Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(56)

Anyway, when I woke up after that first night in Utah, I had no idea  what time it was, and I was afraid to look at the clock. I felt  well-rested, and hadn't gotten to sleep until 8 that morning, so I  figured it was at least 4pm. I didn't know what I'd have to do to get to  sleep that night; probably drink myself into a stupor.

Or, if Reign was going to come by again, he might be able to help me get to sleep …

That thought, drowsy and dreamy, jolted me awake as soon as I'd fully  processed it. Reign. Utah. The money. Jeremy. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit!

What the fuck was I doing laying in this motel bed thinking about some  motorcycle dude when Jeremy was probably after me by now, and I was  probably wanted by the police for ditching that hotel room with the body  in it? How could I possibly be thinking about sex?

Everything came back in a sickening rush. I let him take my fucking  car … I'm such an idiot! Oh god, I'm such a stupid, stupid idiot! I've  gotta get out of here!

All Reign's lovely words and heartfelt promises from the night before  now fell to the floor, as useless as clothes had been twelve hours  prior. It was like waking up from some strange coma where I'd been fully  aware of what I was doing for hours, but which no longer seemed to be  real. There was no way I'd done that. Any of it. Not the drinking, not  the cigarette, not the sex, not the long hours of talking afterwards.  Not only was that just not me … it was fucking dangerous, and I couldn't  be the sort of person who engaged in that activity.

But what sort of person was I, then? Did I even know? Could I even  answer that question honestly? Not really … I'd been Jeremy's person, his  property, for so long that I didn't have my own person anymore.

I jumped out of bed like I'd slept through my alarm, the same panicky  heart-racing feeling amplified by a thousand. My eyes darted around the  room, seeing everything but not making sense of anything. All I had were  the clothes I'd worn to work, my gym clothes, and my uniform.         

     



 

Thoughtlessly, I threw on my jeans and the tank top I usually worked out  in; it was form-fitting and a little dirty but I didn't care. I hadn't  even stopped to put my panties back on. Once dressed, I felt a little  better. But I still didn't have anywhere to go, or any idea what to do.

What had Reign said the night before? He wouldn't be up until 9? That  left … four hours, I realized, finally looking at the clock. Four hours  without my car keys, with no place to go …

Maybe I can break into the car and hotwire it, I thought, then realized  how stupid an idea that was. For one thing, I had no idea how to hotwire  a car. And, for another, if I just waited a little while I could just  drive away with my keys … but the waiting, that seemed like unbearable  torture. I knew that just sitting in the room would be hard enough, with  my mind racing with constant thoughts of Jeremy and the police and all  the trouble I'd be in.

Okay, okay, okay, I thought to myself, closing my eyes and willing my  heartrate to go back to normal, my racing mind to slow down and be  logical. There has to be something I can do …

As I focused on my breathing, I was surprised to feel myself actually  calming down. A word seemed to emerge in my thoughts, repeating over and  over, a word that I hadn't thought of in years. Something that I'd  picked up in college, before I'd met Jeremy, taking a course on Eastern  Philosophy. I'd been very into meditation then, and had latched onto  ham-sah as my mantra of choice.

But I hadn't meditated in years, at least not since before my marriage.  Life as Jeremy's wife had taken that sense of peace and surety out of  me. Now, I almost wanted to cry as I felt myself slipping into a calmer  state, the world around me no longer spinning dizzyingly out of control.

I control my own fate, I thought, the words sounding far-off in my brain. I can do whatever I want.

It was so strange, to be in that hotel room, in what was arguably the  most dangerous situation of my life, and still be able to find solace  engaging in a practice that I'd dropped so long ago. But it was just  like everything else that I'd felt since leaving Colorado; I was coming  back to myself. I was indulging in the things that made me who I was. I  was letting myself meet myself again, brand new and ready to leave  everything behind.

Let's take a walk, I suddenly thought, the words now sharp and clear  against the stillness of my mind as I meditated. My eyes opened on their  own, as though my brain was yielding to some greater part of me that  knew best. Just as my eyes seemed to open independently of my telling  them to, my legs moved me towards the door. As the trance-like effects  of meditating wore off, I glanced at the clock once more and was shocked  to see an entire half hour had passed by, though it felt like I'd only  closed my eyes for five minutes.

Only three and a half hours to go, I thought, banking entirely on  Reign's promise that he'd sleep until 9. I should have gotten his phone  number, I thought, realizing just how silly it was that I hadn't; I  wasn't planning on risking my safety by turning my phone back on and  potentially cluing Jeremy in to my whereabouts, but there was a phone in  the room and I could have used it to call him.

But this time, when I thought about this lapse in judgement, I didn't  feel like a worthless piece of shit, which was generally how screwing up  in any way made me feel. Instead, I felt like a normal person who'd  made a mistake and didn't need to commit seppuku over it.

I opened the door and immediately had to shield my eyes from the  brightness outside. It had been so dark in the hotel room, my eyes ached  as I blinked into the sun. The air was dry and hot, the desert  stretching out for miles in all directions, mountains ranging across the  distance. It was gorgeous, really, with that sort of sad, desolate  beauty that only exists amongst the sagebrush and red rock.

The bar was circled entirely by motorcycles once more, all of them  parked and gleaming in the sun. A few men stood outside smoking; they  didn't seem to see me. For the first time, I looked at the buildings  that made up the actual motel, wondering how many other people were  staying there. Judging by the lack of cars in any of the designated  parking spots, it seemed I was the sole visitor to the Ditcher's Valley  Sun Lizard Motel and Bar.

The sign declaring the bar's name hadn't been lit up at all the night  before, so this was my first look at it. The sign was well-worn and  weathered, the shoddy paint peeling around the edges, a cartoonish  iguana clad in a motorcycle jacket looking googly-eyed onto the main  street. I walked towards the road and shaded my eyes once more, peering  in the opposite direction of the bar.         

     



 

The town seemed to have only the one street, and all I could make out in  the baking heat was a glimmering parking lot, what looked like a gas  station, and a building that could have been a bank. Assuming that my  car was parked in the lot, I made my way towards it, no real plan as to  what I'd do when I got there.

I was just following that idea that had popped into my head at the end  of my meditation: take a walk. It beat the hell out of chewing my  fingernails off in the motel room, and I wasn't feeling up to the task  of going into the bar and asking a stranger to tell me where I could  find Reign  –  and my car keys.

The entire town was no more than a mile long, and most of the businesses  seemed to be shuttered and closed for good. I thought about what Reign  had told me the night before; that the club essentially owned the town,  including the police force. I wondered if the lack of economic vitality  was a result of the club's dirty dealings, or an intentional façade to  keep outsiders away.

The small municipal lot where my car was parked was dusty and lonely; my  little Subaru looked out of place amongst the old vans and junkers that  were its neighbors. Past the lot there was, indeed, a bank and a gas  station, as well as a small grocery store, a repair shop, a dinky police  station, and a library. A Harley store sat on the very end of the main  street, after which there was nothing but miles of desert speckled with  the occasional shack, trailer, or one-story house.

The side streets of the town all seemed to go nowhere, and the only  other signs of habitation were a series of apartment buildings that  fairly towered behind the grocery store. It was almost spooky in the  town; there were few people out and about, and everyone seemed to be  idling around with nothing to do.

I wondered where the hell people worked or what they did; there wasn't  even a movie theater. I assumed, correctly as it would turn out, that  pretty much everyone in town spent their nights at the bar, and that the  main source of work was the club. Even the sleepy gas station attendant  wore a leather jacket bearing the name of the Black Smoke MC.

I was floored by the fact that an entire town could be run by an illegal  operation, fueled entirely by drug deals and criminal pursuits. It  really was like the Wild West; I wondered if the FBI ever tried to  intervene in the club's activities, or even had Ditcher's Valley on  their radar.