Mess Me Up (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 1)

I hurried back to the drawer, and then opened it up like what I’d seen would strike out and bite me.

The photos did none of those things—at least not physically. Emotionally, I was scarred for life.

I stared at the first photo, and then moved the photo over with the tip of my fingernail, staring with disgust at the next photo.

The third and fourth photo were more of the same, but it was the fifth that had my entire heart not just skipping a beat but stopping entirely.

It wasn’t because of the girl in the photo, but the man in the photo.

My ex.

Oh, holy shit.

I licked my lips hastily and swallowed hard at what I saw, wondering if there was a way to move the photos back to where they needed to be to act like I hadn’t seen what I saw.

My stomach was rolling, and I wanted nothing more than to run out of the house and take off down the street as fast as my feet could take me.

But with this client being one of my best paying clients, and him also having quite a bit of influence in the community, I was hesitant to go.

If I lost him, I’d lose about two hundred dollars of my weekly income, and that wasn’t including the other clients that he likely would convey my lack of professionalism to.

I bit my lip, and then looked at my phone.

I had to take a picture of the photos. Then, once I had them, I’d take the phone to Rome after I was done here and ask him what he would do.

Normally I would’ve called my brother, but I hadn’t been able to do that in a long time. And Rome? Well, Rome had become one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

After getting the pictures and trying to put them back into place without looking like I’d been in there, I finished my work at record speed.

And, since I normally didn’t announce when I left because he was in his office working, I hurried the fuck out of there, collecting what was likely my final check from the refrigerator as I hauled ass as fast as I could move it without looking like I was escaping.

My walk turned into a run, and the moment the bar Rome said he’d be at came into view, I felt something settle in my stomach.

It wasn’t completely better, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been over the last couple of hours.

I pulled the heavy oak door of the bar, Bear Bottom Bar, open and glanced around.

I found him immediately.

He was at the bar, his back to the door, talking to Wade—who was in his Bear Bottom Police uniform.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like I was walking into a viper’s den and trudged forward even though I wanted to turn around and walk back out and forget this day had ever happened.

But…I couldn’t.

Not with what was in those pictures.

I owed it to the victims.

“…Not sure that I want to be here that long, man,” I heard Rome say to Wade.

“We haven’t seen you in months, Rome. You’ve missed six meetings. I’m pretty sure that Izzy won’t mind if you hang out here and fulfill some obligations you have to the club while she cools her jets.”

Once I was close enough, I reached out and touched my fingertips to Rome’s back, words on his tongue to whatever he was about to reply to Wade was lost.

His muscles tightened, and he turned around, his face impassive.

The moment he saw it was me, his face broke out into a grin. That grin slowly fell when he saw the look on my face.

Wade, who was also turned, went on alert.

“Iz.” Rome reached for me, his large fingers curling around my upper arm almost completely. “What is it?”

I licked my dry lips, then decided to just go for it.

Pulling out my phone, I started explaining. “I was cleaning Senator Antilles’ house today and found something.”

I handed the phone to him with the pictures pulled up.

He saw them and stiffened.

I knew what he saw.

The first photo I took was of some man getting a blow job from a teenager.

The second one was of some other man I didn’t recognize, this man on his knees getting butt fucked by another teenager wearing a strap-on, but she didn’t look like she wanted to be doing what she was doing. The tears running down her cheeks attested to that.

Then the last photo was the one of my ex.

“The last one is my ex,” I whispered. “He’s a lawyer. His name is Rodrigo Bernaldez. The girl that he’s with? That girl is the same girl that I saw at the grocery store with him. The mom was the new woman that I assumed he got pregnant. Remember that letter?”