“Because that would only make you like me.” I look at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. Taking my drink from my hand, she downs it and smiles. “And what I’m looking for is love.”
She’s right—love for her is exactly what I have.
* * *
By the time we get to Jackpot, the sun is setting in the Nevada sky. It’s a beautiful September day that will likely turn ugly in a matter of minutes. A Prospect is there to pick us up, and the ride is silent back to the clubhouse.
Rookie keeps Carrie pressed tightly against his side. Even though we’re among family, he warns off every man we pass with a look. I don’t even hold Diem’s hand. Nobody but me is stupid enough to get involved with a crazy bitch like her. But I smile with pride knowing that she’s mine.
“Monica,” I greet, flashing a smile to her across the bar. I can feel Diem stiffen and my smile widens. “You remember Diem?” Looking down at Diem, I give her a look of warning. “Play nice.”
She walks past me, sliding on one of the barstools and reaching her hand out to Monica, who takes it, shooting me an uneasy look. Not knowing what else to do, I look back at Diem. Damn, I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid. “Nice to officially meet you, Monica. Although I think we spoke one time on the phone.” Shooting daggers at me, Diem drops her smile, gives me the finger, then turns back to Monica. “I’ll take a Seven and Seven.”
“Okay. What can I get for you, sweetie?” Monica asks Carrie, who takes the seat next to Diem. I notice Diem cringe at the endearment, and pray that Monica doesn’t use that sweetie talk on her.
“Surprise me,” Carrie says, clutching her purse a little tighter in her lap. Poor thing.
“This isn’t gonna end well, is it?” Rookie asks from beside me.
Shaking my head, I give him the truth. “Nope. Not at all.”
* * *
We leave the girls and join Nationals on the back patio. We stand, hug, shake hands, then I grab the blunt from between Chaps’s finger before taking a seat. “How’s the shoulder?” he asks, pointing toward my ridiculous sling that Carrie insisted I wear.
“It’s good. I’m a little stiff, but this helps.” I hold up the blunt with a smile.
“Got a call from Clark,” Jimbo starts, getting right down to business. “Says Diem is out. That true?”
I nod. “It’s true.”
“And Dorian?”
“That’s true too.”
“Well, that’s good news for us,” Chaps says, sitting back in his chair. “Heard form a source that he wasn’t taking much of a likin’ to Sinner’s Creed. I guess the more he thought about Cyrus’s speech, the more he thought Dirk’s death was our fault.”
“Your girl, she think like that too?” Jimbo leans forward, taking the blunt from my fingers.
“She’s out. Doesn’t matter what she thinks. But the answer is no. She holds no ill feelings toward Sinner’s Creed,” I tell them, making sure I look all of them in the eye so they can feel the full impact of what I’m saying. Diem’s name didn’t need to be brought up anymore. She wasn’t anybody’s business but mine.
Jimbo gives Chaps a look, and he nods. Leaning forward in his seat, he clasps his hands together, taking a moment before finally dragging his eyes up to meet mine. “We know you want out.” I keep my face impassive, not giving anything away. But what I really want to do is punch Rookie in the jaw. Again.
“And we get it,” Chaps continues, giving me a look of understanding—the same look all my brothers wear. “But you’re never just out, Shady. You know that.”
Of course I know that. I was just hoping my brothers would give a little fucking credit where credit was due. I’d earned my right to be in this club. And I’d earned the right to walk away. I’d done everything for them. This was their chance to do something for me.
I light a cigarette, giving each one of them the same look of disappointment I feel in my heart. “I’ve never asked this club for anything,” I start, remembering that Dirk had given this same group of men that same line a little over a year ago. “I’m not saying you owe me anything, because you don’t. But ever since Dirk left, things haven’t been the same for me. I feel like I’ve been living a lie for months. It’s not fair to y’all for me to be a part of this if my heart just ain’t in it. I’ve found something else to live for. And now that I have, I’ll never be able to give this club the dedication it deserves.”
They listen to my argument that I’m sure is falling on deaf ears. It doesn’t matter what I say. Their minds are already made up. They know what they’re going to do, and I’ll have to accept my fate in whichever form they deliver it.