What the fuck was I thinking?

Yeah, the sex had been incredible. For several hours, I forgot all about the shitstorm that was my life.

And then this morning, when I looked over at her sleeping next to me, I remembered who had started the shitstorm in the first place.

It was a strange sensation. Here was this gorgeous woman lying next to me in bed, her face like an angel’s, her body like a Playboy Playmate’s…

…and then there was the memory of what she had done to me.

I remembered what Lou had said that night two weeks ago, talking about the Midnight Riders: At least I didn’t sell them out for a piece of ass.

He was wrong. I didn’t sell them out.

But I had the uneasy feeling that I was close to selling myself out.

What, we sleep together and suddenly we’re good now? It’s okay that she lied to my face – repeatedly? That she let me walk into a trap? That I lost everything because of her?

A couple of fucks later, and it’s all supposed to be okay.

To hell with her.

The bitch of it was that I wanted it to be okay. I wanted to go back to the way it was. I wanted to say The slate is clean.

But that shit wasn’t true. I couldn’t let it go that easily.

I reminded myself that everything she’d done was because of Ali. That Fiona was only trying to get vengeance for her cousin.

I looked over at the picture on the wall, the one Fiona had asked about after our first night together –

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with anger. I remembered her being pissy and jealous that morning, which apparently was all just an act. A way to pump me for information and not blow her cover.

She was even lying to me THEN. Right at the fucking beginning.

If I’m going to be honest, though, there was another emotion under the anger – one that made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Guilt that I’d let things go on with Ali to the point they did.

Guilt that I hadn’t been able to stop it.

Guilt that there were some things about that night I hadn’t told Fiona yet.

But I didn’t want to deal with that, so I just pushed it all down and ignored it. It was easier to wallow in the anger instead.

I got up quietly so as not to wake Fiona. I was about to walk out of the bedroom when I glanced at the picture again.

Ali looked out at me from the photo. She was happy, radiant, alive – and draped all over a younger version of me.

And there was her cousin, asleep in my bed.

I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want both women in the same room at the same time. Yeah, I know that sounds crazy, but whatever. So I unhooked the picture and took it with me, where I stowed it in a drawer in my office desk.

Then I took a shower and tried to wash away whatever this was I was feeling.

Didn’t work.

I was lacing up my boots in the den when she opened the bedroom door. She looked gorgeous as hell, with the sheet just barely covering her breasts.

God, I wanted her so much.

Which is exactly why I shouldn’t have gone to LA. Why I should have thought this through. Why I shouldn’t have brought her back here.

I couldn’t stop being angry at her – but I couldn’t stop wanting her, either.

(couldn’t stop feeling guilty about Ali

couldn’t stop feeling guilty about what I did)

And that was fucking with me in a major way.

So I just went with what felt safest: not feeling anything at all.

“I didn’t hear you getting ready,” she said, a little surprised.

I kept my voice as even-keeled as I could. “I showered in the other bathroom so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

“You could have,” she said with a seductive little smile. “I wouldn’t have minded… I could have even joined you.”

I thought about the water spraying down on both of us, me pressing her naked against the tiles, grabbing her wet hair, taking her from behind –

Fuck, I wanted her so bad.

Just get through this. Shut it off and go do the goddamn meeting and just get through this.

“You should go get ready,” I said. “It’s almost nine. We need to leave soon.”

As she stood there in the doorway, I could see the uncertainty and the hurt in her eyes, which killed me. And because I hated feeling that way – especially feeling like I did at the hands of somebody who’d stabbed me in the back (it’s not fair – why the fuck do I feel guilty about this?!) – I got pissed off.

“What?” I snapped.

“Last night didn’t mean anything to you?” she asked. She was trying to keep it together, and she was doing a good job, but I knew she was dying inside. And that fuckin’ killed me some more.

God damn it.

I knew I’d been acting like a dick. I knew sleeping with her and then walking out this morning was an asshole move. It was like I was trying to get back at her, like I was trying to hurt her, even though that hadn’t been on my mind when I did it.

I didn’t want to be that guy – but I also couldn’t be the guy she wanted me to be. It wasn’t alright. We weren’t ‘all good’ now. The slate wasn’t wiped clean.

But I wasn’t about to say any of that shit. I sure as hell wasn’t about to get all touchy-feely about it. The truth was, I’d made a mistake – both in involving her again, and in sleeping with her last night. The best thing now was just to try to get past it, and not fuck things up any more than I had.

After all, I’d brought her back here to help me take down Lou. That part hadn’t changed.

Better to just keep it professional.

“It was fun – but that was last night,” I said. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Which, of course, pissed her off monumentally.

“I see,” she said, now in total bitch mode.

Fuck – there was no way I was dealing with this right now.

“Go get ready,” I said.

Instead of arguing, she just turned around and closed the door.

The last glimpse I had of her face, I could see her lower lip trembling.

I closed my eyes.

God DAMN it.

I wanted to go after her – I wanted to say I was sorry –

But sorry for what? Sorry for being the idiot who put myself on the line, all so she could lie to me and betray me?

Fuck that.

I had to let my anger and vindictiveness go, and I would… eventually. But I couldn’t right now. Maybe not for a long, long time.

So I just had to get through this. Take down Lou, get the club back… get my life back.

And yet…

Things had been so good last night… so fucking good…

But they’d been a mistake.

The only option now was to fix that mistake and get back on course.

Just get through it.

Get ‘er done, and get the fuck out.