Colton
If that motherfucker wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him. Right now, I’m boiling with rage and I’m pretty sure Goldie can tell.
I pull her into my lap to soothe her of course, but mostly, to calm my rage. As I rub her back, I can’t imagine the guilt she’s been carrying.
I know it’s not her fault but I can understand why she feels the way she does. I probably would too.
Holding back from saying anything just yet, I squeeze her tighter and let her cry. People see me as a tough badass biker, and maybe I am, but not when it comes to Goldie.
A few minutes pass, maybe six or seven. Her breathing settles and the crying slows. Not sure how to play my hand here, I decide to give her some tough love.
I sit up a little so it forces her to look at me.
“All right, sweetheart. We are only going to discuss this one time. You can call me a heartless bastard if you want, but that motherfucker is not worth your tears. No one is to blame for the murder of the neighbor but the man who did it. Not you, not the jury.”
“But, Colton, I’m the one who did everything I could to get him off. I believed him. Don’t you get it?”
Goldie tries to get out of my lap but I hold her tighter. I tip her face up to meet mine, done letting her wallow.
“You did your job, Alexandra. You didn’t force him to kill his neighbor. Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, I can understand why you feel the way you do. But you must know, deep down, if you didn’t represent him, someone else would’ve.”
I let up on my grip a little. She immediately stands and walks back into the kitchen.
Maybe I sounded too unsympathetic. Goddamn it. I hate feeling helpless.
Goldie is shuffling around her kitchen. I can’t see what she’s doing but I think I hear her open a cabinet door. Needing to make sure she understands I’m on her side, I walk in to see her pouring herself a shot of whiskey.
“Wanna pour me one of those, darlin’?” I ask, trying to rebreak the ice.
“Sorry I’m being so emotional, Colton. I just wanted you to know why you saw what you saw in the squad room.”
She swallows her shot, then refills her glass, along with one for me. I grab it off the counter, shooting it down.
She hasn’t looked at me since she left the sofa. This won’t do. My caveman instincts are taking over, but I’m not sure she’s ready for it.
I take her shot glass out of her hand, throwing the rest of her whiskey down the sink.
“What the hell, Colton?”
There’s the fire in her eyes that’s been missing. I saw it the night we met. That’s the Goldie I remember.
“Look, darlin’, I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I can tell you this for certain. Drowning your pain in alcohol won’t make it go away for good. If you want to escape what happened up in New York, even for a couple hours, I’ve got a better idea of how to do it.”
She moves to the oven and turns it off. I don’t have to guess whether or not she understood what I meant because she immediately grabs me by the hand and leads me to her bedroom.
The second we walk through the door, I’m hit with all things Alexandra. Her scent and style are all over. To say my Goldie is feminine yet tough would be an understatement.
I’m lost in looking around, not paying attention, when I feel her hands on my chest, then a push.