Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

SPENCER

My eyes flutter open, and I stare at the ceiling. There is a small brown ring in the middle of the ceiling above the bed, which makes me think that there is possibly a leak somewhere. I’m sure if there was, Ophelia would have had it fixed. She’s never really sat around on stuff like that, not that I can remember from when I was a kid.

Sitting up, I let out a heavy sigh. The first thing I do is reach for my phone. I know you’re not supposed to look at your phone or anything electronic like that first thing in the morning. I read an article that said it basically has something to do with your brain and hinders cognitive functions. But that doesn’t stop me from checking my emails and my social media within minutes of my eyes opening.

Thankfully, I have a couple of new jobs that have booked while I was sleeping, which will keep me busy today so I won’t be thinking about him , about Brew. I also have to think about Clink and find out what happens next. Then I have to figure out when I’m leaving.

Because I will be leaving.

I can’t stay here.

As much as I would love to stay in East Texas just to be near my brother, it’s not really the smartest thing for me to do. While I could stay here and still pay my bills, I need to be home at my apartment. I need to be in my routine.

I need to be away from Brew.

Because if I stay here. If I see him and hear his voice. If I feel his touch—I’m going to do something really stupid… like fall in love with him all over again.

Or maybe I’m going to admit that I never stopped loving him in the first place. That every man I’ve met in the past ten years has never been right—because it was always Brew.

And I hate that.

I hate myself for that.

I’ve wanted nothing more than to be over him, and yet, I know I’m not, no matter how much I try to pretend that I am. He’s always going to be that man I fell in love with. He’s always going to be the one who slipped through my fingers.

He isn’t the one who got away because for him to get away, I would have had to have him to myself to begin with.

And I never did… never will.

A video pops up on my timeline, and I smile as I watch a girl I went to high school with play with her baby. She’s making the baby laugh, and the giggles fill the motel room, bouncing off the walls.

I don’t know why, but the sight of the baby makes me sad. My smile fades almost as quickly as it appeared. I think about the bakery owner, Shawn, with her baby strapped to her front. Her smile was as big as the state of Texas, and her eyes sparkled, too. She’s King’s wife. I’m not sure how that makes me feel. I can honestly say that I’m completely perplexed by it all.

Standing from the bed, I make my way into the bathroom and start the shower. As I wait for the water to heat up, I take care of my business and then wash my hands, my gaze searching the reflection in the mirror.

I don’t know what I expect to see, and I get tired of looking, so I turn away from it and head to the shower. Stripping off my pajamas, I step under the warm water and close my eyes as it washes over me.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I wash my hair. As my fingers scratch and massage my scalp, I think about Brew’s fingers replacing mine. I should not think this way. I should not imagine his fingers anywhere on my body, but I can’t help myself. I also can’t stop myself.

When my fingers travel from my hair down my neck and my belly and then slip between my legs, I know without a doubt that I should not be thinking about him. But I do. I think too much about him because when my fingers swirl my clit, my breath gasps, and his face fills my vision.

Not the face from ten years ago. The face from yesterday. He’s so damn sexy. I want all of him all over me. I want his mouth on every inch of my body. My fingers move faster and faster, making circles against my clit as I think about that.

His mouth.

Then I imagine his fingers all over me.

I come within seconds. It’s lackluster, just as it always is when I’m pleasuring myself. I never am fully satisfied. I tried once to get that way. I used a few different toys, and I came over and over again until my clit and pussy ached. My body might have been satisfied, but I didn’t feel it inside of me.

I felt empty. The way I always feel empty.

After finishing my shower, I dry off with a thin towel and dress for the day. I tug out a pair of paper bag linen chambray shorts and tug them on. Then, I slip an organic cotton tank over my head.

I’m sure people think I’m weird. I wear a lot of linen, and when I’m not wearing linen, I’ve got on organic cotton. I’ve switched as many of my synthetic materials to natural blends as possible.

Linen is my favorite. In fact, I bought European flax linen sheets, and I’ve never been the same—they’re amazing. I know I sound like a complete hippie, but I don’t care.

Natural fabrics, organic foods, my electric car—I love it all, and I don’t even care who knows it. Call me whatever you want. I don’t really care, not when it comes to that stuff. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but I feel different when I wear it, calmer and healthier.

Instead of driving straight to the clubhouse to yell at more people the way I want to, I pack up my laptop and carry it out of the room with me. A few moments later, I’m in my car and driving straight toward that bakery downtown.

Not only do I want about fifty more of everything that I tried last night, but I also have some questions about King and the other men at the club. I’m not sure if I’ll actually be brave enough to ask them, but I’m going to try.

brEW

With a grunt, I make my way into the conference room for church. We have a meeting with the club’s lawyer today. I also have to talk to Gnaw and figure out what the schedules are looking like for collections, the kegs, and the warehouse deliveries.

There’s a lot of shit going down, and as the road captain, I’m supposed to help Gnaw with it all.

Sinking down in my unassigned but very much assigned chair, I can’t help but think about Spencer. I want to see her, and at the same time, I want her to never come back here. I’m in a foreign situation. I’ve never cared about a woman the way I do her.

She’s one of my brother’s sisters. She’s off-limits. And yet, I’ve already tested those limits. Even though it was a decade ago, I can’t forget them, and I want more of them. I’m sure there is some psychological fucked-up shit about us, but I can’t help myself. I can’t help it.

I don’t know if I can stay away from her now. Even though I know I should. But I’ve never been one who necessarily does what he should on a regular basis. The fact that I’m an office-holding member of a one-percent MC should prove that.

A few moments later, the room fills, and I am not surprised to see the lawyers in their suits. They take their seats and lean back as if unbothered while the rest of us sit on the edges of our seats, waiting to find out what will happen to our friend.

When Atomic stands, my gaze swings over to my brother as he focuses on the suits. He watches them for a moment in silence, then lets out a heavy sigh.

“Tell us what happens,” Atomic demands.

He’s asking, but not really. It is, without a doubt, a demand. And I don’t blame him. I know he is probably feeling much like I am with this shit. He is impatient and ready to know what the fuck happens next, although for different reasons.

Atomic is thinking only of Clink, but I am thinking mostly of Spencer.

“Well, the law is specific. And the DA is not backing down from anything. They are ready to nail balls to the wall. I think I can talk them into a deal, but there will be jail time. There’s no getting out of it.”

“Fuck,” Atomic hisses.

I hear King bark a simple Fuck somewhere in the room, but I can’t look away from the lawyer to see where he is. He usually sits where the suit is, so I know he’s somewhere else.

“The length of time is about all we have to work with now,” the attorney continues.

“What are you offering? And where would he go?”

He clears his throat before he speaks again. “I might be able to get him to the minimum-security prison in Texarkana.”

“Might?” I ask.

He shrugs a shoulder. “I can write it into the plea deal, but it doesn’t mean they will agree to it. They may want him in a higher-security facility.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I grunt. I have never known a DA, judge, or anyone to be lenient when they’re attempting to make an example out of someone, and that’s what they’ve all but said this is exactly.

“What are the odds, truly?” I ask.

The attorney lifts his chin slightly, then levels me with his gaze. “I’ll tell you what I told Humble. I can write it. I cannot make any promises. They may want him to offer something, but he claims he has nothing to offer them.”

Atomic grunts, directing the attention toward him. We all look to our president. It’s clear that he wishes to speak. Usually, it wouldn’t be such a formal meeting, not even church, with everyone attending in this… almost ceremonial type atmosphere.

“You’ll let us know?” Atomic asks.

They dip their chins simultaneously and then stand. They’re silent as they move toward the door, but then the main one stops. He looks over his shoulder into the space.

“We are not going to make a bad deal. Whatever we make, it’s so that Humble gets the best deal. Minimum security is going to be a walk in the park for him. And if I have my way, it won’t be for long, maybe a couple of years.”

Atomic doesn’t say anything, and I’m half tempted to tell this motherfucker to get Clink out of the goddamn jail or watch his back because his days are numbered. But I’ve been in situations where you can’t control other working parts, so I don’t say anything, even though I truly want to.

Once the door is closed, I expect Atomic to say something, but he doesn’t. He lifts his hand, extending his finger for us to shut the fuck up. I arch a brow but don’t say anything, watching him.

A moment later, he has his phone in his hand and moves his thumb across the screen, then he sets it down on the table, dropping his hand. “I had to make sure they were gone before we spoke. I didn’t want them to hear us.”

I nod a couple of times. I can’t say I don’t agree with him. They probably wouldn’t understand anything we even said, but that doesn’t mean it’s their information to hear.

“What the actual fuck are we going to do?” King asks as he walks over to his normal seat and sinks down.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Atomic grinds out. “I can’t break him out, as much as I fucking want to.”

There is a moment of silence. We all flick our gazes between one another. I don’t know what to say, how to say it. Right now, we’re well and truly fucked completely… or rather, Clink is.

“Spencer is really not going to like those answers from us or the attorney,” King mumbles.

“I know,” I say. “But she’s expecting them.”

Atomic places his palms on the table and then leans over slightly. “As much as I want to spend the day trying to figure out some magical something for Clink, we have a lot more pressing issues to discuss.”

“Routes for the men,” I state.

Atomic dips his chin. It’s my turn to speak now, but I’m not sure they’re going to like what I have to say. It’s not like I can change the routes that are in place. Not just because some of them are not changeable but because I researched them extensively.

I know these are the best ones, especially when it comes to other groups’ territories and payoffs. It’s a lot of fucking work to come up with the best routes, and I can’t just change them on a whim.

“I can’t change them, and if I do, it won’t be immediately.”

Atomic dips his chin. “See what you can do. For now, we try to stay off the radar of every kind.”

Instead of saying anything, all I do is nod once. Then I lean back and listen to the rest of the meeting without chiming in, mainly because I’m focused on the thoughts that lead me back to Spencer, as they always have.