Ryder
The clink of steel rattled and drew me out of my haziness. I moved my limb and the noise sounded again, the soreness creeping down my extended arm causing me to flinch. In truth, I felt like I’d been run over by a goddamn Mack truck. Everything pained me, from my temple to my jaw, to my ribs and arms. Hell, even my tailbone hurt, although I couldn’t fathom why.
“Fuck,” I grunted, not quite sure what the hell was goin’ on. Only half opening my eyes, partly because I was beyond exhausted and partly because my head was gonna explode as soon as the light spearing in through the window hit my pupils, I glanced warily around the room. It was mine, at the clubhouse.
Why am I here?
Craning my neck, I looked toward the iron headboard and saw my left wrist cuffed to one of the rungs, my flesh reddened from the pressure of its grip.
“Hey!” I shouted as loud as my lungs would allow, which wasn’t much. The effort instantly made my head hurt, thumping so badly I could feel the bile rise in my throat. Still dressed from the night before, I scooted over toward the edge of the bed and placed my foot on the ground, and I stomped with my heavy boot. When minutes passed and still no one came, I searched my immediate area to see if there was something I could use instead. I couldn’t find anything, so I clumsily removed one of the boots I’d been wearing, and with as much strength as I could muster I flung it at the door. It thumped against the hollow wood, and within seconds I heard someone walking down the hallway.
“You better be back to normal,” a gruff voice said, the door slowly opening. Jagger’s face appeared, and when he gave me a quick once-over, deciding I wasn’t any kind of threat, he strolled forward. How much of a threat could I be restrained to a bed?
He looked tired, like he’d been through the ringer. When he pushed his hair away from his face, I saw a pretty nasty bruise near his eye. “Did you have a fight last night?”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “With your ragin’ ass.”
At first I thought he was joking, but then I realized that he was tellin’ the truth. Otherwise, why would I have been handcuffed? I could only recall bits and pieces, not enough for me to fully understand what went down.
Shaking his head, and with a pained expression of disappointment, he removed a key from the front pocket of his jeans. “I can’t believe you did this again, man.” He leaned over me and unlocked the restraint, letting it dangle around the bottom of the bar once I’d freed myself. “You promised us all last time that it was, well, the last time.”
“Cut me some slack,” I argued, not entirely sure what made me break my promise to my brothers never to get as out of control as I had the last time. “I don’t even remember what happened.”
“You never do,” he retorted.
I’d been good for years, but obviously something had pushed me over the edge. Rubbing my temples, I asked, “What did I do? Where did I get the whiskey from?” I’d always given the guys slack for not allowing me to drink the hard shit when we were together, threatening to sneak some behind their backs. Hell, I could’ve stopped by the liquor store at any time and bought some, but I’d made a promise. To them and myself.
Whenever I had mentioned needing something stronger than beer, they’d shout for Trigger to keep an eye on me, or tell Carla to make sure to serve me only beer whenever we swung by Indulge to check things out. To be honest, I loved that they looked out for me, as I would for any one of them.
“You’re askin’ me?”
His humorless laugh irritated me, but not because I was pissed at him. I was upset with myself. Disappointed even, that I allowed something to affect me so greatly that I threw all caution to the wind and said goodbye to any restraint I’d been holding onto.
“How did I get here?”
“You just showed up, already annihilated as you stumbled through the door.”
“Did I say anything?” Stretching my neck, careful not to jostle my head too much for fear the pounding in my brain would increase, I prayed Jagger could give me some kind of answer.
“You were shouting something about not being able to do it. That someone stole something from you and that he made the wrong choice. . . .” Jagger’s voice drifted off, his words jumbling together as I desperately tried to recall just what the hell he was talking about.
Then a splintered memory rushed in, an image of an older man lying on the ground with blood running down on his face. Who was he? Clutching strands of my hair, I closed my eyes and willed more images to come forth, but there was nothing. Not until a flash of Braylen popped up, the look of worry and helplessness laced in her eyes . . . for me.
“Braylen.” I opened my eyes and found Jagger sitting on the edge of the bed. “Was she here last night?” My body tensed with the thought that she’d witnessed me at my lowest. My worst.
“Yeah,” he whispered, knowing his answer would send me back into a tailspin. Not nearly of the same caliber as the prior night, but enough to break me further.
“No, no, no,” I repeated, pacing while trying to calm myself. I knew in my gut that whatever had caused me to freak out was bad, and for Braylen to see me like that, after all she’s already been through, was unforgivable.
“It gets worse,” he confessed, standing before tentatively approaching.
My lungs refused to work. My legs locked into place and I braced myself for what he was gonna say next.
“You shoved her.”
“Who?” I knew who he was referring to, but I asked the question anyway.
“Braylen. You grabbed her when she was trying to help you. Then you pushed her away from you and she fell. I think she hurt her wrist even though she said she was fine. She begged me to see you after we carted you off, but for obvious reasons I told her no.”
Shaking my head, ignoring the pain radiating behind my eyes, all I could do was stand there in disbelief. Not only had my outburst brought chaos to the club, but I’d injured my woman in the process. She had to know that wasn’t me. I would never hurt her. Not even if my life depended on it.
Right before I stormed out of the room to go look for Braylen, every muscle in my body still tender and aching, I stalked toward Jagger. His eyes averted from mine briefly before reconnecting.
“Why was Braylen even here last night?” I had my suspicions; I just needed him to confirm them.
“Uh . . . ’cause I called her.”
I didn’t even let him continue before I was on him, shoving him against the wall, my forearm pinning him in place. Under normal circumstances, Jagger could give me a run for my money, probably even best me given the right opportunity. The guy was twelve years my junior and was a champion fighter. But right then he knew not to move a fuckin’ muscle. He knew he was wrong for calling Braylen to the club while I was out of my mind.
“Why would you do that? Why would you let her see me like that?” I was more hurt than I was embarrassed.
“Because,” he scowled, “you were the worst I’ve ever see you. Whatever happened seemed to have sucked the life out of you, and I needed to do something.”
I pulled him forward a few inches before slamming him against the wall again.
“So you put her in danger?” I was livid. How stupid can he be?
“I thought she could help you. I really did,” he said when I glared at him in disbelief. “I see the way you are when you’re around her. You’re . . . calmer. I can’t explain it, but I see it.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about because it was the truth. Braylen soothed me in ways I myself couldn’t explain.
“You still shouldn’t’ve called her.”
“I know that now,” he admitted.
I stepped back but remained close.
“Is there a problem here?” Stone asked, waltzing into my room and frowning at Jagger and me.
I didn’t answer right away because I wasn’t sure which emotion to claim. I was angry Jagger had called Braylen to come and see me, thinking she could help in some way. Even though I knew his intentions were driven from concern for me, she ended up getting hurt.
“Is there a problem?” our VP repeated. “Because I can get in on this too.” Stone glared at me, completely ignoring Jagger because he knew the issue resided with me.
“No,” I finally answered, taking a few more steps away from Jagger. Looking more closely at Stone, I pointed at his face and asked, “Did I do that?” His bottom lip was split, and there was a small bruise on his jaw.
“Yeah, ya bastard. You’re lucky I didn’t feel it, or I would’ve fucked you up.” His smirk told me he’d already forgiven me. “But it gets me some extra lovin’ from Addy, so I’m not really complaining.”
Stone had a condition called congenital insensitivity to pain. Lucky bastard. And I knew Adelaide. Any mark on her man and she was driven to care for him, make him feel better even though she knew he wasn’t affected by it. I figured it was the nurse in her.
“So what now?” I asked, plopping down on the edge of my bed.
“You take a shower ’cause you still smell like a brewery, grab something to eat and go make sure your woman is okay,” Jagger said so matter-of-factly, as if I would’ve argued with him.
“Sounds good to me.” Normally, before Braylen had come into my life, I would’ve escaped to my house for the better part of a week, ignoring everyone because of the guilt of my freak-out. But everything was different now. Not only did I have to make sure she was okay, I had to make sure she continued to be safe. It was my job, and for once in a very long time I had a purpose, other than my part in the club.
As I washed away the prior evening, all I could think about was how I hoped Braylen had some sort of insight as to what I’d been rambling about. My gut told me she’d be able to clue me in, but maybe that was simply desperation talking.