“That’s not how you do it,” Daz exclaimed on a laugh.
We were at the farmhouse, relaxing in the living room. In a couple hours, we’d both have to get to work, where I would be doing my last dance on stage before my full promotion went into effect.
I’d worried the change would be met with hostility from the other women, seeing as it definitely was not secret anymore that Daz and I were together, but so far, it had really only been support.
“You aren’t some bitch just looking for any easy way up and then not doing the work,” Candy had explained her feelings on it one night. “You work harder than anyone. If anything, we should all be glad you’ll just be doing that. It only means more stage time for us.”
And that was that, seemingly for everyone. Simple.
Daz was happy about the change. He’d finally admitted a couple weeks ago he didn’t like when I took the stage anymore. I’d been waiting for him to own up to it after we became an “us,” but he took his sweet time.
“Well, pardon me for trying to be a fuckin’ gentleman and not tell you what to do,” he’d tried to give me shit. I wasn’t having it. He hadn’t said something sooner because that was admitting too much.
It was probably mean, but the fact that it finally did irritate him and make him jealous enough to speak up made me perversely happy.
Right then, he was twitchy. He had been all day, and I’d just asked him why.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sugar,” he’d denied.
I could have rolled my eyes, but I’d held back. “You’ve been weird all morning.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Is it because I’m stripping tonight?” I’d guessed.
“No,” he’d said in a grumpy way that was so obviously a yes.
“What happened to being a gentleman?” I’d teased.
“Fuck that,” he’d muttered.
I gave a gasp of mock outrage. “Not even for me?”
He’d snorted. “Not worth it.”
Then, I’d given him the finger.
Daz had looked from the gesture, to me, then back to my hand, and burst out laughing. That’s when he told me I was doing it wrong.
“What do you mean that’s not how you do it?” I asked, looking to my middle finger standing up with the others folded down around it. It looked right to me.
Daz, still laughing, asked, “Why is your thumb sticking out?”
What? “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He made the same gesture at me, his thumb tucked into his palm. I mimicked it, and told him, “That feels weird.”
“Well, the way you’re doing it now looks weird.” He was seriously still chuckling.
“Are we seriously debating how I give you the finger? I’m pretty sure it gets the point across.”
“You might think that, but if you keep doing it the way, I’m going to laugh anytime you do it and I think you might get pissy if I do.”
I glared at him as his chuckles died down. Then, we heard the front door open and shut on a slam.
Stone came charging into the farmhouse on a warpath.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded as soon as his eyes hit Daz. He wanted to yell. It was obvious, but he was keeping it in check probably because he knew Owen and Kate were around somewhere.
Daz was right next to me on the couch, and I couldn’t resist the urge to recoil into him in the face of the Disciples’ president unleashing. Daz got to his feet, standing in front of me.
“What the fuck, Pres?”
“Andrews called.” I didn’t know what that meant, but Daz did. His body went from on guard to stiff. I started to understand when Stone went on. “There’s a squad car on the way up here. Nothin’ he could do to stop that shit.”
You know in movies when they drop a nuke and it goes silent for a second before everything explodes? That was what him saying that felt like. Nothing. Not a thought or reaction, and then a barrage.
He was here, making that entrance and getting in Daz’s face for a reason. That squad car was on its way here, and it was coming for Daz.
“Fuck.”
There was a soul-deep resignation in that single word I did not like at all. Daz knew what was going on, and worse, he was ready to let it happen.
I didn’t know what I’d expected. It wasn’t like I wanted him to go arm himself to the teeth, barricade the house, and take on the police in some sort of wild west showdown.
But to just give in? It seemed so unlike him.
“Tell me this is just some bullshit play that motherfucker is making,” Stone demanded. “Tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”
Daz didn’t answer.
I finally found some sense and got to my feet, stepping up to Daz’s side. “What’s going on?”
Stone’s attention didn’t move to me, and Daz stayed staring at his president. No one deemed my question worth answering. They were locked in their intense biker stare-down.
What they weren’t doing was making any of this make sense for me, and clearly, time was running out.
So, I repeated, “What’s going on?”
“He’s got no proof,” Daz said, not speaking to me.
“Seems he’s got something if they’re sending a couple officers up here for you,” Stone shot back.
“Went in in the dark. Got the jump on him. Face covered, no cut. No distinguishing features, and I didn’t fucking speak. He’s got nothing.”
Wait. What the hell was he talking about?
“You went in and beat that fucker’s ass and you said not one fucking thing?” Stone demanded.
“He was sniffing around Candy Shop. Already warned him off, but he still showed up to scope the place out. I went to deliver a message he couldn’t ignore, but I kept in mind what you’d said. I didn’t need to end up exactly where I seem to fuckin’ be now, getting locked up again with all I got to take care of here. I didn’t say a goddamn thing,” Daz insisted. “Didn’t touch anything where I’d leave prints. Didn’t even lay in with my fist long enough to split my knuckles. He. Has. Nothing.”
And that, all of it, finally made me realize what was going on.
Daz had gone after Aaron.
I knew, right then, it was two nights ago. He’d disappeared from the club for a while. David had told me he’d be back before long, and by the time I’d wrapped up everything I’d needed to do, he had been. So I’d forgotten about it.
Until now.
“You went after him,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Daz's attention finally came to me. I’d never seen the expression he wore. It was so many things: anger, determination, worry. His whole face was hard, like he was ready to fight, but his eyes were sad.
“Sugar,” he said, but nothing followed.
He went after Aaron, and he’d done it for me. He’d done it because Aaron had still been trying to find a way to get close to me, and I knew he’d done it as retribution for all the pain I’d already gone through.
Now, he was going to be arrested. They were going to take him away from me, from Owen, from Kate.
And it was all because of me.
I didn’t have words. There was nothing that could have been said right. By getting close to him, letting him into my life and my problems, I’d destroyed his. He may have been the one to go after Aaron, but I’d known what type of man he was. I knew he would, and by not cutting ties, I had let him.
Wrapping my arms around him, I buried my head in his chest and shut my eyes tight. Maybe this was all just a nightmare. Maybe I’d wake up any time now and this would all fade away.
Stone’s next words were quieter, far less harsh. He was feeling this too.
“Don’t say anything. Not to any of them, not even Andrews. I’ll get our lawyer down there fast as I can. Until we know how to fight this, it’s silence, yeah?”
Daz didn’t say anything, just held me there. I guessed he nodded his assent, but it didn’t really matter. It may have come out softer, but that was an order.
Silence reined from there, until the muted, sickening sound of a car on the gravel drive.
“Avery,” Daz called quietly.
I hugged him tighter.
“Baby, I need you to go find Kate and Owen. Don’t let them see this,” he begged. “Please.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to stand right there holding onto him as if that would somehow stop what was going to happen next.
There was a knock at the door, a pause, then heavy footfalls as Stone went to answer it.
Daz’s hands came to cup my jaw and pull my face up to his. He pressed a single, soft kiss to my lips.
“Go, sugar,” he whispered there.
It killed me, absolutely ripped me to shreds inside, but I did what he asked and left.
I didn’t know how long it had been before Doc found me.
When I’d forced myself to leave Daz’s side, I’d found Kate and Owen in the backyard. She was sitting on the deck. He was running around with a couple toy cars in the grass. He was happy, in his own little world. He didn’t understand what had happened to his father. He had no concept of the daily battle his mom was fighting just to take care of him. He was completely oblivious to what was happening to his uncle.
But I knew.
And seeing him there, not touched by any of it, was beautiful, but at the same time, tested my resolve not to cry.
I didn’t say anything to Kate about what was happening as I sat down with her. In fact, I wasn’t even fully aware what I did say. Something benign, meaningless. Eventually, she would have to know, but that wasn’t for now.
It wasn't for me.
We’d both been the picture of relaxation, sitting on the sun drenched deck, watching Owen. Yet, beneath the veneer was all clouds. I understood then what Kate must have felt a lot of the time, what she was likely feeling right then beside me. Having to go through the motions of normalcy, to put on a show, when inside, everything was falling to pieces.
Because as I sat there in the sun, all I could picture was two faceless men in uniform putting cuffs on Daz’s wrists and taking him away.
“Gotta talk to you, pretty girl,” Doc said, holding a hand out to me. I hesitated to take it. It wasn’t Doc who was the issue, I just didn’t want to face whatever he was going to talk to me about.
His face remained flat, but his eyes showed me just how much he was feeling this too. He was trying to keep it under wraps in front of Kate, though. I’d spent enough time doing that to give him the out.
When we made it inside, his gruff face became one awash with sympathy. It made my heart stutter.
“Hate that I gotta tell you this,” he started.
“Just do it. Quick. Like a Band-Aid,” I pleaded.
“That asshole ex of yours was assaulted two nights ago. He then went to the cops and told them it was Daz. He’s got no proof to put our boy at the scene, but says Daz had already threatened him and you were a witness to those threats.”
I tried to recall what Daz had said that day. Had he actually threatened Aaron? Or had he just implied it? Did that difference matter in court?
Doc went on while I was considering that. “Real issue is Daz doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the assault. Says he took a breather from work to go for a short ride. So, we’re stuck in a he-said-she-said game, and Daz’s got a felony record. Odds are, that shit won’t look good for him.”
But Doc was avoiding one thing. “He did it, didn’t he?”
“I answer that, could make it difficult if you’re sworn in on the trial, and you will be since you heard the conversation where that threat was made.”
I looked Doc straight in the eye. He wasn’t going to say it. He wasn’t going to compromise my ability to speak for Daz and take away what might have been his only chance to win.
But it was right there in his gaze all the same. The answer I knew before I even asked.
Daz was guilty.