Mayhem (Deathstalkers MC #5)(57)
"Here you go."
Tracie hands her another card. The cashier looks at it quickly before swiping the card. The transaction clears and I take back both cards. A quick glance shows a picture of me, along with my date of birth and other information.
A license.
Once we walk away from the register, I turn toward Tracie. "Where did you get this?"
"The boys have connections everywhere, girl. Torch made a call to someone in the DMV for Cutter a couple of days ago."
I'm beginning to understand that the "connections" the brothers have run far and wide.
We spend the next few hours in and out of store after store. Each time the card gets swiped, I have an all-consuming fear that it will get denied because with the amount I'm spending, I find it hard to believe I haven't emptied his account yet.
We're walking past a Mexican restaurant when Izzy stops to look at the menu. "You hungry?" she asks.
"Yeah, actually. My feet are killing me, too."
"It's definitely overwhelming, but all of us had a trip like this when we met our boys. Except for Tracie, we came from some pretty screwed up pasts and had almost nothing to our name when the guys met us. It was definitely a learning curve. Not that Trace didn't have her own baggage, but she grew up in the club so it was all second nature to her." Her arm loops through mine. "I know it's hard. You really have a safe haven here, though."
The prospects appear out of thin air and take our bags. Tracie tosses them her keys. "No funny business, okay? She's my baby."
The guys head back toward the car, laden with shopping bags. I stifle a giggle as we walk through the double doors. There are people everywhere. None of the tables near the window are free so we're shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. The girls take their seats
"I actually need to run to the bathroom," I say. "Can you just order me a soda?"
Nikki points to a door on the opposite side of the restaurant and I head to the bathrooms. As I walk between the tables, I spy someone at the bar and my stomach flips then sinks.
Dylan.
My heels click against the floor as I pick up my pace, running toward the bathroom and straight into a stall, slamming the door behind me, making sure the door is locked before I rest my back against it. My breath comes in pants, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
It couldn't be him.
He can't be here.
I have to be seeing things.
It doesn't matter that I'm biting my lips to stop them; the tears still fall. First slowly, one running down my face, catching on my chin before falling to the ground. That is swiftly followed by another . . . and another. Before I know it my whole body is shaking. The walls of the stall feel like they are getting closer and closer, caging me in. And even as I try to think about anything else, his face hovers at the front of my mind. I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, counting down from ten.
You're okay.
You're safe.
He can't hurt you anymore.
I repeat that phrase to myself over and over until my breathing finally starts to even out. I wipe the few stray tears that escaped. The girls will be wondering what's taking me so long and the last thing I want is for one of them to come looking for me and find me like this. While washing my hands, I make eye contact with myself in the mirror.
When you walk out there, he won't be there.
He was never there.
Taking one more deep breath I walk out of the bathroom and see the prospect standing at the end of the hallway. Relief fills me, knowing that he's close. As I near the end of the hallway I peer back into the bar.
It's empty.
Walking back I keep my eyes on our table. My heart is hammering but my steps are slow and steady, with no hint of the fear that runs freely through my veins. By the time I take my seat my mask is firmly in place. I join in with the conversation and if any of them have a clue that I've just had a panic attack in a public bathroom stall because I thought I saw my psychotic husband, they say nothing.
Because, really, there's nothing anyone can say.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jaz
The double doors to church are shut tight and have been for a while, so the girls and I are just hanging out in the main room. It's been a couple of days since our shopping outing and other than me working at the club again, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. There are conditions, though. If Cutter can't be there, I have a prospect posted outside the door. I have to admit, I feel bad for them. They have the craziest jobs.
"I'm gonna grab something to snack on." I get up from the table and head into the kitchen.