Page 6 of Cries of Cassie

I do as Bash says while he looks around the shadowed parking lot. He isn't acting like we're in danger, more like he's looking for something. "Is something wrong?"

"Just trying to find the answer to my questions." Before I can open my mouth to ask what the hell he's talking about, he pins me with a stare. It's intense even through the visor of the helmet. "Interesting how the guy you were dancing with disappeared huh?"

Cocking my hip, I plant my hands on my waist. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing at all," he replies mysteriously, having heard my muffled voice. "Let's go."

Bash turns away from me and straddles the seat. When he beckons me toward him with a raised eyebrow, I follow suit and swing my leg over.

The roar of his motorcycle coming to life excites me just as much as it makes my gut roil with guilt. This is how I feel every time Jake drives me around too. Riding on the back of my gay best friend's motorcycle is purely platonic, yet it feels wrong. There's only one man I should be holding onto as I fly through the city streets.

Each flash of a street lamp across Bash's body reminds me this isn't what I want. I'm thankful when he doesn't nudge me closer or wrap my arm around his stomach. At least he trusts me enough to just hold on to his shirt.

I know how to ride and almost how to drive. It feels like second nature, but I can't enjoy it.

The ride home takes less than ten minutes, but it feels like hours. I kept worrying that Maddox would see. What would he do? He'd have to care about me riding with Bash, and it's more than likely that he wouldn't give two shits.

"Thanks for bringing me home," I tell Bash and push his helmet at him like it's burning my hands.

He grunts out, "You're welcome." I turn around. Just before he puts it on his head where it belongs, he parts with a warning. "You be careful. Men don't like being taunted and messed with."

Rage shoots up my spine and hellhounds nip at my heels to kick his fucking ass, but Bash is already speeding off down the road. "Motherfucker," I growl and stomp into my apartment building.

The Shadows don’t know about me and Maddox. Bash is probably just making a guess about whatever trouble he thinks I’m in. Or maybe he just thinks I’m trouble.

I don't see anything or smile back at my neighbors. I'm completely stuck on the fact that Bash thinks it's me who's messing with someone.

Maddox is the problem here, not me!

Like a dog, I grumble and pout through my bedtime routine. Unable to stop myself from slamming the cupboards, I work myself up even more. So much so that I don't think I'll be able to get any sleep tonight.

I may be closer to snapping than I thought...

Chapter Four

Parker (Spider)

Ireally should be paying attention. Church is being held far more frequently lately than it has in the past.

The undercurrent of stress with Maddox's cousin is driving us all to be more aware. Not me. At least not in the way everyone else is strategizing for the club. We need to figure out how the hell we get out of the ruse we've built with the rival club—Chain Smokers. Stupid fucking name.

Maddox is fed up with faking all the illegal shit his cousin pressures him to do. We're not fucking criminals. It's annoying having to act like we are just to keep the fucked up peace between our clubs.

Maddox and Victor were friendly enough as kids, especially because their fathers were both MC presidents. I'm not sure what exactly happened, and I've been with our Shadows MC since I was born, but something changed Victor.

A slow deterioration of Victor's morals made him the monster he is today. A demon who wants nothing more than for Maddox to be his partner in crime. Literally.

Maddox doesn't have an evil bone in his body though. Sure, he's a dominant asshole who's in charge of a lot of other dominant assholes, but he would never do the shit Victor does. We don't even dabble in drugs, not that Victor knows that.

It's becoming harder and harder to fake our friendship with the Chain Smokers. The one time Maddox told him we wouldn't do the shit their fathers did sent his cousin on a rampage. That was at the beginning of our presidency.

We lost four good men and one old lady.

Seven years later, we're still playing up the ruse that we learned our lesson. Let Victor think we treat women like shit while running drugs and guns for a living. Except now, we're stronger and smarter, and we have the trust of our brothers to back us up.

It's time we split and take the fucker down. Maybe if Victor was only running drugs and weapons, we'd leave him be, but we draw the line at trafficking. That's a fuck no.

So I should be listening to the plans and new threats the men have found, but I have a personal problem I'm battling. Why the hell did Ripley come home at three in the morning today looking ready to murder someone?