrie is sitting there and her face goes pale and white when she sees me. I know it makes me a sadistic fuck, but I can’t help but enjoy seeing how uncomfortable I make her.

“Looks like I missed dinner,” I say my eyes locking on Carrie’s. She holds my look for about half a beat and then looks back down. Why does that make me feel like I’ve won something? I could almost smile.

Bull grunts. “I’ll call Nailer.”

He takes out his phone and it pisses me off. Obviously I’m twisted up even more than I realized.

“Knock it off, Bull. I’m not going to say shit to her. Go back up our boy.”

“Red? You gonna be okay?” Bull asks ignoring me.

This fucker is obviously pussy-whipped. Maybe it’s the younger pussy?

“I’m fine, Bull. I’m getting ready to go to bed anyway,” she says. Her voice has always been quieter than others. Almost meek and soothing, it’s like a lullaby. I used to love to listen to her and Jazz chatter for hours. The memory of that rings clear before I lock it down.

“I still think I should call Drag first,” Bull obstinately continues.

For a second my chest gets a punch of adrenaline. If Bull does that he’ll know I’m lying my ass off and Carrie will know it too. I don’t even know why the hell I’m doing it myself, I’m not ready to try and explain it to anyone else.

“Bull, please? I don’t’ want to make a scene and tonight is important to Dragon. Just go, I’ll be fine. Jacob… He won’t hurt me.”

“Red? You call me if you need me for anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says with a smile, while Bull puts on his cut. I can see the fear in her eyes. It’s fucked up, but I like it. It’s like my body has come alive, as if I’m a hunter and oh yeah, I’m definitely smelling blood now.

Bull turns to me as he opens the door.

“Motherfucker, one wrong move and I’ll make you sorry you were ever born,” he growls.

I thought about telling him he’s about thirty-five years too late. At the very least, he’s a little over two years too late. I don’t though. I shrug and watch as he slams the door behind him.

I wait the space of a heartbeat and then turn my attention to Carrie. Her big green eyes are caught in mine and her skin is definitely lily white now.

“Having fun playing house with the bad boy biker, Princess?”

She closes her eyes and looks down at her lap. My eyes follow and I see she’s wringing her hands tight. My lips jerk a little, not quite a smile but definitely a hint of one.

“I don’t remember you being so timid around me before, Princess,” I say, lounging against the door now, my arms crossed at my chest.

“You didn’t hate me in the past. I’m going to go take a bath and call it a night. Sorry you got stuck with me,” she says, without bothering to look up. She gets up from the table, still looking at the ground.

“I don’t hate you Carrie, not most of the time. You shouldn’t have been there that night,” I confess, a dose of honesty pushing its way through my lips.

“I know. If I could take it back, I would, Jacob.”

“All of it?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Would it matter?” She asks instead of answering and the anger that is coiled tight in my stomach heats.

I resent her not giving me an answer. I want to know what exactly she would change. Why? Fuck if I know. I want to know if she still has those feelings though, if what Dragon says is true. I want her to admit it.

I should let her go. It’d be better for both of us. I don’t.

“I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?” I ask, wondering if she’ll tell me to get it myself.

“I made a casserole,” she says finally looking up at me. Were her green eyes always so deep in color?

“Sounds good. You got beer too?” I ask, walking over to the table and sitting down. It’s a dick move and I think I see a flare of irritation in her eyes, but she doesn’t tell me to go fuck myself. I almost find it disappointing. She takes a few minutes and brings me a plate and a beer.

She starts to walk out of the room when I stop her.

“Always did hate eating alone.”

“Jacob, we both know you don’t want me anywhere around you,” she answers. She doesn’t sit down, but she doesn’t immediately leave the room either.

I take a bite of the casserole. Chicken. It’s pretty good actually.

“Where’d you learn to cook?”

“I’ve always cooked, my mother taught me how,” she responds, and the blush on her face is kind of cute, even if I am getting ready to be a dick to her.

“Why bother when you had chefs to do that shit?”

“We never had chefs, Jacob. We never had any servants.”

“Who was Velma?”

She looks confused for a minute.

“She is family.”

“Did your parents pay her?” I question, knowing the answer.

“Well yes, of course…”

“Then she was a servant.”

Her face goes pale white as she looks at me.

“You really are a horse’s ass,” she says and then turns and walks out of the room.

I grin because I got to her. It almost feels like a victory. I ignore the emptiness that invades the room when she leaves.