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“I was enjoying that,” I mumble.
“Girl, I’ll make you another one. But first tell me everything.”
“Need me to stand guard?” Creed offers as I gather my essential toiletries for my turn with the shower.
“No. I’ll be fine. Go figure out our sleeping arrangements.”
“All right, beautiful. You need anything. Just call my name. I’ll come running.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it.” He presses his lips to my forehead, then waits for me to close the bathroom door and once inside, I lock it behind me. He’s always doing that. Touching his lips to my head before he walks away. It’s sweet.
I’m not taking any chances even if these Arkansas guys appear friendly and hospitable. They are riding the rest of the leg to California with us. Creed said that the RBMC may patch over to the Kings of Anarchy. I don’t know what that means exactly. I’ve overheard my brother and Smoke talking about it a few times but usually tuned out because I didn’t need a reminder that club business is just that. I stack my clean towels from my new friend on the shelf behind the toilet and place my bag on the sink.
I didn’t grow up in the club life like Low did. She’s crazy. Completely nuts, like Pam and Sabrina. My hearts squeezes at the thought of my bestie. I miss her silly antics and wonder if she and Jimmy are settling into their new place.
Texting her would be the polite thing to do. The wound from her dig at my breakup with Smoke is still too fresh. Too tender. Resting the urge to be the first to reach out, I distract myself with a much-needed shower. After being on the road the past two days, I’m grimy as can be.
“Can we talk?” Smoke corners me as I’m exiting the bathroom.
“I don’t have anything to say. You made how you feel about me crystal clear when I saw you with your dick shoved down Angel’s throat.”
“I fucked up.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Smoke. You showed me who you really are. I can’t really fault you for that. I guess I should be thanking you.”
“If you think Creed is going to be any better…”
“That’s the difference. He’s honest about who he is. And Creed doesn’t owe me anything. He’s not my man. I made the mistake of believing you when you said you were. At least he’s got the balls to tell me if he wants to fuck someone else.”
I shove past him, and he jerks me back with the belt loops of my shorts.
“Let me go.”
“I’m sorry, babydoll.” He pulls me against him. My back is to his front.
“Are you sorry you hurt me or that you got caught?”
“Both. I was weak and stupid. Was pissed at you.”
“Right. Well, you should know that when Creed took me home, he fucked me in your bed.”
“Jesus, Ember. Wanted to hurt me, you fuckin’ succeeded.” He releases me and storms past me.
Chasing after Smoke is the last thing I should do, but here I am, running down the steps and trying to keep him from fighting with Creed.
“Smoke, stop,” I yell. Loud enough that everyone stops what they are doing to stare at me.
My brother exits his tent, and I run to him.
“You’ve gotta stop him. He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, his tone and expression both dripping with pure irritation as he rushes after Smoke.
“You motherfucker,” Smoke shouts as he charges Creed, taking both him and our tent down.
I watch in horror as they go rolling, punches flying from each of them.
