Silver Bastard

Might still kill Teeny anyway.

But tearing into her like that? That’d been a tactical error, not to mention a dick move. Becca needed compassion and kindness and the right words. I’d never known how to do any of that shit.

Darcy.

I’d call Darcy and she’d tell me what to do. Relief hit as we pulled into yet another shitty little parking lot, attached to another shitty motel. Diesel was already here, waiting on the tiny scrap of grass clearly designated for smokers.

Cigarettes.

Fuck, I wanted one. I could taste it already. If I had a smoke, I’d be able to deal with Becca. That’d do it. Parking the truck, I glanced at her and winced. She was still crying. She wouldn’t look at me, either. Nope, she just stared out of the passenger-side window, sniffling because her mother had ripped out her heart and then I’d acted like it was all her fault. Christ. Fucking day from hell. I needed to say something, even I was smart enough to know that. Too bad I had no idea what to say.

“I’ll be right back,” I told her, opening my door. Ten minutes later I came back with two keys to a room down at the end of the building. Becca wiped her eyes as I grabbed our shit, but she followed me toward the room. Then she caught sight of Diesel, pausing.

“That biker’s watching us,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, my voice tight. Get her ass into the hotel, then you can have a smoke. “I asked him to meet us here.”

“Why?”

“For backup,” I said. “I don’t like heading into shit without someone behind me. He’s an ally—that’s all you need to know.”

Balancing the bags in one hand, I opened the hotel room door and stepped inside. Looked just like every other crappy room in existence. Battered polyester bedspread, TV so old it probably had vacuum tubes.

“We need to talk,” Becca said quietly, shutting the door. I glanced over to find her staring at me, eyes like open wounds. Wow, this day was just getting better and better.

“What?”

“Will you answer a question for me?”

“Sure.”

“Were you ever planning to let me kill Teeny?”

I studied her, realizing it was a trap. Even worse, it was a trap I’d set for myself. “Why do you ask that?”

“You wouldn’t make a plan with me,” she said slowly. “And now I find out you arranged for another guy to come. He wouldn’t want some woman he’s never met as a witness. Why were you playing me? I’m not a child, Puck.”

“I’m not playing you and I sure as fuck don’t think you’re a child,” I told her, running a hand through my hair. Christ I wanted a smoke. “But you’re right—I wasn’t planning to let you kill anyone. You’ve got enough bullshit and darkness in your life already, Becs. Trust me, you take a man’s life, you’re stuck carrying him forever. I understand why you wanted Teeny dead but no fucking way I’d lay that on you. I care about you too much.”

“You seem to think I’m some sort of glass figurine. I’m not going to break, Puck. I’m an adult who’s been through shit. I survived and now I’m moving forward. You should’ve trusted me.”

“But it’s my job to protect you,” I said, wondering how the hell I could make all this go away.

“You can’t protect me,” Becca whispered. “Life doesn’t work that way. Look, I’m sorry I lost it with you. I’m not stupid—I know Mom screwed me over and I know I need to cut her off. But that was something I had to figure out for myself. When you give me orders it pisses me off and then I stop listening.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry I was a dick, too. Look, I need to go out to talk to Diesel. Might hit a bar or something. Won’t be more than an hour or two, that sound good? I think a little space might be good for both of us right now.”

She nodded, looking away. “Yeah, space is good.”

Her quick agreement didn’t make me happy—shouldn’t it bother her that I wanted out? Fuck, what did I want?

A smoke. Yeah. Smoke first. Calm down a little . . . then we could talk, figure everything out. Damn, but relationships were complicated. No wonder Painter couldn’t keep his together.

BECCA

Puck had never taken me seriously.

No matter how I looked at it, I shouldn’t have been so surprised. That’s just how things were in the MC world. An old lady isn’t supposed to ask questions. She certainly doesn’t stick her nose in club business, not even when it’s not club business at all.

Puck himself had told me the Silver Bastards were different from the Longnecks, but they weren’t that different. Now what? We needed to find a compromise or this whole thing was dead in the water. That terrified me, because despite our fight I couldn’t handle the thought of losing him on top of everything else.

I dropped back on the motel room bed, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. There had to be something, right? Puck treated me like a child and my mom treated me like I wasn’t even a real person. Did it really matter that Puck hadn’t planned to let me kill Teeny? That was a side issue. Ultimately, this was about my mom screwing me. Again.

She might as well be dead to me.

Rolling off the bed, I walked into the bathroom, washing my face with cool water. That felt better . . . When Puck got back, we’d have a real talk. He needed to know I wasn’t going to be an old lady like he thought. I wanted to be with him, no question. But I’d never be happy as one of those puppets who nodded and smiled whenever her man said to.