Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(85)

This was all the work I was capable of doing due to being glassy-eyed and exhausted from crying, emotion and no sleep.

I did not contact Marcy, Kyra or Li. I did not call my mom.

And I did not hear from Core.





Within forty-eight hours, I’d gone from heartshorn to pissed.

Because I’d spent an uncomfortable five minutes huddled in my fucking house, having to ignore Archie calling through the door.

But I was oh so much more pissed because I loved him enough to keep his secret.

And because he made me into the woman I never wanted to be.

Because I still hadn’t called Marcy, Kyra or Li, but when I eventually did, I couldn’t tell them the man Core was. I didn’t have it in me to make them feel some of the heartbreak I felt in knowing the person they liked so much, the person they liked with me, was so insanely awful.

I couldn’t tell my mom.

I certainly couldn’t tell Andy.

I’d have to dodge and weave when the time came and I explained why we were through.

When I explained why Core and me, who were perfect together, suddenly were over.

It actually caused me real, physical pain to think of them knowing what I knew about Core, not the actual knowledge, but how they’d feel about him when they knew.

I loved him so much, even when we were done, I felt I had to protect him from people thinking he was an asshole.

Oh yeah.

That pissed…me…off.

And I had to keep this all to myself because I didn’t want them to know how badly I’d been duped. I didn’t want to come up against those questions about just how he took care of the Greeks. How I knew his club waded into shit like that. How they were not Angels of Death, nor Angels of Vengeance, they were mercenaries, and I’d bought into his, “Don’t ask, baby, I can’t share,” line of bullshit.

I’d allowed myself to become that woman.

But he was the one who put me in the position of feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

I was Bree times a million.

Because he hadn’t stolen my jewelry.

He’d stolen my heart.





Within sixty hours, I was furious.

I was because I still hadn’t told Marcy, Kyra or Li, and I was still working from home because, if I left my house, between here and there, I didn’t want him to have the chance to ensnare me and use his biker charm and empty promises of making it worth it to try to get back in there with me.

I was furious because I was scared to leave my house because I loved him so much, I knew if he caught me, I could talk myself into believing. Turn the other cheek. Live my life and just be good, never share club business and never rat, and I’d be fine.

I was furious because I spent ages typing out angry messages to him on my phone, and then deleting them.

I was furious because I was powerless on another matter.

But what could I do?

Everyone in the family loved Jagger. How did I tell them he was probably just like Core? He knew what Core’s club had done, and his first thought was to cover for him.

So eventually, I’d have to pretend to put up with Jagger, which meant in every meaningful sense I’d lost a man I really liked, and with him, probably Archie too.

All because of Core.

So yes, I was furious. Furious Archie, Jagger and Rush were still trying to contact me. They wouldn’t leave me be (but thankfully, Archie hadn’t come back to my door).

I was blind with rage.

All I could see were Core’s dead eyes.

And all I could hear was him saying, “Yes.”





Ninety-six hours later, I was enraged.

Because I worried about him.

Because I loved him.

And he loved me.

And I was here and he was there, and we would never be.

It had broken me.

And all I could think was…

How was he feeling?





Ninety-six and a half hours later, I was apoplectic.

Because I missed Nanook.





A hundred an eight hours later, I was lost.

Janna had texted. She said Eight was going to leave my things outside my door that evening. He’d hang to make sure they were safe, but could I please try to be home by six to take my belongings inside?

I was there by six.

I didn’t look for Eight’s truck to see if he kept his promise.

I just hauled the three boxes of stuff in, feeling extreme relief Eight didn’t try to approach in order to state Core’s case, and feeling heartbreaking sadness he didn’t make an attempt to tap into that part of me who’d leap at any excuse to have my man back.

I took the boxes to my bedroom, because I knew it was mostly clothes and shoes and makeup.

When I opened them, I saw someone had packed them carefully.

There was respect in that packing.

There was love in it too.

I ignored how they were packed, but I unpacked them just as carefully and put everything away. But when I hit the Louboutins, I tucked them in their box on a top shelf and hid them with folded sweaters.

At the bottom of the last were two burgundy boxes.

That was when I started to fall part.

Those, I shoved in the bottom back of my T-shirt drawer, because it was fall, winter would be coming soon, and I wouldn’t need tees for months.