“Don’t start with me, Dani,” Shadow warns.
“Don’t give me that shit,” I snap. Shadow’s face goes blank with the sound of my tone. “You can’t act like an asshole to your brother, but not me.” He moves my legs off his lap and stands.
“What did you want Bobby to do? Strap me to the bed so I couldn’t leave. I thought you were done with me, and everybody treated me like shit. I thought a simple night out would be nice!” I yell, the situation pissing me off. I owe it to Bobby to stand up for him, considering he stood up for me when nobody else would.
Shadow rubs the back of his head with one hand while the other rests on his hip, his face red with anger and hostility.
“I know Bobby touched you, I know he put his hands where they didn’t belong,” Shadow hisses.
My teeth bite my lip in anger. What happened was inconsequential, Bobby and I would never cross that line.
“If you’re going to hate Bobby, you have to hate me, too,” I continue, stepping up to him, ready to go head-to-head.
“I’ll never hate you, Dani. Believe me, I’ve tried. Hating you would make things so much easier.” His tone is harsh and angry. He licks his pouty lips as he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me closer. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Don’t bring this up again, Dani.” I open my eyes to two blue, tortured ones staring at me, waiting for my reply.
“Fine,” I whisper, not having the energy to argue anymore.
“You don’t look so well,” he states, noticing my discomfort.
“Everything that’s been going on, I’m just past the point of stressed,” I respond.
“Let’s go to bed, babe,” he says, pushing me toward the bedroom.
I climb in bed and smother myself in the soft blanket as Shadow curls himself around me, nuzzling into my neck.
“I could never hate you, Dani,” he whispers against the skin of my neck.
“I know,” I agree, staring into the darkness.
***
A week goes by and the stress has not let up any. Seeing Babs slip in and out of consciousness everyday hurts. After spending the day at the beach with Shadow, we head back to the clubhouse. He heads off to church and I plant my ass at the bar. It’s not the same without Babs behind it; the club isn’t the same. I look around, wondering if Candy is still here and if she’s dumb enough to mess with me again, but I don’t see any sign of her. I lift from the stool and head into the kitchen in search of something to snack on; maybe it will help my queasy stomach. I hear glass jars clink into each other, catching my attention as I look toward the fridge. It slams shut and I am face-to-face with Locks. He looks at me and sniffs as he stares daggers at me. I feel a sudden rage rise, vengeance for Babs.
“Been by to see Babs?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“You would do well to keep your mouth shut, bitch,” he snarls.
My eyes widen in anger, shocked he would talk to me like that.
“Excuse me?” I question.
He stomps toward me, his boots thudding against the dirty floor.
“You heard me. Your daddy might think your shit don’t stink but I’m here to tell you it does. You should be six feet under, and everyone around here knows it.”
“Fuck you!” I scream, pushing him in his chest.
He looks down at where I pushed him and suddenly backhands me, making me stumble into the counter. My hands grip the stainless-steel sink and the dirty dishes in the sink catch my attention, a knife in particular. I reach in and grip the dirty butcher knife then turn around and glare at Locks. He has a smug look on his face, proud he just hit me, and by the looks of him flexing his hand, he’s ready to do it again. The feeling of rage, which surfaces when things get ugly, pushes forward, crawling over my rational thinking. I grip the knife and assess where I should stab him. No man will ever hit me. Just as I push off the sink ready to attack, the kitchen doors fling open and Shadow walks in. He takes in the scene with a raised brow. “What’s going on?” he demands.
I look at Locks, whose attention is on Shadow.
“You need to keep that bitch on a leash!” Locks yells as he points at me.
“You fucking hit her?” Shadow asks pointedly.
Locks looks at me with a smirk. The cool-down from adrenaline raises the pain in my cheek where he hit me. I lift my hand to touch the tender spot and wince.
“Did he hit you?” Shadow questions me. If the heat rising from cheek indicates anything, I’m sure Shadow knows the answer.
Shadow strides forward with a crazed look in his eye. He grabs Locks by his leather cut with both hands and pulls him within a hair’s length from his face.
“You just signed your own death certificate, brother,” Shadow threatens.