Everyone was having a good time and suddenly I understood why Cross had kept himself at a distance, just a little, for so many years. It was a heavy burden to know you were responsible for so many lives. Moments like these, when everyone was happy and having a good time, made you think of keeping them this way. Forever.
After too many drinks to count, I took one of the wedding shuttles back to Mayhem and fell into my bed, into a deep sleep. I’d get my bike tomorrow.
Or whenever.
Chapter Fourteen
Savannah
This was bullshit. Complete and total bullshit. I didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since Charlie dropped me off at this fucking clubhouse, but the sun was rising on another goddamn day, so it was longer than it took a person to get married and celebrate.
The sonofabitch forgot about me. Totally. Fucking. Forgot.
Motherfucker left me here, sick and hurting, to get ambushed by the club fuck holes. They were probably no better than the bitches who hung out with the Black Jacks. Fuck.
I knew nothing about Charlie personally. He could be a goddamn pimp for all I knew. And me, Miss Stupid Savannah, got on the back of that bike faster than a whore could drop her fucking drawers.
“FUCK!” How could I be so stupid?
Yeah, that made me really mad. I tore into a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
I paced the floor, smoking that cigarette like it was going to give me answers. The cold sweats and stomach cramps kept me from eating anything, so I just walked around the room like the dumb shit I was.
I stomped, paced and smoked. Lighting another one off of the butt of the previous one. The irritability, the shits, and the muscle cramps all hit at once, and I ran to the restroom and plopped down on the toilet.
My stomach was cramping so badly I wanted to die. I sat on that cold seat and cried. And sobbed. And then I cried and sobbed some more.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, but I felt better. Not perfect, but better than I had in days. So what if he forgot me? I’d been through worse. And I’d get through this.
There were sandwiches and soda in the small fridge. If I could bring myself to get some sustenance in my body, I could get away from this place too.
Free from Ronan, the Crusaders, the Black Jacks, and my former life.
And free from fucking forget-me-like-yesterday’s-trash, Charlie.
I yanked open the small fridge and pulled out a sandwich, tearing it out of the package. Ham and cheese. It would do.
I took a small bite and then another without gagging. It hit me how famished I was. I slid down the door and sat on the floor, finishing off my sandwich and sipping on a bottle of cheap whiskey Charlie had on the nightstand.
And I thought about my escape.
I could risk going outside on the small patio area to smoke, but those Reckless Bitches lingered nearby. They were loud as fuck for my benefit, so I knew the danger I was in, which meant I was stuck in this damn room. For now.
Fuck you, Charlie.
I took another swallow, and the burning sensation of the whiskey gave me the shivers. Maybe if I got up off this filthy carpet and showered, it would clear my head. Fuck that. I didn’t even have the energy to wash up, much less escape this place. I got on my feet, took another long pull from the bottle, and set it back on the nightstand.
While I straightened up the red fluffy blanket on the bed so I could crawl back under it, I thought about Charlie. I turned on the small flat panel TV and clicked mute. In the upper right, the display read 3:30. Midafternoon. I let out a huff and crawled under the blanket, reaching across the bed for another swallow of whiskey.
It pissed me off that he’d forgotten about me. But bikers were all alike. The only thing that mattered was their MC and their money. However, for some damn reason, I believed Charlie to be a good guy. Better than that.
Why? Because he saved me.
“Ha, yeah right!” He hadn’t saved me, not really. I was safe, for the moment, from the Black Jacks, but that was about it. And I was grateful no one had come busting through the door wanting a fuck. But for all I knew, Charlie was with the Jacks or my father plotting my demise. Maybe even the Ashby family. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
What I did know was Charlie and his biker club had a really strong connection to the Ashby family. He admitted as much by telling me he was attending a wedding between his cousin and one of the Ashby sons, which meant my safety was temporary. Situational.