Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(58)

He wondered what his little bathroom would look like filled with a bunch of some woman's beauty care products …

Damn, Reign really hated the things his brain was doing recently.





12





After another hour and a half of waiting in my hotel room, clicking  through the channels aimlessly, all the peace of mind I'd managed to  gain that afternoon had reached its limit and I was back to waves of  utter panic. My fingernails looked like some sort of horrible art school  exhibit. My right eye was twitching uncontrollably. My lungs felt like  I'd just run a marathon from all the hyperventilating I was doing. I was  a total mess.

As soon as the clock struck 9, I stood up and walked mechanically  towards the door. Some part of my poor, overworked brain expected to  open the door and see Reign standing there. I cast a last long look at  the safe before leaving; it still seemed to throb or pulse with the  secret inside.

All that money isn't going to do me a damn bit of good if Jeremy kills  me, I thought for the umpteenth time that day. Most people dream of  happening upon that much money, and it was certainly my savior in terms  of escaping my marriage, but it was a very heavy weight to be carrying  on my shoulders.

I didn't know how much longer I could possibly support that weight.

At least, not without some help.

I crossed the dusty parking lot, temples throbbing with each step I took  closer to the bar. Maybe you should just stay in the room, I thought,  figuring that if Reign was any sort of good he'd come looking for me  there once he saw I wasn't at the bar. But another minute in that room,  staring at the TV without actually comprehending anything I was seeing,  would be an eternity in hell.

The bar was as crowded as it had been the night before  –  and even though  I was no longer clutching the money to me like a baby, I felt less  secure than ever. After all, I had to assume that word had gotten around  by now, if Reign had made good on his promise to tell everyone that I  was in their hands for safe keeping.

I certainly generated far more interest amongst the crowd than I had the  previous night, with various people giving me looks and then turning to  say something to their neighbor, who'd also turn to look at me. But,  strangely enough, even though this was far removed from any sort of  crowd I'd feel comfortable with, I didn't feel that awkward with all the  eyes on me. Mostly, I guess, because the looks were more curious  –  or  even accepting  –  than anything else. Also because I was too damn scared  of everything else in the world to give a hoot about the patrons of the  Sun Lizard Motel and Bar.

I scanned the busy room, looking for Reign, and didn't see him. But I  did spot the woman who had been tending bar the night before, who had  rented me the room. She was sitting at a table with another, much  younger woman. They were leaning in close, talking confidentially, but  from their shared smiles I got the feeling that it wasn't too serious a  conversation. I began to walk towards her, since she was the closest to  an acquaintance that I had in the joint.         

     



 

I wasn't noticed even as I drew closer; the two women were drawing  closer, too, to each other. I bit my lip, rethinking my plan, as it  became clear that I was about to intrude on something very personal. The  bartender's companion was a slight, young blonde, and she seemed  enamored with the older woman, hanging onto every whispered word.

I slowed down my approach, mind skipping somewhat; I had  –  and have  –  no  problem with lesbians, but its awkward barging in on anyone's make-out  sesh, especially someone like the bartender, who hadn't seemed to like  me very much the night before to begin with. But I didn't know who else  to ask about Reign; I considered just going back to my room and waiting,  but the idea alone was enough to drive me into a frantic state. I  needed answers.

Just as I was about to dart forward and interrupt the kiss before it  happened, the two women closed the gap between them, their lips meeting  in a soft blur. Even as a straight woman, the view of two beautiful  women kissing deeply wasn't wholly lost on me.

Damn it, I thought, selfishly, now it's gonna be super awkward.

What could I do? I was only a few steps away from the table where the  women were kissing, their mouths now slightly parted, a faint pink hint  of tongue between them. The bartender had her hand on the younger  woman's bicep and was stroking the flesh there; to my surprise, I seemed  to be the only one watching.

I'd have thought a room full of dirty old biker dudes would have been  hollering over the girl-on-girl action. But nope. It was just me. Just  me being a weird creeper watching two perfectly consenting adults make  out while I stood around with my mouth hanging open and my mind shot to  shit with worry and stress.

I guess I knew they'd notice me eventually; I just hoped they wouldn't  notice until they were done kissing. But no luck; I watched as the older  woman's eyes peeked open and turned my way, as though she'd felt me  looking. She pulled back from the kiss quickly, and I saw the younger  girl's head trailing along, lips puckered, as though looking for more.

"Can I help you?" the older woman snapped, her eyes now drilling holes  into mine. I flinched under her gaze. The younger girl kept staring at  the bartender at first, with a look akin to wonder, then turned to me,  her face a sort of blank slate.

I don't like to speak poorly of other women, especially not after what  I've been through, but the girl looked like more like a bimbo now that I  was up-close and could pick up on her vacant stare. Looking at her  reminded me, somewhat, of times when I would lay in bed next to Jeremy,  or even sit across from him at dinner, and force my mind to go blank. To  avoid feeling anything, I'd often choose to feel and think nothing. The  girl had the same look on her face as she stared at me. It made me feel  tremendously sad, more than I'd felt since leaving Colorado.

I decided to package that feeling and hide it away for the time being.  There would be hours and hours of driving that I could spend trying to  unpack that feeling, and many other feelings. Now, I needed to get my  shit together.

"I'm … I'm looking for Reign?" I said, softly, still shaken by the way the bartender was looking at me.

"Well, do I look like him?" She spat back, clearly annoyed that her  moment with the blonde had been interrupted. But it was more than that.

"No, it's just … I'm sorry. I just really need to … he has my car keys and … I  just really need to … ." I muttered, stuttering over my words, eyes  dropping to the ground. There was a long pause as my sentence trailed  off into nothing, before the bartender spoke once more. Her voice when  she spoke sounded softer, almost resigned.

Or possibly empathetic?

I figured that was too much to hope for. When I looked back up at her,  head still lowered, her face matched her voice: softer, less angry, more  patient. She sighed.

"I get it, I get it, I'm sorry. My bark is worse than my bite. But,  sorry doll, Reign didn't leave her ‘til about three hours ago. I expect  he's still sleeping it off. That boy might not show his face again ‘til  morning. He didn't leave no keys with me, though," she said, turning  away from the girl now to sit facing me, her arms folding across each  other on the table. I was struck once more by her beauty; she was older,  but her eyes had a fiery glow, her face lean but full. She gave off the  aura of some sort of Grecian warrior.

"Oh," I said, processing this new information. A part of me, despite  myself, was a bit annoyed; he hadn't just gone home and gone to sleep? I  brushed the irritation away; I was in no position to be judging this  near-stranger's habits or choices.         

     



 

What was more pressing was the fact that without my keys, I was stuck  there whether it was safe for me to leave or not. It was no longer my  choice; that scared me. I'd lived without the option to make my own  choices for so long, and it had been intoxicating to order for myself  and choose to have a drink or a cigarette. I didn't want to be left  without choices ever again, even if it was under far different  circumstances than my marriage.

The bartender was still staring at me as my mind turned, slowly. She  didn't seem impatient, but she did seem … calculating? As though she was  watching to see what I'd do, or like she was making a slow judgement of  me. I wanted to impress her; I didn't know why, and I didn't know how,  but I wanted this woman to respect me.

"Do you know where he lives?" I finally asked, figuring that I could  just go grab my keys from him without causing too much trouble for  anyone. Honey nodded, but I could tell from her expression that she  didn't want to give up that information.

"I do, and I could tell ya, but I'd rather not. Though he has taken  quite a shine to you, I don't think he'd mind you knowing where he lays  his head down. But he would mind being woken up, and if he didn't take  it out on you he'd take it out on me. I don't wanna hear him in here  whinin' about how I interrupted his sleep by givin' out his address,"  she said, ending with a halfhearted smile, not remotely apologetic.