Chapter TWENTY-TWO

MITCH FINALLY let himself draw a breath when Rocky released Finn. He’d been clenching his jaw so tightly it was amazing he didn’t snap a tooth. But standing there and doing nothing to intervene while Rocky had his hands all over Finn was torture. His initial instinct was to lay Rocky out, but then his training kicked in. If he hadn’t focused every fiber of his being on holding his body stock-still, he could have put everything at risk. Mitch could see the hurt in Finn’s eyes, but in the long run, it was better this way; once Rocky was behind bars, Finn would be out of his reach forever. He just hoped Finn saw it that way when the time came.

Mitch unclenched his hands, only now realizing he was digging his fingers into the muscles of his upper arms where he’d been gripping so tight—anything to stop himself from lashing out at Rocky. The relief at seeing Finn walk off was tempered by the pain of knowing he’d hurt him. What sort of man stood by while the guy he had feelings for got hurt? I’m an arsehole.

The secret was killing him, but he couldn’t reveal his cover to anyone. It was bad enough Pete knew who he was, but given it was Pete who had approached the cops and was feeding them information, Mitch was pretty confident he wouldn’t expose the operation. But he wasn’t so sure how Finn would react to having everything he knew blown apart and the knowledge that Mitch played a key part in destroying his life.

It killed him to think of how Finn would react to the news that Mitch was a cop and had lied to him. Sure, they’d gotten to know each other over recent weeks, particularly due to the amount of time they spent together, and had shared a lot of information, but how much did they really know about each other? The fact that Finn had no idea Mitch was an undercover cop was just one example—a pretty fucking huge example—of how much they didn’t know about each other. What didn’t Mitch know about Finn? How would he honestly react when he found out Rocky was going away for a long time, and the club would be forced to disband? Finn said all the right things, had spoken about how much he hated his brother and the way the club had evolved during the days of Rocky’s rule, but when push came to shove, was that truthfully what he wanted? Would Finn be happy finding another life? He’d never known anything other than a life as part of an organization like the Soldiers of Fury, and maybe it was in his blood. That was one of the reasons Mitch was getting as much information as he could from Finn without being direct in asking him to do the dirty on his brother. He just couldn’t be sure how Finn would react and couldn’t afford to jeopardize the operation.

Regardless, Mitch had an urge to chase after Finn and apologize for his behavior. He wanted to spend more time with Finn, to know what he was thinking and remove that pained expression from his eyes.

Fuck! Get a grip.

He needed to clear his head and get back in the game. He couldn’t put Finn’s feelings before the case. His conflicting thoughts and emotions were driving him crazy. It was a damn good thing they were being forced to go to Rocky’s.

A couple of hours later, and Mitch had changed his tune—going to Rocky’s was a piss-poor idea.

He leaned against the wall of the living room, nursing a beer, the same beer he’d been holding for the last hour, and watched Finn.

Finn was on his fourth, or was it his fifth beer? A blonde girl in a tight green top was pressed against his side as she giggled at something Finn said and nestled closer. If she moved any nearer, she’d be sitting on his damn lap! Finn laughed, looking relaxed and carefree as he touched a lock of the girl’s hair. Mitch clenched his jaw and looked away. The sight that greeted him across the other side of the room wasn’t much better.

Pete and Rocky and a few of the guys were passing around a bong, the acrid stench of the smoke reaching across the spacious living room. Jesus, Pete looked sick. Mitch looked away before the sadness overwhelmed him. They had a history, and even though both of them had moved on, Mitch couldn’t stop wanting the best for him. Maybe after all of this was over, he could talk Pete into going to rehab again. Perhaps this time he’d stay for the duration and follow through with the program.

Another couple of hours passed before he was able to leave. Mitch pried Finn from the girl’s grasp, escorted him from the house, Finn pliant in his arms and wobbling down the long driveway. The party was still in full swing, music drifting in the night air, but the street was blissfully empty and dark, unlike the last time they’d been here. Mitch opened the door and helped Finn into the passenger seat of the Range Rover.

“Sorry,” Finn whispered as Mitch leaned through the door to fasten his seat belt. Mitch drew back, his face inches from Finn’s, and their gazes connected. Finn’s eyes glittered in the soft glow of the interior cabin light, the sorrow unmistakable.

“S’kay.”

“Not okay. I want….” Finn raised a hand and grasped Mitch behind the neck, holding him in place. “I want things to be…. I just wish things were different.”

His words were slightly slurred, and when Mitch touched their lips together, Finn tasted of beer. It was a brief kiss, and then he rested his forehead against Finn’s.

“I know, Finn. Me too.”