BUTCHER: Wolves MC (Riding With Wolves Book 3) (11 page)

Not even a minute later, Butcher snuck back into the room and snuck back into bed. He riffled through his clothes again, then laid down. He brought his body close to mine but didn’t embrace or touch me.

I don’t know whether he held back out of fear that the contact would “wake” me or out of guilt. Whichever or whatever the case, I was glad he didn’t touch me. Actually, I was elated. The last thing on earth that I wanted at that moment was
any
part of Butcher. I despised even being in bed with him.

I wanted to say something to him right then and there, but once I got back in bed and pretended to be sleeping, I pretty much forfeited my chance. And it was a good thing that I did. I needed some “time” before I confronted Butcher and called him out. He was a smooth talker, after all, and he’d have no trouble talking himself out of this mess. Hell, he’d probably even turn the tables on me and grill me as per why
I
was eavesdropping on
him
. If I was going to do this right, I couldn’t act hastily and needed to be prepared.

For over an hour, I lay in bed, thinking about my defense, plotting my attack, and playing out a variety of scenarios in my head. I was furious, deeply hurt, and scared, and I was disappointed in myself for so wholeheartedly choosing to be with such a man.

At some point, I decided that I might as well make my case against Butcher as strong as possible, and that it’d be best to prepare for the curveballs he’d surely throw my way. When I heard Butcher’s snore reach a low, resonant purr, I crawled out of bed, slipped my pants on, and slunk over to his side of the bed.

My room was dark, but luckily, there was a thin stream of moonlight shining in through the window and I was able to use it to avoid tripping over Butcher’s things. I was too scared to search his stuff right there beside the bed, next to the sleeping Wolf, so I picked up his jeans and took them with me as I tiptoed out of the room.

As soon as I was out in the hallway, I started digging into Butcher’s pockets and quickly found his cell phone. My heart was beating out of my chest and my hands were shaking as I swiped my finger across the thing. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but, in a matter of seconds, I found it.

I tapped on Butcher’s “phone” icon and checked out his call log. The last call he’d made (at 1:49 a.m.), as well as the last he’d received (at 1:47) were from Sonja—and as I scrolled down through the list, I saw that about eighty percent of his other phone calls were, too.

The call he’d gotten earlier that night, when we got back to my place and I went to freshen up? That was Sonja.

I scrolled down further, past “Hammer,” “Z.Z.,” a few unassigned numbers, and my own name. Then, I saw Sonja’s again…. and again.

I started going through my own mental calendar and matching times and dates on Butcher’s phone with times and dates in my head.

Three days ago—the night of our last date. Sonja called him right before he arrived at my place; and he called her right after he left.

I remembered the date of the Sabbath tribute show we’d been to with Butcher’s fan. It was ten days earlier—and, sure enough, Sonja called Butcher at ten that night.

I kept scrolling and saw Sonja’s name at least two dozen more times. My pulse was going a mile a minute, and I felt like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

Butcher’s call log only went back two weeks. But by the time I reached the end of it, I’d seen all that I needed to see. All of those business calls that Butcher had been getting were actually from this Sonja chick—and given what I’d heard him say on the phone to her, they definitely weren’t doing business in any conventional way.

I let Butcher’s screensaver take over and held down his phone. This was it. I’d seen what I needed to see, and I had what I needed to make a strong, irrefutable case against Butcher—now, I just needed to make it.

I walked back into my bedroom and flicked on the light. Butcher just laid there and didn’t respond.

“Butcher!” I shouted. He wriggled around a bit and rolled over onto his back.

“Butcher!” I shouted, again.

Butcher opened his eyes into narrow slits, lifted his head up, and looked at me.

“Get up!” I instructed, waving his phone in the air. “Get up and get out!”

And so began our big break-up fight.

~ Butcher ~

I was having the most amazing dream. I was at an outdoor party, or music festival, of some kind, though the outdoors were like no outdoors I’d ever seen before. I think I might have been in heaven, or maybe just up in the clouds. Wherever I was, it was beautiful, peaceful, and very airy and light.

I knew everyone who was there with me. We were all great friends, despite the fact that most of them were perfect strangers to me in real life. Jim Morrison was there, and so was Jimmy Page. Marilyn Monroe was looking sexy as ever, and Scarlet Johansson looked so strong and powerful, yet so sweet.

Some of my real friends were there, too—like Hammer, Z.Z., Gator, and my boss Crete. And then, there was
her
. She was some distance away from me, but I saw her and needed to be at her side. I started making my way across the sea of people…

But then, all of a sudden, I heard someone else call out my name.

“Butcher!” the voice yelled.

I ignored it and kept walking toward Sonja.

“Butcher!” the voice yelled again. It was Lexi, and she was calling to me from her bedroom, not my dream.

I lifted my head and looked at her.

“Get up!” she screamed at me. “Get up and get out!” She had something in her hand and was waving it in the air. I tried to focus on the object, but before I could make it out, she threw it at me, and I rolled to the side just in time to miss it hitting me square in the face.

“What the hell?” I squealed, as I jumped out of bed. “What the fuck are you doing?” I looked down at the empty spot I’d just occupied and saw my phone lying there.
Shit
, I thought to myself.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Lexi fired back. “Or maybe I should call Sonja and ask
her
.”

I reached down and grabbed my phone from the bed. I automatically checked it, just to make sure Lexi hadn’t, in fact, tried to call Sonja as she’d just threatened to do. My call log was still open, and I surmised that that was how Lexi got the name and information she was now wielding against me.

“You don’t understand,” I said, setting my phone down on the bed and reaching down to pick up my boxers. There was something undignified, or degrading, about being completely naked during a “fight” like this.

“I do understand, Butcher,” Lexi barked. “I understand that all this time, when you’ve been telling me that you had business calls to take, or business to take care of, you’ve been lying. You were taking calls from Sonja, and you were running off to see her.

“And I also understand that, you’ve been lying to Sonja, just like you’ve been lying to me. I heard you talking on the phone to her earlier, Butcher. I heard you tell her you were out taking care of business. You fed her the same line you fed me… You’ve been double-dealing.”

“Listen, if you just sit down, calm down, and take a minute, I’ll tell you—” I said in a calm, collected voice.

“Tell me what?” Lexi hollered, interrupting me. “Tell me who this ‘Sonja’ chick is? Hm?... Oh, you don’t have to tell me who
she
is, Butcher. I can guess. She’s probably some groupie you met at a show, huh? Some poor girl, like me, who fell under your spell?

“Or maybe not… Maybe she’s one of the hookers you have to deal with, or one of the junkies you helped save. Is that it, Butcher? Were you mixing business with pleasure?”

“It’s nothing like that,” I said. I didn’t like what Lexi was saying, and I certainly didn’t like her tone. Both made me feel threatened.

“Sonja’s—” I went on before Lexi cut me off again.

“Sonja’s a stupid whore,” she said. My blood boiled at those words. I knew they weren’t true, by any means, and that Lexi said them in haste, but still, hearing those four words together filled me with rage.

I took a deep breath and tried to cool down. Perhaps it was best that I did as Lexi demanded when she first woke me up. Things were getting a little too heated, and maybe I did need to “get up and get out.”

I bent down and found my T-shirt by the edge of the bed and put it on, even though it was still moist with cum. Just as I pushed my head through the neck hole, I felt something hit my body with a thud.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Lexi screamed. She’d just thrown my jeans at me, and my chest stung at the point of impact.

Against my better judgment, I decided to give this one more try.

“Let me explain, Lexi,” I proposed kindly.

“Fuck you,” she replied. She went on to call me a liar and tell me how she couldn’t believe a word I said.

Oh, she was adding insult to injury, and I didn’t like it one bit. I was ready to give her a mouthful and tell her off, but I knew that wasn’t wise, so I did my best to remain calm, act with dignity, and treat her with respect. I even tried, once more, to explain, but she wasn’t having it, and she slung more shit-talk at me instead.

I let Lexi finish her verbal assault and get a few more things off of her chest, then I grabbed my boots, walked to the bedroom door, and gave her my farewell speech.

“Fine,” I said, biting my tongue. “I’ll leave. But, sooner or later—whenever you see the error of your ways, or whatever—you’ll want me to come back. And if you
expect
me to come back, I expect you to grovel.”

I’d said a little more than I’d wanted to say at that point; I guess I let pride get in the way. But in any event, Lexi didn’t care much for what I’d said. She retorted with another “fuck you” and her assurances that she would neither want me back nor grovel.

Fair enough
, I thought, as I walked out of the room. I snatched my jacket from the sofa as I passed it and heard Lexi taunt me from behind. She said she should’ve never given me a shot in the first place, and that she felt like an idiot for even trying to make things work with a guy like me.
If you feel like an idiot now, just wait
, I laughed to myself. A gal like Lexi, who was so quick to jump to conclusions, was bound to be shocked when she discovered life’s real surprises.

I walked out of Lexi’s apartment with my boots and jacket still in my hand and let the door slam behind me. It was a more dramatic gesture than I intended to make—but hey, my hands were full, and I didn’t wanna stick around any longer than I had to.

I waited until I was at my bike to put my boots and jacket on, and no sooner than I did, I hopped on and sputtered my engine into gear. Even though Lexi had been a total bitch to me, I didn’t want to rev it full force, her neighbors had done nothing wrong, after all, and they’re the ones whose rest would be disrupted, not hers.

I glanced back at Lexi’s apartment before pulling off onto the road and shook my head in disappointment. The lights were on inside, but otherwise, there was no action, activity, or motion. I don’t know why, but for some reason, that stillness, that emptiness, saddened me. I kind of expected, or wanted, to see Lexi standing at the window watching me, pissed off and pining—or better yet, I wanted her to run out and chase after me.

Man oh man! What the hell was I thinking? John “The Butcher” Crane ain’t supposed to have thoughts like that. No man is! Unless he’s the kinda guy who writes fairytales and chick-flick movies.

I guess it didn’t matter
what
I was thinking anyway, because what I was thinking didn’t happen. Lexi wasn’t at the window. And she wasn’t outside trying to flag me down in her sexy bra and tight pants with no panties. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I knew what I needed to do—and that was get the hell out of Dodge (or rather, in this instance, Lexi’s neighborhood).

I finally pulled onto the road and rode off, but unfortunately, I had a little problem. It was now around four, say four thirty in the morning, and I wasn’t expected back home until morning. I said I’d be out on business all night and would be back around breakfast. Now was
not
around breakfast—an, it was
not
the time to head home. I’d just had one uncomfortable confrontation, and I didn’t want to have another.

So I had to go somewhere else. But where? I didn’t know of any bar, diner, or other suitable establishment that was open at this time. And I wasn’t gonna pay for a hotel room, or go to some shithole I could rent by the hour.

My only option, of course, was to call upon one of my brothers. Yes, it was late. But given the particulars of my situation, especially as per Sonja, I was sure that the exact time simply wouldn’t matter. But still, I needed to be mindful in choosing which brother to impose upon.

Normally, nine out of ten times, I’d go to my brother Hammer for help in a sticky situation. But as I mentioned earlier, he recently settled down with a gal and had been dating her pretty seriously—and I know for a fact that they regularly spent the night together.  So, if I went to his place and asked to crash there for a while, I’d not only be interfering with his morning, but—more likely than not—with hers as well. And, if at all possible, I wanted to avoid causing that kind of collateral damage.

That meant that going to Hammer’s was off the table—and so was going to the home of any other brother who had a steady girlfriend, wife, or “family” of any type. The pickings were getting slim. I was down to relying on single brothers. But that, too, was a little tricky. Just because a brother was single didn’t mean he’d be home alone tonight.

Although...

It hit me! I knew exactly where to go.