Wrath (26 page)

Aidan

I needed to loosen the bolt and pull the brake show off, then I needed to remove the rotor. I took pride in my work. It was some of the easiest shit in the world but it was rewarding, a series of steps all leading to a better end result.

It was a job, and one that needed doing.

I focused on that, and that alone as I turned my wrench. The metal turning in my hand, doing exactly what I needed. That was the thing about cars, and bikes, and tools. They did exactly what you wanted, and when they didn’t, you could get a new part to fix it, or you could junk it and just get a whole new car.

You couldn’t do that to your head or your heart. And both of mine were royally fucked up.

So I shut down, focused on tasks that needed completing. I turned the wrench and closed my brain.

Left to loosen. Right to tighten.

When my family died, I had closed my mind and focused on my work. There had been plenty of shit to do – studying at Ft. Hood after basic, and then wrench-turning out there in the desert.

These days, I sometimes felt like I was back in Afghanistan. I was under cars all day, not talking, just working. Not all of Afghanistan had been desert, and some of it – like the stuff we did at HQ – had felt surprisingly like being back in the states.

Rage stopped into the garage and patted the hood of the car to get my attention. “You’re here early. You want tomorrow’s shift?”

Layla probably wanted to know. She did the scheduling.

I had been coming in early every damn day. I’d realized that if ‘heartbreak’ sucked, it did at least make me productive as hell.

Since shit had gone down at the clubhouse, things had gotten relatively calm. Rage and Strike were still swapping information, and Hawk had become a hell of a lot more cooperative lately. Kid’s mouth never shut, but he was a bright one.

The rest of us ran patrols, and I worked in the garage. The bored housewives still came, and I still fixed their cars, but these days their watching eyes just made me feel tired.

My days were full of all the stuff I did to stay away from Emma. I avoided Kat’s like the plague, running my patrols on the other side of our territory. If I wanted a drink, I bought the shit and took it back to my room. My sheets were starting to smell of bourbon where it bled out in my sweat at night.

Watching anyone else make me a drink, even at the clubhouse bar, caused my throat to tighten. Every time, I got so angry it hurt.

Or maybe that was it. Maybe it just fucking hurt.

“Yeah, I’ll pick the hours.” I answered Rage.

“Hey, what about me? You think he might’ve been asking me?” Thrash asked, hitting his socket wrench against the exhaust of the car he was under.

I snorted. “You really going to say yes to extra work?”

Thrash had a shit-ton of other shit he had to do when his shift was over, and he wasn’t drowning in booze and work these days. Hurrah for him.

“No,” he said. “I’m busy, got some shit tonight.”

“What, a poetry reading?’ Rage asked.

“Slam, man. Fuck you.”

Rage and I both laughed, but more out of discomfort anything else. Education was something we made fun for a lotta reasons. Yeah, we got it could get you places, and you’d be able to read fancier stuff, but Rage and I didn’t have those credentials. We weren’t dumb and we didn’t appreciate any assholes acting like we were, but we’d never been college, that was for damn sure.

I wasn’t afraid of the place, or the learning. I just didn’t have time for it. Emma, I’d been able to encourage. She came from nothing and she was good at the stuff. She’d never thrown it in my face, either.

But Thrash? Thrash wasn’t just smart. He was book-smart. He could haul a piece and fix a car like we could, but he also walked around with bricks of paper, handling the damn things as if they were women.

So we teased the shit outta him.

Thrash was used to it.

“What’re you doing for patrols tonight?” Rage asked me later.

“Pitcarin.” It was in the opposite direction of the club, of Emma, and that was how I wanted to keep it. The further I was from her, the better. If she wanted nothing to do with me, that was the best I could do for her.

“You ain’t even gonna try and talk to her?” Thrash asked from under his car.

“Fuck, man, did I ask your opinion? Either one of you?” I barked, instantly sour.

It was out of line. They both outranked me, and I knew that. But I didn’t want to talk about this shit.

“Watch it, man. We’re just worried. You’ve been under there turning wrench for days.”

Thrash leaned out. “You even sleeping?” His tone was gruff.

We could all give each other shit. I was just the one who was most pissed these days.

“Sorry, man. I just... can’t think about that right now.”

Yeah, I felt shit. But I wasn’t going to stand around and talk about it. No way in hell. I’d figure it out myself.

Hell, even thinking sucked these days. Emma was the only thing I thought about, and so I tried not to fucking think.

Sometimes  I was sure I’d just pushed her too hard. Other times? Well, she made her choice. I wasn’t it.

I spend years with my mouth shut, turning my damn wrench. I’d recovered from losing my fucking leg. I could live like this. I’d done it before.

All I needed was the club, these men, and my job.

That was the most important thing. I had to believe that. I had to tell myself that. Even though every time I closed my eyes I saw her. Angry and afraid. She wanted me to stop putting myself in the way of danger. I was glad she wanted me to stick around but she was living in a fantasy. It didn’t matter what you did, there was always something that could kill you. You had to face it, fight it, flirt with it. Sometimes you threw yourself against the promise of death just to show it who was boss. And when you did that shit, well… There was always a chance death would win.

Come to think of it…

“You hear from Strike?” I asked glancing up at Rage from my place on the pavement.

“Yeah, I did. Shit ain’t good for him. Got an uphill battle to take over his family’s position. Donal pissed off a lot of guys. I dunno how much we’ll see of them.”

Rage seemed slightly uncomfortable with it but he shrugged. “New guy, some asshole by the name of Alan McDoogal’s already reached out to me. Wants us to pick up a few of their patrols. I’ll bring it up at church. Best to stay on the right side of things.”

Had a feeling we’d be having a real interesting talk about that later.

“Alright, stop your gabbing and get back to work.” Thrash said to Rage.

Rage pegged him with a dirty rag.

Watching them made it real obvious – I was cut, but my ties weren’t that thick. I’d never had many close friends. Never known anyone long enough for that. Emma had been the nearest thing to a friend I’d had. It had felt great, but it was just confusing, thinking about it now.

How could two people fuck like that and still be friends?

How could a woman ever get what I had to do?

I had a lifetime of shit telling me I’d been crazy to get so close to her. But I wanted her and what we’d had back anyway…

I shook my head and got back to work. I was used to this downward spiral and I’d figured out what to do about it. Just like with the nightmares, even if I couldn’t fix it, I could deal with it.

Sometimes you couldn’t replace the car. If she still worked, you kept her. Dealt with her little issues. You didn’t trash a classic just because she had some damage.

I shut out the thought of Emma and grunted.

I
still worked. I couldn’t just quit and wait for my life to be replaced. I’d deal with my shit. I’d patch my life up and keep going.

So while Rage had his lady to go home to, and Thrash had his books to keep him steady, I just kept turning my wrench.

And turning. And turning…

Emma

“What the fuck you think you’re doing? You trying to kill my fucking sergeant-at-arms?”

Rage had entered the club. He stormed towards me, not bothering to lower his tone. He was a little pissed, but mostly he was just worried.

I’d stayed out of their hair. Tried to respect their need to keep doing their thing. But I worked at Kat’s. They protected Kat’s. And the place was full to the tits of exactly that – tits and ass. So I still saw a lot more of Fire and Steel than I wanted to.

I hadn’t seen Aidan. I didn’t fool myself into thinking that meant he missed me, or that he wasn’t getting something elsewhere. I just tried to feel grateful that at least he hadn’t been a prick about it. At least he hadn’t come in here with a roll of ones to rub it all in my face...

Missing him hurt, but at least I could respect him for not being a dick.

“What would you like, Cullen?” I asked as I stared at the MC Prez. I was trying to keep my expression neutral. The MC still left me tips and I still had a year of college left to cover. Hissing and spitting at them just wasn’t worth it.

Aidan had chosen them over me. That was just how it was.

I told myself all of this, but seeing Rage tied up in knots. I wanted to ask how Aidan was doing. I wanted to send him back with a strongly worded note. I wanted to throw a glass and refuse to serve him or any of them.

But none of it would make me feel any better. And it would just make everything a hell of a lot worse.

I hadn’t slept in days. I was exhausted and hurting. But I wasn’t going to let anyone else know that.

Rage slapped the counter and ordered a Yeungling. As I pulled the draft, he looked on either side of him, sneering at the men. They got his drift, getting up and finding a place to sit, elsewhere.

Then he wheeled around on me. “You didn’t answer my question, woman. You trying to kill him? Turn him into an animal?”

So he wasn’t doing so well. That was his problem.

“I don't have any control -” I started, but Rage cut me off.

“Oh, bullshit. I know you left his ass, and I know you are acting like he doesn’t mean shit to you.”

“He gave me an ultimatum,” I ground out, struggling not to break his glass as I put it in front of him.

Rage just shook that off. “Look at you! You got bags under your eyes like you’re an old babushka. You aren’t doing any better than he is.” Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

Layla had been calling me, too – and Desiree. I hadn’t called them back. I didn’t want to talk about it. Really, I didn’t want them to try to talk me into just going with it.

He’d given me an ultimatum: accept the club or get the hell away from him. And he’d called me ‘bitch.’

I’d heard some women didn’t mind that, but I hated that. And to tell the truth, it wasn’t the word that bugged me. It was the fact that my man had said it to hurt me. He’d used it to try to ‘put me in my place.’ To put me down.

I didn’t care what anyone else thought. I loved that man, but I wasn’t about to let him kick me around.

“I can’t be involved in this shit,” I told Rage. “The club’s too much for me.”

“What do you mean, ‘too much’? Do we deal drugs?”

“No –”

“Do we cheat our women? Do we cheat anyone?”

“No?”

“No. Are we pimps? Do we traffic women? Kids? No.” His eyes were flashing like hell, and I backed away from the counter. He really was pissed. “No. We don’t. And for the rest of it? You think we don’t do the same as anyone else? Baby, we are cleaner than the fucking politicians, and we’re more respectable than most of those fancy-dressed business men. The shit that’s gone down, it ain’t your man’s fault. It ain’t even ours. We got caught up in bad shit, and that’s over now.”

I shook my head. “He’s not ‘my man’ anymore,” I muttered.

I wanted him so bad I was itching for him. I ached for those hands in a way that made me understand my mother a little too well.

Don’t let a man control you
…

“He’s your man and you’re his woman,” Rage snapped staunchly. “You’re both just being idiots. This shit is not this complicated.”

“I, I don’t know. I can’t think.”

“You don’t need to think. You love him, right? You’re a tough woman, Emma. Hell, you guys don’t let anyone else stop you. So why are you two doing this shit to yourselves?”

I didn’t have an answer to that.

He took the beer and stood up. “Where’s Kat?”

“I think she’s in her office.”

“Good. She and I need to have a little chat. Have a good night, Emma.” If his voice was a little snappish, I was too dazed to notice.

He walked away from me, a beer in his hand, all casual. Like he hadn’t just thrown a bomb into my world.

So Aidan really was miserable without me? A part of me loved that. Wanted to know it. Needed to know it. He needed me, too. He’d chosen his club, but he couldn’t just enjoy.

It felt like justice. It felt like power. It felt like I could go to him and draw him out. But he still wouldn’t leave. I remembered the way he had craved me, the way he had looked at me when he said ‘I love you.’ My chest hurt just thinking about it. But he was never going to leave Fire and Steel.

And that was the part that made me completely miserable. Because even all that love and desire couldn’t fix the problem.

“Miss?
Miss
?”

A man at the end of the bar was calling for me, but I held up on my hand.

“I’m on a break, hon.” I crossed the bar and headed out the back of the club.

I needed air. Now.

I let the cool night air wash over me as I took breath after breath, trying to let the pain go, but I’d never been good at doing that on my own.  I was strong and smart in so many ways, but there were some things that I always struggled with. Making sense of impossible problems was one of those things.

I saw Aidan’s ultimatum as a wall. I could walk on one side or the other. If someone told me I had to be on both sides, it confused me.

It might bug Aidan too, but I knew him too well. Frustrate him and he would just break down the wall.

There
. Problem solved.

I grinned wryly. Maybe that was the real reason I was mad. The fight I could deal with. And I’d never let him boss me around for long. No, what had bugged me was that I couldn’t figure out how to fix myself. In my mind, the MC was either good or bad. I could see it as both, but living? That had been overwhelming and terrifying and confusing. I hated being scared. I hated not knowing what to do even more.

So I’d gotten angry… Because I’d wanted him to fix it for me.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. Not by himself. The more time had passed, the more I’d started feeling like maybe it would take both of us to fix this. But I had been sure Aidan had shut me out.

Rage’s words meant more to me than he realized.

I pulled out my cellphone and dialed his number. I thought a hundred times of hanging up in those ten seconds, but when I got his voicemail, I just spoke.

“Aidan. I need you. Need to see you. I want to talk. It’s Emma. Please.” I could barely get through the phone call before the tears started welling up in my eyes.

I needed him.

I knew he missed me, but I didn’t know if he would be willing to work this out with me. The problem wasn’t going to just go away, no matter how much I wanted it to.

I could do so much on my own, but I needed his help now.