“You’re putting goddamn words in my mouth,” I snapped.
“I’m not. You’re the one putting your fucking foot in it—”
“No, you asked me if you were a bitch because of what Scott said. I’m telling you that he was out of line, but you have to bear in goddamn mind, Rachel, that I might let you get away with murder but not everyone is as fucking forgiving as me—”
Fire flashed over her face.
A feat in and of itself.
Something only I was capable of.
To everyone else, she was like an ice queen.
Only I could make her defrost.
As much as her temper spun out of control, it lasted a bare second before it was immediately dampened down.
The usual ice made a reappearance, sliding over her like a screen that separated her emotions from her features.
Watching it was almost like magic.
I goddamn hated that magic.
I wanted that fire. I wanted to fucking burn in it. I was so goddamn tired of the ice. So sick of her defenses and her armor when she needed neither around me.
“Get. Out,” she said on an exhalation.
Gritting my teeth, I told her, “We’re only not together because of you, Rachel. You should be careful when you tell me to get out. One day, I might not come back.”
With that, I started to turn on my heel and stride off, but she grabbed my arm and growled, “Don’t you dare threaten me.”
I was careful around Rachel. Always had been. Even before some fucker had hurt her, I’d always measured my strength, always been aware that I never wanted my temper to ever lash out on her. But at that moment, it was hard.
So fucking hard.
My temper, always latched, started to flicker.
I could feel the burn as I snarled, “I don’t threaten, Rachel. I’m telling you the fucking truth.”
Before I could leave, she grabbed a hold of my cut and shoved her way into my space. When her mouth tried to collide with mine, I jerked back and hissed, “Go and get a vibrator, Rachel. I’m not your sex toy or your fucking punching bag.”
She jolted at my words, her eyes huge in her suddenly pale face.
I gave her a measured glance, my temper back under lock and key, and I left her to it.
I didn’t bother returning to the kitchen for food, didn’t even check my office for any mail Nyx might have left there. Nor did I head to my bedroom to crash—I just did as she’d originally asked.
I got the hell out of there.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
Did Nyx talk to you about Harlow?
Rachel
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
He did.
R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
Is that all the answer you’re going to give me?
Rachel
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
What did you expect?
R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
More?
Rachel
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
Here’s all the ‘more’ I have to give you—that ice around you is getting thicker, Rachel. I wonder if you can see that or if you’re blinkered and think it’s armor.
But let’s focus on business as usual because that’s so much easier than facing how much is fucking wrong between us.
Nyx did tell me about Harlow. Why are you asking? Do you have an update?
R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
You’re just going to ignore me now, Rachel? How very mature of you.
R
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re. Investigation
Fine, have it your way.
R
SIX
REX
CHRISTMAS EVE
“Rex?”
It took me a while to hear my name, my mind fixed firmly on whatever the hell was going on with Rach.
Replaying the scorching hot fuck from almost two weeks ago was better than thinking about the mess that was our last argument. I didn’t think it was a crime to focus on something that had brought me pleasure over something that had given me nothing but a fucking headache.
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw when another ‘Rex’ was hissed at me again, I turned to the doorway and found Maverick standing there, leaning against the door.
He did that a lot.
Lean against shit.
I wasn’t sure if that was because he could move around now and wasn’t used to it or if it was because the CTE he’d been diagnosed with fucked up his equilibrium, but I just tipped my chin up and got to my feet.
Because Dad was still in the ICU and had yet to wake up, even for a scant second like the doctors predicted, I had to leave the room then shuck out of all kinds of sterile gear.
As I undressed, I tried to shove my mind away from mine and Rach’s last email exchange and asked, “What is it?”
“You look rough, man.”
“Like you can fucking talk.”
His lips cocked up in a half-grin, but he turned to face the window that overlooked my dad’s room. As he did, the half-grin died.
I stared at the man who’d always been larger than life, who’d existed like a giant in my mind, but who was on the brink of death.
It wasn’t a new sight. This had been the status quo for far too long, but it was still impossible to compute.
It wasn’t just that I was like any kid facing the prospect of being orphaned, it was that this was Bear.
Goddamn Bear.
The Prez of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC.
A dominant force in our society for the past thirty fucking years.
No other MC existed on this side of New Jersey because of him.
He was the reason we were millionaires.
But he was fading, and soon, whatever those fucking doctors on his case said, he’d be dead.
A hand clasped my shoulder, squeezed, and I twisted back to look at my brother, demanding, “Why can’t Stone work on his case?”