Chapter Nine

Brooks

"Sell what?" I asked as soon as we were in my room, away from the curious gazes and eager ears in the common space of the clubhouse.

I don't know who'd I'd been expecting when the door flew open.

For whatever reason, the guys didn't seem in the mood to party, so I guess I imagined it might be one of the princesses who was bored and wanted to hang out.

The last person I expected was Caliana.

In a skintight silver dress that matched the shadow over her eyes, looking like she'd just come from some sort of formal outing.

I'd been so busy eye-fucking her that I'd missed the hatred in her gaze until her words were shrieking out of her.

As far back as I could remember, Cali had a long fuse. But when it finally reached the powder keg, she fucking exploded. Then burned bright and hot for a short while before blowing out, leaving her weepy and quiet.

"His watch!" she snapped, yanking her wrist out of my hold to walk deeper into my bedroom.

"Whose watch?" I asked, watching her pace back and forth in the small space.

"Clay's watch! You sold it!"

"Wait, wait," I said, holding out my hands. "I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart."

"I saw it! I was at the fight tonight and the guy in front of me had it on his wrist. Clay's watch. How could you?" she asked, voice thicker with the emotion that was really behind the anger. The grief that it seemed like she hadn't let herself experience yet.

"Okay, back it up," I said, keeping my tone calm to counteract her volatile emotions. "You were where?"

"At the fight."

"The fight," I repeated, confused for a second. "You mean the cage fight? At Jax's place?" I asked, deciding her dress was probably pretty appropriate for that event. Even if some part of me wasn't thrilled about her being there. Sure, it pulled in a diverse crowd. But a huge chunk of them were criminals.

"Yes. And the guy in front of me had on Clay's watch. I know it was his. The second hand wasn't working. How could you do that? You knew it had sentimental value."

"Cali, I would fucking never sell your family watch. Never. I get that you fucking hate me now, but you have to believe that I knew what that meant to Clay and you. I wouldn't do that." She turned to me, wanting to find a lie in my words, but there wasn't one, and she knew it. "I thought he had it on him when he crashed. He never took it off."

Cali's lower lip trembled for a second before she sank her teeth into it, forcing it to stop.

Why was she fighting her pain so hard?

No one expected you to lose your brother and just… go on like nothing happened.

This made no sense.

"I thought he did too," she admitted, gaze sliding to the floor. "I figured he was… buried with it. I didn't think to ask. There was too much… it was too much," she said, her voice a hollow husk.

I wanted to tell her that I wished I had been there, that I could have helped her, taken some of the burden off. But the last thing I wanted to do was remind her that I hadn't been.

"Could he have lost it?" I asked, watching as her gaze shot up again.

"No. I mean… no," she said, shaking her head.

"Did he have it the last time you saw him?"

"Yes," she said, without even thinking. Then, taking a second, she thought. "Yes. We went to dinner. His arm was on the table. I saw it."

"When?"

"Just… two days… before…"

Two days before.

"Could he have pawned it?" I asked. "Was money an issue?"

"No. I mean… I don't think so? He never said it was. He paid for dinner without a sweat. He had a lot of money in his wallet."

Interesting.

"But that watch was worth, what? Ten? Fifteen grand?"

"Somewhere around there."

"Anything in his life possibly cost that? Car? Medical bills?"

"No. His car was paid off. He bought it outright."

Outright?

"What kind of car?" I asked, a trickle of discomfort working its way down my spine.

"What? Oh, ah, it was, crap. One of those sports cars?" she half declared, half asked, brows scrunching. "With a C…"

I mean, there were a few choices there.

The most obvious one, though, wasn't helping this cold, sick sensation moving from my spine to wrap around my gut.

"Corvette?"

"Yeah, that's it. He had a white Corvette."

"A new one?"

"Yeah. He got it just after his birthday. What?"

The what here was that was, on the low end, a sixty-five-grand car. At the high end? Over a hundred grand.

Where the hell had that money come from?

"Cal, was Clay still working doing package delivery?" I asked. He didn't work for one of the three big name companies, and at the moment, I couldn't think of the one he did. But he'd been working there since he was twenty-five because the benefits were so good, and he had to take care of his sister after their parents passed.

"Yeah. Of course. Why?"

Something here wasn't adding up.

But since I didn't know what, I didn't want to worry Caliana. She had enough on her plate.

"Just figure he wouldn't need to pawn the watch then," I lied, unable to meet her gaze as I did it.

"Yeah. He wouldn't. No matter how bad things were, he wouldn't."

"No," I agreed, sucking in a steadying breath, trying to keep my head on straight. At least while I was still trying to keep Cali calm. "He wouldn't. But I swear to you, sweetheart, that watch was not in his belongings. I would have seen it. And I would have kept it for you."

She watched me for a long beat before exhaling hard, her shoulders slumping.

"I know," she agreed, shaking her head. "I just… I don't understand how else it got in someone else's hands. Unless… unless it got mixed up at the hospital or the morgue," she said, and I could just picture her storming into those places as soon as they were open, demanding answers.

"Hey, how about you let me look into it?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"They probably won't even talk to you, since you're not next of kin."

"There are a lot of ways to get people to talk," I told her, watching as her eyes squinted at me. "What?"

"You've… why did you become a biker?"

"What?" I asked, surprised by the change in conversation.

"Why did you become a biker? It makes no sense."

"Sure it does," I said, leaning back against the door. "If you realize this was one of the few professions I could have gone into that would piss off my old man."

"Oh," she said, head tipping to the side as she looked at me. "I know things were… tense there."

"That's an understatement," I agreed. My father had never let an opportunity pass by to tell me what a disappointment I was, how I wasn't living up to my potential, how he'd busted his ass to raise me right, and I was shitting on that by dropping out of ROTC, by not going to college, by not at the very least joining the military, if I couldn't figure out a major.

I'd been glad that he worked as much as he did when I was growing up. Because all he ever did when he was home was scream at me.

It was always bad. But it got worse after my ma decided she was tired of being yelled at too, and divorced him. Problem was, she didn't have a stable home to bring me to, or a steady enough job. So my old man got custody. She got occasional visitation. Leaving me fully at his mercy without her there to act as a go-between.

His own father had forced him into the Army right out of high school. And he'd spent the next decade or so serving his country, eventually becoming a drill sergeant. But he'd come out to find that it was fucking hard to make a living and a life, especially once he had a wife and kid to take care of.

I figured it was that responsibility that made him so mean.

And all those years screaming at and critiquing recruits really helped him in screaming at and criticizing me.

And after stumbling around for a few years doing some less than legal shit, much to his delight because he felt he'd been proven right, I'd give him the biggest ‘fuck you' by becoming a something he never wanted me to be.

A lifelong criminal.

Not the most honorable reason to join an organization, but it felt fucking good at the time. And I found a purpose here. A family.

"Pops died a year or so back," I found myself telling her, watching as she jerked back like I'd struck her. I'd gotten the call from the neighbor. Said he'd had a heart attack while out front mowing the lawn. Didn't make it to the hospital.

I'd done something uncharacteristic that night.

I let someone else babysit the club as I let loose, having drinks, hooking up, wanting to just forget shit for a while.

I hadn't felt any better after that.

So it hadn't exactly become a coping mechanism for me.

I just went back to how I usually was. Much to the chagrin of prospects like Sully.

"Oh, Brooks… I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I know you two weren't close, but, I'm sorry."

"I was oddly equipped to clean out Clay's place," I said, speaking my thoughts out loud. "Did my Pops place the year before." And I hadn't found a single picture of me, any proof at all that my father even had a son at all. "And two years before that, I did it for my ma."

"Your mom too?" Cali asked, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Yeah. She… choked alone in her apartment," I said, my heart crushing in my chest at the idea.

"Oh, my god," Cali said, face crestfallen. "I'm so sorry. She was such a nice lady. And your father, ah, well, he… he sure kept the house nice and neat," she said, clearly struggling to find something nice to say about him.

That had a little laugh bursting out of me.

"That he did," I agreed.

"So, you have no one left?" she asked. "No family?"

"I have this family," I said, waving toward the club. "But, no, no bio family anymore."

There was something heavy in the air between us then, all of it seeming to emanate from Caliana, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"I promise I will look into the watch thing, Cal. If I can, I'll try to get it back for you."

"I should probably apologize for accusing you," she said.

"Are you gonna do it?" I asked, lips tipping up, then spreading to a full smile as she smirked at me.

"I'm sorry I jumped down your throat," she said, dropping down on the edge of my bed, suddenly looking completely fucking spent.

She had a day job. And it seemed like she spent every single night out on the town, likely until the wee early hours of the morning. She had to be running on fumes.

"It's no big deal. I can take it," I told her, shrugging it off.

"This bed is stupidly comfortable," she declared, lying back, staring up at the ceiling.

This was definitely not the time for me to start imagining climbing in that bed with her, running my hands and lips and tongue…

Fuck.

Enough.

"Take a nap if you want," I offered, watching as she turned her head on the mattress, looking at me with some strange, faraway look I couldn't place.

"I've been nothing but nasty to you," she said. "Why are you being nice to me?"

To that, I sucked in a breath and pushed off of the door, going to sit on the bed too, but reaching down to pull her legs up, so I could remove her shoes.

"Because I care about you, Cal," I told her, feeling a little shiver move through her as my thumb grazed her instep. I tried really fucking hard to tell myself that it wasn't desire, that it was just her being ticklish. Even though I knew she wasn't, thanks to countless trips Clay and I had taken to bring her to get pedicures in the summers. "No amount of snapping at me is gonna change that," I said, removing her other shoe, and placing it on the floor.

I couldn't tell her the full truth. That I understood she was acting out due to her grief. I had a feeling that would only start another fight. And things were finally decent between us.

"I might take a little nap before I go home," she said, scooting up toward the pillows.

"Okay," I agreed, moving to stand, only to find my wrist snagged in her hand.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, suddenly sounding so small and soft. Then, even though my cock was getting thick at the very idea of being in the same bed with her, I found myself kicking off my shoes, and settling back next to her.

"Yeah, I'll stay," I agreed, folding my hands over my chest, trying to make sure no part of me was touching her.

That did no good, though.

Because once she was asleep, she fucking climbed all over me like a goddamn vine, filling my nose with vanilla and rose, and taking me from semi to fully fucking hard in minutes.

Still, I didn't try to untangle myself.

Because, as much as I would never admit this aloud, I wanted nothing more in the world than to be wrapped up in her.

"What the fuck were you thinking, man?" I asked the sky.