Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“You weren’t, Apple. You’re welcome to stay there as long as you like.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have my stuff out by the end of the day.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, trying to look relieved when I was dying inside. “All I want is two days’ worth of sleep and to be by myself. To get my wits back.” I gave her what I hoped was a tired, embarrassed smile. “Been a long year, honey.”
“Yeah. I guess it has.” She smiled again. “Well. Give me a few hours. I’ll have Wylde let you know when the place is ready.” A subtle jab? Yeah. Wylde would make my life miserable for sure. I wouldn’t blame him.
Sting had agreed to keep my situation to himself unless he had to get the Tzars involved. He’d given me the original mission, but I’d cut myself off from him when he’d tried to pull me out. Everything that happened later had been my own fault.
But it had been worth it. I had a lead on two cells in a sophisticated human trafficking highway. The end of that road was about three and a half hours or so south of Corpus Christi, Texas, in Mexico. Sting said we’d start there. After that, we’d backtrack the fuckers to the start. Then we’d shut them down for good.
Now, I had to live with the consequences of my actions. That meant giving up Apple. I’d sacrificed for my country before. For my club. But this was harder than anything I’d ever imagined.
As I watched Apple saunter out of the clubhouse, I stumbled backward, leaning against a pool table for several seconds before stomping out of the common room and up to my room in the clubhouse. Once in my room, I went to the window to look outside. I knew exactly which way Apple would go and my gaze found her unerringly.
She walked in the direction of the little house Sting had given to us, not hurrying, head held high. A queen surveying her kingdom. There was no outward sign she was hurting, but I could see it in every single step she took. I knew this woman better than I knew myself. I’d cut her to the bone. The wound would eventually heal, but the scar it left behind would never go away.
And I knew any chance I had at a happy ever after just walked out of my life. For good.
Chapter Two
Apple
Four Months Later
My ears rang and my chest and shoulder hurt like a motherfucker. Everything seemed like it was coming at me from inside a well. I groaned but it sounded like my ears were plugged full of cotton and all I could hear was myself. Being shot was a motherfucking bitch. Pain meds after being shot? Also a motherfucking bitch, but better than the pain. Except for not having my wits about me.
“Oh, God…”
“Easy, honey.” That voice was familiar. God, I needed out of this fog! Under other circumstances, I could see myself enjoying the feeling of floating, but I was hurting and I needed my whole brain engaged if I was going to go toe to toe with the one person I’d hoped never to see again as long as I lived.
“Go away.” It was all I could manage.
“Not until I’m sure you’re OK.”
“I’m fine. Go away.”
I didn’t hear anything for a long time. I thought maybe he’d done as I told him and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Instead, I felt a big, warm hand on my uninjured shoulder.
“Bullet’s on his way with some pain meds. Just hang in there for me.”
“No more meds.” I shook my head, but it just made everything worse. “No more fruit punch either.”
“Let Bullet decide what you need, honey. OK?” He didn’t acknowledge the fruit punch and I didn’t expound, but I’d found the combination of the pot-laced drink and opioids should never be a thing. It was fine as long as I was content to lie still and just enjoy the buzz, but there was no way I could function. And yeah. I might not have told Bullet I’d had the fruit punch in addition to the codeine he’d given me. My bad.
“As long as you go away.”
“Apple…”
“No, Deacon. I said go away. Leave. Now.” Even as I said it, my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. I couldn’t even see him properly. My vision seemed tunneled and more than a little blurry. I tried to tell myself that was great. The last thing I needed was to see him clearly. The man I was so in love with it hurt.
It was like an affliction. I didn’t want to love him. I wanted to hate him. Even knowing I’d never be what he wanted, I still loved him. I was afraid he’d be the only man I’d ever love and that, more than anything, terrified me.