Glory (24 page)

I scanned the joint, not seeing Ward Three’s leader anywhere. Shit. The bastard must be up to something again. “Where is he?”

“Go to hell!”

Grabbing the guy by the front of his shirt, I dropped the business end of the pistol to his temple. “Where is he?” I roared.

As our eyes met, I knew whoever this fucker was he was a fool. He probably didn’t know that he was rolling with wannabes. His admirable loyalty was a wasted on a club built on deceit and lies. But determination—or was it stupidity?—burned in his eyes.

With one hand, I pistol-whipped him, sending him sprawling.

The pictures our prospect, Angel, had taken were from here. I recognized the background, but Kitt had said that they had been taken only a couple hours earlier. There was nothing here to indicate that. There were no crates. No trucks. Even his men had disappeared. Did they know they were being spied on?

I spun back to look at the guard on the ground. Shit. I should’ve questioned him before knocking him unconscious. No matter though. Brennan would get my message crystal clear. If he was smart, he’d tread lightly now that he knew that Glory MC was onto him.

I straddled my bike again, ignoring the concerned looks from Ward Three’s residents and headed back the way I had come.

EIGHTEEN

Pieces of Me

Indy

“Y
ou’re frowning.”

I looked up to find Hastie leaning against the doorjamb to my bedroom, thick arms crossed over his chest. Either he moved like a ninja or I was too absorbed in my own thoughts. I hadn’t realized he was standing there until he had spoken.

His eyes scanned me and for a second I thought that he could really see through the façade I was putting up. I felt as if a cloud had formed over me, casting a gloomy shadow wherever I went. I found it hard to find energy to do things that shouldn’t be a problem at all. It was as if someone had hidden kryptonite beneath my pillow where weakness kept me from getting out of bed. At first, I wanted to blame it on PMS, but when the feelings of irritation, annoyance, and helplessness lingered, I knew what it was. Depression had once again gotten its claws into me and it settled over me like a heavy blanket, weighing me down. As a result, I was writing again, scribbling down notes frantically to expel the bad thoughts from my mind. It helped some, which was why I was doing it again now.

Hastie pushed off the doorframe and entered my bedroom. The serious set of his features told me that his trip to Ward Three hadn’t gone well. I set my notes aside, quickly trying to hide them beneath . . . well, more of my notes. I hadn’t realized I had so many lying around until now. They were scattered everywhere, covering every available surface, the walls.

I slid a glance at Hastie, wondering what he thought about all this. “What’re you writing about?”

“Nothing,” I said, a little too quickly. A sure bet I was lying.

Undeterred, Hastie kept his gaze on the papers before me, trying to catch a glimpse of my scribbles. There was a note of teasing in his voice. “Are you writing about me?” Heat suffused my cheeks. If I was, I wasn’t going to tell him that. Hastie’s smile widened. My stomach flip-flopped in reaction, more so in fear of him learning the truth than anything else. “Can I read it?”

“No!” I jumped up to block him. Hastie had enough of a big ego. I would do the world a favor by not adding to it.

“Come on, baby, just a peek.” Hastie moved towards me in that sinfully sexy way.

“Get out.” He tried maneuvering past me, but I ushered him out until I could close the door behind me. If he really wanted to, Hastie could easily push me aside and snatch up the papers. That he respected my privacy made me love him even more.

Seven was downstairs with Lucky fixing dinner. So far World War III hadn’t erupted in the kitchen so I was confident that dinner would be great. But that hope came crashing down when Seven appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a frown. “We have a problem,” she announced.

“What kind of problem?”

Following her back down and into the kitchen, we found Lucky grinning like a fool. “What’s wrong?” Hastie asked him.

Lucky looked to Seven. “Why don’t you tell them why dinner will be late?”

Seven sighed, seeming embarrassed. “I put the pan in the oven . . . but forget to turn it on.”

“So it was just sitting in there for an hour,” Lucky finished. Seven slid a droll look in his direction.

A bark of laughter escaped Hastie then. “S’okay,” he said. “Indy and I can make a run for drinks in the meantime.”

“Thanks,” Seven said as she pushed pass Lucky who continued to laugh as Hastie and I left.

My movements felt sluggish as if I was wading through knee-deep water. Hastie immediately zoned into it. “You all right?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat of my Chevelle.

“I’m fine.” I added a smile to make it sound convincing, but it was clear in my voice that I wasn’t. On a deep exhale, I focused on expelling the bad from my body. Hastie hadn’t pushed it, instead pulling out of the driveway without another word. I kept my eyes on the road as I did my best to keep my mind blank. The silence between us made me wish we had music playing or something.

After a while, Hastie sighed before slowing down and turning to face me. “I know something’s bothering you. What’s wrong, babe?”

“I’m just tired.”

His thumb and forefinger touched my chin gently, tilting my head up so that I faced him. “Eyes, baby.” I focused on the intense green. In a slow blink, they disappeared and then reappeared. My chest felt hollow. Where was the spark that usually shot through me when he looked at me like that? “What’s on your mind, Indy?”

What could I say? That I was tired? I had nothing to be sad about yet here I was again, in the winter of my life, feeling cold, empty, and void. It only made the depression feel worse as if this cycle was inevitable and thus, hopeless to stop. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Beside me, I felt Hastie’s body deflate. “Of course you don’t.”

I shot a dark look in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice came out more defensive than I meant it to be.

“It’s just that you never want to talk about anything that’s bothering you.”

“It’s not your problem to bear so what difference does it make if I tell you or not?”

Like a storm had rolled in, sudden darkness cast over Hastie’s eyes. He drew a hand over his face, a clear sign he was getting frustrated. I’d seen him do it whenever Glory biz was wearing on him. “Christ, Indy. I’m just trying to help here.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snapped. That was a total lie though. I needed loads of help, but how could I find it here in this post-flare world?

Without a word, Hastie opened the car door and stepped out, walking away from the car. What the hell was he doing? We had stopped on the side of the road! “Hey!” I called out. “Where the hell are you going?” He muttered something, but with his back to me, I couldn’t catch all of it. Exiting the car, I quickly ran after him. “Hastie!”

Closer now, I heard him: “I need to get away from you.”

My footsteps faltered until I came to a full stop. “What?”

Hastie spun around, anger tensing his broad shoulders. “Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I feel like I’m walking on a landmine whenever I’m with you. I don’t know what will set you off.” When his dark eyes met mine, they were pained. “When will you realize I’m not trying to hurt you? You have to give me something.
Anything.
I need to know it’s worth it.”

My heart began to work overtime, thumping loudly in my ears. It was as if it was trying to escape the confines of my chest. Did it realize the threat before I did? When I lifted my head to look at him, Hastie’s eyes were shuttered, totally closed off from me.

So this was the truth coming out. How Hastie really felt about me. His words about letting him in confused me though.

I thought I
had
let him in. I thought I
had
shown him another, deeper side of me. Our time together had been some of the best days of my life. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve given you everything.” Only it still wasn’t enough for him.

Hastie’s green eyes lifted to mine as I spoke. He shook his head. “You haven’t. You keep it locked up so tightly that no one even knows it’s even there. But I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There.” The life in Hastie’s eyes died as my lie soaked in. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” For a long moment, he just stared at me, confused. And then, as if a lens had slipped over his eyes, they turned cold. “Okay,” he said, with several small nods. “Then maybe we should take a break.”

My jaw dropped before I could help it. I opened it again to protest, but stopped myself before I could say something stupid. What was there to say?
I’m sorry but I don’t know what else to give you
? It didn’t occur to me then to fight for him. I was too hurt from the pain of his words. It was as if my heart had been bashed into jagged little pieces at my feet. What use would it be to fight with someone who didn’t even want me anymore?

If depression put me in a dark hole, then Hastie had just dropped dirt over me, shoveling more packed earth in until it was a struggle just to breathe. The one person I had come to trust not to hurt me was doing a number on my heart. Several beats passed before I said, “Okay.”

For a second, I thought I saw shock in his expression, as if wondering how I could give this all up. But I wasn’t the one breaking it off between us. That was all him.

As quickly as I had said that one word that ended our relationship, I had rebuilt the prison walls around me again, effectively shutting him out to prevent further hurt. Inside here, I felt safe and not even Hastie could penetrate them a second time. It was quicker to build them up than to tear them down and I had a lot of practice keeping people out.

Though I might’ve felt like shattered glass, I would still get the last word in. Pride bristled down my spine like a porcupine, giving me claws and some bite. “If I walk away, I’m not coming back, Hastie. This is it.” I wouldn’t give him the avenue to hurt me a second time.

I waited for a response, for him to rush forward to say he was sorry and that all this had been a mistake. That it was just some misunderstanding that we had to get through, but now we were okay. But Hastie didn’t move. He didn’t utter a word.

Walk away.

With each step I took away from him, the question of whether he truly cared warred in my mind. If he did, then how could he hurt me like this?

Hastie stood there long after I drove away. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was waiting until I was gone so he could leave.

But I knew that even though he was the one who broke it off with me, a part of him, deep down inside broke as I walked out on him.

* * *

The next few days felt like weeks in my mind. I isolated myself to the point where I felt hopeless, just a hole of consuming darkness. Deadly thoughts rambled on in my head and I tried unsuccessfully at batting them away. They were like killer bees. The more you swatted at them, the more irritated they became, buzzing around in droves as you panicked.

One sting was enough to hurt you. Any more would kill you.

I called in sick for my shift at Neptune’s. I got dumped. That was enough to garner a sick day, right? Whatever. I lay in bed now, wallowing in complete misery with my face shoved into my pillow when Seven barged into my bedroom. I didn’t even bother to pull up the sheets that were tangled in my legs.

“What happened?” she asked. When a beat passed and I simply lay there like a corpse, Seven laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

It was strange how she knew exactly what was happening without me telling her. Had Hastie told her about what happened? While the break up with Hastie may have been the worst of the most recent events, it hadn’t been the trigger. Life was just getting too hard to bear. It seemed that no matter what I did, I would always end up in the same place, screwing things up for myself.

Sighing, I turned over, laying flat on my back as I stared wordlessly into the ceiling. In my mind, a surge of emotions and thoughts processed at rapid speed. A part of me knew I was keeping Hastie at a comfortable distance. But he had also managed to weasel himself into my heart where no else had been before. Had I really been stonewalling him to the point where he believed I didn’t trust him enough with my feelings?

Yes, you dumbass
, my subconscious said.
And now you’ve pushed him so far away, he’ll never come back.

Why do I keep fucking things up with Hastie?

Could it be you’re going over the same problems again and again? How bad would it be if he knew?

No, I couldn’t tell him. It would change how he saw me.

But how do you know how deep his love runs without ever trusting him with it?

These conversational thoughts with my subconscious ran rampant in my mind, second-guessing my actions and the mistakes I continued to make with Hastie. I had to pull myself out of this, knowing it would lead me nowhere. Slamming the door on those thoughts, my mind finally fell silent. But I could still feel their presence through the barrier, begging to be let free.

Seven’s voice cut smoothly into my thoughts like soft butter. I hadn’t realized I had tuned her out. “. . . And then I’m gonna wrap him up in lettuce and feed him to the snails. It will be a slow death,” she said with venom.

A reluctant laugh left me. Bless her heart for trying to cheer up her depressed and broken-hearted girlfriend with her pathetic jokes. She was doing all she could to break me out of this catatonic state I was in. “Come on,” she whispered in a gentle voice. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I meant to tell her about my mood swings but all that came out were sobs. To make matters worse, things had been going so well until the depression hit. For a moment there, I considered myself normal. Seven curled me further into her while I cried into her shoulder. “Why do I keep screwing things up?” I wailed.