Page 106 of Rocket
Yeah. Temporary. That was the problem with being a prospect. It wasn’t a permanent residency, or even proper membership. It was the whole ‘we’re trialling you in case we don’t like you’ situation, and I hated it. After so long of feeling like a nomad, even if I didn’t technically call myself that, I just wanted somewhere to settle long term. More than that, I wanted it to be Phoenix MC, because they were damn good people.
“Prospect duty. It’s about another two months of that, then I should get patched in. I hope.”
“You will. Who wouldn’t like you?”
A face swam into my mind, despite the efforts I’d been putting in to try and keep her out.
“Yeah. Some people don’t. Anyway, thanks for sorting that. I’ll let the Pres know to expect the driver. Do we have an ETA?”
“About lunchtime, so you might be there already.”
“Gotcha. Thanks, Libby.”
Despite my best effortsto not think about her, Gloria was on my mind all evening. I’d taken to checking in a few times a day, and I was covering the costs of her hotel stay, but it’d been over a week now, and quite honestly, it felt like I’d dumped her somewhere unfamiliar instead of offering her something she could rely on as a known entity. Me. I withheld me, and I had no idea why I didn't realise that at the time.
I dug out my phone, leaning back on my sofa and staring at it for so long that I wanted to slap myself. Just make the call, you cowardly prick.
Tapping the number of the phone I’d given her felt like making a long term decision that I couldn’t unmake. Was I about to fuck up everything? Again.
There was no reply, but then that was to be expected. I opened up a text message.
Me: Glory, it’s okay, it’s me. Pick up this time.
I gave her a few minutes, watching for a sign that she’d seen the message, and then I called again. Her voice when she answered was so soft that I wanted to climb through the phone and hold her. She’d lost all of her character thanks to that fucker. She was so diminished from the person she’d been before marrying him. I missed the sass and the fire so much.
“Y-yes?”
“Glory, it’s just me. You’re safe.”
She released a shuddery breath. “I’m n-not. He’ll f-find me. He always d-does.”
Fuck me. Why did I put her somewhere alone like this? I fucked up big time.
“Sweetheart? I’m going to come and get you. Pack your things, and you’ll stay with me. He won’t find you here, and if he does, I’ll break every bone in his body before he reaches you.”
Her ragged breaths turned to sobs, and I wanted to punch myself for letting her suffer like this. Why the hell did I put her somewhere isolated like that? Why did I subject her to unfamiliarity, when she needed comfort and protection?
“Jesus, Glory. I’m so sorry. I messed this all up. I’m on my way, so if you’re not up to packing, I’ll help with it when I get there. You’ll get past this, I promise.”
She suddenly let out a panicked yelp, and her breathing went from raspy to ragged and frantic.
“He… he’s here! Oh god, he’s here.”
FUCK! I grabbed my helmet and ran to the door, but that’s when it hit me. I couldn’t do this on my ride. I couldn’t have my helmet on and stay talking to her, and she needed me right now.
I set the helmet back down and grudgingly grabbed my car keys, running out and locking up.
“I’m staying on the phone with you. Don’t open that fucking door whatever you do.”
I wished I could call up Micro and get some brothers out there to help me, not because I couldn’t break the fucker into pieces on my own, but because she needed support while I did just that.
I put the call on speaker, and lifted it away, opening up my text chat with Micro
Me: Need help. Spring Hotel, room 47.
I started up the car, and pulled out like a shot, my phone in the dashboard cradle, while I listened to the ragged breathing of the woman I’d run through fire to protect. I’d let her down, but it’d never fucking happen again.
Micro: On it. Be safe.
Thank fuck for that!
