Page 82 of Brutal Sin

It wasn’t that he was hiding from Ella. He knew he wouldn’t see her again. Instead, he supposed he was withdrawing from anyone or anything that reminded him of his mistakes.

“I just want to be left alone.”

Slowly, she came toward the bar, her eyes bleeding with concern as she took a seat on the stool opposite him. “I went to see Pamela today.”

Every muscle snapped rigid. The anger and self-loathing fled under the weight of panic. Pure fear. “Why?”

“I thought I’d make things easier on you and drop off her refund.”

“Thanks,” the word grated through his teeth. “But I could’ve done it. It was only a case of writing a check and putting it in the mail. I wasn’t going to seeher.”

Cassie shrugged. “I figured as much. That’s why I knew it was the right decision. We were all concerned that things didn’t end amicably.”

He narrowed his eyes, giving a voiceless warning.

“Not between you and her,” she quickly amended. “Between the Vault itself. You know how much we pride ourselves on the club’s reputation.”

His jaw ached under the pressure of his clenched molars. “I hope you were smart enough to mind your own business, Cass.”

She broke eye contact, her chin hitching in the slightest show of remorseful defiance.

“Cassie?” His blood surged.

Her cheeks turned a warm shade of pink, and the delicate column of her throat rolled with a heavy swallow. “You haven’t been yourself lately. I thought she was the cause.”

“But now you know better.” It should’ve been a statement. He should’ve spoken with conviction. Instead, he was stuck sounding like a jackass as he waited for her to spill whatever news she had about the woman who hijacked his masculinity.

“Now I know something special happened between the two of you. You like her, Bryan. I know you do. And when I handed over the check you wrote, I could tell she was upset by the formality.”

There were many things to hate about her statement, but his focus pinpointed the abnormality. “I didn’t write a check, Cassie. I hadn’t gotten around toit.”

Her eyes met his, her brows knitting tight.

Something was wrong with this situation. Something his intuition had already begun to digest with nauseous anticipation.

“I found the envelope you addressed to her. It was on the floor in the office.”

On the floor.

In his office.

There were no words. Only panic. Only volatile anger.

“Bryan?”

His lungs heaved with each breath. His limbs shook. He gripped the counter behind him with his free hand, that liquor bottle burning a hole through his other palm. “It wasn’t a fucking check.”

The bottle threatened to slide from his grip. He tightened his hold, clutching the glass to stop himself from throwing it against thewall.

Ella had his mother’s death notice.

“Did you see her openit?”

She shook herhead.

Maybe there was still time to get the envelope before it was opened. To reclaim his privacy.

“Go get it.” He glared to reiterate the demand.

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