Epiphany (6 page)

Straightening my clothes and spine, I march to the main entrance, as nervous as I’ve
ever been. I’m not exactly sure if I’m allowed to be here without Skylar bringing
me. This is as good a time as any to find out, I guess.

As soon as I’m through the threshold, I’m met by four met instead of the usual one.
A sense of unease envelops me as they begin to search through my belongings. Being
an old lady, the girlfriend or wife of a club member, has always afforded you certain
rights—rights to not have a rather large burly looking man rifle through your tampons
in search of a grenade launcher.

Once all my lady products are put back in their respective places and my purse is
tucked snuggly between my arm and body, I continue into the clubhouse, feeling slightly
violated. I keep moving straight to the bar, where Kimmy, Prowler’s wife, is nursing
her beer.

“Hey,” I say, taking the stool next to hers.

“Hey yourself.
Lance, get this girl a beer. Looks like she needs one,” Kimmy hollers to the bartender,
raising her head only once to acknowledge my presence.

I wave my hand at Lance, declining the beer and move closer toward her.

“Kim?” I question. Sad, defeated eyes meet mine. I’ve never seen her as anything
but happy and cheerful. This new, depressed version of her breaks my heart, but fills
me with hope. Maybe, just maybe, my Hooligan isn’t the only douche in the canoe.

“It’s Maddie, isn’t it?” she slurs, not taking her eyes off the brown tinted bottle
in front of her.
Who the hell is Maddie?

“Kimmy, I don’t know …” I’m cut off when a large, strong hand comes down on my shoulder,
squeezing lightly. Not enough to inspire any fear within me, but just firm enough
to lend some comfort, though I’m not sure why.

“Babe, how about you head upstairs. You look like you could use some rest,” Prowler
softly says to his wife, kissing the top of her head. He may look like a scary man,
but with Kimmy, who everyone around here calls Kinky, he melts into a puddle of mush.

She obliges, a tight smile on her lips, she stumbles slightly on her journey to the
stairs.
Extra security, a drunk, sad Kinky and an over protective Prowler?
Something weird is going on around here … everywhere. The whole world and everyone
in it has lost their damn minds. I’m starting to think I’m the only one with any
sense left.

“What ‘cha doing here, Mira? Axe isn’t around.” Prowler’s voice comes across distant
but not punishing. Maybe I am allowed to be here without Skylar?

“I was going to have some time with my mom, but she’s busy. I just wanted to stop
by to see if Axe wanted to grab a bite before I head home,” I lie. I must say, I’m
getting better at this whole lying thing. Also, I really hate calling Skylar by his
club name. I know
it’s
protocol around these parts, but it feels so … impersonal. Sky’s explained to me
before the need for a road name, but I think it’s stupid as shit. There’s nothing
in life that you should be doing, especially if you’re an
adult, that
requires a secret identity. As far as I can tell, there’s no Batman around here,
ridding the world of crime and violence.

“He should be back within the hour, if you wanna hang out and wait,” he replies, holding
up one finger, requesting a drink from Lance.

“Nah.
Thanks, though. I’m hungry. Gonna grab something from the Coney and head home.
Tell him I came by so he knows I tried to feed him,” I joke. Turning to a more serious
note, I ask, “What’s wrong with Kimmy? She seems off. Not like her.”

“Just a rough few days,” he responds, brushing off my question, taking a long pull
from the beer Lance brought over. The poor guy didn’t even get a chance for it to
hit the bar top before Prowler’s guzzled damn near the entire bottle.

“She said something about Maddie. Do you know who Maddie is?” I ask, no time for
small talk, hoping he’s a loose lip drinker. Kimmy’s words ring loudly in my ears,
begging for the answer that
Prowler interrupted. Prowler turns back to face me, a hint of possessiveness hidden
deep within his almost black eyes.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he says, seemingly unhappy with my probing. It’s confirmed.
Prowler is not a secret spiller. He’s locked up tighter than a vault and I’m pretty
sure I’ve worn out my welcome.

“Sorry. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair. Have Axe call me when he gets back.”
Fumbling with my purse, I stand and head straight for the door as quickly as my legs
will carry me without looking like a fool.

Who am I kidding? I look completely ridiculous and I can’t get out of here quick
enough.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Skylar

One thing’s for sure—pulling through the clubhouse gates,
Mira’s car is the last thing I expect to see. Throwing my truck in park, I grab
my phone from the cup holder and check for missed calls, texts or anything to give
me some indication why she’s here when I’m not.

Nothing.

There’s no standing rule that she can’t be here without me, but I don’t need any of
these guys sniffing around my girl. Brother or not, if someone’s touched Mira, I’ll
just flip my shit.

I’m barely through the first set of doors when my favorite brunette runs straight
into me like a bat outta hell.

“Funny seeing you here,” I joke, backing up to assess her mood.
Not happy, not one bit.

Over her head, Prowler’s shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. This
isn’t gonna be good. If she’s done something to piss him off, it’s going to be me
that
has
to clean up the mess and make it right. Not exactly what I need right now. Especially
with everything else going on here and at home.

“I came to see if you wanted to get some food,” Mira mutters, not making eye contact.

Caught.
I told you.
Terrible liar.
She’s here checking up on me.

“Well, let’s go eat, then,” I turn to head back outside, but she doesn’t budge. Not
even a single inch. Feet planted firmly in place and eyes looking in every direction
but at me, I soften my voice and try to figure out the problem—exactly what happened
here tonight.

“What’s wrong?” I place my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me. Did
something happen with her mom today? Is she not happy about us being engaged? At
this point, the possibilities are endless until Mira starts talking.

“I’m not really hungry anymore. I’d rather just go home.”

“What happened?” I pull her closer, glancing over her head in Prowler’s direction,
searching for any reason why she’s acting like this. He’s giving me nothing, not
even acknowledging me glaring at him. Did someone touch her? Is she hurt? I pull
her back again, still in my arms, looking her up and down, searching for bruises,
marks, anything… but there’s nothing. Whatever’s bothering her is bottled up on the
inside.

“Nothing.
I just wanna go home,” she whines.

“Bullshit,” I respond. Her head snaps to attention, face flushed with embarrassment
and eyes flashing anger, she glares at me like I just found out she couldn’t lie to
save her life. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Not here,” she whispers, trying to wiggle out of my hold. Seeing my golden opportunity,
I grab her hand and pull her into the parking lot. This isn’t the ideal place to
have any kind of conversation, but it’ll have to do.

“Okay.
Go,” I urge, wanting her to tell me so I can fix whatever it is.

“Where were you? I went to the shop, so don’t try to say you were there. Not here,
either, until just now, obviously. So, where were you?”

Remember that old phrase, “Cat got your tongue?” Well, I get it now. I’m incapable
of thinking, let alone verbalizing where I’ve been. I had been thinking as long as
nobody hurt her, I would be able to handle whatever upset her. This isn’t going to
go over well.

“Are you checking up on me?” Maybe if I turn it around on her, it might buy me some
time. I hate the idea of lying to her, but this is something that’s beyond what she
can comprehend right now.

“And if I say yes?” she responds, hip cocked out with a hand firmly attached.
Shit
! I should have seen this from a mile away. I really thought I had time before she’d
figure something was off.

“If you say yes, I’d like to know why.” Maybe it’ll be something I can easily explain
away?

“You never answered me. Where were you?” she asks again, not letting it go, “And
while you’re trying to manipulate an answer to that question, you should start thinking
of who the hell Maddie is, because she’s next on my list.”
Nope. Fuck.

Maddie?
How the fuck does she
know
about Maddie?
Prowler?
No, he wouldn’t have told her.
So how?

“I was handling some business today. Maddie is nothing to worry about. You’re just
gonna have to trust me on this one,” I answer honestly, bracing myself for her reaction.

“I shouldn’t have to trust shit. You should tell me these things so we can work through
them together. That’s what this is,” she screams, motioning her hand between us,
shoving her left hand in my face, reminding me that she’s wearing my ring. Like I’d
ever for one second forget.

“Listen,” I look at her sternly, not wanting to upset her further, but she’s going
on and on about nothing important. I was already guilty in her mind before she even
opened her mouth. I hate keeping her at arms’ length, but some things are better
that way. “It’s club business. I can’t be the guy to go home and tell his girl everything.
You’re gonna have to get used to it. Sometimes it’s gonna be club business, and you’re
gonna have to trust me!” I yell back, pounding my fist on my chest. “If you love
me the way you say you do, you have to have faith in me.”

She rolls her eyes, which infuriates me further, cocking her other hip and matches
my expression.
“And Maddie?”

“Mi, club business.”

“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” she cries, pulling the hair tie from her pony tail
only to smooth her locks back and re-tie it in a new bun.

“You kind of did when you accepted my ring and my patch.” I try to close the distance
and put my arms around her waist, but I’m quickly denied when she backs up, body flush
against her car. “Mira, don’t. Just don’t.”

“Are you sleeping with her? Maddie?” she whispers, head tucked into her chest.

“You know me better than that.” My frustration level’s through the roof. I need
her to just … understand and stop this nagging shit. She’s never been a nagger, I
don’t get where all of this is coming from. There’s never been one single time I’ve
given her a reason to doubt me. Trust should be automatic at this point.

“But you didn’t deny it. I’m going home. We can finish this later.” She opens the
driver door, climbs into her seat and cranks over the engine.

“It’s gonna be a late night.” I search her eyes that peer up at me for any kind of
compassion or understanding, but
am met with only cold indifference.

“It’s not like I expect you to actually come home at a decent hour, Skylar.” She
slams the door shut and pulls out of the lot.

I’m left standing in a cloud of her dust, staring at her brake lights disappearing
on the other side of the gate. The pain between my eyes is almost unbearable. I
get why Prowler was pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s the only thing that seems
to soothe the headache that’s starting to form.

After a ten minute internal debate … weighing my options—go chasing after Mira or
handle my business—I walk back into the clubhouse. Prowler’s coming down the stairs,
heading for the bar where I’m sitting, looking frustrated as well. Taking the seat
next to me, he orders a shot of Jameson.

“How’s she doing?” he asks with genuine concern.

“She’ll be fine. Just a little pissed right now.” I hope, anyway.

“Mira’s not who I was talking about, but it’s good to know.” His brazen comment annoys
me and I almost punch him square in the jaw. Counting to ten in my head, I wait until
I can talk without a raised, disrespectful voice.

“How did she find out about Maddie?” I inquire, already knowing he’s not the culprit,
but hopefully he knows who the loud mouth belongs to.

“When she first got here, she was at the bar with Kimmy. Don’t know how much they
talked. I went upstairs to ask her but she’s already passed out cold. This is all
hitting her like a cement truck.”

“Shit. Okay. I just got questioned like a fucking criminal out there.”

“Why don’t you just tell her then?
Seems like you’re creating unnecessary problems for yourself and your relationship.”
Oh,
now
you care about my relationship? He’s got this surrogate dad thing down—makes a lot
of sense sometimes, others, he’s a walking contradiction.

“If anything in the situation goes south, and I have to do something foul, I don’t
want any of this touching Mira. Not for one second do I want her involved.”

“I get it. I do. But you have to give her some reason to believe in you. Nobody
said this life would be easy, but it’s the one we’ve got—we’ve chosen this. You have
to show her that she can still trust you even when what you’re doing is less than
honorable and without knowing every detail.”

“Yeah.
Okay. Let’s just finish up so I can get home and smooth things out with Mira.”

“How is the other one?”

“She’s good. She was settled when I left.
Maybe happy even.
I’ll go back tomorrow and check in on her again. She seems to like having someone
around. She didn’t open up much, but I got a feeling that it won’t take long to crack
her shell.”