Harley (Cerberus MC)

“That may actually be perfect,” I say.

“For what?” Legend asks, his eyes narrowing even further.

“A calm night out with the guys,” I answer, knowing I’m full of shit.

I sat in the silence of that bedroom angry after Ali walked away. I’m no stranger to the emotion, but the tables were turned. I’m no longer angry at everyone around me. I’m pissed at myself.

I hate that I want Ali so badly.

I hate that my thoughts always drift to her.

I hate that I can’t seem to control myself around her. She’s even in my dreams these days.

I hate that the sex with her has been so fucking satisfying.

I hate that I have to concentrate so hard to remember the sound of Lana’s voice.

But most of all, I hate that all the time I’ve been spending with Ali on my mind, I’ve somehow managed to forget my wife.

There have been moments when I look at Ali that my mind doesn’t drift to Lana. There are minutes in the day when I don’t hurt under the crushing weight of my loss.

Those realizations bring on stabs of pain, and I think I’m just about tired of hurting.

I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want my past to cloud my future, and I can accept now that I will have a future that doesn’t include Lana.

I just don’t know if it’ll include Alyssa Dansby either.

That’s why I need to test it. If it’s just sex I’m desperate for, I can get that anywhere without the complications that sleeping with someone who works for Cerberus brings. Jake’s seems like the perfect place to test the theory. I’ve seen how the women perk up when anyone with a cut walks inside. It should be easy enough to find a woman that’s not Ali there.

I glance at Boomer, but the man seems irritated. He doesn’t say a word as he stares down into his cup of coffee. I’m trying really hard not to dislike the guy, but it’s a struggle. He’s spending time alone with Ali, and even though I know now that there’s nothing going on between the two of them, I’m still jealous that he has that with her. I imagine them talking to each other, of her telling him things about her life that she hasn’t told me.

I only have myself to blame, however. I haven’t really given her the chance to be open and honest. Casual conversations don’t happen between the two of us because I can’t keep my eyes off her mouth long enough for anything else to flow naturally.

Hence the reason I need to test my theory. I can’t decide if it’s her or just what her body has to offer me that is making me crazy.

“Jake’s,” Legend says as if he’s trying to decide for me if it’s the best place to go.

“Jake’s,” I answer. “Mom and Dad are watching Aria tonight. I figured it’s as good a night as any.”

“But it’s Monday,” Aro complains.

“You can stay home,” I tell him, grinning when he frowns as if that’s not even possible.

“I’ll go,” he concedes. “Maybe that hot blonde from the other night will be there.”

“She has a name,” Boomer mutters.

“Do you remember it?” Aro asks genuinely.

Boomer scoffs. “I’m not the one who went home with her.”

Spade chuckles. “Do you remember anything about her?”

“Lots of stuff,” Aro says as a devious smile pulls up the corners of his mouth. “Lot and lots of stuff.”

A chuckle filters through each of us.

“Are there any rules?” Legend asks, always the one to try to keep us in line lately. “Like what we should police as far as you’re concerned?”

“Like?” I ask, not sure what he’s getting at.

“Are you limiting your alcohol intake?” Legend asks.

“Or should we stop you from taking someone home?” Apollo chimes in.

I look between the two of them. “No rules.”

Both of the guys frown while the other guys give a whoop of encouragement.

Chapter 31

Alyssa

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” I mutter as I lean forward and look up at the neon sign on top of the bar.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Boomer argues, turning in the driver’s seat to give me his full attention.

“A bar? I didn’t go to bars before.” I don’t have to explain what before means. He knows what I’m referring to.

“Do you feel unsafe?”

I shake my head. “No. If you stick close, I’ll be fine.”

“Then let’s go.” Boomer shoves open the driver’s door and climbs out.

His movement makes me move, and before long, we’re both standing in front of the SUV.

“I’m not drinking alcohol,” I remind him.

“Neither am I. This is more about the ambiance and getting used to being out in public.”

“We could go to Target,” I offer.

He laughs, shakes his head, and grabs my hand. I don’t bother digging my heels in because I wouldn’t put it past the man to lift me over his shoulder and carry me inside.