Page 19 of Fury
Protocol
Fury
Two months past the events in Utah, Fury sat quietly at the table in a Rebel-owned bar, trying hard to suck in air past the pain that closed his throat, watching as the RWMC member known as Hoss stalked away. The woman was already gone, fleeing out the door to the kitchen, but she wouldn’t be returning. Nope, Hoss had sacked her where she stood. Because of Fury.
His path to this point had been long and bloody, dragging his feet through the corridors of three different clubs before finding one worth any risk, any cost. A club that was as loyal to its men as it expected the men to be to it. He had pursued that goal with every waking moment. Of course, the club he found had to be the Rebel Wayfarers, and as soon as he heard the first story of its bloody birth, he knew. Even if Bethy’s brother, Mason, was at the helm, if the core of the club stayed as advertised, he knew he had found a home. Everything he had been looking for, tied up in the patch of a club so righteous that even their enemies spoke words of praise alongside cursing their name.
Tonight he’d nearly clambered to the wrong side of an exchange that could still hold the potential to fuck his plans in the ass. Hope was a waitress, and by chance, he and his men had sat in her section. Pure chance, nothing planned about the encounter. Fury had watched the beautiful blonde’s tentative but graceful interactions with his rough men. Saw her gain confidence in herself over the hours, finally got to see her give back as good as she got from them. Saw her smile, watched her hips sway as she walked their orders to them, caught glimpses of the curves hidden by her apron when she leaned across the table to set a bottle in front of his brothers.
It wasn’t that he’d wanted the woman so much as what she might represent. Enticing, but still a shadow when held up against his memories of Bethany.
Not that he’d been a saint since leaving Riverbend. He snorted at the idea. He liked pussy and hadn’t missed many chances at finding a wet and willing hole in the dark. But he’d shied clear of anything that sniffed of a bitch that might have ideas above her station. According to him, that station was directly underneath him, and not a hint of anything else.
Hope, though. She’d been the light to Bethy’s dark, still filled with a sweetness that called to him. She reminded him of something he had held in his hands long ago, a time when he was gifted with love paired with a naïve trust, and all of that wrapped up in a sweet and sassy package he could have spent his whole life worshiping. Back when he was just Gabe Ledbetter, con man.
I could still turn things around. Bethy can still be mine, he thought. Even as the idea passed through his head, he knew it wasn’t even close to true. He could have a chance, but for his loyalty to his men and trying to find them a home that was worthy of their commitment and strength.
Not meant to be. Like every other good thing in my life, turned out wrong for me.
Hope’s lilting laughter had echoed throughout the room. Charming, gentle, good. All the qualities he could wish for. Fury had watched, and ached, reminded of the woman he had loved, long ago. Still loved, holding his memories of her close. Those days before he’d betrayed her, and surely earned her hatred.
Mason had no idea who Fury was, or what had happened—what he’d done. No way, or Mason would have never let Fury get as close as he had already. He’d be taking advantage of Mason being on an extended ride with his woman, both of them healing from what had gone down in Utah. Any chance of recognition had to be avoided for the foreseeable future, giving him a chance to dig in deeper with the Rebel members.
Bethany had gone home to Nashville. Back out of reach, and his only glimpse of her, while she was in town, had been fleeting, a pale face rushed into Mason’s house from the van that picked the party up at the airport.So fuckin’ far out of my reach.
So, just for tonight, he’d watched.
Watched and wanted, and at the end of the night, finally decided he would try and take a little of that for himself.I just wanted sweet. One more time in my life, I wanted a chance at sweet.It didn’t matter because the curtain closed on any options.Denied again.
For the span of a single minute, he’d held her brightness in his arms. The possibility of so much. Sweet and kind, beautiful. Cradled in his arms, him wrapped around her, memories burning through him. Wants and desires for more. Dreams he’d never expected to have again. Wounds reopened and bleeding, her bright hair shading to dark in his mind.Bethany.
Hoss had put an end to any thoughts by facing Fury down and declaring the woman off limits. When Fury looked at him—even without Hoss making his claim official—he could see the man had himself tied up in knots over the woman, and immediately Fury had backed off. If Fury angered Hoss, the man would take it to church. It’d be touch and go, but if Fury got a chance to speak, he could salvage things. If what he did pissed off Mason, he and his men would be up shit creek for certain.
So Fury ended it, setting Hope on her feet. But not before he had a taste of what she offered; saw clearly the beauty she held inside, the sweetness she could give. The bare taste he’d taken meant heknew. Knew in his soul. She’d set up a resonating echo inside him, pulling everything he’d wanted with Bethy back to the surface. Reminding him she’d been the woman meant to fill the hole inside him.
Nothing to do for it but stand back.
Wanting.
Watching.
Remembering.
Never real.
Sitting at a table in enemy territory, surrounded by people he trusted and those he might never trust, Fury remembered. He held onto the pain that came with those memories, drew it close, letting it simmer deep inside him. Then he blew out the breath he’d finally been able to pull in, throat raw with his shoved-down rage.
Bethany. After Riverbend, after dissuading Dion of any pursuit, he’d gone back to Nashville and kept tabs on her. Researched every fact and tiny bit of information he could scrape up. He found that she didn’t date, didn’t even socialize much. Couldn’t find a boyfriend, not even a hookup. Her roommate—that man made him wonder, but he’d set that aside because in his selfish gut, he wanted her free. Wanted to believe he could swoop in and if she’d have him, he could have her.
He would park where he could see her, not too worried she’d recognize him if she caught a glimpse of him. Life had changed him from the Gabe she’d known as a kid, turning him first into the slick con guy who’d played her, and then finally into who he was now.Fury. Named for his ability to do what he’d just done, holding onto his anger in a way that made it a tool. A weapon. Not something that controlled him. Instead of going crazy when he got angry, now he went cold, his name an antonym.
Nashville had become a dream years ago. A lifetime. Memories of his dark-haired beauty. The one who slipped through his fingers. Her tortured darkness as deep as his had been, and he’d recognized that in her. Wanted to be the one who lifted it from her soul. Held to the course by threats and hatred. Lost her forever, because of who he was.
Betrayed.
Walking away from her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. She’d sat there and stared at him, tears coursing down her face, her words empty of any emotion other than anguish. No more love, not for him. Not the man who had lied to her with every word, every breath.Best thing I could do for her, he’d told himself. It had taken him a long time to realize that moment defined him, because he had vowed never again. He’d kept his head down, done his time, and come out the other end a better man. One who knew what he wanted from life, who knew he’d held everything in the world in his arms at one time, and vowed to never settle for less than he’d had.
Eyes on the prize, he reminded himself, looking around the small table of suddenly-somber men. They were waiting to take their cue from him, but he’d been too lost in his own memories to notice. Deliberately softening his posture, he angled one elbow over the back of his chair and leaned to one side. Placing his mouth to Gator’s ear, he pitched his voice so every man at the table could hear him. “Never seen a man so tied up in pussy. Glad I didn’t fuck that up for him, yeah? She had a taste ‘o’ me, there’d be no going back.” Nervous laughter circled around as he eased back upright. “Finish these, boys. We got a party to get to, yeah?”
