“Right,” Shadow says sarcastically. “So, I’m supposed to believe you didn’t tell your mother anything?” He puffs his sweaty chest out and hooks his thumbs in the elastic of his shorts.
“You mean how you are a hit man?” I ask scowling. “If I had, would you still be standing here?”
Shadow huffs at my statement; he clearly doesn’t believe me.
“So, I should just trust you?” Shadow scoffs. “Trust the girl who was whisked away by the FBI, who claimed she was a witness. Trust the girl who took my soul and smothered it with her lies?” He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I don’t think so, babe.”
I flinch at his cruel words, feeling the snap of my last string of caring. I smile, disgusted by his hurtful words. “Shadow, I never had your trust to begin with, so believe whatever the hell you want.”
Shadow’s face falls from amusement to an expression of anger. His jaw hardens, and his eyebrows cave inward. I shiver, regretting my sudden sprout of bravery.
“Dani, I can tell you this. You don’t want to piss me off,” he says with hooded eyes.
“Pretty sure I already have.” I scowl at him, telling him what we both already know. I am the enemy, not only to him, but also to everyone in this club.
He stares at me, the power in his eyes ominous. I wonder how I got myself into this situation. How did I believe Shadow and I would ever be anything more than a train wreck?
“You promised me we wouldn’t be that couple,” I say, trying to hide the hurt that he slept around on me, but I’m not strong enough. I shift on my feet and slant my head to the side, looking at the gritty floor, which lights up and goes dark for seconds at a time. “You said you weren’t that guy,” I continue.
I look at him, waiting for what he has to say to his broken promise. His eyes change to those of regret, before hardening so quickly, I question if it even happened or if I just imagined it.
Shadow chuckles, widening his stance and folding his arms across his sweaty chest. “You mean an outlaw from a motorcycle club broke a promise? Lied to you?” He laughs. “That’s a shocker.”
My body is hit with a surge of adrenaline straight to the heart. I thought Shadow was different, that he was the one, but I was clearly wrong. He is the opposite. He was just the one who broke my heart.
“Firefly, are you in here?” Bobby asks, pushing through the doors to the kitchen.
Bobby looks between Shadow and me. “You all right, Firefly?” Bobby asks with concern, his lips pinched and eyes lifted with worry.
Shadow glares at Bobby as he enters the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I make my way to the doors but stop short, right in front of Shadow.
“Fuck. You,” I whisper.
Shadow bites his bottom lip as his eyebrows furrow, giving a light wrinkle between them. Bobby pushes on my back and directs me back to my cell.
***
The next day, the storm is over for the most part. Some rumbles of thunder linger, but we have full-functioning electricity and the air conditioner is back on. Bobby brought me breakfast and lunch along with a clean towel for showering. I’m hoping tomorrow we can head to the apartment; I don’t want to be around Shadow or this club any longer. After looking at my sixth motorcycle magazine, I have had enough of being held captive in this room. Maybe Bobby can whip me up one of his whiskey drinks or something. Spending the day numb and drunk doesn’t sound bad. I look in Bobby’s dresser for some kind of weapon in case I run into Shadow again. I don’t know if I can bring myself to hurt him, but I’d like to think I would if I needed too. Crap. There is nothing but spare bullets in his drawers. After coming up empty-handed with nothing to use as a weapon, I open the door slowly and poke my head out, looking for any sign of Shadow. I don’t hear anything. It’s completely silent, which is odd; there are usually guys hollering and girls giggling.
I enter the bar area and Babs is standing behind the bar looking at a magazine. Her red hair is pinned up with curls flopping down everywhere. She’s wearing a long, black sleeved shirt with black pants. Not something I peg her for wearing—weird.
“Hey, there, how ya doing?” she asks, slapping the magazine closed. Her eyes and tone seem surprised to see me.
“I could be better,” I say, sitting down, not sure if I can trust her. She seems to play the motherly role of the club and is feisty with her forward attitude. I wouldn’t doubt her for a second to try and eliminate me for being a possible threat to the club.
“Where are the boys?” I ask, looking around the empty space.
“On a run,” she says flatly.
“A run? It’s still storming,” I say, pointing toward the glass doors.
“That won’t stop them dumbasses,” she says with a smirk.