Page 99 of Choices

“Of course.”

Folding into the driver’s seat, I wait for Rogue to put her seat belt on then pull away from the shithole. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. But I’m glad you were here. Can we put the radio on? I need a distraction.”

“I have one.” I flit my gaze to her then back to the road.

“Is this about Cutter coming to your room this morning? I didn’t want to ask what happened.” She sticks her nose in the air like she smells something bad.

“I didn’t fuck him.” I roll my eyes.

“Then what happened?”

“He told me he loves me.”

My mind swims at the memory, and my guts clench. I’ve been trying not to focus on it in case it all goes tits up and he backs out. I don’t think I could survive getting over him again.

“Has he ever said that to you before?” Her voice is wispy in awe.

“Not in those words.” I shrug. “He said it’s the real deal.” My hands squeeze the wheel. “He’s telling Claire.” My heart flips, emotions tightening my throat.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, reaching over and placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’s my soul mate,” I state. “Damn, I sound like you.” I laugh to shatter the thick cloud of emotion filling the car.

“I’m happy for you.” The smile in her voice offers me relief. I know she’s not a fan of Cutter and me. But it’s my choice. He’s my choice.

I just hope he doesn’t let me down.

CHAPTER 29

BEST FRIEND’S SISTER

CUTTER

I ease my bike into a space next to an old beat-up truck at Ray’s bar and drop the kickstand. Swinging my leg off, I flex my back and yawn. The orange ball in the sky dips low, giving way to night. Callan called me half an hour ago telling me to meet him here. We haven’t been to Ray’s since killing the Larkin kid, and I was pleased to get the call.

My head has been in overdrive trying to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say to him about Kit before finally settling on asking for forgiveness, not permission. I love my best friend and VP, would die for him, but not being with Kit is killing me. I hope with everything in me this doesn’t change things between him and I, but even if it does, I’m not giving her up. I’ve never been more determined than I am now.

I survey the parking lot as I walk to the entrance, taking in the few cars—no sign of Callan’s bike. A hush falls over the room as I enter, and heads swerve in my direction. A couple old-timers are holding the bar up and a group of women at the center tableswhisper among themselves. A girl I recognize as Ray’s niece smiles at me from behind the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Two beers,” I say, smoothing my palm over the gloss mahogany wood.

A few seconds later, she places them down in front of me, shaking her head when I try to give her money. “Kings drink free.” She nods to my patch.

I knew that, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable if she didn’t. I’ve seen the video of her assault, and it makes me want to travel to the underworld to bring the cunt back to life so we can kill him all over again. I wonder if she knows that the men responsible are dead and that they suffered for what they did to her.

Something has changed in me lately. I fucking care more than I used to, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Necking the first bottle, my hands tighten around the glass, and I peel the label off, flitting my eyes to the door.Where the fuck is he?

Some shitty song starts playing from the jukebox, and two women begin twirling each other like fucking idiots in the middle of the bar. I get to the bottom of the bottle I ordered for Callan when I realize I need to piss. I head to the bathrooms at the back of the bar, ignoring the giggles and appreciative glances. As soon as I take my dick out at the urinal, my phone rings.

“Yeah?” I answer, balancing my cell between my chin and shoulder.

“I’m out back,” Callan’s tone is sharp before he ends the call, not giving me a chance to respond.

Draining the pipe, I shake it and stuff it back in my jeans.What the fuck is he doing out back?

Wariness settles over me like a cloak. Something isn’t right. He knows. I can feel it in my bones. Slipping through thekitchen, I head for the fire exit and push out into the back parking lot. Callan’s leaning against his bike, his arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles. Dark eyes track my movement as I stride toward him.

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