"Sorry," I said, not moving my hands from her arms. I found myself not wanting to move, too mesmerized by the intensity in her dark eyes.
She didn't respond, instead yanked her arms out of my hands, her eyes darting behind me like some kind of scared animal. I realized what I was seeing as intensity in her eyes was really fear. And then I saw the red welts on her arms, raw and angry on her skin.
"Hey," I said. "Are you okay?" I reached for her arm again, about to pull her away so I could talk some kind of sense into her. Whoever she was looking for, whoever she was afraid of, I couldn't just send her back to him.
But before I could say anything, I heard someone clear his throat behind me, and I turned to see Mark, the security guard, standing there, shaking his head. When I looked back, the girl was gone, walking toward a man in a suit who stood on the other side of the room, his arms crossed in front of him.
"Mr. Holder," Mark said. "That's not someplace you want to go."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Did you see her? She looks scared out of her fucking mind."
Mark shook his head. "You know that phrase about sleeping dogs," he said. "Let it go. Don't even think about it. That's trouble you don't want to be involved in. Not with her. Not with who she’s with."
But even after I turned to walk away, I could feel her tiny body in my hands, the tremble as I gripped her arms.
And later that night, I couldn’t quite shake the way I had felt looking at her. I felt protective. Like I wanted to kill whoever had frightened her.
I had also experienced the unmistakable rush of attraction.
It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
And, almost immediately, a feeling of guilt washed over me, so strong it nearly took my breath away.
Later that night, I lay in the bed, awake in the darkness, listening to the creaking of the ceiling fan. Most times were okay now, but nights were the worst. It was the time when I couldn’t shut down my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried. Lying awake in bed at night was when I missed April the most, when I questioned whether I could keep doing this every day, the rinse-lather-repeat of the same thing over and over again. Sometimes I truly didn’t know what the answer to that question was.
Tonight, I kept seeing the face of the girl from the casino when I closed my eyes. And felt my heart race, thinking about her.
And then I felt the unmistakable feeling of guilt and shame.
There wasn’t anyone for me but April. There never would be.
It was going to be fucking ridiculous, showing up to the clubhouse in a fucking car. But I didn’t give a shit. I was only going because I still considered Skunk a good friend. He’d stood by me, especially after April died. I’d known him from way back years ago, but he’d joined the Vegas chapter of the Inferno MC and I’d been out in California with the Los Angeles chapter.
He’d been showing up at my house, pretty regular. Even when I first came back to Vegas, when I’d cleaned myself up but things were still really dark.
The first time he showed up was a year ago.
~
When I saw him standing at the front door wearing his leathers, I felt a rush of anger at the sight of the Inferno MC logo. I’d let the brothers come out to April’s burial, but fuck, I was in such a daze then I didn’t give a shit about what anyone else did. After time away with MacKenzie in Puerto Rico, time away from all of the club shit, I didn’t want to see it anymore. I couldn’t be around it.
“I don’t want to fucking see the colors, Skunk,” I said. “I’m not a part of that shit anymore.”
He nodded. “I can see that. But you and I go back farther than that, Joe. You know me.”
“I know you,” I said. “And I don’t need you fucking checking up on me. I don’t need the goddamn club checking up on me. You understand what the fuck retirement means?”
He shrugged. “Understood,” he said. Then he turned, got back on his bike. I listened to the motor rev, and watched him ride away. Good riddance. I didn’t need a reminder of the shit that had killed April. I had a new life now. I was a goddamn white collar worker. My job didn’t involve anyone getting killed. It didn’t involve beating anyone to death.
Still, later that night after MacKenzie was in bed, I sat in the garage, drinking a beer, looking at the bike, the one I wouldn’t ride, but couldn’t bring myself to let go of.
~
And then Skunk came back again two weeks later. Showed up on my doorstep, just like before. He just shrugged when I opened the door. That time, I didn’t turn him away. And then he showed up two weeks after that.
It had taken a year for me to consider associating with the club again. And even now, I still wasn’t sure about this shit. I'd gone out to see Blaze, let him talk me into doing that job for the club.