Page 87 of Merciless

“Right on time.”

Right on time? That gets me thinking.

Neil and I have an agreement that the tracer and me keeping my phone close is good enough when I need to go off-territory. No being tailed and watched like a hawk by club members. Leaving Reirdon Falls is rare for me and in this instance it’s because I had to pick up his anniversary present.

“How is he here right now, Neil?” There’s no way he could’ve made it down from Reirdon Falls in time.

“You know, Runner. Always there when you need him.”

“Nice try.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just admit it. You broke our agreement, didn’t you?”

It gets under my skin more than it would under regular circumstances.

There was a time when I never would’ve even allowed Neil to tag me with a tracer. I would’ve fought tooth and nail, just because of the insult of it, that anyone believed I needed that kind of protection, fucking monitoring. But that was in my more short-sighted, overly proud, and just a tad immature days. The days when I wasn’t accommodating to anyone or anything, the days when I was fighting to survive, to prosper, in a man’s world.

I’ve calmed down a great deal since then. Having my daughter, marrying the President of a hardcore motorcycle club, and becoming a true part of their family has taken the edge off. I haven’t felt like I need to fight constantly to be heard, respected, and taken seriously. They all give that to me freely now and I give the same back to all of them.

Most of the time I’m fine with the more toned-down version of me. But times like this, when trouble comes my way, or my husband’s way, it brings it home to me just how out of practice and removed from my former life that I am. I even freaked out when I first noticed the tail earlier. And that bothers me much more than I like.

The consequences of this happening to me is also hanging over my head. Neil might be calm now for my sake, in a bid to try to keep me calm. It’s why our banter has been light-hearted for the majority of our phone call. But I know my husband extremely well. It won’t last. The fallout will come. And when it does, I can’t imagine what it’s actually going to take to break through it, to come out on the other side the same. It likely won’t be a possibility and the tracer won’t be enough for him anymore to feel like I’m taken care of and protected. He won’t want to let me out of his sight for the longest time, and even if he somehow has to, he’ll have the boys with eyes on me.

There’s no way I’ll accept that.

But there may be no way that he won’t.

It’s a mess. The whole thing is a mess.

“Neil, tell me. You had Runner watching me the whole time I was in Brockford today, yes? Was it because you knew about my dad’s situation with these Gatekeeper assholes?”

“I did know about your dad’s thing with the Gatekeepers, but all that was supposed to be in a holding pattern for the next while, so I didn’t increase the threat level or nothing for the club or you. Runner was just nearby after doing a parts pickup. It was just luck, babe. That’s all. I weren’t doing no underhanded overwatch on you, aside from the agreed tracer watch.”

Oh. “And now, after this? Does our agreement still stand?”

“Let’s just get through this right now, then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Well, that doesn’t bode well.

But he is right. I need to focus. We’ll deal with the fallout later.

“All right, baby. Let me go now, I need to concentrate, because I’m almost there.”

“Rox—”

“I’m good. Plus, Runner is here. Your best, right?”

I can feel his hesitancy and resistance, even down the line.

“Neil,” I press. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I’m almost there, I need to have my wits about me.”

“All right,” he grunts. “Love you, Rox.”

I smile. “Love you too, Neil.”

He hangs up then and I suck in a breath, pushing down my accommodating, sweet wife persona, and channeling my old hell bitch of the city persona.

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