Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(68)

I wonder what Cat thought when she got to the apartment and I wasn’t there. I left a note, intentionally vague, that just said I was going to be out of town for a few days and would call her when I could. That must have sufficed for her, as she hasn’t attempted to reach out to me.

“Also got something on Cat’s attacker,” Bridger says, causing me to sit up straight in my seat, my aching neck forgotten. “Kyle identified him… says he’s a member of the club but her attack was something he did on his own. It wasn’t brought before the president and sanctioned. Sounds like he got a nice chunk of change that he kept all to himself, so the club wasn’t happy at all about having heat brought down on them with no pay in return.”

I grimace because just a minute change of circumstances—Kevin approaching the head honcho instead of some rogue member—would have meant we’d never get this information.

“What’s that mean?” I ask.

“It means Kyle was authorized to tip the cops to where they can find the dude. Hopefully, he’ll roll on Kevin or they’ll find some evidence connecting them.”

Hopefully.

Because until Kevin was behind bars, Cat wasn’t truly safe. I hadn’t liked the thought of leaving town, but Bridger confirmed Kevin had gone back to Vegas and that he’d keep an eye on Cat for me.

Knowing that f*ckwad is here in Vegas and that I could do some serious damage if I could track him down has me vibrating with adrenaline. Wouldn’t be hard to get his address. Bet Bridger could whip it up for me in no time at all.

Shaking my head, I force myself to leave those thoughts by the wayside. If I’m lucky, I’m going to have Cat’s father’s location tomorrow morning and I’ll be heading out to talk to him. I can’t let Kevin waylay me just because I want the pleasure of breaking his face.

That’s going to have to wait until I can get Cat’s father back for her.





Chapter 24


Cat



I walk through the cavernous house made of logs and slate that will soon be transferred to me in name once Samuel’s estate is settled. Until then, and with Kevin back in Vegas according to Richard, I decided to move out of Rand’s apartment and back into the home I shared with my late husband when we visited Jackson.

The entire place is furnished and decorated in typical western flair with heavy pine furniture covered in leather and silk throw pillows in Native American palettes to soften up the look. Typical stuffed and mounted game trophies on the wall. Accent lamps done in cowhide and elk antlers.

It’s unoriginal but homey, and if it were not the house I shared with Samuel Vaughn, I’d find it charming.

But instead, I hate this place because it’s only purpose was to have a place to sleep when he brought me to The Silo. I have no intention of keeping it. Once things get settled, I’ll sell and bank the money. Once I figure out what I want to be now that I’ve been forced to grow up, I’ll have the financial freedom to chase new dreams, but I won’t be doing it near anything that remotely reminds me of Samuel Vaughn. That means the Jackson house has to go at some point.

For now though, I’ll take the refuge, as there’s no way I could stay at Rand’s place after how we left things four nights ago. I spent the rest of the night he left me at The Silo brooding and sipping at bottled water. He told me to do what I needed to do.

He essentially said I should f*ck someone else if I needed to do that.

That was confusing to me at first because it almost sounded like he didn’t care, but when I really thought about it, that’s not what was going on at all. Rand was telling me to do what I needed to do, whatever that may be, to figure out what I want. He was hoping I’d figure out I wanted him, of course.

And, of course, I absolutely want him.

It’s just that I don’t think I deserve him.

So that night, I sipped at my water, brooded, and I thought about life, choices, consequences, and regret. I thought about love and lust, security and comfort. I didn’t need anyone to paint me a clearer picture.

I know now that Rand Bishop is it for me. I’ll never find another like him, and I’ll never want anything more in the world than him.

I just had to talk myself into truly believing I could have it and not stain him at the same time.

So I went to the apartment, maybe in the hopes of letting him try to knock some sense into me, only to find him gone.

Nothing but a simple note:

Cat,

Be gone for a few days. Please stay—don’t feel like you need to leave. Will try to call soon.

Rand

I must have stared at that note for twenty minutes, trying to glean something out of it to help me figure out what was in Rand’s mind. Did he take off because he assumed I would indeed f*ck someone else at The Silo? Was that his way of “accepting” my feelings that I’m not good enough?

Is he agreeing with me about that?’

The unmistakable and emphatic answer comes to me as clear as a bell.

No.

No way would Rand think that about me.

He’s been my one true champion from that day he pulled me out of my car and brought me to his apartment. He’s spent countless energy on validating and affirming me. He’s never judged me once for my choices, and despite knowing the worst about me, he still desires me on both a physical and emotional level.