Twenty

Ana

H e hasn’t spoken a word to me all night. I heard him talking to Freja when he came to pick me up, but he said nothing to me, just threw me a helmet before striding down the path to his bike. And as soon as we arrived here, at the clubhouse, he waited for me to get off the bike before he parked it up, but he didn’t come inside with me. He hung around outside, talking to Kasper.

“You okay?” Kit asks as I lean against the bar and look out at the crowd all gathered for whatever the hell this party is all about. If it’s about anything. One thing I’ve learnt in my short time here is that they need no excuse for a party, even though their idea of a party is very different to mine.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” I look at Kit, and I smile. I shouldn’t take my mood out on him, he doesn’t deserve that. Kit’s been nothing but kind to me.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah. I’d love a beer, please.”

“Coming up.”

He heads behind the bar, grabs a beer from the fridge and slides it across the counter to me. I grab it and down a welcome draft. Anything to take the edge off.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” Kit throws me a wide grin before making his way over to the pool table, where he’s welcomed by a couple of club girls I vaguely recognize but have never really spoken to, because I’ve always been wary of them, to be honest. I still don’t feel like I belong here, and that’s because I don’t. I never will.

“Hey, kiddo.”

I turn my head to see Skip, and I smile at him. I’m making an effort. I’d promised myself I’d at least try and do that. “Hey.”

“Good to see you here. You need to get out of the house more, it does you no good staying cooped up in there all day every day.”

I down another draft of beer, shifting my gaze to the door. Joel still hasn’t come inside. He’s still out there. Avoiding me…? “You saying I should hang out here all day instead?” I keep my gaze fixed on the door, aware that my tone of voice carries a slightly sarcastic edge.

“We could find you a job, if that’s what you want?”

I look at Skip. “Doing what?”

“Up to you, kiddo. You could help out at the tattoo studio, or the bike shop, or, if you’d prefer, you could spend some time at the deli. That’s Elise’s baby, so I’m sure she could find something for you to do there.”

“I used to run my own business.”

“I know. Your mama told me all about it.”

“And I lost it all.” That familiar pain I’m almost getting used to starts to sweep over me again: that surreal feeling that this is all just some horrible, cruel dream.

“Listen, Ana, if that’s what you really want: if that’s what you’d like to do, we can set you up with a brand new store. We can do that, I promise.”

I stare down at the ground, willing myself not to cry. I’m done with crying. I need to be strong now. “It wouldn’t be the same. Nothing’s the same.”

“I know. I get that, kiddo, believe me.”

Skip’s voice is kind, and maybe there’s some truth in what my mama used to say about him, that he was a good man, deep down. Cady said that, too. So maybe he is, I don’t know.

I look up at him, this man who claims to have cared so much about my mama. “You really did love her, didn’t you?”

“I loved your mama like crazy, to the point where it terrified me. And I’ve never told anyone that. I certainly never told her that. I didn’t want to scare her away. Didn’t want her to back off.”

There’s something in his eyes when he talks about my mama, a pain that’s still raw, and in that second I feel a connection with this man, and that’s almost a comfort.

“I really loved her,” he whispers, turning his head away from me for a beat or two. “We didn’t know each other long, but sometimes, when that person appears in your life, in a way you never thought possible: a person who, all of a sudden, makes everything seem bearable, it doesn’t mean shit how long you’ve known each other. Your mama was that person. And I loved her.”

I’ve never heard him speak like this, I’m not sure anyone has, to be honest, and it’s a little jarring, but at the same time it’s making me realize that these men, they’re human too, behind the facades they like to hide behind.

“Would you have loved the baby?” I ask, because I’m curious. How much did he really want to be a dad?

Skip looks at me, his eyes still clouded with sadness.

“I would’ve loved that baby, yes, of course I would have. And I’m sorry, Ana. Sorry that I didn’t tell you your mama was pregnant, I was just – I was trying to protect you, in my own clumsy way.” He shrugs and smiles the saddest of smiles, I actually feel for him. I truly believe, now, that he loved my mama with all of his heart. But that doesn’t mean that I still don’t blame him: blame this club, in some way, for her death. I need someone to blame – someone else to blame, it’s the only way I’m managing to even begin to deal with everything.

Skip turns his head away again, and it’s weird, watching this strong, dangerous man appear vulnerable in front of me, but he shakes it off almost as quickly as he let it happen. “You’re all I have left of her, Ana.” His eyes are back on mine, and there’s a slight edge to them now. That vulnerability has gone, but I saw it. It was there. He’s human. “And I will make sure you are safe, that you’re looked after, because that’s what your mama would’ve wanted.”

I don’t know what to say. But, for a brief moment, I wonder whether fighting this shit is really worth it. What have I got outside of this place now? Nothing. I have nothing. Nobody.

“Thank you,” I whisper, because I don’t think I’ve ever said those words to him. Ever thanked him. Because, like it or not, his club, despite everything else that happened: everything I blame them for, they saved me.

“You’re one of us, Ana. And we look out for our family… Hey, Joel! I need a word, in the office.”

My eyes immediately focus on the door, on Joel, but he isn’t looking at me. He walks straight past me, following Skip down the corridor that leads to the back of the clubhouse.

I need another drink, but there’s nobody behind the bar. Not that that matters, everyone’s just helping themselves, so I do the same. I grab myself a bottle of whiskey and head outside. I need some air.

Joel

“What’s up?”

“Rik’s come up with some info that might be useful.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Skip leans back against his desk. “You heard of someone called Emil Renard?”

“No. Who is he?”

“Well, apparently, he’s now heading up the Balke family.”

The Balke family are – were – a major organized crime syndicate that worked out of Oslo. A family we’ve never had any dealings with, but they were pretty notorious, in their time.

“I thought they’d gone underground, after that massive heist they tried to pull off went south?”

“Yeah, that’s what Rik thought, too. But he’s been in touch with a colleague of his in Oslo, someone who used to be on the Balke’s payroll, and according to him, this Renard doesn’t have a blood connection to the family but he’s taken over the running of the business, for some reason. Seems like the other major players are all still keeping their heads down.”

“What about the Blackhawks? Does he have any connection to them?”

“No. Nothing. No links at all. He’s never had any business dealings in Denmark, apparently. None that Rik can trace, anyway.”

“What about the hacking of our account?”

“Again, we don’t know. The reason why Rik’s putting him on our radar is because he’s bought Sofia’s house. Moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Coincidence?”

“Who knows? Rik’s trying to find out more, but what we do know is that this isn’t his territory. If he’s here, then there must be a reason.”

There’s a lot not sitting right with me. The Hawks pushing back on retaliation; money going missing; a head of a major crime family appearing from out of nowhere, in the house Sofia and Ana used to live in. None of it adds up.

“It’s too quiet,” Skip says, almost as if he’s reading my mind, or part of it, anyway. “Too unsettling. The Hawks, there’s no sign of them coming for us. Something’s not right, Joel.”

“Do you think it could all be connected, somehow? The Hawks holding back, the weapons deal, the hacked bank account?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Whatever’s going on, it feels out of our control, and I don’t like it. So we need to keep our eyes open and our guard up. We need to be careful. I’ll call a meeting for tomorrow morning, fill everyone in.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back out in a minute. I need to make a couple of calls.”

I leave him to it, and head back to the party.

“Are you ignoring me?”

I stare at Ana, and I want to walk away, not look at her, because she’s fucking with my head in a way I don’t need, especially now, but she’s standing here in front of me and I can’t look away. “This isn’t High School, Ana. I’m busy.”

“Okay.” She stands aside and backs up against the wall. “Go on, then. Go and do whatever it is that’s keeping you busy.”

I start to walk away, and then I stop. I take a second. And then I turn around to face her: move up in front of her, so close to her I can smell the lemon scent of her shampoo. Or it might be her perfume, I don’t know, all I know is she smells incredible, and I want her so fucking much it’s crazy! I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know if it’s the safe thing to do. And that’s why I’ve been avoiding her.

“Don’t fuck with me, Ana.” I slam a hand against the wall, right by her head, and she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break the stare, she just smiles the slowest of smiles. All of a sudden this broken young woman has found her voice, did we change her that much? That quickly? Do I really care?

“I thought you were busy?” Her eyes are cold, but there’s a message there that she wants me to understand. I still need to hear the words, though. I need to know that she’s okay with whatever’s coming next, because something is. It shouldn’t. And I’m acutely aware of Skip being just meters away, but, fuck it. I’m all in now.

“Come on.” I take her hand and pull her into one of the rooms at the back of the clubhouse, locking the door behind us.

“I guess whatever was keeping you busy can wait, huh?” She lets go of my hand and walks over to the window, closing the blinds. It’s not exactly quiet out there tonight. We’re definitely not alone.

“What do you want from me, Ana?”

She turns around to face me, cocking her head. “Why the silent treatment?”

“What do you want , Ana?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I could ask you the same question, I mean, you were the one who dragged us in here.”

She’s not making this easy. “I told you before, I don’t have time for games.”

“Then it’s just as well I’m not playing any.” She comes back over to me, rests a hand against my chest, her eyes down. I tuck a finger under her chin and tilt her head up until her eyes meet mine. And I hate that my gut’s in a mess, tangled and twisted. And when I kiss her, that does nothing to calm it, it makes it worse, it fucking hurts, but her mouth on mine is a feeling I’m not willing to give up.

She responds by pressing herself against me, pushing us back against the wall, her fingers in my hair as the kiss deepens, and I’m hard as hell now. It’s the point of no fucking return but I’m not making any move until I know this is what she wants, too.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, dropping a hand to yank up her skirt, and I’m taking that as my signal. “It’s okay,” she repeats, her eyes locked on mine, she’s making sure I heard her. Understood her. “I want this.”

I nod, lifting her up, her legs wrapping around me as I push inside her and, man, she feels so fucking good! And my head is spinning, everything that’s wrong with this situation is trying to push its way forward but I’m ignoring it all, because nothing else matters except this moment. However wrong it might be.

She clings onto me, her fingers pulling at my hair, nails scratching my skin, but the pain is beautiful and welcome, and when we come it’s together in a hot mess of bucking bodies; muffled cries, her face buried in my shoulder. And I know I’m fucked, because usually this shit means nothing to me. Women have always been no more than a means to an end, but not this time. Not this time.

We stay tangled together for a few more minutes, catching our breath, letting what’s just happened here sink in. The repercussions are something I don’t have the headspace to contemplate right now, but I don’t regret shit.

She unwraps her legs from around me and I lower her down, but I keep hold of her. Keep a hand on her hip.

“If you want me to say sorry, I’ll say it. But just know that I’m not, sorry.”

She smiles, but there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s scared. Of what? Of me? She shouldn’t be scared of me. I would never hurt this girl. And I’ll make sure nobody else ever hurts her, either. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not.”

She backs away from me, my arm dropping to my side as she starts to walk away, and for a second I panic. What the fuck have I done? Was this a huge mistake…? And then she turns back around, runs to me, pushes me back against the wall, her mouth slamming down onto mine with so much force I can taste blood. And then she stops. She pulls away from me again, and she smiles. A smile so fucking beautiful it kills me. And then she leaves me there, alone. She unlocks the door and walks out, and I throw my head back, close my eyes, and I laugh…