Strength & Courage (The Night Horde SoCal Book 1) (22 page)

“I just thought you’d beat him up.”

Muse shook his head. “You’re telling yourself a story. That’s not what you were afraid of. You were afraid I’d get into trouble. A guy like that doesn’t report a beatdown, and you know it.”

“No. I didn’t think—”

“Sid.”

She pulled away and stood up, taking all of the three strides it took to cross the room. “So, what? You’re saying I always knew deep down inside that you’re a stone-cold killer, and I have some kind of fetish about it or something?”

He stood, too, and crossed to her, turning her around to face him. “I’m not a stone-cold killer, and I doubt you have a fetish. I’m saying you know me. I am the man you think I am. The man you say you love. What I’ve done, I’ve done for my club. I’ve done what I had to do to protect the people I love. And I’ve never hurt an innocent or somebody who wasn’t in the life and knew what that meant.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over the new scar on her cheekbone. “I’m the same man, no matter how I earn. Can you live with that?”

Her eyes glittered, but she didn’t cry. “I don’t know. Muse, I don’t know.” She looked erratically about, as if she was afraid to meet his eyes any longer. “I have to get out of here.”

When she stepped around him and went to the door, he didn’t stop her. His back was still to the door when he heard it open.

“I do love you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. But I don’t know.”

And then she was gone.

Muse sat down on the edge of his dorm bed and stared at the wall.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“There you are!” Bibi came up to Sid just as she was clearing the dorm hallway and making an attempt to get free of the clubhouse, of Muse, and Keanu, too, and get home to be quiet and think. “I’ve been lookin’ for you, honey. I should’ve known where you were. These boys got no self-control at all.” Bibi had hooked her arm with Sid’s and was leading her toward the kitchen. “C’mon. We’re gettin’ out round two.”

She tried to hold back. “No—Bibi, I’m…” Her head was so fucking loud she couldn’t even get a thought, much less a sentence, through. Fuck, what had Muse just told her? How did it make sense?

All around them was the cacophony of a party—music, laughter, the click of pool balls connecting, loud conversation, the bells and whistles of a pinball machine.

Still, it was louder in Sid’s head.

Bibi stopped and turned to face her. She narrowed her eyes, making her crow’s feet crinkle deeply, and looked hard. “Oh, hell’s bells. He didn’t take you back there to fuck. He took you back there to give you The Talk.” Sid heard the capital letters in the way Bibi said the words. “I’ll be damned. C’mon, honey. You need a drink.”

Bibi grabbed Sid’s arm more tightly and dragged her into the kitchen. The room was full of women—including Riley Chase. Fucking Riley Chase. A star. With a star on the Walk of Fame. Oscar-nominated Riley Chase. Golden-Globe-winning Riley Chase.

She was married to one of the Horde.
Riley Chase
was married to a
Horde
. She was also really nice and normal. She and Sid had made a macaroni salad together. This night was fucking surreal.

“Riley, Veda, come with us. Sid here just got The Talk.”

Riley turned, her eyes wide. God, she was pretty. And just teensy. Sid felt like a gangly mutt next to her.

“You got The Talk? Wow! Wait—does Muse even know how to give The Talk?”

Bibi gave Sid that squinty once-over again. “I’d say no.” She turned and waved at an older redhead wearing shiny, black spandex pants and an off-the-shoulder pin-up blouse, the top of which she was overflowing. “Ember. Take over for me, darlin’.”

The redhead nodded, and then Sid was being dragged out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into Hoosier’s office. Riley and Veda, J.R.’s wife, followed behind.

Bibi closed the door behind them all and brought Sid to a black leather couch with the Virtuoso Cycles logo stamped into the back. “Okay, honey. Let’s all have a sit.”

Dazed, Sid sat, and Riley—Riley Chase!—sat next to her. Bibi took Hoosier’s chair, and Veda sat in another armchair next to the desk.

From a cabinet beside Hoosier’s desk, Bibi produced a bottle of Patrón and a stack of Dixie cups. “For this, we need the good stuff. Hooj’s private stash.” She poured four little plastic cups full, and Veda passed them around. Riley abstained with a little wave of her hand; she was pregnant.

Bibi lifted her cup to Sid. “Drink up, honey. We all know you need it.”

She was right, so Sid tossed back the shot and swallowed with a grimace and a shake of her head. She liked tequila, but the salt and lime really took the edge off. Without it, wow.

Bibi poured again, into new cups, and Veda passed again, and the three of them drank again. After that shot, Sid felt calmer, like she could breathe. And possibly think. She was a little surprised to find herself in Hoosier’s office.

As Bibi poured round number three, she asked, “What did he say to you, honey?”

While she considered the question, Sid took the third shot and looked around the room. Hoosier’s office was pretty nice, all in all. The floor was the same silvery finish as in the rest of the clubhouse, but it was in better shape in here, maybe because he had a black rug over several square feet of it. The walls were dark red, like the rest of the clubhouse. The furniture was black, the big leather couch and then the modular stuff you could buy at an office super…place…thingy. Oh. She was drunk already. She blinked. Usually, her head worked fine when she was drinking, but now she felt muzzy. And there was a question on the table.

“Huh?”

Bibi reached over again and filled Sid’s most recently emptied cup. She had a little stack going. “Muse. What did he say?”

“Um…I don’t…it’s…a lot.” She drank the contents of her cup. It was going down really well now.

“A lot?
Muse
said a lot?” Riley looked surprised at that.

“He talks. But no, it was what he didn’t…he looked…” She sighed, wrestling her head into order. The good stuff had a kick, and she’d had a few beers with the women while the men had been back in their meeting. “I’m supposed to trust him. That’s what he said. Oh—and that he’s a murderer.”

All the women froze, staring at Sid. She felt like she’d done something really wrong. Bibi had been in the process of filling the cups again. How many was that now? But she stopped and sat back. “Muse said that?”

“Um, no. He said I shouldn’t ask questions if I don’t want to know the answer.”

“So he told you to trust him and be careful what you ask?” Sid nodded her answer to Riley’s question. It seemed a decent summary of that bizarre conversation.

Veda sat back. “Sounds like he did a pretty good job, after all.”

“Yeah, he did,” Bibi said. “But they always leave out the important part.” She rolled the desk chair forward until she was knees to knees with Sid. “Here’s the important part, honey. What matters most in your life? If it’s love and loyalty, if it’s family, then you’ve got it right here like you’ll never have it anywhere else. But if normal is what you need, you won’t find it here. Even in the quiet years, there’s nothin’ normal about what we got.”

“I don’t understand. You’re all okay with this?” She turned to Riley. “
You’re
okay with this?”

“It’s the wrong question, Sid.”

“What’s the right one, then?”

“Do you love Muse enough? That’s the only question that matters.” Riley gave Bibi a little sideways nod, and Bibi filled the cups again. Riley watched as Sid and the others tossed another ample shot back.

Then Riley patted her on the leg. “Look. Bibi and Margot—you haven’t met her yet, but she’s cool. She’s the old lady of a member who died a few years back.
Anyway
, they sat me down and said pretty much the same stuff to me when Bart and I got serious. And we sat Veda down. It’s what we do. We’re the old ladies.”

Getting some whacked-out kind of relationship advice from Riley Chase was maybe the most surreal thing that had happened in the past surreal however-long. Sid laughed. “What’s that even mean? Muse called me that, but he’s way older than me. Like a whole decade.”

Bibi sat up straight in Hoosier’s leather chair and brushed her hair back from her shoulders. “It means we’re their women. They think they wear the pants, and we let ‘em think it, but we’re the ones make sure they have ‘em to wear. We make them a home. And we stay true. So the only question you need an answer to is do you love Muse enough.” Her words were coming out slowly and with perfect enunciation. Sid thought Bibi was drunk, too.

She started to answer, but Bibi put up an imperious hand. “Nope—not to us. Tell
him
. And you. If you love him enough, the rest of it don’t matter. We cope with what comes. Together.”

She picked up the bottle and tried to pour, but it was empty. “Oops. So, are we done here? I need to find Hooj. Tequila makes me horny.” She stood, weaving a little, and held out her hand. “C’mon, honey. We got your back. That’s what family is.”

Sid was very confused, and her head still wasn’t working right. But she felt better about things. She took Bibi’s hand and stood. When the room settled back on its proper axis, she took a couple of steps, and Bibi opened the door.

Muse was in the hallway, leaning against the wall across from the door. Bibi put her hands on her hips. “Were you snoopin’, Mr. Pants?”

He smiled his wry smile. It was so sexy, a little higher on the left side. Damn, he was fine. Sid got wet just looking at him.

He reached out and took Bibi’s elbow in his hand. “‘Mr. Pants’? You okay, Mama?”

Bibi patted his chest. “I am wonderful. Where’s my man? I want some.”

His smile grew. “Talking with Showdown at the bar.”

“Showdown—now there’s a prime hunk of beef.” With another pat on Muse’s kutte, she walked carefully off toward the Hall. Riley and Veda followed after her. Riley seemed to be helping Veda down the hallway.

And then Sid was alone, standing in the middle of Hoosier’s office, and Muse was still leaning against the wall.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hey.” There was something she was supposed to ask him. Or was he supposed to ask her? “Do I love you enough?” Wait, that was wrong. Who was she supposed to ask?

He came off the wall and into the room. “I don’t know. Do you?” He eyed the empty bottle on Hoosier’s desk. “You okay?”

“I’m great. You need to meet my parents. Or they need to meet you. Something. I want you to come to Newport Beach with me for Thanksgiving.” She snickered. “It’ll be a disaster. They will SO hate your guts. Oh my God, the scandal. It’ll be fucking awesome.”

He gave her a look, his smile fading. “I thought we were going to Hoosier and Bibi’s.”

“Were we?” Did she know that?

“We should talk about this later.” He put his hands on her hips, and she looked up at him. He was so pretty. She slid her hands under his kutte, under his shirt, feeling his warm, firm, chiseled belly. He closed his eyes for a second.

“Sid, we okay?”

All at once, she felt sad. “Can we just go home and fuck?” Home. Because he lived at her place now. Sort of. Maybe.

His hand came up and brushed her hair back from her temple. She liked how the toughened skin on his fingertips felt on her face. “I’ll take you home. But I’m not gonna fuck you when you’re drunk. Not tonight.” He kissed her forehead, and she leaned into the touch of his lips.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, his lips moving on her skin, “I love you enough, hon.” Then he picked her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and let him carry her out of the clubhouse.

~oOo~

Sid woke up alone near dawn, feeling spinny and gross. It wasn’t until she was in the bathroom, doing her thing, trying to get the tequila to leave her alone, that it registered in her head that she shouldn’t have been alone.

She turned and sat on the tile floor with her back against her tub, her hand still on the lid of the toilet—just in case.

Muse wasn’t there. He’d left her alone?

Just then, a black paw slid under the bathroom door, and a wet, black nose snuffled in the space. Cliff was still here. So Muse at least wasn’t gone for good, then.

She was sobered up enough to put the pieces of the night together. Not yet ready to leave the bathroom and the proximity of the toilet, Sid sat there and tried to work out what she knew, what she’d learned, what she felt.

She loved him. That was a thing she knew. And felt.

He was a criminal. Well, yeah. She hadn’t looked up his record, but she’d looked up Michael’s and Hoosier’s, and they both had page-turners. So the thought had more than occurred to her that Muse had something like it.

She’d checked Bibi, too, and she had no arrests or charges.

But those records were years old now. She’d thought all that was in their past. A checkered past she could deal with. Could she deal with a checkered present? Future?

Did she love him enough? Could she know that in not much more than a month?