The clubhouse explodes into motion, brothers grabbing gear and checking weapons. Boots thudded across the floor, as women rushed to their men for quick kisses and reassuring words.
The machine of the club shifting into motion.
Clutch finally moves toward me and the room fades around us, he stops directly in front of me, but I refuse to look up. My eyes stay locked on his shoulder, on the leather of his cut, the worn and aged stitching I have trailed my finger across more than once.
My throat tightens as he says, “Please.”
The word barely makes it out of him, but my chest tightens painfully with everything we could have been. But I don’t look up.
“Bex…” His voice breaks slightly. “Baby… please.”
He sounds wrecked. Like he’s on the edge of something I’ve never seen from him before.
Men like Clutch don’t cry. They don’t break. But he sounds close.
If he thinks this changes anything, fixes any of what just happened…
I don’t move, or acknowledge him.Hedid this to me, to us.
After a minute he presses the cut against my chest, the leather hits me and I flinch.
Just a little.
But he sees it and a low growl rumbles out of him.
I instinctively step back.
He curses under his breath.“Fuck.”and then tries again, “Be…”
“Clutch!” Angel’s voice cuts across the room interrupting him and I almost laugh. “You need to move. Four could be out anytime now.”
Clutch doesn’t move. For a brief moment I think he might ignore the order.
Then…
He steps around me, his shoulder brushes mine and I hear him speaking to someone behind me. “Put this somewhere safe.” A pause. “And keep an eye on her.”
A younger voice answers, one of the prospects I think. “Yes, sir.”
Then the room starts clearing fast, with boots thundering toward the door and engines roaring to life outside.
Angel stops in front of me, saying, “We’ll be back tonight.”
His voice is calmer now, controlled. He is gearing up to face Preacher.
“And then we deal with this,” he promises.
I don’t answer or acknowledge him. I turn and walk away. Up the stairs, with the noise of the clubhouse fading behind me.
My hands are shaking slightly.
My face still throbs from Razor’s hit.
But my mind is perfectly clear.
I push open the bedroom door and start gathering the few things that matter.
I’m leaving.