Page 104 of Ridin’ Dirty

Pistol shrugged. “I’m standin’ here, aren’t I?”

“Doubt there’s any slowin’ that train down. Way things are these days, too much shit is goin’ on—not to mention that ring on your finger and the law that’s got you two tied up. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a beat. Don’t worry so much about what’s goin’ on outside the train car and take the time to worry about the woman who jumped in with you.

“You’ve got the club at your back with all this King shit, but your relationship with Lyla’s on you. She might be your wife, but you barely know each other. If you’re gonna keep her then chase her.”

“That’s what I was doin’, until your ass stopped me.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffed, lifting his beer to his lips. He paused before he took a pull and said, “Five minutes ago this was about Cherry. Now I’m bettin’ you’re smart enough to know better.”

Pistol watched as the man took a long pull from his bottle, all the while knowing he was right. He waited until his brother swallowed before he griped, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

Nomad smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Rather than wrap words around his appreciation, Pistol reached over and patted his friend on the arm before he turned and took his leave. He knew he didn’t need to say it. After all they’d been through, Pistol was sure Nomad didn’t care what he said so much as what he did next.

And what he planned to do next was go after his woman.

On his way out the door, he glanced toward the poker tables and saw Cherry still on her backside, both her hands pressed against her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks. Not the least bit moved by pity, he pointed directly at her and declared, “You don’t want to be here when I get back.”

Not five minutes later, he was walking through the door of his house, Lyla’s name on his lips. He didn’t bother waiting for her to respond to his call, but journeyed through the darkness to the bedroom, expecting to find her there. He stopped short in the hallway when he realized while the bedroom door stood wide open, it was the spare room that was closed.

“Lyla?” he called a second time. When he reached for the door handle, he found she locked him out. “Lyla?” he called again.

For the third time, he was meet with silence.

It was in that moment when the full weight of the truth settled in his gut.

This was about more than Cherry.

He and Lyla argued plenty—but never once had she locked herself in the guest room. She would sooner kick him out of his own bed. But it wasn’t his bed anymore. Crazy as it was, in the short time they’d known each other, his bed had become their bed. She didn’t belong in the guest room. She wasn’t his guest.

“Lyla? Baby, open the door.”

“It’s late. I’m sleeping. Go away.”

It was a lie. She wasn’t sleeping, and they both knew it. Nevertheless, he understood this wasn’t something he could fix by picking a fight. This time, he was going to have to convince her the only woman he wanted was his wife.

He just needed to figure out how.

I tossed and turned all night, the bed I slept in as uncomfortable and unforgiving as the truth.

I locked myself in the spare room alone, but I felt far from it—the voices on repeat in my head as annoying as if the one’s speaking were there with me. Hazel. Carmine. Even Twister taunted me, forcing me to accept the reality of my circumstances.

I walked into the clubhouse high on the promise of seeing my man. After the last couple weeks, I wasn’t prepared to see Cherry wrapped around him, the two of them nose to nose.

And the way she stared right at me as she reached for his dick…

It was humiliating to admit the way my heart sank like a stone toward my stomach.

Men like Pistol, like all the Wild Stallions, they weren’t complicated. They lived wild and free. They worked as hard as they played. They took what they wanted and didn’t bother with the rest. They were loyal to the ones they loved, and to hell with everyone else.

I was warned. Time and time again, they tried to tell me.

I was a wife, not an ol’ lady.

I was a good lay, not someone’s forever.

I was used up, and the only reason Riley had even looked at me twice was to cover his ass.