His eyes searched mine. “You won’t like what you find there, Carla.”
I held my breath. “Maybe you should let me decide that for myself.”
He continued to watch me and I wished I knew him enough to have an inkling of what thoughts were running through his mind. Instead, it was as if we were suspended in a space where I didn’t know which way to jump, and so I was left hanging, waiting for him to give me something.
Anything.
Up until that point, I had never really pushed him for much.
Maybe it’s time to push.
I tightened my hold on his face. “Tell me the one thing I wouldn’t like if I dug deep in your mind.”
I held my breath again.
Waiting.
Hoping.
His body tensed and his jaw clenched.
He forced a long breath out.
“I killed my own grandfather. With my bare hands. And I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.” His words came out in a grunt. Feral almost.
We stared at each other while his words smothered us with darkness.
“Why?”
He grunted and moved to straddle me. “Why did I kill him or why would I do it again?”
“Why to all of that. Tell me. I know there’s so much more to you that you don’t show.” I wiggled out from under him and kneeled in front of him. Placing my hand on his chest, over his heart, I begged, “Tell me who you are. Show me what’s in here.”
Something I said cau
sed him to shut down and he pushed up off the bed and stalked outside. The slam of the door sent a jolt through me.
Oh no you don’t.
I scrambled off the bed and followed him outside where I found him staring at the road, his hands gripping the railing tightly. His dark eyes met mine, but he didn’t speak.
“Why won’t you let me in?” I demanded as the noise of the cars rushing past the motel filled the night air.
“Why the fuck do you want in?”
“God, Havoc, isn’t it human nature to want a connection? For fuck’s sake, our bodies have connected in ways most people only dream of. Why can’t the rest of us connect?”
“I don’t want connection, Carla. I just want to fuck you.” His mouth was saying those words, but I didn’t believe them for a minute.
“You are so full of bullshit. Can you even be honest with yourself for one minute?”
His chest pumped up and down as his breaths came hard and fast. “All right, you want honesty? I’ll fuckin’ give you honesty and you decide what to do with it.” He tore his gaze from mine to stare back out into the inky night for a few moments. When he finally turned back to look at me again, he gave me what I had asked for. “My mum’s father was a member of Storm. I remember growing up and worshipping the ground he walked on. I loved bikes, I loved him and I loved Storm. I always knew I’d join the club. On my eighteenth birthday he helped me do that. And then he took me down a dark path where my violent streak was celebrated and encouraged.”
He stopped talking and turned away. I waited a few moments, not sure what to do, and then thought to hell with it. When I laid my hand on his back, I hit a wall of rock.
He flinched and I heard his sharp intake of breath. “I can’t even tell you how many men I’ve hurt in the name of club business. You asked me where I got the name Havoc… I’ve caused a lot of it along the way. My real name’s Callum, but the club named me Havoc after one particularly violent night,” he continued, not giving me his eyes. “And I make no apologies for it, Carla. It is who I am now.”
“I’m not asking you to change anything about yourself. I’m not asking you to even tell me about that stuff. All I’m asking is for you to open yourself up to me.”