Page 33 of Wild Night

To save this woman, to be her knight in shining armor.

The problem with that is not only do I have clients waiting on me to do my fucking job, but the reality is that I don’t know her. We fucked a few times. I liked that fucking, and I like her, but I’m not ready to truly go all in with her.

My phone rings, and I dig it out of my pocket only to see that it’s Cidney. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer on speaker so Piggy can hear. I don’t know why, but I feel like this is going to be bigger than just her checking in.

“Have you found her?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“No, I haven’t. The bus has already left.”

“I think Lainey and I need to tell you everything we know.”

Piggy and I flick our gazes up to meet each other’s, and his expression matches my surprise. Instead of asking Cidney what the fuck she’s talking about, I end the call and head toward my car. Piggy does the same, going to his police car, and we take off and head to the bakery.

I send Cidney and Piggy a text to meet there. I’m not sure what they’re going to tell me, but I’m glad they have information because at this point, after what Piggy’s told me, I’m starting to fucking worry about Posey and what the fuck she’s mixed up in.

I’m sure that whatever this is she’s gotten into with Lucian Whitmore will most definitely not leave the club unscathed, but I also know that if she is here for help, which I think is the case, there is no way in fuck that Bullet will want us to ignore it.

Posey is the only family Dakota has. She’s Vicious Reaper property. And when I get her back, she will be my property, too. I might have been somewhat pretending to want more with her, but I know it was a lie because I loved every second of being near her. There is no way I’m going to be able to let her go.

Posey Bennet is mine—was mine the moment that sexy-as-fuck red car pulled into the clubhouse parking lot. Now I just gotta get her name cleared, get her free from this fucker, and get her back to North Carolina.

Simple as that.

The thought makes me snort. Simple. Yeah. I have no clue what kind of connections this asshole has. This could undoubtedly turn into an all-out fucking war if I’m not careful, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid in starting this whole thing.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

POSEY

Lucian doesn’t speaka single word to me. He’s completely frozen me out, which I’m okay with at this point because I don’t really want to speak to him. When we arrive home, I head straight for the bathroom and lock myself inside before I take a long, hot shower. I wash my hair, my body, everything, as I try not to cry.

I fail.

Tears stream down my face just as I finish with my hot shower. I turn the water off and try to stop my crying, but I fail again. The tears keep coming, and as much as I want to pretend that everything is going to be okay, I know it’s not.

Failure. I can add that to my list of attributes alongside selfishness.

When I walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I’m cursing myself for not bringing a change of clothes into the bathroom. As soon as I walk out, I see Lucian sitting at the base of the bed facing the bathroom door, his eyes focused on me, anger swirling in them.

“So, you want a divorce?” he asks.

Pulling the towel a bit tighter, I stare at him, almost wondering if he’s truly asking me that. I am in complete disbelief at the simple question.

“Lucian,” I whisper.

Staring at this man, I don’t feel anything. I’m not sure if I was ever in love with him, but if I was, I assuredly am not any longer. I feel nothing aside from disgust and anger when I watch him from across the room.

“You could have gotten me killed filing that shit,” he spits.

I don’t speak. Mainly because I have no idea what he’s talking about, and more importantly, I don’t want to know what he’s talking about. As far as I’m concerned, this man is no longer my husband. I haven’t had the faintest idea of what he’s been doing the past two years, and I do not care.

Staying silent, I watch him, waiting for him to continue. As much as I want to ask him what he’s talking about, I don’t want him to have the slightest inclination that I care for him in any way. Because I do not. Impulsively marrying this man was a mistake. One of my biggest mistakes, I fear, and one that isn’t going to go away easily.

“You don’t know who or what I am. You don’t know who you work for. You’re just fucking flitting around life like a goddam pathetic butterfly.”

His words should hurt. I flinch from them, but not because they hurt me. Because of their bite. They are as good as a slap across the face, a punch to the gut, whatever it is. Holding on to my towel for dear life, I watch him, waiting for him to stand from the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t.

---