When I'm With You (Little Hollow Series, #2)(31)

I wonder if anyone will be looking for me? Probably not. My heart aches at the thought. As soon as morning comes around, someone will notice the state of the shop and call the cops, right?

The thought of Sam getting the call about the salon and apartment has my heart in my mouth, and I can’t even think about eating whatever’s in the box. I feel sick at being the cause of her heartache and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. Connor will make sure she’s cared for, the only saving grace in the situation.

I desperately want to speak to her one last time, tell her how much she’s changed my life just by being her. We were two lost souls that were comforted in the fact that we had each other. Now it’s Connor’s turn to be that for her.

I pull my knees up to my chest and fold my arms across them, wincing at the pain in my knee and ribs as I rest my forehead against my arms.





I’m so drunk I can’t even make it back to my room, but I had a hell of a time catching up with Smokey. I watch as he stumbles into the wall on his way out of the common area, and I move to flop down onto one of the sofa’s in here, throwing my feet up. I’ll just sleep here, as long as I don’t puke, no one will mind.

It’s handy I live here, I think to myself as I sigh. I moved into the clubhouse after my mom died two years ago, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same house without her.

The main door opens interrupting my thoughts, and I pretend to be asleep, not wanting to talk to anyone. I hear someone fumbling about behind the bar and decide to sneak a look at whoever it is. It’s Taz and I don’t think he’s noticed me yet, so I decide to stay quiet. I can’t throw myself up off this sofa never mind throw a punch right now and that’s exactly what he’ll be looking for. He grabs a bottle of something and walks toward the hallway where our rooms are. I hear a door slam and that’s my cue to let myself pass out.



The smell of fresh liquor hits my face and I gag.

“Woah, don’t puke on me!” I hear someone say.

“What the fuck you doing waking me up!” I try to shout, but it just sounds like a loud whisper.

“Pop wants to see you at the house,” they say matter-of-factly.

I open an eye and squint at my brother who has a glass of jack in his hands and from the smell on his breath, he’s already started drinking.

“What time is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

“Err, just after ten,” he states, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

“Shit!”

I jump up and immediately regret it, the room spins and I manage to hold down the contents of my stomach in time to get outside. Everything spills out and I hear laughter from the other side of the parking lot. Not bothering to see who it is, I flip them off and carry on with my sordid display.

I’m getting too old for this shit! I think and immediately shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking like that, I’m in my prime.

Jacques pats me on the back and holds his tumbler out to me. “Hair of the dog?”

Just the smell has me puking once more and I punch him in the arm when he laughs.

“Just ‘cause I got sick doesn’t mean I still won’t beat your ass!” I growl.

“Need me to take you home?”

“I am home, and am I shit getting on the back of a bike with your pansy ass,” I say, walking inside to go grab a shower.

He follows me into my room and kicks off his boots to lie on my bed. “I’ve been riding since I was old enough to walk, we both have, so don’t try pretend that I suck, ‘cause you know that shit ain’t true.”

I roll my eyes at him and he winks as I shut the door to my bathroom. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Jacky boy, whatever makes you feel better.”

I hear him chuckle and I smile. He may be nearly ten years younger than me, but we’ve always been close. He graduated from high school two months ago and there was no question about whether he’d become a prospect or not, I think that was decided when he was a toddler when he rode his first bike. He loves them as much as I do, the only problem with him is he’s too eager to please the older brothers who’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than me or him have been alive. He’s impressionable, and as much as I try to get him to stay away from the party lifestyle side of things, I’m beginning to see he’s starting to take on some bad habits that I need to nip in the bud now, ‘cause my pop sure as hell won’t.

By the time I’ve had a shower, he isn’t in my room anymore and I hurry to get dressed before he does something stupid. He needs a job before his life becomes… this.

I look around the common area at the broads grinding on some of the brothers and the coke that lines the table, and clench my fists. It’s a fuckin’ mess.

Jacques is sat in an armchair eyeing a particularly chesty well known redhead. I pull him up by his collar.

“Don’t even think about it, that one’s riddled. Be smart,” I whisper, and let go of his shirt.

His face changes and I can see he’s about to say something he’ll regret so I keep my stare locked on him until he backs down.

“I’m going to see pop. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I try to keep my statement light hearted but he knows I’m being deadly serious and nods subtly at me. Can’t have my little brother catching anything.