Zeke(39)

I shoot to my feet, taking the coffee table with me. No! I raise my arms, whipping the table across the room. The wood breaks as it slams against the wall. I feel it right to the bones. “Fuck!” I fist my hands, trying to hold back the rage building within. “Fuck!” I won’t. I can’t. No! I’m not like him. I’m not a monster! I will not take it away from the only woman I’ve ever cared about. I refuse to take her innocence ...





CHAPTER TWENTY





“Okay,” Jax comes strutting into the kitchen, “which one of you assholes broke the coffee table in the basement?” His eyes rock back and forth between Slate and me.

“Wasn’t me.” Slate sits down at the table next to me. “I haven’t gone down there since Rayna locked me up in that place.”

“Bad memories?” I smirk at Slate.

“Fucked up ones, yeah.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s good to see him eating real food again.

“You’re welcome,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Fuck you,” he says, just before tilting back his bottled water for a swig.

“You needed it, dickhead. You needed her. Jax and I couldn’t get through to you,” I say in a more serious tone.

“Whatever.” He sets the water down. He’s sober but remains hard and won’t talk about it. I’m hoping with time that’ll change.

“Well, if it wasn’t you,” Jax breaks in, “then it had to be you, fucker.” He nudges me.

“Yeah,” I stand up and walk over to the garbage can. Not hungry, I toss out my half-eaten grilled cheese that Slate made me. “I’ll fix it.”

“What the fuck?” Jax stops my exit from the kitchen with a firm hand to my chest.

I push his hand away. “Said I’ll take care of it.”

“Hey, maybe Zeke’s the one who needs a little intervention now.” Slate laughs behind me. “Ya know we could lock him up down in the basement with that Lurlene. Maybe, she can break him of his multi-pussy addiction. What do ya think, Jax?”

Jax stands in front of me, ignoring Slate’s jab. “What’s going on,” he asks. Just then, his cell rings, saving me from answering the question. Jax’s eyes narrow as he swipes his cell screen and pulls it to his ear. “Yeah?”

The doorbell sounds. I go to answer it. “Yeah.” Jax jabs a finger into my shoulder as he nods, again stopping my exit. “Let me check with Zeke.” His eyes remain on me as he talks into the cell.

“I’ll get it.” Slate shoots up from the chair to answer the door.

Jax clicks off the cell and tosses it on the table. “Tommy Bigs canceled tonight, Slate’s already scheduled to fight, and it seems like you got some shit going on that maybe you could work off in the ring. Want me to put you in Tommy’s spot?”

“Sure.”

“You okay?” He jerks a rough chin at me.

I nod. It’s not as though I can talk to Jax about my issues. Shit’s been with me for years but no one knows about it. And as fucked up as it all is, I can’t bring myself to let the monster live in my reality. I need to keep him locked away in my dreams. That’s where he belongs. He’s my monster. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.

“Ya know,” Jax’s eyes lighten, “all bullshit aside, I’m here for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” He grins. “Now, get your ass downstairs and fix that fucking table.”

“You got it, buttercup.” I pat his ripped stomach muscles, glad we’re moving past all this feelings shit. Man, the new Jax, the one with Emmie is turning him soft. I head down the stairs and start to pick up the broken table.

Fuck. I’m gonna need to plaster the hole in the wall.

“Hey,” Rayna says, coming down the stairs.

I set the table against the wall and walk over to her. I’ve always liked the girl. Her and Slate dated for like five years in school. So, of course, she was off-limits, and not trying to get in her pants made it real easy to talk to her. Besides Rusty, and well Addy, of course, she’s the only other woman that I’d ever call my friend.

She glances at the busted table. “What happened?”

“What?” I grin, hitching a thumb back. “You and Slate didn’t do that when you had him hog tied down here?”

“No.” Her nose scrunches.

I laugh at her dramatized appall. “What’s up?” I wink, attempting to evade the whole table thing.

She sets her hands on her hips. “That’s what I want to know,” she sasses, head flouncing with every word. “You,” her chin joists at me, “and Lurlene?”