Page 58 of Waging War
“I thought maybe we could go for a ride.”
You can never make her happy,the void continues to whisper.
Dread pools in my stomach, but I temper the sensation before she notices.
“Isn’t it a little cold to ride? I thought you bikers were a lot less active in the colder months.”
She stands and drops her quilt before snagging the bags from my hands. “What’d ya get me?”
That skip in her step tugs me after her like an invisible string. “Just some necessities. Nothing crazy.”
She cracks open a bag of ground coffee and hums her approval. “Mm, I love the smell of coffee.”
That small amount of satisfaction is enough to warm my aching bones.
“Let me make us some, and then we can go,” she says.
Could I honestly deny her anything after the night we just had?
“Alright, fine,” I say, straying from the kitchen and wandering toward the living area. “But we’ll have to make it quick. I’ve got plans for us today, and none of them involve being outdoors.” I wink, causing her pretty lips to twitch.
The evidence of sex is scattered around the room by way of a crooked kitchen table and blankets strewn about. I step over the crumpled mess that was our bed for the night and over to the mantel where Hazel first saw this cuckoo clock.
I gently touch the edges of the wood like she did last night. “Can I ask what happened to your mother?”
Her hand stills before she resumes pouring water into the back of the coffeepot resting beside the stove. “She was shot and killed,” Hazel says plainly while shutting the lid and sliding the pot back onto the burner.
Feeling like an idiot, I scrub a hand down my face. “Fuck, Hazel. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I actually think I’d like to talk about her.” I watch her fingers lazily trace the top of the empty mug beside her.
“Mom was free a spirit with a stubborn streak a mile long. People say we were two peas in a pod.” She quirks a smile. “Hard to imagine, right?”
Not at all. I can see Hazel’s mother as clearly as I see her—strong, tenacious, and self-assured.
“A rival gang came across my dad and some of the pack members when they were making a trip down to San Antonio. They opened fire on them, and she was shot in the back.”
I slowly lower my hand from the clock.
“I don’t think Dad ever really recovered from that. They weren’t happily married, but they had an agreement—an obligation to each other, if that makes senses.” The coffeepot beeps three times, signaling it’s finished brewing, and she turns to grab another mug from the cupboard.
“After that, the Wolves decided it was time to hang their hats on the past. They worked on paying their debts and then removed themselves from associating with other gangs.”
I reach for the mug she’s poured for me, then blow on the liquid before taking a small sip.
“It made my dad feel weak, I think. He lost a lot of respect within the community for cutting ties, but his men are loyal, and that’s what keeps him going.”
The longing in her voice begs the question. “And what about the man in the hallway? Who was he loyal to?”
Her gaze hardens like granite.
Setting my coffee down, I turn her so she’s facing me. A sudden rush of panic plays across her face before it’s neatly tucked away, and a rolling, untamable rage shudders through me. Her gaze reflects an unmistakable pool of fear that tries to disguise itself as anger, but I see through the façade because I recognize it as my own.
“What did he do to you?” I cringe at the sharpness of my tone. I’m such an asshole. Can’t I just once not wish to kill everyone who hurts her?
She closes herself off, wrapping her slender arms around her waist, but I surprise us both by folding her against me and whispering into her hair. “You can tell me, baby.”
A shudder vibrates her body, and for a moment, I think that’s all she’s willing to give, until I hear the barest whisper of her voice.
