I reply back to Hunter’s text, feeling a little lighter knowing I can stay focused now there are eyes on her.
“Was that Mackenzie?” Jesse leans over the cab of the van trying to check my phone like a fucking nosey old woman.
“Will you just watch the damn road?” I pocket my phone, close my eyes and rest back into the chair.
“Well, aren’t you in a chirpy mood tonight.” He scoffs when I don’t play along.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I keep my eyes closed and don’t fall for his bullshit. He’s right. I’m far from fucking chirpy. I had plans tonight. Plans that included my cock in Mackenzie’s pussy, maybe try to work her up a little more, have her coming on my face again. After her first orgasm last night that revealed a little something extra, I wasn’t able to get her back there. Instead, I’m stuck on a fucking run with Jesse.
“So how is everything with Mackenzie?” I tense, wondering if he knows, but relax when I realize there would be no way.
“Off limits.” He laughs at my reply, still not getting a clue. There’s no fucking way I would ever talk to this asshole about Mackenzie.
“So fucking whipped.”
“You really wanna go there, Jesse?” I counter, ready to pull every fucking thing he has done the last seven months since Bell’s been on the scene.
“I have no problem going there, Beau. Unlike you, I own it. Yes, I’m pussy whipped. I don’t give a fuck who knows it.” I ignore the smartass and start counting down the hours I have left with the fucker.
“The girls are having a night out next weekend,” he says after a few minutes.
“Why would I care?”
“Oh, didn’t Mackenzie tell you? She’ll be there too.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jesse, you’re starting to piss me off.” I don’t bite like he wants me to, but I store the info in the back of my mind to bring up later. I don’t give a fuck if Mackenzie goes out, but the club will have eyes on her. I still don’t trust her asshole ex. Even if it’s been over two months and there has not been one sighting of him. I’m just waiting for something to happen.
“Maybe she’ll pick up someone. I know a few of the guys around the club are keen on her.” Before he can add in another word, my left hand reaches out, grabbing him by the back of the neck.
“Seriously fucker, I’m about to kick you out and you can take your sorry ass home on your own.”
“I’m gonna fucking crash, asshole.” He laughs louder, rarely taking anything serious. I squeeze tighter, keeping my grip firm.
“Okay, I’ll quit it,” he relents. I give his neck one last squeeze before releasing him. I’m not fucking kidding. If he doesn’t quit it, he’s out.
He manages to keep quiet for another forty minutes before breaking the silence. Again.
“So, I’m thinking of asking Bell to marry me.” I let a few minutes pass to take in what he just said before commenting.
“You sure you’re ready?” It’s not like I want to question his reasons, but Bell and Jesse just dealt with some major shit. The last thing they need to be doing is rushing into marriage.
“She’s the one. There’s no one else for me.” He sounds so sure and I don’t want to be an asshole, but I ask anyway.
“How do you know?” It hasn’t even been a year. They’ve only lived together for a short time. Hell, Mackenzie and I’ve almost been living together for the same amount of time.
“Fuck you’re such a cynic. Of course you don’t believe in love, Beau.”
“Didn’t say I don’t believe in love. I just think giving yourself over to it is dangerous.” I shrug, not shy in sharing my thoughts.
“Dangerous? How so?”
“It hooks you with ties stronger than death, Jesse. You of all people can understand that.” I give it to him straight. The man just lost his father this year. He should fucking get it.
“Jesus, Beau. Bit fucking deep, even for you.”
“It’s the fucking truth. I’m not saying you don’t love Bell. But are you ready to hand it all over, knowing if anything ever happened, it would hurt more than anything?”
“Hey, maybe it’s flawed and complex to you, Beau. But it’s not just one layer. It’s multiple fucking layers. Not giving yourself over to it because later it might hurt makes no sense. Death can’t cancel it out because it’s fucking pure. It cancels everything else out.” I don’t respond right away, my mind still trying to catch up that I’m having this conversation with Jesse.
It takes me a while to respond, my head still trying to process it from a different point of view. “The fuck you come up with this shit, Jesse?”
“I’m in love, brother. When you know, you know.” His deep laugh resonates from within him and fills the van.
“If you say so.” I shake my head and rest back in my chair. The next time he asks me a question, I pretend to be asleep. He’s already schooled me enough tonight. I don’t need him to know I was already affected by it.
We pull into the clubhouse early the next morning. After picking up the woman in Henderson, we drove her back to Rushford and set her up in one of the safe houses we have here. She will stay there for a week before we move her again with a new identity.
“The gate’s open,” I say aloud, but more to myself than anything.
“Maybe Nix is in.” Jesse sits up a little straighter. Both of us on alert. I know Nix said he would lock up after we left, so the gate being open puts me on edge.
“At five in the morning?” I pull out my cell and bring Nix’s name up. Jesse opens his door and walks toward the gate, pushing it fully open so I can drive through.
“Yeah,” Nix grumbles, coming out of sleep.
“You at the clubhouse?”
“No, why?” His voice becomes more alert at the mere question.
“Front gate is open.”
“I left after you took the van out. Locked that shit up tight ‘cause no one was in.”
“Nix?” Kadence’s whisper comes through the line.
“Shh, go back to sleep, babe.” I hear rustling and I know he’s moving through the house. “Check it out and call me back.” He hangs up as Jesse gets back in the van.
“Got your gun on you?” I ask, knowing he probably does.
“Yep.” He reaches for his gun as I pull up just short of the club parking lot.
“You carrying?” he asks, checking the chamber, the click and release ringing out between us.
“Yep. You take the front. I’ll take the back.” I put the van in park, both of us pushing our doors open and moving out.
I reach for my gun and watch Jesse head swiftly toward the front door. He clicks his tongue, pointing to the busted lock on the front door. I nod, bringing my gun up and walk around to the back of the clubhouse.
Instantly I’m alert, ready to act. The back door has been smashed in with a chair, shards of glass both inside and out. It cracks under my feet as I gently lift the chair out of my way and step over the debris and into the clubhouse. I walk through quietly. The rooms are dark with the sun not up, but I continue to clear each room as I go.
The place has been ransacked, both sofas are shredded, the top of the pool table sliced. The bar has been smashed up, every bottle cracked over the Oakwood countertop with shards of glass and liquid everywhere. It’s a complete fucking mess.
I catch movement to my left, and I clock Jesse clear the front hallway. He looks up, his gun still trained in front of him. I point to my right, signaling for him to go first toward the bedrooms.
He nods once and then steps forward. We search each room one by one. They show signs of being torn up. Beds slashed, mirrors smashed, furniture thrown across each room. The dirty fuckers even pissed on some of the beds. Fucking hell.
After we clear every room, we meet back out front in the main area.
“Jesus Christ. Cunts pissed on my bed.” Jesse kicks at one of the broken stools.
“What a fucking mess.” I look around. I wouldn’t even know where to start.