Page 39 of All's Fair in Love & Chaos
“Then you know your answer, don’t you?”
“Last chance to tell us where the clubhouse is, motherfucker. You’re gonna die here today, but I’ll at least show you a kindness and put a bullet between your eyes. Or I can let Malice play with you until he gets bored.” Malice bares his teeth at Knuckles, his eyes large and wild, as he sticks out his tongue and drags his finger across his own neck, making a gurgling sound. “Let the last thing you do on Earth be making a smart decision. Where the fuck are they?”
Knuckles spits, his blood showering my pants and boots. I tsk. “Not a very smart man, I see,” I say as I turn my back and head for the door. “Don’t make too much of a mess, Malice. Last time was a little much. The brain matter really clogged up the floor drains.”
“No brain matter. Got it.” He salutes, slapping the heels of his boots together like an actual soldier. I shut the door to the basement behind me, just as Knuckles’ screams start, bleeding together with Malice’s maniacal laughter.
Thank fuck the basement has been soundproofed.
Chapter Fifteen
SAIGE
Almost a week has gone by since I was able to leave the clubhouse. Leave Camden. I haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since I got out, the image of him watching me sleep pressing down on me whenever I close my eyes. I’m safe here. There’s no low rumble of engines outside, no men walking around in leather cuts, no cuffs holding me hostage. All I want to do is forget, but how can I forget someone who buried themselves deep into the marrow of my bones?
Camden was supposed to be a monster, the villain in my story, the one I hunted, to cut him down and make him pay for his crimes. But somewhere in the middle of it all, in those long silences that stretched endlessly between us, the way he spoke to me like I mattered, the way he never touched me unless I let him, the way we argued and fought, and how he never once tried to dim my light, I started seeing the man instead.
Now I lie at my only friend’s house, in one of his oversized sweatshirts, listening to the rain pelt downon the roof, waiting for a demon I’m not sure I want to exorcise. I bring a hot cup of coffee to my lips, blowing at the steam across the top of it. The sweet French vanilla taste coats my tongue, and I’m reminded of the bitter black coffee Camden was so disappointed to give me. If he only knew that the strong woman who challenged him so hard preferred her coffee sweet as sugar.
“Okay, I love you and all, but how long are you going to be sleeping on the couch, my lovely?” Seb’s voice breaks through the incessant thoughts running rampant in my head.
“I don’t want to go home. What if he figured out who I am?”
“You gave him your name, mistake number one, but I highly doubt he’s got the time to track you down after the attack they just had. You could have been from outta state, honey. You’re giving him way too much credit. Plus, I don’t think that’s what you’re really scared about.”
“Please enlighten me, oh wise one. And when did you become a relationship expert? Your bedroom has had a revolving door since you learned what sex was.”
“That’smymodus operandi, not yours. Once the fun stops, I’m out. But you, my little sweet cheeks, you’ve been secretly holding out for someone to come sweep you off your little combat boot-covered feet.”
“I absolutely have not.”
“Really? What exactly are you feeling right now?”
Guilt. Confusion. But under all that, buried so deep I can barely admit that it’s there at all, there’s this ache I can’t name. I miss him. Desperately. I miss the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that made sense in his world of chaos. And it’skilling me, painfully, because I know if he comes for me, I won’t know whether to run, fight, or let him in.
“My darling, I can see it written all over your face.”
“What?”
“You fell for him.”
“No.” That’s absurd.
“I read people for a living; I know that you’re lying. But if you aren’t ready to face the music, then I’m not going to push you. You’ve been through enough. Now, are you hanging up your murdering cape or do you plan on going on a little stabbing spree to make yourself feel better?”
“I’m not a murderer, Seb. Not in the way that others murder. I’m a vigilante, you know the types of people I go after. But no, I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.” Not yet, anyway.
“That’s unfortunate. Just got a tip about a guy who’s paid off a judge. Rape and battery. Belongs to an MC called the Widowmakers. Charming name, isn’t it?” My veins turn to ice. They’re the club responsible for the attack on the Hell’s Heathens compound.
Interest piqued, I turn to face him, my head spinning with possibilities.
“Who is it?”
“Their president, Aaron Conrad, goes by the name ‘Pestilence.’ Guy is loaded and is bankrolling quite a few on this side of Washington State. Beat up and brutally raped an eighteen-year-old girl outside a club. Left her for dead next to a dumpster. The majority of it was caught on CCTV footage, but he paid someone to destroy it, then the lawyers, thenfinally, the judge. He walked away a free man while she waits for her reconstructive surgery.”
“Is she going to live?”
“With some scars.” Rage ignites in the pit of my stomach, that ember that is always there, just waiting to spark.
