Ben…
“Fuck.”
Shay’s cutting judgment shot straight to my gut and churned there.
Because she’d shrewdly pointed out that I’d become no better than a man I’d grown to hate.
I huffed out a regretful breath, disgusted with the cold realization of what I’d done—shredded someone without pausing to think, bothering to care.
With her head held high in spite of the misery I’d caused, she casually turned her back on me. Then she sidestepped Cade and soon vanished into the thick crowd on the dance floor. I stared off at the dark ceiling of the hallway she’d been aiming toward, where the locker rooms were.
Why do I now give a damn?
The walking contradiction? Young, yet somehow hardened?
Maybe it was her rare fire and grit. Stubborn beyond reason, she’d stood her ground.
And I’d been a barreling train wreck and exploded right through her.
“What just happened?” Uncertainty fogged my brain.
Cade eased closer until he stood where she’d been, across the bar from me. He planted his palms on the space between us and leaned forward as he pegged me with an unforgiving look.
“You just kick-punted a great employee.”
“Was I wrong?” Couldn’t tell anymore.
He glanced at the still-visible wake she’d left on the dance floor. “You tell me.”
“You hired her?”
His face contorted into a brief scowl. “No. You know better than that. I’m filling in for a couple of weeks. As help, not management. I’m not here to confuse your crew.”
Right.
Don’t be an idiot. Cade’s your best friend. Get your head screwed on straight.
We’d created Loading Zone back when I’d first graduated college and Cade had begun earning his masters. But even though he’d sold his share to me last year to chase other ventures, Cade’s help, dedication, and a big piece of his heart still remained.
For his unshakable loyalty, to the club, to me, I remained eternally grateful.
Especially after the last weeks from hell.
I gave him an apologetic nod.
He chuckled, then shook his head. “Dude. You were a heat-seeking missile. Most people introduce themselves, offer a hand to shake. You? Boom! Carved a right hook” —his fist arced through the air then jarred to a stop halfway across the bar top— “outta nowhere.”
I winced at his take of the unprovoked damage I’d done.
His gaze held mine a beat, then scanned my jawline. “You look rough. Lose your razor?”
“No.” I scrubbed a hand along the short beard I’d developed. “Just the give-a-fuck to use it.”
“That bad.” His words flattened into a statement. My best friend knew without explanation: no rose-colored glasses would fix that clusterfuck.
“Yeah, that bad.”
He gave a curt nod but said nothing further. Not the time or place.
Instead, he spun around and gripped the neck of my favorite scotch. Amber liquid filled a tumbler two fingers tall before he pulled back. I didn’t object. As I stared at the alcohol, I accepted what it was: temporary salvation and permanent curse.
Even with the stinging reminder, I knocked back my medicine.
Just to take the edge off.
But I left a quarter inch behind. Always. A reminder. My control test.
Cade stared at the symbolic portion I’d left, fully aware of my challenge, then capped the bottle. “Not rock-bottom bad, then.”
“Nope.”
Not yet.
But not far.
I’d just walloped abuse on an undeserving girl. Asinine. Reckless.
With a resigned sigh, I faced what had to be done. I had to fix my fuck-up before it was too late—before my random carnage proved I was no better...than him.
Actions. Thoughts and intentions didn’t mean shit. Reality got better by doing not thinking. “What do you know about Shay?”
“Besides a girl working her ass off that has a great personality?” He shrugged. “Gabe hired her. Rafe vouched for her, knows her personally.”
Rafe. Our head of security. Someone we’d hired without much checking. His reputation had been that good.
My thoughts drifted back to that young, beautiful landmine of attitude: strong jaw, squared shoulders, and glinting eyes…full of fire. Damn, her determination and fight had been something. But for a split second at the end—when she’d let that granite control of hers slip—a flash of hurt had sparked in her eyes. And the wound seemed deep, old.
Not that it’d mattered.
Nothing could’ve stopped the avalanche of anger and frustration I’d needed to blow.
And the defiant lawbreaker behind the bar?
Had dared me from across the room like a shining fucking test.
After weeks of bottled frustration, hands tied to be able to save someone else, to suddenly see a giant red bullseye target? One I had the power to do something about?
No brainer.
Literally, no brain cells had been involved.
My harsh judgment had been pure reaction. Yet it had felt justified. Cathartic, even.
But after her inadvertent flash of hurt then rapid exit—dark brunette head held high in spite of the devastation she’d been dealt—I felt like shit.
I was a motherfucking shit.
The fogging mental haze cleared enough for me to focus back on Cade’s grinning mug.
“What?” The uncontrolled word had growled out. Great. Caveman. I let out a weary sigh.
Mirth glittered in Cade’s eyes before they widened. “You’re going after her.”
He knew me well.
His approving expression gave me the mental shove I needed to fully commit.
I straightened from the bar with a nod. “You bet your ass I am. Any idea where to find her?”
“Nope.” The smartass laughed. “But have fun figuring it out.”
I got the sense he meant more than simply discovering her whereabouts.
No surprise there. I’d been lost without a compass when it came to understanding women. And lost felt stamped across my forehead lately in every corner of my life.
I scrubbed a hand over closed eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. Rafe. Cade had said Rafe had vouched for the girl personally. Vouched for Shay. Use her name, Cretin. My anger kept flaring, itched under my skin like a rash: a side effect of stifling true feelings for too many days on end, grinding teeth on bitter words that I’d badly needed to use, but hadn’t.
Stuffing down my unresolved issues, I searched out our head of security toward the entrance where I’d earlier caught a glimpse of him through the thick crowd on the way in.
Rafe caught sight of me seconds before I approached and gave me a chin-up greeting. “Hey, Boss.”
I popped a chin-up back at the hulking guy overseeing our door flow. “How’s it going?”
“You want it for real or for Fire Marshall?”
I blinked.
He suppressed a smile. “Just kiddin’. Busier than the last watering hole in the Sahara.” With a clipped wave of his fingers, he beckoned his second to relieve him.
“Good to have you back.” He folded his arms while he scanned the crowd.
Not everyone shared his opinion. “Rumor has it you know where to find Shay.”
His gaze cut to the bar. “Rumors tend to be wrong more than right.”
“I pissed her off. And she left.” The nuts and bolts of it. “Know where to find her?”
“Maybe.”
“How close to a yes is that?”
“With Shay?” He huffed out a short laugh. “As close as anyone’s ever gonna get.”