After loading Slider’s body into the hearse, I looked around, searching for Sugar. My chest was aching, and all I wanted to do was feel her there with me. Spotting Harlyn, I ducked through the crowd and crouched down beside her. She automatically reached out for me, and I picked her up in my arms.

“Have you seen your mom?” I asked as I cradled her against my side.

She shook her head. I could tell today had been hard for her, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd as though she hadn’t been aware of just how many brothers there were. They’d come from everywhere to pay their respects, and Harlyn was in complete awe.

“I saw her a few minutes ago, but she seems to be gone now,” Chelsea said, moving in beside me.

I knew Sugar had wanted to hang back and give us all our space. She wanted me to spend time with my brothers, be there for them, and feel the support they shared. I knew she felt out of place, she felt like eyes were constantly on her, judging her for what she’d done. And she and Optimus had still barely spoken a word between them. But now she’d disappeared, and in my gut I felt a pinch, telling me there was something wrong.

The boys were already on their bikes, having said goodbye to their women. We would head to the cemetery and help to bury our brother, while the women and visitors went to the clubhouse to prepare for the service that would follow. There’d be a lot of drinking, partying and celebration.

We all knew that once the funeral was done, there was to be no more grieving for our brother’s life. Once we’d said our goodbyes, the only thing left to do was celebrate Slider’s existence.

I frowned, handing Harlyn over to Chelsea as I watched my brothers head to their bikes. “If you see her, can you tell her I’m looking for her?”

Chelsea nodded with a soft smile. “I’ll take Harlyn with me back to the clubhouse. Maybe she’s already there.”

I appreciated her trying to ease my concerns, but I knew she wasn’t.

I knew it in my gut.

We all climbed on our bikes. The mighty roar of our engines together like a musical number, a chorus of revving and rumbling, each bike with its own distinctive sound that set it apart from the others, but that when together created a perfect harmony. As the hearse passed by us, we pulled out onto the street, one after another. We were a line of protection for our brother, supporting him as he traveled to his final resting place, vowing never to leave him behind or forgotten.

 

 

My skin was dirty and dusty when we arrived back at the clubhouse. We’d taken turns shoveling the dirt into Slider’s grave, burying him slowly as we remembered the things about him that had made our club whole. That was how we remembered the fallen. Unfortunately, we’d had a lot of practice at it.

The party was already in full swing, the music filling my ears as the boys and I shut off our bikes. We all headed straight for the bar, I needed a drink. I would down just one before I went in search of Sugar. Looking around the room, I couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d gone home, feeling too awkward around the clubhouse.

“Hey Wrench,” Ham said as I settled on a barstool. He passed a piece of paper over to me. “Someone called for you. They left this number. Said it was urgent.”

I frowned, looking down at the piece of paper, not recognizing the number written there.

Op was staring at me when I looked up, maybe he was also aware that Sugar wasn’t around.

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed as I headed for the hallway to the meeting room. I needed a quiet space. It rang a couple of times before a deep male voice picked up.

“Eric Deanwell speaking,” the gruff voice answered.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up instantly, and I had to stop myself from losing my shit at him right then and there. “Want to tell me why the hell you’re calling the clubhouse looking for me?” I hissed. Given that I couldn’t find Sugar either, I was ready to tear this asshole to pieces.

I heard him scoff. “You’re a lot more polite when I see you in court.”

“Trust me, that’s for my benefit, not yours. What do you want?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and I was ready to hang up. “Annabelle is here. Something has happened, and she’s asking that you come get her,” he explained, a tightness in his tone.

The asshole didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. He’d faced me and more of my brothers in court than any other fucking lawyer in the state. I didn’t want to be his friend.

“What is she doing with you?” I snapped.

He sighed dramatically, and if I could have reached through the phone and wrapped my fingers around his throat, I fucking would have. “Just come get her. I’ll text you my address.”

The line went dead, and I slammed my fist into the nearest wall. It just happened to be the fist still holding my cell phone, and I felt the glass crunch beneath my fingers.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Optimus leaning against the wall, watching me. His body was tight like he was ready for me to fight back, or at least ready for me to blow him off so he could punch me in the face again.

I hated keeping this crap from him.

He’d been like a brother to me for so long now that it didn’t even feel like he was my leader. He was just family, that’s all there was to it.

When my sister and her boyfriend were struggling to pay their rent, he offered up one of the apartments the club owned in town, just to help them get by. He did it without even a second thought because to him, if I cared about them, so did he.

He’d got me through jail time by visiting me whenever he could, sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month, but it kept me sane.

I hung my head. “Man, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“How about at the beginning?” he offered, walking toward me.

“It’s—”

“Not your story to tell. I get that shit,” he cut in, coming to a stop in front of me and folding his arms across his chest. “But what happens when that story has a tragic ending. One that we could have prevented together, then will you regret not telling it?”

I pounded my fist against the wall again. “She’s trying to keep you out of it. She’s scared that if you get involved that she’ll drag you down. It’s why she gave up Har. The fewer things that can be used against her… the better.”

He nodded. “I understand what it’s like to want to push people away, so they don’t get hurt, but you remember what happened don’t you?”

I cringed, the memories of seeing Chelsea broken and battered in her hospital bed, not knowing if she would wake up, or whether her brain had suffered too many injuries. We’d almost lost her, all because Optimus had spent too long trying to drive her away and instead found herself in the middle of a fucking war.

Optimus was right, Sugar couldn’t go at this alone. I knew she harbored guilt and fear that the club would somehow pay for mistakes she’d made, but what she needed to understand was that there wasn’t a day that went by where I wouldn’t take my brothers problems on my shoulders if it meant he would have less to carry.

What was the point of being a part of the club if you couldn’t rely on them to stand beside you in your time of need?

I sighed. “Let me go get her. Just enjoy the night with the boys here, and we can talk tomorrow.”

He nodded, falling into step with me as I head back down the hallway. “Where is she?”

I halted in the doorway to the main room where people were dancing and joking with each other. “Promise not to punch me in the face?”

“No,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.

“She’s at Eric Deanwell’s house.” I flinched back, expecting the rage to come from him but he didn’t move.

“Eric Deanwell?”

“The one and only.”

He shook his head. “Go, and fucking get her,” he said, his voice a mixture of shock and disappointment. “You’re right, we’ll deal with this shit tomorrow because right now, I need to get so drunk that I forget what you just told me, and don’t come with you and beat the fucking shit out of him.”

“Noted,” I commented, shooting him a quick salute and ducking through bodies as I headed for the door.

The ride was quick, and I was thankful for the fact that asshole Deanwell lived in town. All I wanted to do was get to my woman and figure out what the hell had happened.

Pulling up in the fancy suburb made my skin crawl. It wasn’t a wonder why Sugar was so desperate to escape this kind of place. I could already see people peeking out their curtains, I could imagine with their fingers on the ready to hit 911 as I strolled up the path.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I murmured as I eyed the two oversize front doors that were made out of heavy wood. They looked like they could keep out a fucking tank.

Overcompensating much?

I even laughed as spotted the door knobs—fucking gold, of course.

Probably goddamn real gold, most likely paid for by the club with the amount of business we’d handed him.

I shook my head as I slammed my fist against the door.

All I wanted was to get Sugar and get the hell out of this place.

I didn’t belong here, and neither did she.