Chapter 20

CHAPTER

TWENTY

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I’m fucking trashed. Not just a little bit, either. But I’m really fucking drunk. Letting out a laugh, I try to stand to my feet, but I have to brace my hands on the table because my legs threaten to give out on me, and that thought makes me laugh.

And then, when I start to laugh, King and Atomic join in while Nash calls us all pussy lightweights, but when he says it, he’s slurring.

I’m not sure how I get in bed or what bed I’m lying in, but the room spins as I stare at the ceiling and question every aspect of my life. Every single aspect, and at the top of it all, at the forefront of my mind is Spencer.

My Spencer.

She’s always been mine, and now that I have her, I’m keeping her.

Eventually, my eyes close. I’m not sure how long I sleep, but my eyes crack open what feels like just a few moments later. My head is pounding, my stomach rolls, and my throat feels dry as fuck. Then, the wave of nausea hits me.

Closing my eyes again, I wait for the nausea to pass. I inhale through my nose and let the air out of my mouth, trying to take calming breaths. On my third one, I chance opening my eyes again.

Thankfully, I don’t feel like I’m going to vomit instantly this time. Sitting up, I grunt as I turn to the side and slide my legs over. Placing my feet on the cool, hard floor, I look down and realize that wherever I am, it’s somewhere in the club.

When I stand, my head spins, and my ass lands back down on the bed. Closing my eyes again, I wrap my fingers around the back of my neck and massage it slowly. Fuck me, the tension in my neck, the way my stomach twists.

It’s too fucking much.

I reach for the phone on the small table next to the bed, unlock it, and look at the text notifications. Nothing. Finding Spencer’s name, I decide to send her a message. I should have called her last night, but I was too fucking trashed. It would have been a fucking disaster if I had.

MORNING, BEAUTIFUL. HOW WAS YOUR NIGHT?

Her response is almost immediate.

SPENCER: My night was good. But more importantly, how was yours?

???

She sends me a laughing face emoji. Then I see those three little dots appear as she types something else.

SPENCER: You were pretty drunk. But I appreciate you calling me.

Fuck.

What the fucking fuck did I say to her? I don’t remember calling her, let alone what I possibly said to her. I stare at my phone, at the messaging app, frozen and unable to move. The phone rings a moment later, her face bright and fucking gorgeous, filling my screen.

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I let out a heavy sigh and lift it to my ear. I open my mouth, but Spencer’s words come before I can say a single word.

“I figured you didn’t know what to say over text,” she murmurs.

She sounds sleepy and sexy, almost too sexy. Even though my head feels like a hammer is being pounded into the side, my cock twitches at the sound of her voice. I want to be inside of her, even though I feel like absolute dog shit.

“What did I say?” I finally ask.

My voice sounds rough as hell even to my own ears. Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. I don’t know if she’s trying to make me suffer or if she’s trying to put her thoughts together. Either way, I hold my breath for a moment.

“Nothing bad. Actually, you kept telling me how much you liked me. That you missed me, and if I ever left you, that you would bring me back home. Because Pineville was where I belonged, where I’ve always belonged.”

Massaging the back of my neck a bit harder in an effort to release some tension, I let out a snort. Honest to fuck, I’m surprised I didn’t confess my everlasting love. It seems like something I would have added to the end of that sappy speech.

“I thought it was sweet,” she continues softly. “I think I needed it.”

It’s at that moment I hear the doubt in her voice. “Spencer?” I ask, unsure of what questions to actually ask. Thankfully, she understands what I’m trying to say here because she answers me.

“Admitting this makes me feel stupid. But I wasn’t sure if you were somewhere with women.”

“And you weren’t sure if I would partake in what they have to offer?” I ask.

She lets out a shaky breath. “I know the way the club life works. The men do who and what they want. The old ladies stay home and raise babies. You know I don’t want that.”

Since this is not the first time I’ve had this conversation with her, I would typically be annoyed at having to reassure anyone a second time, but considering the topic and the woman, I’m not.

I want her to know that she can trust everything I tell her, even when I can’t go into detail. I want her to trust in the man I am. I’ve never wanted anything like that before. The feeling is foreign, but I’m trusting the process—our process.

“I’m at a strip club, but it’s empty. Nash hasn’t even hired all of the girls yet. It was just us guys getting shit-faced last night. We found out that this whole thing was bigger than we expected. We’re probably going to have to go to Virginia, and we were all drowning our sorrows and celebrating the club’s completion. It opens soon.”

Spencer clears her throat slightly, then laughs. “You don’t have to explain it all to me, but I do appreciate it more than you could know.”

“Beautiful?” I call out. “I’ll always tell you what I can. I want this, but most importantly, I want you to never regret slumming it with me.”

I mean every word of that, too. She may have had feelings for me for all these years, but I know without a doubt that I am completely and totally undeserving of her in every way possible.

And yet, that doesn’t stop me from keeping her for myself.

Though, in a few years, when Clink is out of prison, I’m going to have a fight on my hands… and I welcome it.

SPENCER

A few days pass, and I focus on working, sharing dinner with Guts before his shift change with Fate every night. Evan texts me a few times, letting me know where he is on the road, and then when he arrives in Virginia.

When we talked on the phone, I felt at ease. But now that it’s been a few days, I have some doubt creeping up. I shake my head, trying to shake that doubt away. I’m not sure it works when my phone rings and takes me out of my thoughts.

It’s a restricted number. My heart races with hope that it’s Humble, and when I answer, I’m relieved to hear that it’s him. Our conversation is short—almost too short—but it’s good news for me. I can visit him next week.

The call ends, and I rush outside to tell Guts about my brother. He is standing with his back to the wall, his knee bent, and his foot flat against it. He doesn’t move his head to look at me. He doesn’t move at all.

He is focused, his face pointed at the road. His focus on that road almost appears doglike.

Something… or some one is coming.

My breath is frozen, my throat closes, and I turn my head to watch in complete fear as a car pulls up the road. I don’t recognize it, although I wouldn’t recognize any car because I don’t know anyone here, not anyone who would be coming here to visit me.

The car parks, the door flies open, and I watch as a gorgeous, leggy blonde unfolds from the car. I’ve never seen her before in my life, and I don’t think I want to, either. Guts doesn’t speak, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The girl stops at the base of the steps and then tugs her sunglasses off dramatically. I glance around to make sure there aren’t any cameras around filming her with the way she’s moving.

As far as I know, there aren’t any cameras. So I shift my attention back to her, swinging my own head dramatically as I do.

“ Who are you ?” she asks, her tone accusatory and less than friendly as she lifts her glasses and points them at me.

I’m not sure if my response can be less than one-hundred-percent spicy as I stare at her, narrowing my eyes. Guts doesn’t say anything, either. We both stare at this beautiful yet bitchy woman.

“I live here. Who the fuck are you?” I snap.

I hate myself for speaking that way. I sound like the girl I was ten years ago. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to sound more professional, yet one sexy girl crumbles it all in an instant.

Her lips twitch into a smirk. “I’m the girl who fucks Brew. Now run along, little girl,” she purrs.

That’s when I hear Guts hiss. I don’t look at him, though. Instead, I survey this woman a little closer. She’s not as tall as I originally thought. She has long legs, but they appear longer because she’s got hooker heels on.

She’s also wearing an extremely short skirt, so short that I’m surprised her labia isn’t hanging out the bottom. Her tube top is a whole other subject. Then there are her makeup and hair, both done to the extreme.

In fact, she looks like she just stepped out of one of those eighties hair band music videos.

I stifle a giggle thinking about that.

“Do you?” Guts asks. “How come I’ve never heard of you?”

She purrs, and I almost vomit. It’s so saccharine, and I have no doubt she uses it with all men and gets whatever she wants. But that has less to do with her voice and more to do with how short her skirt is.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snaps again, but this time, she’s aimed her question at Guts.

I’m already annoyed as hell with her. I’m ready to tell her to get her ass back in her car and get the hell out of here, even though I really want to know where this is going. I can’t get mad that Evan was with anyone else, even if what she’s saying is true. It’s not as if I’ve been celibate this whole time.

“I’m one of Brew’s brothers. Bitch, you’re gonna need to start talking, or I’m gonna have to demand you get the fuck off Brew’s property.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, jerking her chin in the air and looking down her nose at Guts. This girl is brave. She obviously doesn’t know that these men have killed people for less attitude than what she’s serving right now.

“Brew and I have been fucking off and on for about ten years. We’re a thing, the two of us. I’m from Longview. He came into Sal’s Bar once, we left together, and that was that. Although he doesn’t like me dancing, so he gives me money to stay home, and I give him pussy regularly.”

My stomach flips. Instantly, I feel sick. I try to swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, but I fail. I’m going to throw up. The fact that he’s been keeping a woman… keeping her like this is some case of a 1500s royalty thing.

Like Brew is a king, and this is his mistress he keeps on the side, although he married the virgin to keep his bloodline pure. It makes me almost physically ill. I place my hand against my belly.

“Bitch, you got the wrong fucking house,” Guts growls.

I turn to him, my eyes finding his profile. He slowly shifts his attention from the girl to me. “She knew his name,” I whisper.

He shakes his head once. Then the woman speaks again.

“Where the fuck is he?” she demands. “Tell me right now who you are and why you’re here.”

“I’m calling Gnaw,” Guts barks.

I watch as he turns on his heel, digs his phone out of his pocket, and walks away from me and this woman. I don’t know what to say, what to do. I don’t want to be nice to her, but I also don’t want her to run away before we get to the bottom of this.

So I do the only thing I can think of doing. “Would you like to come inside for some coffee, maybe some tea?”