Chapter Nineteen
Amelia
I’ve no idea how Ava and I got home last night, or why she decided to crash in my bed. Can’t remember much at all after we left the house and hit the first club. It’s been years since I’ve gone out and had such a great time. At least I hope I did, otherwise this hangover is a real waste of time.
Ava groans as I accidentally elbow her in the ribs trying to get out of bed without waking her. “Surprised you can even move,” she mumbles.
I fall over my feet and end up on the floor. “Did we have a good time?”
She sits up, and although it’s kind of hard to focus, she doesn’t look nearly as awful as the way I’m feeling.
“I’ve had better. Good thing I was the designated driver.”
I slump against my dresser, since that’s easier than trying to stand up. “I’m guessing I didn’t get laid, then.”
“Since you threatened to rip the balls off the few guys who were brave enough to approach us, that would be a no.”
I fold my arms across my knees and ignore the queasy sensation churning through my stomach. I didn’t go out last night with the intention of screwing a stranger, but I’d bet my last dollar that’s exactly what Gage did.
Don’t think about that loser. My head drops to my arms, and I close my eyes. My grand plan for drinking him out of my system was an epic fail. I don’t want to admit it even to myself, but the things he said to me hurt even more than the fact my mom’s lied to me for so long about how Dad died.
“So.” Ava joins me on the floor, and I open one eye to see her leaning against the bed. She nudges my toes with hers. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Last night might be a haze, but I remember Ava wasn’t nearly as freaked out over the truth as I was. Then again, she hasn’t been sleeping with the enemy. My stomach churns again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t blank out the images of Gage’s wicked grin, his self-confident swagger, or the tender way he held me after Rex spewed his lies in the Hammer.
Gage hadn’t believed Rex then. It was only after he found out who I was and didn’t give me a chance to explain anything.
Explain what? I might’ve got my facts twisted, but I always knew there was bad blood between our families. I’d just hoped we’d be able to work through the problems together.
I want to crawl into a dark hole until I’m over it all, but my sister’s not going anywhere until I answer her. “It turns out I’ve fallen for Axle Reynolds’s son. What a cosmic joke.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and finally I can’t stand the silence any longer and squint at her. She’s frowning, as though she doesn’t understand.
“It’s not your fault. If he’s blaming you for what our dad did, then he’s a dick.”
I really want to agree with her. I do agree with her. Except…I don’t.
“It’s complicated.” I scowl because that’s so lame, even if it is the truth. My head thumps so bad I can’t even figure out whether the fact I fell for the son of the man I thought killed my dad is worse than what really happened.
Ava hugs her knees. “It’s always complicated,” she says, like she’s an expert on impossible relationships. “The question is what’re you going to do about it?”
I glare at her because—what the fuck? “Well, I’ve tried getting smashed out of my head, and that didn’t work. What d’you suggest?”
“I mean”—my sister gives me a look as though she thinks my hangover’s affected my brain—“is it over between the two of you, or was last night because you found out the truth?”
I give her a bitter smile. “He said if he sees me again I’ll wish I never crossed him.”
Ava sucks in harsh breath. “What a piece of shit. How can he blame you for what happened? You’re better off without him. I suppose he takes responsibility for all the shit his dad did, huh?”
I bite my lip. My sister looks so fierce, defending me, but strangely the more she attacks Gage the less I agree. After all, I was the one who went undercover so I could get close to him, even if I wasn’t in full possession of all the facts.
Her words fade to a buzz. Through the pounding that’s trying to mash my brain to a pulp, there’s a disjointed sense of unease.
Was Gage more furious because of who I was, or because I hadn’t told him who I was?
Get real, Amy.
There’s no difference. What am I thinking? I’m grasping at straws, that’s what. And why do I care what he thinks when it’s obvious there’s no chance we could ever get back together. He made that clear, and I need to face the fact that I can’t—won’t—be with a guy who puts his club first, second, and third.
Ava finally runs out of invective, and we stare at each other. I clear my throat, which feels like it’s full of sand. “You remember Rex Abbott?”
“Abbott was the Wolves president, wasn’t he? Didn’t think his name was Rex.”
It’s strange how three years makes such a huge difference when you’re a kid. I remember so much more of our life with the Wolves than Ava does.
I sigh because I have no idea where I’m going with this. It’s done and nothing can change it, but I can’t seem to stop obsessing over why Rex dragged me into this. “He must’ve known the truth. Why did he set me up?”
She frowns. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You know that, right?”
“How much coffee d’you think I need before I can drive?”
…
It’s late afternoon when I park opposite Rex’s apartment block. He doesn’t live far from the diner, but the area’s real dodgy and I wouldn’t want to be here after dark, which means I have less than an hour.
For the first time ever, I called in sick to work, and even though I had a vat of coffee, my head still pounds like hell.
Rex didn’t ask why when I texted him for his address and said I needed to see him. It’s almost like he expected me to contact him. I huff out a breath, hunch my shoulders against the cold wind, and cross the street.
He’d better have a damn good reason for lying to me.
Inside the building, the walls are covered in graffiti and the whole place stinks of pee. I wrinkle my nose and make my way up the dirty stairs to the third floor. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a great idea.
I bang on his door, and after a few minutes he pulls it open. He looks worse than ever and alarm stabs through me. Maybe I should get him to hospital or something.
His grin sends a shiver along my spine. “Amy.” He says my name in a way I don’t like at all, and I take an instinctive step back. “I knew you’d do it.”
I fold my arms. I might not have solid proof, but my gut instinct is enough for me. “They don’t run guns. There was nothing for me to find.” Even if I’d looked.
“Bring the Bastards down.” There’s a manic gleam in his eyes. “Fucking shits ruined my life. They deserve everything that’s coming to them.”
He’s completely delusional. It’s scary how much he’s deteriorated over the last few weeks. “I didn’t bring the Bastards down, Rex. I didn’t do anything.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s done to them, finding out who you are? Killed them, that’s what. Destroyed them, finding out a piece of pussy got one over them.”
I take a deep breath, which is a mistake considering the smell, but at least it helps clear my mind.
Rex never had a coherent plan. All I heard was bring the Bastards down and I was his. How was I stupid enough to believe he was a police informer? I’m going to rip myself a new one for that later, but right now I have another issue with him.
“You always knew it was my dad who killed Reynolds, didn’t you?”
He looks at me, but I don’t think he sees me, he’s so far gone in his own fantasy world. “I knew the shit your mom fed you. You were so easy, Amy. Just waiting for me to give you the chance you always wanted.”
I’d already guessed that’s all there was to it, but having the words flung at me, even by a drug-crazed wreck who probably has no idea what he’s saying anymore, tears me open.
If I hadn’t been desperate for both revenge and a job, if I’d given it all just a second’s thought instead of leaping right in, I would’ve seen the holes in Rex’s so-called plan.
I just want to go home and forget all of this ever happened, but while I might one day forget my total stupidity at believing Rex, I’m never going to forget the way Gage looked at me before he walked away.
And then Rex steps toward me.
…
Gage
I swerve the bike into the curb and watch Amelia disappear into the building where Hawk told me Abbott’s been staying. Denial thuds against my skull, and there’s a hard knot in the center of my chest.
I don’t fucking believe it.
She’s not with Abbott.
The stricken look on her face the last time I saw her haunts me. She wasn’t pissing around. I jumped the gun. Should’ve let her talk. For the last five hours that’s all I’ve thought about, and it doesn’t sit easy with me, knowing I’m in the wrong.
But shit. Was I wrong?
I grip the handlebars tighter, trying to focus and failing. Because if she wasn’t lying, then why the fuck is she here now?
Finally, I get my shit together and dismount. I came here to get the truth from Abbott, and if that means I discover Amelia was everything he said, then that’s too fucking bad.
For a couple of seconds, indecision grips me, a paralyzing sense of futility at the whole damn mess. I don’t want to find out she was lying to me. Christ, I don’t know what I want.
Lies. Of course I know. I want her back.
The admission burns through me. It’s like I don’t care what she’s said or done, that I’ll keep making excuses for her no matter how damning the evidence against her. What the hell’s wrong with me?
I throw back my shoulders and swagger across the street like I own it. She’s just a chick. I can get pussy anywhere, anytime I want. I don’t need her. Get a fucking grip.
As I mount the stairs, I hear muffled voices from above. I slow down, even now not wanting to face the truth, and Abbott’s voice hits me.
“You were so easy, Amy. Just waiting for me to give you the chance you always wanted.”
It’s like my boots are glued to the stairs. I should charge up there, break his fucking neck, but she’s up there, too, and if she’s wrapped her arms around him…
I stamp the image down, but the echo remains. If I saw that, I’d never be able to scrub it from my mind.
“Go to hell.” She sounds furious, and the heavy weight crushing my lungs eases just a little. “You lied to me, just like Mom lied to me. You fucking bikers, you’re all the same.”
I let out a jagged breath. I was right. She hadn’t known.
“Yeah, and don’t you just love fucking bikers.” Abbott’s tone is derisive and my hackles rise. No one talks to my girl like that. I stamp up another couple of stairs, then a high-pitched squeal pierces my eardrums.
What the hell?
I’m up the stairs, heart pounding, nightmare visions of Amelia injured slashing through my mind. I round the corner, fists at the ready—and find Abbott’s curled on the floor, clutching his nuts, with Amelia standing over him.