Whisky on My Mind (7 page)

“The way I expected it to,” he said in a wry kind of tone.

“You planning on telling me about it?”

“I was hoping not to,” he said
, slowly turning back to face her wearing a wary look on his handsome face.

“I
thought that since you decided to show me the books you were going to be a lot more open with me.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, shaking his head slightly as he watched her from across the room.

“So we’re back to this again?” She’d really thought they’d turned a corner in this whole trust thing. Obviously she’d been wrong.

“You need to trust me.”

“Like you trust
me?
” she challenged.

“I trust you with
my life
,” Sawyer told her without hesitation and she saw in his eyes he meant it, which only frustrated her all the more.

This whole
club business
thing was beginning to grate on her nerves. Lately she was feeling a little resentful over the fact she was expected to live by these outdated club rules even though being associated with the damn club was ruining her chances of getting a loan, only to be pushed aside and treated like a child whenever she asked any questions. “Just not with your club.”

Sawyer gave a low growl before punching the doorframe. “Don’t do this tonight, Whisky. I can’t handle this now.”

“Why?” she pushed, even as her heart thudded painfully in her chest at his violent reaction.

“Damn it, woman.
Why do you have to keep pushing this?”

“Because I love you, you stupid, pigheaded moron.
You come back from God only knows where—after doing God only knows what. You don’t sleep, you barely eat and you’re clearly worried about something, and you expect me to just sit here and pretend everything’s fine?”

Sawyer held her angry glare for a few moments before letting out a long, weary breath and dropping his head in defeat. He moved across the room and took a seat on the end of the bed beside her, rubbing his fist idly as he stared at the floor between his bare feet. “One of our trucks was hijacked a few days ago. We lost a large shipment of stock.”

Whisky frowned as she watched him, waiting for him to continue.

“The Switchblades did it.”

A wave of fear washed over her at the mention of the rival bike club’s name. Memories of a night she tried to forget tumbled through her mind. The dark alleyway. The foul smell of dirty bodies, and hands touching her, triggered a bout of nausea. “Oh my God. This is about Razor, isn’t it,” she said, her face a mask of horror as things began to click into place. “They want pay back for you…dealing with him.” She couldn’t say
kill
out loud...

She hated that Sawyer had killed for her—the violence, the code of the club—it was all so terrifyingly real and it put her way out of her comfort zone.

“I don’t know.”

“You
do
know. What’s going on, Sawyer?”

“It’s nothing.” He swore when she pinned him with that evil eye and knew there would be no brushing her off this time. “
Okay, yeah, there’s been word on the street that the Switchblades were makin’ a bit of noise about Razor, but that’s only an excuse—Razor was a loose cannon to them as well as the rest of damn society. We did them a favor takin’ care of that asshole. The Switchblades and the Black Mustangs go way back—this isn’t anything new, Whisky.”

“
They hijacked a truck, Sawyer. That’s illegal! We need to go to the police and report it.”

Sawyer just shook his head.
“Can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

He sent her a sideways glance that spoke volumes.

“Because that’s not the club way,” she muttered
, finally getting it.

“Right.”

“
Unbelievable.
So what? You’re going to just let them get away with
stealing?
” For a moment he didn’t answer and in the silence which followed the truth hit her hard in the face. “You’re going to get it back, yourself,” she all but breathed the words.

“Whisky.”
Sawyer tried to calm her fears without success.

“You’re going to go in there with guns and
what?
Have a shootout?
Maybe get
killed
in the process?” she demanded, waving her hands around wildly.

“It’s not like that,” he
said, shaking his head wearily.

“Then what
is
it like? Don’t you lie to me Sawyer Riley, or I swear I’ll walk out that door right now.”

“You’ll walk out anyway,” he said quietly.

His empty words momentarily interrupted her brewing anger. He sounded so…defeated. She’d never heard him sound like that before. “Then
make
me stay.”

“
Make you stay?
God damn it, Whisky…Do you think I wouldn’t do whatever I could to make you stay with me? I’d lay down my God damn life for you, Whisky, but if that’s not good enough then maybe I should go wait on the top of a damn building with flowers. Is that what you want? Flowers and pansy-assed poetry? What do you want from me, Whisk?” he asked, and sounded almost desperate.

Whisky stared at him silently, feeling his frustration and hating that she was the cause of it. She didn’t want
him
to change—she wanted their
life
to change.

“
Do you think I haven’t been trying my damnedest to make you stay? Why do you think I keep you out of all this shit? I’m trying to protect you…I don’t want you involved in all this.”

“But I
am
involved. I’m up to my armpits in this club. Everywhere I go, people see the club…and I don’t even wear a damn cut, with
Black Mustangs
spread across my back!” she said, stretching her hands in front of her like she were reading a billboard.  “Like it or not, I’m part of this
God damn club
, Sawyer.”

“What do you want me to say, Whisk? I’m doing the best I can here to try and keep this place on the righ
t side of the law—but right now it’s not up to me. The club’s going to vote on it tomorrow. It’s out of my hands.”

“So if they vote to go in and take that shipment back…you’re going to go along with it? Risk your life over a stupid batch of stock you could just report stolen and write off?”

“If we do that, then the Switchblades win…they’ll keep doing it and next time they’ll take more. If we let them get away with this, they’ll be takin’ over everything we own…until they run us out of town…including this place, Whisk,” he said, holding her gaze steadily. “Are you willing to pay over extortion money to the Switchblades just to keep these doors open? You think I’m just going to sit back and
allow
that to happen?”

“The police—”

“Can’t do anything.”

“So if the club votes to take on the Switchblades?”

“We take the sons of bitches on and we drive them out of our territory,” Sawyer finished in a bland tone.

For a long time they sat there in silence. What was there to say?

Eventually Whisky stood and walked into the bathroom, turning the shower on and standing beneath the biting spray, letting the water wash away her tears. When she came out the room was in darkness and Sawyer was already in bed. Quietly she slid between the sheets and tentatively wrapped her arms around his back. For a moment she thought he might have been asleep, but then he took her hand and laced their fingers together.

She felt him let out a long, slow breath as he seemed to relax
, and within a few minutes his breathing evened out and she knew he was finally asleep. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, and nothing had really been settled between them, but for tonight, he needed to know she wasn’t leaving him…the only question was, what would tomorrow bring?

****

Whisky woke up and immediately knew something was wrong. Sawyer’s side of the bed was empty and the sheets felt cold. He’d obviously gotten up early to avoid a confrontation this morning before the vote.

Damn it,
she muttered, falling back down onto her pillow and closing her eyes for a moment. She knew there was no point going out to the board room; the doors would be locked and no one would be allowed inside until the meeting and vote was completed.

She felt sick. This was never going to end well. The Switchblades knew what they were doing. They knew this would provoke the Mustangs and give them no option but to strike back. Sawyer was right—if they did nothing then the Switchblades would be moving in and taking over their peaceful life here—demanding protection money from local businesses and throwing the streets back into violence once more.

On top of all this, she was still fuming at Bella. She wanted to call and apologize, but then her parting remarks came back to haunt her and she got angry all over again.

Eventually she couldn’t put it off any longer and Whisky threw back the covers of the bed with an angry sigh and went out to the kitchen to put on the coffee. She took her time drinking the hot brew before tidying up the apartment, hoping Sawyer would be back to tell her how it went, but he still hadn’t shown up by the time she’d gotten dressed.

Whisky walked out of the apartment and into the common room where she found the prospects and hangarounds, the guys who were not yet patched into the club and as yet had no voting privileges, waiting anxiously for the outcome. 

Finally the door opened and the men slowly filed out. It only took one look on the faces that passed by to realize the decision had been made. They were going to war.

Sawyer glanced up as she walked into the room. For a long moment they both looked at each other silently. She knew from the guarded look on his face that he was waiting for her to tell him she was leaving.
She should,
she thought miserably.
She should get out now, while she could…before all this violence erupted. That’s what she should do
…but one look at the man she loved, preparing himself for her announcement that she was leaving him, broke her heart and overrode her common sense.

“When do you have to leave?” she asked, resigned.

“We need to put a few things in place first,” he answered, his gaze holding hers tightly. “When do
you
leave?” he asked, his voice empty of all emotion. There was no noticeable change in his demeanor as he held her gaze, watching as she moved around the desk and sunk onto his lap.

He buried his face into her hair and she wrapped her arms around him tight.

“Don’t leave me, Whisk. Please,” he whispered in a low, rough voice that brought a sharp sting of tears to her eyes.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” For better or worse, she’d made her decision…she just hoped they knew what they were doing.

Chapter 6

Life as Whisky once knew it took on a whole new twist over the next few days. Reinforcements from nearby friendly clubs began arriving, taking up any and all available space in the club house. The club boardroom was a constant hive of activity as they plotted and planned their revenge, and Whisky was glad she was kept too busy running around making sure there was enough food and alcohol to keep their visitors fed and happy to have time to sit and worry about what they might be planning.

Everywhere she went she was shadowed by at least two members and
there were times when she began to feel like a prisoner herself. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful for their protection—she knew all too well what the Switchblades were capable of doing in order to get Sawyer’s attention, and she would be the perfect bait. It was more that each time she looked up and saw her bodyguards she was instantly reminded at how different her life was from everyday normal. No matter how hard she tried to pretend that the club being legit was somehow safer—the threat was always there. Danger was always there and the potential for violence was…
always there
.

She hadn’t heard from Bella since their fight in the apartment two days ago and it was tearing her up inside. They hardly ever fought and when they had in the past, it was usually over something so mundane that they’d eventually end up laughing over it. This time
, though, was different. This time she had no idea what was going on inside Bella’s head and she knew she’d have to suck up her own hurt feelings and be the one to go back and apologize. Enough was enough. Bella had to snap out of this funk she was in. There was no way Whisky was going to stand by and let her throw away all her hard work now that the end was in sight. She’d drag Bella to school if that’s what it took—but one way or another, she was going to make that class.