Chapter Nineteen

Tessa

I'm already at my desk when Anita arrives wearing over-sized shades. I smirk as she passes my desk muttering, "Good morning."

I go into the kitchenette and make her a coffee, also grabbing the pastry I picked up for her on the way in this morning. She's got her head in her hands when I place the items on her desk, and she glances up, removing her shades. "I am too old to spend the weekend drinking like I'm nineteen," she murmurs.

I laugh. "Yeah, I won't be making a habit of repeating Friday night again. Why do people drink like that?"

She frowns. "You've never been drunk before?"

"Of course, just nothing like that. I have very vague memories of the night. I don't even remember getting home, but I woke fully dressed and somehow remembered to get myself a bottle of water and paracetamol."

"Weird," she says, a strange look passing over her face.

"And I swear I saw my . . . ex." I give my head a shake. "Well, not my ex, just a . . . never mind, I don't know what he was. Either way, I really thought he'd taken me home." I laugh to myself. "Wishful thinking."

I head back to my desk just as the door opens and a large biker fills the doorway, one I recognise from the club Pit belongs to. My heart immediately speeds up, and I force myself to smile. I know he isn't here for me— why would he be —but seeing that logo on his jacket sets some kind of alarm off inside me, making me want to run in the opposite direction.

"Do you have an appointment?" I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

"She's expecting me," he mutters, looking past me to Anita.

"You don't have an appointment, Kade," she shouts from her office.

"Atlas sent me," he replies.

"Jesus," she says to herself. "It's fucking Monday morning. I don't have the time or patience for this shit."

"Don't shoot the messenger," he argues.

He heads into her office, and she closes the door. Meanwhile, my heart races faster. She knows The Chaos Demons, and it sounds like Atlas is one of them.

Minutes later, Kade storms from the office, pulling out his mobile as he leaves. Anita leans on the doorframe of her office and sighs loudly. "That fucker tries way too hard to control me," she says out loud.

I turn to face her. "You know The Chaos Demons?"

She glances down with a guilty expression. "Uh-huh."

"So, you know Pit?" She finally meets my eyes and gives a nod. My heart races. "Was he there on Friday?" I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. Eventually, she gives a slight nod. "Was it coincidence he was there?"

"No."

I eye her suspiciously. "And did he take me home?"

"Yes."

"But he didn't want me to know?" She gives her head a shake. "Why?"

Anita lets out a long breath. "I have no idea, Tessa. He's in turmoil over you, like he can't bear to see you with anyone else, but he's keeping his distance."

I briefly close my eyes, thinking back to that night. I knew it was him the second I felt a hand on my back. The way he scooped me into his arms, and how his scent filled my nostrils, it instantly calmed me.

"I thought I was imagining him," I say, narrowing my eyes. "So, this job . . ."

She holds up her hands, already shaking her head. "I employed you because I liked you and you're bloody good at the job."

"But before that, did he set this up?"

She groans. "Look, he doesn't want you to know all this, Tessa. And if I tell you, he's going to be annoyed with me, and honestly, it's a stress I can do without."

"How did you meet Atlas?" I ask, changing the subject. Maybe talking about herself might ease the tension.

"How about we go for dinner after work and I'll tell you?" I give a nod, and she smiles before heading back into her office.

I'm nervous as we enter the restaurant. All I've thought about all day is Pit and how far he's gone to make sure I'm okay. And I have a thousand unanswered questions, like has he done all this because of guilt or because deep down he likes me?

We're seated and given menus. I stare at the prices and bite my lower lip with worry. As if sensing my unease, Anita places her hand over mine and offers a reassuring smile. "Relax, it's on the business. We'll call it a meeting. Order whatever you want."

"Do you get a lot of work from the club?" I ask, and she laughs out loud.

"Yes. I handle most of their legal work these days."

We fall silent, studying the menu, and when the waiter returns with two glasses of wine, we each order a steak and salad.

I take a sip of the sweet white. "So, you and Atlas?"

"Me and Atlas," she repeats, sighing heavily. "We hook up."

"He seems way more into it than that."

"Yeah, well, I try to break it off when he gets too much, but somehow, he always convinces me to stick around."

"You don't want a relationship?" I ask.

The waiter places some bread and olives between us. Anita pops one into her mouth before taking a chunk of bread and dipping it into the oils. "I like being free."

"He does seem quite grumpy."

She smirks. "That's one of the reasons I love . . . like him," she says, blushing slightly at her error.

"So, if you like him so much, what's the problem?"

"What about you and Pit?" she asks, ignoring my question. "How did you guys meet?"

It's my turn to laugh. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," I say vaguely. I'm not sure if Anita knows the ways of the club or if she'd understand our situation.

"So, it wasn't love at first sight?" I shake my head. "And now, he's avoiding you?"

I groan. "Don't remind me. He just left one day, and I wasn't expecting it."

"But now, he's back," she says with a shrug.

"Clearly not for me."

"Maybe you should take the choice away from him," she suggests.

I take some of the bread. "What do you mean?"

"He's into you, Tessa, but for whatever reason, he's holding back in the shadows. If he's anything like Atlas, he'll make sure you never meet anyone else."

"I don't think he cares," I admit. "I met the guys on Friday, right?"

"And he showed up and took you home," she points out. "Mark gave you his number, do you still have it?"

I frown and take out my phone, opening the contacts. "No," I say. "Are you sure he gave it to me?"

She nods. "I handed him your phone myself. Pit deleted it."

"He wouldn't," I mutter.

"What about the pictures you took with Mark, are they still there?" I open my pictures and shake my head. I don't remember taking pictures either, but Anita seems certain. "I put a picture of us all on my social media, and within twenty minutes, Atlas and Pit showed up. It wasn't a coincidence, Te. And if he didn't like you so much, why would he care enough to make sure he erases your pictures so you don't recall Mark and deletes the number so you can't contact him? He cockblocked you."

I try to hide my smile, but it breaks through. I'm glad he did. I wouldn't have called Mark anyway or hooked up with him. "I've been texting Pit every day. He never replies."

"So, text him now and tell him you know everything. He'll soon come running, and if he doesn't, tell him you're meeting up with Mark despite his attempt to sabotage you. That'll definitely get his attention."

Pit

"We've been watching this shithole for the last twelve hours. He clearly isn't here," Atlas complains.

We'd knocked on several doors at the top of the street before we were pointed in the direction of Greg Dean's house. The elderly lady who gave him up insisted we have tea and cake with her, much to Atlas's annoyance, but it paid off because she told us all kinds of stuff about her annoying neighbour. She definitely didn't hold back.

"Maybe someone tipped him off," I suggest.

I start my bike up just as the elderly neighbour rushes over holding a piece of paper. "Mister Daykin from around the corner just spotted him going into the local pub," she yells over the engine. I take the paper and smile.

"You're a legend," I tell her. "Thanks."

The pub is just around the corner. We dismount and head inside. "Two whiskeys," I tell the barman, who eyes our kuttes warily.

I glance around the empty bar. There're only two men in the entire place, and one of those is far too young to be Tessa's father. We take our drinks and head over to the older man. It's obvious the years haven't been kind to him as he drags his eyes up to watch as we take a seat opposite him. "We've been looking for you," I tell him.

He stares at the badge on my kutte. "Pit," he says, like the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "I don't owe nothing. I cleared all my debt."

"Greg, right?" I ask.

He sneers. "Well, son, if you aren't sure of my name, I certainly ain't gonna tell yah."

"Greg," calls the barman, and he groans, "don't forget to clear your tab before you leave or the boss will string me up."

I smirk. "Let me get that for you." I head back to the bar, pulling out my wallet. "What's he owe?"

"A tonne," he tells me, and I give a low whistle while I count the notes out and lay them on the bar. "For a week," he adds, shaking his head with disappointment.

"It's clear he's got a problem," I mutter. "Why do you keep serving him?"

"He goes way back with the landlord. Besides, when we refuse, he gets all aggressive, and we can't be arsed with the fight. Why you paying it anyway? Do you know him?"

I shake my head. "No." I place another two hundred on the bar. "What's the CCTV like in here?"

He glances around nervously. "It's not working."

"Is that for real, or are you lying to me?"

"For real. The boss don't like eyes everywhere. He's not exactly law abiding."

I slide the money closer. "We were never here, right?"

He scoops it. "My lips are sealed."

I head back over to the table. "One hundred, cleared."

"Who the fuck are you?" Greg spits.

"We're gonna go for a little walk," I say. "Get up."

"No fucking way," he snaps. "What do you want?"

"I have a message from Tessa," I say, heading for the door. "Bring him," I tell Atlas.

Seconds later, we're standing outside with Atlas gripping Greg's upper arm tightly. He steers him back towards his house.

Greg reluctantly unlocks the front door and the smell of shit hits us immediately. "What the hell is that?" asks Atlas, pulling his shirt up over his nose and shoving Greg into the house.

I do the same as we head inside. The place is a mess with refuse discarded carelessly on the floor amongst dog faeces. An elderly-looking pit bull stands when we enter the living room, and I give his head a stroke. He closes his eyes and nuzzles against me. He's underweight and covered in sores. "This dog needs to see a vet," I snap.

"I don't have the money for that," he replies, flopping into an armchair. "He's on his last legs anyway. So, what's that miserable cow have to say?"

"Do you remember Steven Kendal?" I ask, putting a cigarette in my mouth and lighting it. He watches me longingly.

"No."

I hold out the lit cigarette to him, and he goes to take it, but I pull it out of reach. "Think."

"The kid Tessa dated?"

"The kid you paid to date her," I correct.

He smiles, nodding. "That's right. She needed a good fuck to lighten up. Apparently, she was hard work and he got sick of her."

"Do you know he bullied her for years?"

"What's this all got to do with me?" Greg asks impatiently.

I take a long drag on the cigarette and slowly release the smoke into the air. "Cos when she told me about it, I got pissed."

"So?"

"And when I get pissed, I do stupid shit."

"Like turn up to her dad's place to whine?" he asks, smirking.

I pull out my blade and slam it into his chest without missing a beat. His eyes widen, and I lean in close to his ear. "No, like kill people," I whisper.

"Christ, Pit. A warning would've been nice," mutters Atlas.

"What's up, the sight of blood make you sick?" I ask with a grin. I withdraw the knife, and Greg grabs my wrist, trying to push me away as I drive it in a second time, straight into his cold heart. "Rest in hell, you sick fucker."

I clean my knife on his trousers and stick it back in my inside pocket. The dog is watching me with his big eyes, and I groan. "I'm on a bike," I tell him like he understands.

"We can't take that thing back," snaps Atlas.

"I can't leave it."

"He'll probably eat the guy's body and thrive," he says with a laugh.

"I can't let him eat that disgusting fucker. He's coming with us."

"How?"

"I'll sit him between my legs. We'll just have to keep stopping for breaks."

"Great," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "All this shit for a woman you ain't even claiming."

"This was my redemption for what I did to her," I admit, scooping the dog into my arms because he appears too weak to walk far.

"Let's hope she wasn't too attached to her dad," he mutters, following me out.