Page 95 of Wicked Games

Chapter Thirty-One

Rowan

Dark, ominous clouds loom over our heads, threatening rain, and the wind whips through the cemetery, indicative of our collective shit mood as we stand huddled together, watching the casket slowly being lowered into the ground. A clap of thunder makes me jump as the tears drip down my cheeks and I cling to Travis as the scene from four days ago plays in my mind over and over again – the whine of the bikes, Emma’s screams as she tried to keep Blaze talking, and the racing of my heart as I tried to process it all. At the time, everything seemed to move in slow motion but looking back, it all happened so fucking fast that it’s getting difficult to keep the details straight but that hasn’t stopped Warren from haunting my dreams for the past few nights. Or erased the image of Blaze lying dead on the pavement from flashing through my mind every time I close my eyes.

Sighing, I glance up at Travis as he stares at the casket, his eyes vacant and his lips pressed together in a thin line. I give his hand a squeeze and grip his bicep with my free hand as I cuddle into his side, hoping I can bring him even a sliver of comfort but I’m not holding out hope since nothing else I’ve tried to ease his suffering has worked yet. Today is the first time since Blaze was murdered that he didn’t wake up and immediately start drinking but that’s only because he had to drive his bike to the funeral and Storm chewed his ass out last night about not being drunk during the funeral but I have no doubt that as soon as we get back to Emma and Nix’s house, he will go straight for a bottle again. My throat feels tight as I watch him but he never takes his eyes off of the casket, swimming with so much pain and anger that I suck in a breath and drag his arm over my shoulder so I can cuddle into his side. He clings to me, holding me tight to his body as a single tear falls down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away, gritting his teeth. The pain in my chest is so potent, so overpowering that I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him how much I love him, tell him that he has me but that little voice in the back of my head stops me, reminding me that doing that will only end in even more heartbreak for me.

The casket comes to a stop, deep in the ground, and Travis holds me tighter, pressing a kiss to my head as two men who work at the cemetery step forward with shovels and behind piling dirt on top. Sniffles surround us as everyone else turns away and starts making their way over to the bikes parked on the street but Travis doesn’t move. Peeking up at him, my heart breaks all over again, just like it does every single day as I watch him try to come to grips with his loss. He’s so sad and so angry and so lost but I know better than anyone that there is no shortcut wen it comes to grief. As awful as it is, he just has to wade through it but he won’t be doing it alone. Gripping the front of his black button up shirt, I give it a tug, prompting him to glance down at me.

“You ready to go, baby?”

He sighs, glancing back at the grave before nodding. “Yeah.”

With a furrowed brow, he sucks in a breath and grabs my hand but before we can turn toward the street, a man steps out from behind a tree about twenty feet away from us and I gasp, stumbling back as my knees buckle but Travis doesn’t let me fall. My whole body trembles and tears sting my eyes as I stare at the man, dressed in black with that damn white mask on his face. Travis looks down at me before following my line of sight and he takes off before I can stop him, running at Warren at full speed, his face contorted with rage.

Shit.

“Lincoln!” I scream, glancing back at the rest of the club and my brother’s head jerks up, scowling at me before he notices Travis chasing Warren back into the trees.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dropping the keys to his bike on the seat as he takes off running toward me. All of the guys turn and without a second thought follow behind him as they chase after Travis and Warren, determination on their faces. Warren cuts to the right and books it back toward me, evading capture, and I stumble back as my heart hammers in my chest. The way he looked at me in the parking lot as Blaze lay dying at my feet pops into my mind and tears sting my eyes.

Is he here for me?

I remember the comment Travis made about Warren taking a liking to me and black dots dance in my vision as I stumble back, running from him, before I trip over something and fall to the ground. He closes in on me, getting closer and closer as my heart beats so fast and so hard, I’m certain it’s going to give out and just when I think it’s over, Tate steps in front of me, her gun drawn and pointing straight at Warren’s chest. He skids to a stop and it gives Travis the valuable seconds he needs to tackle him from behind, taking him down to the ground. In rapid succession, he flips Warren over onto his back, straddles his body, rips his mask off, and begins smashing his fist into his face repeatedly as I watch, bile rising up in my throat.

Glancing over the man’s body, I flash back to the memory of Warren in the parking lot and the way his brown hair fell into his eyes, and I scream as my gaze locks onto the man’s blond locks. “Stop. Travis, stop! It’s not Warren.”

“What?” he snaps, his chest heaving as he gasps for air from the exertion and I point to the man’s hair, forcing Travis to glance down and really take a good look at him for the first time. Groaning, he throws himself off of the man and scrubs his hand down his face as the rest of the guys reach us.

“What’s going on?” Storm growls, striding to the front of the group. Since Blaze’s death, he has really taken on the role of acting President, stepping up and being the rock we all needed, and it makes perfect sense to me why Blaze made him his VP.

“I-I’m sorry…” the guy chokes out, turning on his side and coughing before spitting out a mouthful of blood. “This g-guy just paid me to come h-here and wear the mask. I d-didn’t know… p-please don’t hurt me.”

Lincoln sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Do you know his name? The guy who paid you?”

“W-Warren… he said his name was Warren and he gave me five hundred dollars… s-said it was a practical joke.”

“At a fucking funeral?” Travis snaps, leveling a glare at the man and he lifts his shaking hands in surrender as he shakes his head.

“He didn’t say it was a funeral.” He looks down at the ground and shakes his head again. “I’m so s-sorry. Truly.”

Storm sighs, studying him for a second before nodding to the exit. “Get the fuck out of here before I set my friend loose on you again.”

The man doesn’t need to be told twice, jumping up and scurrying away from us as fast as he can. We all watch him go for a second before Lincoln steps up in front of me and holds his hand out to help me off the ground. When I’m back on my feet, he grabs my arms and holds me steady.

“You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here before anything else happens,” Storm orders, curling his hand above his head in a signal to roll out and I walk across the grass to Travis as he glances back at Blaze’s grave. As soon as I’m close, he grabs me and pulls me into his arms, releasing a sigh and I know better than to ask him if he’s okay because it’s clear that none of us are and I’m not even sure if we ever will be again. Dropping my head back, I meet his eyes and his brows knit together as pain splashes across his face but before I can say anything, he smashes his lips to mine. His kiss is desperate in a way I’ve never felt before and tears gather in my eyes as he pours his agony into me, clinging to me like I’m the last shred of hope in his battered heart. I want to be that for him. Hell, at this point, I would be anything he needed me to be but he doesn’t know that and I can never tell him.

“Let’s go,” he whispers against my lips before pressing one last quick kiss there. When he pulls back, he throws his arm over my shoulder and we walk down to his bike together and climb on. The engine rumbles to life and I wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head against his back, my mind working in overdrive as he pulls into line behind his brothers.

The last four days have probably been the weirdest four days of my entire life - filled with brief snippets of confusion, fear, pain, and worry but most of the time, I’m just numb. That day in the parking lot doesn’t feel real yet and I keep thinking that I’ll catch Blaze in the hallway or find him getting coffee in the kitchen every morning. No one has even talked about the case or Warren, all of us just too lost in our pain to think about it but it’s clear after the incident at the cemetery that we need to refocus on him and his plan for us.

The wind whips through my hair and as we fly through Baton Rouge, the scene from the parking lot pops into my mind again and tears sting my eyes. By the time the ambulance finally showed up, Blaze was already gone and everything else kind of happened in a blur. I do remember Detective Rodriguez showing up at some point and taking our statements. I gave him the description of Warren but I know it wasn’t helpful. He informed us that another detective had been assigned to the case given his relationship with the club but that he’d be around to help as much as possible. Oh, and apparently, Sergeant Williams is doubling down on her investigation into us, convinced that we had something to do with the deaths of all three girls Warren killed as well as Tawny’s death and Veronica’s kidnapping. It’s ridiculous but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a problem for another day.

Pulling into the driveway of Emma and Nix’s house, the guys line their bikes up along one side before they all jump off and amble inside, everyone lost in their own thoughts. As soon as we get inside, Travis heads straight for the booze, the tortured look on his face hitting me straight in the chest quickly followed by the ache I’m becoming all too familiar with. He snags a bottle of whiskey before walking back into the living room and throwing himself into one of the chairs in the corner. I walk across the space, closing the distance between us, and sit in the chair next to his, eyeing him as he spins the top off of the bottle and raises it to his lips, tipping it back and letting the liquor pour down his throat.