Chapter Eleven

Megan

 

 

 

 

Saturdays mean a whole two days without me having to see Ryder, and that break could not have come at a better time. Having him come in here last night has really thrown me. A part of me wants to let him in again, to see if this is something that can really happen between us.

The other part thinks I’m a goddamn idiot.

I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Surprised to see you up already.”

I nod at Chrissy, earning a stabbing pain in my head from the bottle of wine I killed last night. I grab the Tylenol and pop some, hoping it works quickly. I launch right into it, not having the headspace for any kind of verbal filter. “I don’t know what to do. Not seeing him isn’t an option. I have to work with him. Every time I think about going there again, the fear is overwhelming.”

She pours another cup and hands it to me. “You can’t let fear dictate your life. If this is something you want, then maybe you need to give it a shot. You aren’t the same person you were back then. Maybe he isn’t, either.”

I drop my head into my hands. “He isn’t, he’s much more dangerous. Not only is he in this club that deals with all kinds of illegal stuff, but I already know how it feels to lose him. Going there would mean opening myself up to be crushed again, and that’s just something I can’t do, Chris.” I bite my lip, confusion and frustration making it hard for me to see any way forward.

“You’re assuming it won’t work.” We walk into the living room, sitting down on the couch. “What if it does?”

My hands tighten around my cup. “Then I might finally get what I wanted all those years ago. The only thing is, I don't know that he's still the person I wanted. Like you just said, time changes people. We might be completely incompatible now.”

She laughs. “Yeah, what I saw last night was two completely incompatible people.”

“Shut up.” I narrow my eyes and she holds her hands up.

“I’m just saying that he didn’t look like he’d be taking no for an answer anytime soon.”

My phone buzzes and I reach over, groaning when I see who it’s from.

Ryder: I want to see you today.

I saved his number after the first text. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m ever going to call him. It does remove that element of surprise, though, so when I see his name I can mentally prepare myself.

I decide to not answer. I need time and space to figure out what I want. I know Chrissy wants me to look at it simply; if I want him, then be with him.

It isn't that cut and dry, though.

The sound of her cup hitting the coffee table startles me. “Okay, how about girls’ day? Hair, nails, shopping, the works.”

Another tick in the best friend box. Chrissy always knows just how to cheer me up. I swear I don’t know where I’d be without her. And who knows, maybe not thinking about Ryder for a whole day might make making a decision easier.

“Sounds perfect.”

I head into my room to get changed and when my phone buzzes from the nightstand, I ignore it. I slip on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt then walk out into the living room, leaving my still-buzzing phone on the bed.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Our first stop is the salon. There is something to be said for a trim and a manicure. I always feel nicer when my hands are pretty. I’ve been so busy with my career that I haven’t pampered myself much. Not that it’s a regular thing, anyway. Growing up with very little has made me very careful with my money. Treats are few and far between, but all the more appreciated because of it.

The salon is followed by stops at a ton of different stores. I really don’t need anything so I don’t buy much. Chrissy, however, seems to “need” something in pretty much every store we go in to. I just follow blindly.

That is, until she ducks inside a lingerie store.

“Why did we come in here?” I whisper, aware of just how quiet it is, and also of the sales assistant, whose eagle eyes are tracking us.

“So you can spice up your grandma underwear and bras. If you're gonna be showing them off they need to be cute.” She winks at me, lifting up something that can only be described as a scrap of material before shaking her head, putting it back, taking my hand and pulling me deeper into the store.

“Stop. I don’t plan on showing anything off for anyone.”

“Yeah, and you didn't plan on your mouth being molested last night, but that shit sure happened. Besides, I’ve seen you do laundry. You need an update.”

She pulls me over to a table full of silk and lace and I pick up a lavender bra. It’s gorgeous and the silk feels like butter under my fingers. Then I turn over the tag and nearly die. “I can’t afford this stuff,” I hiss, looking around for the sales assistant.

Ah, there she is. Pretending to rearrange items on the table next to us.

“Please, yes you can. You got a raise with the new assignment, and you’re probably the cheapest person I have ever met. Loosen up the dusty purse strings and live a little, won’t you?” She nudges me.

I wince, rubbing at the spot on my rib where her elbow connected. “Fine. You win.”

She rolls her eyes and thrusts a pile of material into my arms. “As always.”

After an hour, I walk out of the store with a shopping bag full of underwear, and a lot less in my bank account.

“Megan!”

I turn to see Jaz and a few other girls walking toward us.

I stop, nudging Chrissy and moving to the side, out of the way of the crowds. “Hey, Jaz, this is my friend Chrissy. Chrissy, this is Jaz. We met at the clubhouse.”

Jaz and Chrissy say hello, and then Jaz turns to the girls with her, all of them wearing very distinct leather jackets. I’ve seen these around the club, but I’m still not sure what they mean. Are they a fashion statement, or . . .

“This is Lucy, Izzy, and Nikki. They are all with brothers, too.” I give a nod to all of them. “We were just about to head to lunch. Do you guys want to join us?”

I look over at Chrissy, who nods emphatically. “Oh definitely. Maybe you girls can hook me up with a single piece of leather-covered ass.”

The girls all laugh and we follow them down the street to the restaurant.

As soon as our orders are in, Chrissy leans over the table. “So spill. You guys are all wearing the jackets that say you’re a part of the club, what’s it like?”

Lucy laughs. “Technically we aren’t part of the club. These are called property jackets. You get them once a brother claims you. It lets everyone know that you’re off-limits.” She looks over at me. “Did Tracker say anything about getting you one?”

I’m confused. “Getting me a what?”

“A property jacket. Now that he’s claimed you, that's the next step.”

My eyes widen. “He did what?”

The girls all look at each other, as confused as I am.

“He didn’t say anything to you about getting claimed?” Nikki asks, but I can't even respond verbally. It’s all I can manage to shake my head.

“Damn men. You know anything about what this means?”

Another shake of my head.

“Lord.” She leans forward, elbows on the table, sizeable breasts resting on top of her hands as she explains. “This means you’re his. As in, you belong to him. No one can touch you. In fact, a guy is caught so much as looking at you the wrong way, unless they’re a fast talker, they’re in deep shit. That goes for brothers or anyone outside of the club.”

“So, wait, are you telling me that now I have to be with him?” My voice cracks in disbelief at what they’re saying. “Like, it’s a rule, or something?”

Lucy shakes her head. “You aren’t obligated to be anything to him.”

“Basically he just pissed on you and marked his territory. Twisted did that crap to me when we first met, I could have killed him.” Nikki moves back so the waitress can place our orders in front of us. The smell of the food makes my stomach roll. I’ve officially lost my appetite.

Killed him, she said.

How apt.

Because that’s exactly what I want to do to that egotistical jackass, right about now.