Page 40 of Vengeance (Ruthless MC 4)
He led the way to the clinic we’d found where we made our appointment. And Des-E raced after him. For a whole thirty minutes, the future seemed bright.
Maybe deep down inside I knew, though. Knew Vampire was right, and I was wrong, no matter how much I wanted to believe in her.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t go out of my way to keep up with him and Des-E.
And maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I found them frowning at his phone when I pulled up to the clinic last.
Of course, Vampire checked the security cameras one more time before going inside.
And, of course, she had run.
All that progress I thought we were making with Doc? Pure fantasy.
We caught up to her just as she reached the butte she was staring at when we came in to return her backpack.
Other than a few items of Des-E’s clothes, that backpack was all she carried from the house.
Yeah, Vampire was right. He was right about everything.
She ran. Ran like we were monsters hunting her down when she heard us coming.
Which I guess we were.
If Vampire hadn’t given us both the signal to stop after she started yelling out to those tourists, I might have run her down—that’s how firmly I believed she belonged with us. That’s how much I wanted to convince her to not only stay, but also want to stay.
I believed in her. But she didn’t believe in us.
Most days, I’m good at staying bitter about it.
Most nights when we drink, I manage not to point out that Des-E and Vampire never deem anybody good enough to hook up with. That we’re all obviously still dedicated to her and only her, even though she left us.
But the thing is, she’s probably moved on.
Girl like her? She probably managed to snag some other guy with a white-collar job, even during a pandemic. She might be engaged now, maybe even married with a kid on the way.
That’s what I tell myself during late nights at the Nebraska house, when I’m lying awake in the smaller bedroom we reserve for “guests” we might need to hand back to whatever criminal organization we stole them from when the Reapers’ negotiations were done. I drew the straw for the big bedroom when we moved in, but I happily gave it up when we decided she’d need a space of her own. And I still hadn’t moved back. It hurts too much.
Most days, I know she’s gone forever—that we need to let her go.
But some nights, the need to see her claws at me so bad, it’s an animal in my chest threatening to burst out.
And sometimes that makes me drink too much. Like tonight, when I point out, “We can’t go on like this. We either need to move on with another woman or hunt down the one we know is meant for us.”
Vampire just shakes his head bitterly and looks away.
But Des-E says, “Brother, you’re right. We know you’re right. But we’re not moving on. Not tonight, man. Not tonight.”
No, not tonight.
I stumble back to the hotel and peel off from Vampire and Des-E to fall into the bed in my room. Alone. And that night I have a familiar dream. Instead of running away when she hears us coming on our motorcycles, she stops and waits for us to catch up with her.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she says when we stop our bikes right in front of her. “It was a mistake. I got scared, and I ran. But, I’m sorry. Please take me home.”
So we do.
I wait for my turn patiently. I’m happy to just watch her take both Vampire and Des-E bare, all the while apologizing and explaining how it had all been a mistake.
Then it’s my turn.
“Courtney, come on, come here, baby. I’m so sorry,” she says, using my real name. Then she raises her arms to me like a welcoming angel.
I forgive her in an instant. And I go to her. Without pride, without any reservations, without any of the masculine bullshit I need to maintain to do my job. I just want her. And all I am is grateful as I cover her body with mine to reclaim her.
Bzz! Bzz! Bzz!
My eyes pop open. Nothing new there. I always wake up before we’re truly reunited.
But this time, it’s my phone, not my bitch of a subconscious, that disrupts the dream.
It’s buzzing on the nightstand. There are several missed calls—all from Griff.
And one text:
GRIFFIN: Dude, ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE! You need to come meet me in Vegas.
CHAPTER 19
ALLIE
“What do you have there, Snow?”
I jump and nearly scream when a hand touches my shoulder while I’m doing patient paperwork. But then I let out a breath of relief when I see it’s just Dennis, the actual emergency medicine physician scheduled to see patients in the walk-in section of the clinic.
