It doesn’t take a genius to realize she cares about him.
It also doesn’t take much to know they’re sleeping together.
How he treated her sucked, and I told him that, but he wasn’t interested in hearing it that night.
I don’t blame her if she gave him the flick.
“Either way,” I point out, “I’m not getting involved. It’s already messy enough. Chantelle cares about him, that would be unfair of me to roll in.”
“To be fair,” Cassie adds, “you were getting close to him first.”
“But,” Amalie points out, her voice soft, “you did tell Chantelle that night you weren’t interested.”
“Exactly!” I say, clapping my hands. “End of discussion.”
“Why did you say that?” Cassie gasps.
“Because I’m not interested, Cassie. We’re great friends, but that’s it.”
“Snort,” Cassie says out loud, then rolls her eyes. “Anyone with a set of eyes can see there is more to it. I just don’t understand why you’d practically throw another woman onto him.”
I exhale and look to Amalie for help. She shrugs. “If you like him, you like him. If there’s something there, there’s something there. But I think you all need to be clear with each other, or this situation is going to go south really fast.”
Amalie.
Always the voice of reason.
But I’m tired of talking about Boston. My mind is already a mess about it all. Confusion is real. I’m not entirely sure what is making me feel so confused, but I do know that when I saw Chantelle with him the other day, my heart ached, a pang of jealousy, if I’m being honest. And I don’t want to get involved in that. I’m sure she doesn’t, either. So I just have to pull back for a bit, let it all settle down.
Boston and I would never work anyway.
Right?
I glance over at him, and he’s watching me, those eyes intense. My heart races, and I hate that just staring at him has that effect on me. He’s so incredibly beautiful, and sometimes the urge to just run to him, grab his face and kiss him until we both can’t breathe is so intense I have to walk away because I don’t trust myself.
He gets to me.
But I also just feel really close to him. And safe.
I smile softly, and he smiles back, small, but there. Boston never really smiles big, but he doesn’t need to, his eyes almost speak everything he doesn’t.
He’s an open book only the pages are a little stiff, so turning them can sometimes be tricky.
“Can we talk about something else,” I say, turning back to the girls. “Please?”
Cassie goes to open her mouth and say something, but Amalie starts speaking, cutting her off. And I’m thankful to her, in that moment. She never pushes, and she knows when something needs to be pushed aside. For now.
“Tell me about this ex-husband.”
I shrug. “There isn’t much to tell. He wants money. I’m fairly certain he is using drugs, because he was okay with everything up until recently. Now he is demanding all these things he’s not entitled to, but seems to think he is.”
Amalie scrunches her nose up. “What a jerk.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“It doesn’t help he has a new mouthy girlfriend,” Cassie huffs. “She’s a twat.”
I laugh softly. “You’re right about that, she certainly is.”
“Do you think maybe she’s pushing him for more, because she wants it?” Amalie questions.
“Without a doubt, she’s definitely the force behind it, but I’m guessing he’s using because of her, also. And she’s convinced him the money is worth it, and he now believes it.”
Amalie shakes her head. “Did he used to use?”
“No, he’s never touched drugs, at least, he didn’t with me. This is a whole different side to him, one I’ve never seen.”
“I know the feeling,” Amalie agrees. “I saw the same thing after the accident with Caiden. Sometimes things change them, and they’re forever altered.”
I nod. “Yeah, I just don’t know how far he can take it. I mean, we signed all the papers, everything is divided, surely he doesn’t have anything to go on.”
Amalie shrugs, looking to Cassie. “I’m not sure. What do you think?”
Cassie shrugs, too. “I wouldn’t think he could touch anything, but I’m starting to think that’s not going to matter, that he might try, anyway. Legal, or not.”
My chest clenches, that’s my fear, too. That he’ll try and take it, regardless of whether he’s entitled or not.
And that idea, scares the shit out of me.
It’s fear of the unknown.
And I don’t like that at all.
~*~*~*~
PENELOPE
“I should get going, Cassie is reading and set for the night.”
I stand in front of Boston, who is sitting on his front porch on a swing he made himself, beer in hand, finished with the men for the night and no doubt chilling before he himself retires, too. He looks up at me, those eyes always speaking the thousand words his mouth isn’t. He nods to the space beside him. While this chair is made for two, when his large form is on it, it kind of looks like there isn’t much space left. I glance at the spot and know as soon as I sit down I’ll be tucked in beside him.
And that idea both thrills and terrifies me.
But I do it anyway, turning and slotting my bottom into the gap beside him. Sure enough, my thighs touch his, my arms, my shoulder. We’re sitting that close. The heat of his body radiates into mine, and it feels comfortable. He shifts, just a little, but not enough to break the contact completely. Just enough so he can turn slightly and look at me. “How’s everything going?”
I knew he was going to ask me this eventually. I was so upset the other day, and I know he’s never seen me like that, but, well, that’s the kind of head space Ashton puts me in. I don’t like being threatened, and I really don’t like being bullied by his drug addict girlfriend.
“I’m doing okay,” I tell him, honestly.
“Heard any more from him?”
His eyes are focused on mine, and I know if I tell anything but the truth, he’ll absolutely know it.
“No,” I say softly. “Nothing. But I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“He has nothing, you know he has nothing.”
I do know that, however, like Cassie and Amalie said, the legal side of things is clearly not important anymore, and it seems like they’re going to try and do whatever they want, regardless.
“I know that,” I say. “But I’m not sure that’ll stop him trying.”
Boston’s jaw ticks. “He tries anythin’, I’ll break his fuckin’ neck.”
That feels nice, albeit a bit scary.
I laugh softly. “And I appreciate that, but I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”
“What’s done is done. I’m glad I know. That fucker so much as speaks to you again, I need to hear about it. You’re clear on that, aren’t you?”
I swallow. “Well, I ...”
“You’re clear, Penelope.”
His voice is final, and I stop talking, because, well, how am I supposed to argue with that?
Men like Boston, you don’t argue with them.
“Okay,” I say carefully.
Then, I decide to change the subject. Because, if I’m being honest, I’m burning inside to know if Cassie is right about the situation with Chantelle. Not that I want either of them to be suffering, but I am curious as to what went down. Mostly, because I don’t want it to be my fault. I told Chantelle there was nothing there, and she and Boston started getting close. It wouldn’t be fair for her to get hurt when she thought everything was fine.
“I haven’t seen Chantelle around the last few days.”
It’s casual. At least, I think it is.
“She don’t wanna see me right now.”
“Oh,” I say softly. “Oh, did you have a fight?”
He stares at me. ??
?No. She just thinks I have feelings for you and doesn’t want to get hurt.”
Boston is straight forward. No holding back. If you ask him something, he’ll tell you the truth, or the truth as best as he knows it. He’s not a liar, and he’s not dishonest. I like that about him, but it also means sometimes you hear things you don’t want to hear, which can be a truth that feels brutal. Even if it is for the best, because it’s the truth.
“Oh,” I say softly, rubbing my arms. “I told her there was nothing going on between us ...”
“Know that,” he mutters. “But I kicked her out when you were upset, didn’t even look at her. Treated her like crap.”
Poor Chantelle.
“Did you explain any of this to her?”
“She wants to be friends, that’s it. Done talkin’ about it.”
He sounds hurt, and that sucks, because I don’t want him to hurt over some misunderstanding to do with me.
“Why don’t you just tell her there is nothing between us?”
“I did.”
Oh.
Shit.
That kind of hurts. An unexpected hurt. What I didn’t see coming. I feel almost blindsided by the confession. I swallow, because while I guess I knew that, I didn’t expect him to say it so ... freely.
“Then maybe tell her again ...”
It’s the best I’ve got.
Boston stands, and looks down at me. “Can’t do that.”
“How come?” I say, looking up at him.
He stares at me, for a long, long moment. Then mutters, “Because I don’t know if it’s true.”
With that, he walks away.
And I’m left gob-smacked.
And no doubt as equally as confused as Chantelle.
What the hell just happened?
~7~
NOW – BOSTON
Fuck.
Shit is fucked.
I growl and slam the beer down on the bar at the club, frustration bubbling in my chest. It’s a never fucking ending cycle with this club. We’re dealing with shit left right and center. We finally get past it, deal with Saskia’s ex and all the bullshit surrounding him, and now we’re back onto Slater, and entering what could be an extremely fucked up situation, to find a woman he lost.
Don’t mind the man wanting a woman, but fuck, more death, more violence, I’m fucking done with it.
“Still fumin’ about the fact that we gotta start goin’ deep with Slater,” Malakai asks, sitting down beside me and glancing at me, eyes hard, scanning my face.
“Fuckin’ tired of it, Prez. Not gonna lie. Feels like a never endin’ cycle.”
“I feel you, brother. But we made a promise to Slater for his help, and I’m goin’ to follow through on that.”
“Just got done with Saskia, and she’s finally recovered and shit was comin’ good again. Only so much shit anyone wants to deal with.”
“Yeah,” Malakai agrees. “I know.”
“I’ll deal, just in a fucked off mood.”
Because it has been weeks since I’ve spoken to Chantelle. Weeks since I arrived at her house drunk, spilled my fucking guts, and told her I was confused about Penny and her. And that I thought it was best if I didn’t see either of them. She looked hurt, and I fucking hate that. Mostly, I hate not having someone to hang with. I still see Penny at home, but I try and keep my distance.
Feels like I’ve lost two friends doing the right thing.
But I had to fucking do the right thing.
I rarely let women in—I fuck, I leave.
But I ended up letting two in, and got myself in a tangled fucking mess I had to step away from.
“You still stickin’ clear of Chantelle and Penny?”
Malakai knows. Everyone knows. Saskia is with Mason—it didn’t take long for news to spread. Not to mention Penny is friends with Amalie. Eventually, the club was going to find out I had two girls on the go.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Don’t seem like that’s makin’ you very happy.”
I glare at him. “I wasn’t goin’ to continue fuckin’ around with both of them. Not into lettin’ people get hurt, regardless of what anyone thinks. It’s for the best.”
“Not sayin’ it’s not for the best, it is. Might be time to distract yourself with somethin’ else.”
“Tried that,” I mutter. “Not interested.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Can’t help you on this one I’m afraid, brother.”
Fucking no one can. Because I put myself in this mess.
“Slater is rollin’ in soon, figure it’s safe for him to join the club again now the danger has passed. You comin’ to meet him? Appreciate if you did.”
I stand, finishing the beer and nodding. “Fuckin’ of course I am.”
Malakai nods, and we go into the living area where Maverick, Mason, and Koda are playing pool and laughing about some fucking thing. They stop when we walk in and drop what they’re doing, walking over.
“Slater arrived, boss?” Mason asks.
“Not yet, brother. Anyone got any ideas on where to start with this shit with Ellie?” Malakai asks.
“Start at the beginning, yeah?” Maverick shrugs. “Gather everything we can and go from there.”
“Could be like tryin’ to find a needle in a haystack,” Koda grunts. “She could be fuckin’ anywhere.”
“Or she could be choosin’ to stay away,” I add in.
Maverick looks at me, and even now, I can see an emptiness in his eyes when they come my way. He’s completely shut down against me, not a single thing left when it comes to the relationship we once had. He hates me. With good reason. But hate is fucking draining—every day it takes more and more out of me.
“You think she’s choosin’ not to let Slater find her?”
I shrug, crossing my arms. “I’m just sayin’ if we’re lookin’ into everythin’, we need to look into literally fuckin’ everythin’. Every scenario, not just the ones that make sense.”
“He’s got a point.” Malakai nods. “We’d like to think she got taken against her will, but there is no sayin’ she continued to stay gone because of danger. She might very well be choosin’ to stay hidden. That’s why we need the whole story. We need to know everythin’ we can about their relationship and the lead up to her goin’ missin’. Every fight, every detail. So, if you’ve got questions, ask them.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mason adds.
“How’s Saskia going back at work?” Malakai asks him.
“She’s doin’ okay. Still sore, still recoverin’, but stubborn as fuck and wantin’ to keep doin’ what I hired her for. I limit it, but she sneaks a few extra things in here and there.”
“No word from that fuck of an ex?” I ask.
“None, but she did mention Chantelle had a few concerns. Not sure what. But she did betray him, there’s a chance he’s goin’ to be pissed at her.”
Fuck.
Don’t like that.
Not at fucking all.
“She say what?” I ask.
“Nah, she didn’t. I told her to tell Chantelle to let us know if anything happens, we’ll deal with that fucker.”
Problem with that is, I don’t think Chantelle would come to us, even if she was in danger.
She’s hurt.
She’s pissed.
And I think I’m the last person she wants anything to do with.
I make a note to find out what I can.
Might not be in her life right now, but doesn’t mean I won’t make sure she’s okay.
I will.
I owe her that.
~*~*~*~
BOSTON
Slater arrives on time, as he promised.
What shocks everyone in the club is when he arrives with three other men in tow.
Slater is a big man, bigger than most of the men I’ve dealt with. Hell, the club members hold their size, but Slater is bigger than any one of us. And the three men with him are all equal in size and weight. Solid muscle. Sam
e facial features. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re his brothers, or, at the very least, related in some way.
“Slater,” Malakai says when we all step out front to greet him.
He’s still just a prospect, which means at this stage, he’s still earning our trust and proving his loyalty. I have no doubt he has it, but we’d be pure idiots to just believe it’s there without first testing him. We promised to help him, and he’s been patched into the club. But trust, that shit is earned. And it takes time.
“Good to see you, Malakai.”
Malakai looks to the three men behind him. “Didn’t know you were bringing company.”
“Mind if we come in, sit and talk? These are my brothers, they’re not going to cause problems.”
Malakai studies the three men, then nods and we all retreat to the round table, as we call it. Once we’ve all taken a seat, Slater speaks. He’s a man of very fucking few words, and when he does speak, his voice is devoid of any sort of emotion. He says what he has to say, in a tone that remains the same, and then he stops talking. Simple as that.
“Malakai, brothers,” Slater says, looking to all of us. “These are my brothers, Lincoln, Damon, and Finn. They’re not associated with Shanks, or anything to do with him, but they do work an underground fight club, and have dealings in the darkest parts of the world. They’re of no threat to the club, but they can help us in my quest to find Ellie. They also can help with anything the club needs.”
Malakai stares at the three men, who all nod at him, showing their respect. “Didn’t know you had brothers, good to meet you.”
The three men nod again. Also, clearly, men of very few words.
“If their presence here makes you uncomfortable, they’ll leave. But I believe they’ll be an asset to the club.”
“Understandably,” Koda pipes up, staring at the three men. “We can’t just open our arms to people we don’t know. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been fucked over in a big way in the last few months. Don’t need any more shit.”
“I agree, which is why it is your choice if you choose to have them help,” Slater says, his voice gravelly and low.