Merrick: Harlequins MC (36 page)

Still holding the man's wrist, Damon leaned forward, putting his face inches from Andy's. “That wasn't smart, asshole,” he hissed. “And you're lucky I don't snap your fucking wrist right now.”

“Let go,” Andy whined, “you're hurting me.”

“If you don't get out of here right now,” Damon said, not letting go of his wrist, “you're going to be feeling a lot more pain than this. I can promise you that.”

“Fine,” Andy said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Let me go. I'll go.”

“And you will never come back,” Damon pressed. “And you will forget all about Cassie. Got it?”

“Fine. Whatever. Just let me go, you're hurting me.”

Damon gave his wrist one final tweak before letting him go and pushing him back a couple of steps. Andy held his wrist, massaging it. His glare at Damon was dark, intense, and promised retribution.

“Now scoot,” Damon said.

“Wait.”

Damon turned to see Cassie standing up from the table, her paralysis seemingly broken. She walked around the table toward Andy who gave her – and Damon – a predatory smile.

“Cassie, what are you doing?” Damon asked.

Her steps were slow and halting, but she stood before Andy, her eyes cast to the ground.

“Cassie, you don't have to go with him.”

She remained silent and refused to look back at Damon. His stomach was in knots that were constricting painfully and he felt his heart stuttering in his chest.

“See?” Andy said. “All good dogs come back to their master.”

Cassie looked up and, apparently, whatever Andy saw in her eyes made him smile even wider. But without warning, Cassie drove her knee into his crotch with all of the force she could muster. Andy grunted and doubled over, holding his crotch and mewling in pain.

Damon was impressed. He didn't think she had that type of spunk in her. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud as he looked at the man holding his balls in obvious agony. When he looked at her, he felt something shift within him. He didn't know what it was, couldn't quite identify it, but something had changed. And, for the first time, he found himself admitting, perhaps, he liked Cassie quite a bit more than he had originally wanted to.

Cassie turned with a wide smile on her face and gave Damon a wink. “Shall we go?”

Damon smiled and gave her his arm, escorting her back to his bike. As she climbed on the back, he fired it up and suddenly began to worry about the reception from Carl he was going to get when he returned to the clubhouse.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Damon walked into the kitchen where Carl was sitting, drinking a beer. He leaned up against the counter and slid his hands into his pockets, waiting for the older man to lower the boom. He'd already had Breaker clear out the clubhouse, which told Damon that this wasn't going to be a particularly pleasant conversation. When the sounds of the last bikes out of the garage faded into the distance, Carl finally looked up at him.

“What happened?” was all he asked.

“Couldn't do it.”

“Obviously. Why not?”

“It just wasn't right, man. Stranding her out there in the middle of the forest with nowhere to go? It just didn't feel right to me.”

Carl was on his feet in a heartbeat. Though sixty years old, the man still had catlike quickness. “You know what don't feel right to me, Damon?” Carl screamed. “Having the cops crawling around in our asses because you didn't clean up the mess you created.”

“So what, I should just leave her in the middle of the forest to die?” Damon shouted back. “Or better yet, why don't I just take her back to her ex so he can beat her to death. Would that be better for you, Carl?”

“Don't even try putting this shit on me, man. You're the one who fucked up here.”

“I fucked up by not condemning her to death?”

“No, you fucked up by bringing her here in the first place!”

“What else could I do, man? She was jammed up bad.”

Carl's face was flushed with anger. “What else could you have done? How about not trying to play the white fucking knight and saving damsels in distress? How about that? And in case you didn't notice, you're pretty fucking far from a white knight, man.”

Damon stepped forward and stood nearly nose to nose with Carl. His face was red with anger and his heart beat so hard, he thought it might burst out of his chest. He and Carl had some clashes before, but never to this extent – Damon had never felt like punching the older man before that moment. “You don't know what it's like, man,” Damon said, trying hard to keep his voice under control. “You have zero fucking clue what it's like to see somebody you care for getting beat day after day, feeling completely powerless, and wishing like hell you could do something about it. You just don't fucking know.”

“You best back down right now, Damon,” he said. “Before you do something that both of us are gonna regret.”

His breathing shallow and ragged, his adrenaline setting his every nerve ending on fire, Damon teetered on the edge of throwing a punch. But something in the back of his mind whispered to him, told him if he set foot down that road, he'd never be able to come back from it. After several long, tense moments, Damon took a couple of steps back, though his rage hadn't dissipated in the least.

“You're right, I don't,” Carl said as softly as he could manage. “And I'm sorry you do. But that has nothing to do with what's going on right now. What I see right now is you letting your emotions get the best of you. Your emotions are leading you to make some bad decisions and put the welfare of the club at risk. You're thinkin' with your heart and not your head.”

“That's bullshit.”

“It really ain't,” Carl said. “And right now, I need you thinkin' with your head. Now more than ever. But if you can't do that, I got no use for you. Now, why don't you go take a ride for a little bit? Clear your head and then come back so we can finish our discussion like calm, rational adults.”

“I don't need to take a ride.”

“It wasn't a request,” Carl said, his voice tinged with steel. “Go take a ride.”

Damon looked at him, his anger still surging up within him like a dark tide. But that little voice, that rational part of his psyche told him to walk away, that there was no permanent damage to his relationship with Carl, but if he gave in to his baser emotions, that relationship was going to be damaged beyond repair.

Without a word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the garage.

***

Even up in her room, Cassie could hear Carl and Damon shouting at one another downstairs. When they got back to the compound, she saw the look on Carl's face and knew he wasn't pleased. When she overheard him telling Breaker to tell everybody to take a ride for a while, she knew it was going to get worse. And when Damon had asked her to go hang out in her room for a while, she knew it was going to get much, much worse.

She just hadn't counted on the all-out brawl downstairs. She knew Carl and Damon had a very healthy respect for one another. She sensed the bond between them and Damon had told her they were closer than brothers. But Carl was the club president and Damon wasn't – and he'd made it clear that when it came to club business, Carl held the power.

Her presence – and Andy's – most definitely impacted their club business. She felt bad but she had nowhere else to go. When she thought that Damon was going to leave her out in the middle of nowhere, she'd been terrified. Had no idea what she was going to do. Listening to them downstairs at each other's throats made Cassie realize she was in a bad spot and needed to figure out what she was going to do – and figure it out fast.

When she heard the screaming stop and the motorcycle start up, Cassie stood by the window and watched Damon ride off into the night. A knot formed in her stomach and began to tighten. She knew she was alone in the clubhouse with Carl. And she knew what she had to do.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she crossed the room and headed downstairs. She found Carl sitting in the kitchen with a bottle of beer in his hand. He looked tired. Worn out. And upset. Cassie grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, opened it, took a quick swallow, and then sat across the table from Carl who was looking at her curiously but without any malice.

“You okay?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Damon and I have butted heads before. We've known each other a long time. Been through the wars together. We'll be okay.”

Cassie nodded. “Good.”

They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes sipping their beers, staring at one another. Cassie felt like there was a lot Carl wanted to say but was holding back. Maybe he wanted to yell and scream at her like he had at Damon. Maybe he blamed her for their falling out. Maybe it was a combination of it all.

“Do you really think I'm going to bring the police down on your heads?” Cassie finally asked.

Carl considered her for a long moment. He sighed and shook his head. “Not you, no. I wasn't sure what to make of you at first, but I got a gut feeling that I can trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“It's your ex that's the problem,” Carl said. “He's a wild card and I don't like wild cards. He might call the police; he might not. Either way, I don't want to spend my days worrying about him and what he might or might not do.”

Cassie nodded. She understood where Carl was coming from. He had his club to worry about. She was an extra burden that he didn't need. “If you want me to go, just say the word. I'll go.”

Carl sighed again. “It's not like that, Cassie. It's not necessarily you I want to see go. And ultimately, I think you're good for Damon. But you come with some baggage that I can't have right now.”

“I understand. I don't have much, but let me just grab my things and I'll go.”

Carl ran a hand through his hair and then stood up. “I'm sorry, Cassie. You seem like a nice girl. This isn't your fault. You're just kinda caught in the middle of things.”

“You don't need to apologize, Carl. I appreciate you taking me in.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills. He looked at it for a moment and then handed it over to Cassie. She accepted the wad of cash and looked up at him. “It'll get you were you need to go,” he explained. “Get you a couple a hot meals.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you, Carl. And, again, I'm so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothin' to apologize for.”

“When Damon gets back, would you tell him – ” she thought about it a moment and then shook her head. “Just tell him I said thanks.”

Carl nodded. “I will. Can I drop you somewhere?”

Cassie shook her head. “No, I'll be okay.”

***

An hour later, Damon rumbled into the garage and cut the engine on his bike. He put the kickstand down and got off. He'd had a little time to cool off and put things right in his own mind. He knew he needed to apologize to Carl. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the still empty clubhouse and to the kitchen where he found Carl in the same spot, sipping a bottle of beer.

“Look,” Damon started. “I know – ”

“She's gone,” Carl said.

Damon looked at him and cocked his head. “What are you talking about?”

The older man looked up at him. “Cassie. She left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What did you say to her?”

Carl shrugged. “Not a lot.”

“What did you say to her, Carl?”

“She asked if I wanted her to go. I said yes. The choice was hers.”

The tide of anger Damon had managed to stem earlier came flooding back with a vengeance. His clenched his fists at his side and stared daggers at the older man. “Yeah, I'm sure it was her choice,” he hissed.

“Believe it or not, it was. I didn't force her to go.”

“That's bullshit.”

Carl just sighed, shook his head, and took a long pull from his beer. Damon continued to stand there, staring daggers at him. He was getting dangerously close to punching the older man in the mouth.

“Which way did she go?” Damon asked.

“You can't bring her back here, Damon.”

“Fine. I'll find some other place to put her up. I'm not going to leave her stuck out there on her own.”

“This is what I'm talking about, Damon,” Carl said. “You're thinking with your heart and not your head. You're making some bad decisions.”

“Yeah, fine,” he snapped. “I can live with that. Won't be the first bad decision I've made and it won't be the last.”

“You're putting the club at risk, Damon.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I need to re-think some things in my life.”

“You're putting yourself before the club because you're in love with this girl.”

Damon shook his head in denial, but Carl's words hit him like a hammer blow to the chest. He hadn't had the time to really sort through his feelings about Cassie and, at the moment, it was the farthest thing from his mind. He had bigger problems to deal with. “Which way did she go, Carl?”

“Last I saw, she was heading north along the Esopus Creek back towards town.”

Without another word, Damon turned and walked out, leaving Carl alone in the kitchen with his bottle of beer.