Page 44 of Waging War
I hate that this is comforting even though it shouldn’t be. Cooper’s always been able to coax away the bad, and I know that if I were to give in to what he and my dad want, he would be there for me.
But the thought of having sex with Cooper nauseates me. He’s my best friend, and yes, the advantages to being with himaretempting, but are they enough?
With my dad still unmarried, I’d have the highest-ranking female status in our gang. I wouldn’t officially be a part of the crew the way I’ve always wanted to be, but I’d be respected for more than just being the president’s daughter.
We’d have a nice house and a whole gaggle of kids running around. My heart clenches to think how happy that would make Dad.
It’s the smart move—thesafemove—yet I rail against it.
I close my eyes, and I can almost pretend that the man holding me isn’t Cooper. He’s taller, stronger, and has hands that are more assured. They’re skilled in a way that can drive me crazy while knowing exactly what I need. Deep blue eyes, so serious and haunted, stare down at me with that flickering flame, and I fall into them without a second thought.
“I’m sorry, Hazel.” The image quickly shatters. “It’s too dangerous for you to be out around town right now. You have to keep a low profile. But don’t worry, this is all going to be over before you know it.”
He places a gentle kiss to my temple as I choke on a scoff. Their view of Bruce and his empire is so ridiculously skewed. Rhyomine will keep flowing, bodies will keep dropping, and he won’t stop until we’reallat his mercy.
This war won’t end until someone gets close enough to put a gun against that man’s head and pulls the trigger. For now, me and Ben, The Pound crew, and the rest of this strung-out town are all at his mercy.
Playing up my tears, I pull back and wipe them from my eye. The old Cooper would see right through me, but this Cooper is someone different. I wanted to love this version of him once. I would have married him and given him the happy life he’s always wanted. But I’ve changed, and it isn’t Ben who’s gotten under my skin… It’sme.
At some point, I stopped being okay with folding myself into this club where I’ll likely spend the rest of my days as an ol’ lady or a shopkeeper for Dad, and started wanting more.
I don’t even know what ‘more’ looks like, but I know I won’t find it here.
“The shop will be locking up soon. I think I’m going to turn in and get some rest,” I say, motioning to the setting sun.
Cooper brushes his thumb over my cheek. Thank God he doesn’t live here, or he’d probably try to force me to stay with him. “Alright. I’ll be around if you need me.”
I nod, not caring for that look in his eye—the one that says he’s happy as long as I’m following directions.
As if I’d ever actually listen when I’m told to stay put.
The second they all turn in for the night, I’m walking my bike out of this garage and putting the wheels to the pavement.
* * *
“I’m going to kill them,” I mutter for the one-hundredth time since realizing that Cooper hid my bike keys. I searched all over the shop last night and couldn’t find them anywhere.
The compound is built like a small condominium, with individual apartments grouped together and connected by a series of hallways. Like Coop, not every member of the club lives here, but all of Dad’s crew and their families are welcome to stay whenever they need.
Cooper is one of the few core members who doesn’t live in the compound. Dad doesn’t love it, but when Coop inherited his father’s house and land after he was killed by a drunk driver, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
My apartment is on the farthest end of the group, making the trek to the president’s office a long but necessary one. They’re about to witness the not so pretty side of Hazel Lombardi.
I practically kick the door down when I reach the small building where we conduct our meetings and make my way toward his office.
“Ah, Hazel.” He greets me with a smile. “I was about to come looking for you.”
A tiny piece of my anger fizzles out.
It’d be a lot easier to be furious with him if he hadn’t just come back to life.
Cooper stands behind Dad’s old rickety desk, resting his back against the wall with a strange look on his face. He’s avoiding eye contact, fidgeting, and sweating a bit.
One by one, red flags start to rise.
“What’s wrong?” I shift my focus between them. Dad’s a little too tense for my liking.
He sighs a big heavy breath, like he knows I might just try to bolt. “Nothing is wrong, baby girl. Just need to talk.”
