Burn (Bayonet Scars #5)

“It’s been too long. Where is he?”


More than half the club returned some time ago. They were escorting two men with dark hair who were wearing suits and disappeared into the chapel immediately after they walked in. Only Jim came out for a minute, completely ignoring Fish, who’s gagged and bound to the chair in front of me, as he took a moment to talk with Ruby. I don’t know what they said, but she nodded her head solemnly, and that was that. He went back into the chapel, slamming the door behind him, and hasn’t come out since. I’m calming down little by little, getting better at keeping the panic at bay than I was when Ian first left with his brothers. Ruby tried to pull me away from my seat, but I need this. I have to keep my eye on the traitorous fuck in front of me, or I’m going to go nuts. I just want to know that Ian’s safe, and every passing minute that I don’t know how he’s doing just makes the knot in my stomach larger.

Jeremy passes by in a rush. He’s got an angry scowl on his face and a gas can in one hand with a large canvas tarp in the other. I hop up from my chair quickly and chase after him. It’s the first time I’ve really moved since Jeremy and Rink shoved Fish in that chair and bound him to the damn thing. I kind of appointed myself his babysitter, but if I stare at his disgusting face any longer, I’m going to start kicking him just for the heck of it.

“Have you heard from Ian?”

Jeremy doesn’t slow down. He just strides right out of the clubhouse and to an open white van where he drops the gas can and tarp in the back.

“No. He’s busy, though. Once he’s taken care of shit, he’ll be back here and you’ll be able to chill out.” There’s a slight edge to his voice, warning me not to push it too much.

“I just want to know that he’s okay. Is that too much to ask?” I throw my arms up in the air, exasperated by the entire situation.

Jeremy ignores my pleas and stomps back into the clubhouse just as Ruby’s walking out. She rolls her flannel sleeves up to her elbows and stares at me as she obviously thinks something over.

“I don’t know if I like you,” she says and places her hands on her hips. A few hours ago and I’d likely shrink in embarrassment and frustration over her comment. But now I’m at the end of my rope.

“Right,” I say in frustration and nod my head. There are several things I could say to her, but none of them are helpful. Still, I find it too difficult to keep my thoughts entirely to myself. “You can hate me all you want, but don’t expect me to argue. I don’t have the energy for it.”

“Never said I hated you. Said I don’t know if I like you.”

“Same difference.” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to explain herself.

“You’re strong, beautiful. You’re pretty fucked-up, too.”

I throw my head back in laughter, unable to contain the toxicity of her statement from spreading through me.

“Now that’s an understatement. Is that your issue? That I’m damaged?”

“God, no. We’re all fucked-up,” she says and purses her lips. Ruby’s an intimidating woman, and it’s not her size or the way she carries herself. She’s not much taller than me, and even though she walks with an easy confidence, what really intimidates me about her is how much the people around her love and respect her. The kind of respect she has from the club and extended family is a reflection of who she is. It doesn’t help my anxiety that she’s Ian’s mother. I may not get along with my mom, but I know that’s not the case with Ruby and her children. I know enough to know that her opinion matters to Ian. I’m up against enough without her hating me to boot.

“I’m his mother. I love him fiercely, and I’m having trouble sharing him.”

“There’s a lot to love,” I say.

She nods her head and walks away. Ruby’s a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure. Maybe my honesty will win me some points with her. If she loves him as fiercely as she says she does, she has to be able to see my motives for what they are—pure.