That kiss though. That was up there as one of the best I’ve ever experienced.
I yawn again.God, I’m tired.
It’s not surprising. I had next to no sleep last night, and then there was the stress of the flightanddealing with Petty. It’s no wonder I’m tired. I see absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t indulge in a little nap. The mess isn’t going anywhere and maybe won’t be so daunting when I wake up.
So after remaking the bed, checking underneath and lifting the mattress, then gingerly sorting through the clothes still on the floor just in case there are any residual visits of the legless kind, I shut the door firmly, lie on the bed, and close my eyes.
But as so often when you’re feeling sleepy, my mind won’t switch off. Instead, I find myself analysing what went on between myself and Petty, and trying to solve the conundrum of which manifestation of the man is the real one.
I’m mostly convinced it was the man who’d woken from the nightmare and shared the details of his abusive relationship with his wife. I know had I not caught him in that moment of weakness, he’d never have enlightened me about what had gone on in his life.
Rolling on my back, I can’t get him out of my mind. He seems to be a victim of a sort of toxic masculinity. Probably shaped by his experiences in the Army and then in the MC, maybe even from the way he was brought up, Petty seems to have a vision of what a man should be. Having a weakness, admitting he’d let his wife get the better of him and not just once, but on numerous occasions, is something he can’t face up to.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m admired as I walked out at the first sign of abuse, while he stayed and took it. Who knows though? If I’d married Saul, maybe I’d have been more inclined to see if we could mend our relationship and make it work.
Having been in his situation, my anger is directed solely toward his wife who was abusive from the start. He’s a good man for staying, and no blame attaches to him, other than his blindness that he was fighting a lost cause.
His saving grace was that she’d gotten arrested. Distance had brought him to his senses and given him freedom for a few years until she turned up again and he was straight back into that trap.
I hope he escapes this time. Abusers don’t mend their behaviour, they get worse. I know. I mean, just look what happened with Saul.
I wonder why she hadn’t had contact with him while she was inside. While she might have told him she loved him, she doesn’t sound like a very loving wife. I haven’t met her, but I hate her.
And if I’m honest, some of that hate isn’t on Petty’s behalf, but on mine. I could definitely fall for the man who’d been with me at my parents’ house, and who’d spilled his all to me in the middle of the night.
I drift on the verge between sleep and consciousness with things getting twisted in my mind. Thoughts that I can’t quite hold onto, but never descending into the sleep that my body requires.
The loud roar of two motorcycles arriving wakes me fully. Not having undressed, I go to the window, and looking out, see two bikes, but not ones I recognise.
They’ve got Saul,I remind myself. However, I still can’t help being a little unnerved as I go to the door and leaving the chain attached, crack it open.
Two men are standing there with their backs turned toward me. I see they both wear cuts, but the backs are bare apart from the wordProspect.
One hears the door opening and turns around. He offers an easy grin. “Hi, I’m Owl.” As he speaks, he adjusts his glasses to sit more firmly on his nose.
“Meat,” says the other. It takes me a moment to realise it must be his name and not an attempt to say “pleased to meet you.”
“And you’re here…?” I assume they’re Satan’s Devils but the sense of danger I’ve carried since Saul reared his head has made me cautious.
“Ah, well, Red expected you’d stay at the hotel for a while. We were going to get your house straightened up before you came back,” the one called Owl says breezily. “The Devils made a mess when they caught the snakes. Red sent us here to help you get sorted.”
“We’re yours to command, ma’am,” Meat says, with a small bow. His grin almost splits his face in two.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know you.” I’m still being careful. While I don’t think I’m in danger anymore, I don’t want to just let strangers into my house.
“’Course you don’t,” Owl agrees amicably. “Why don’t you call the clubhouse and confirm it?”
As that seems a good idea, I give them a nod, then close the door. I take my phone out of my purse and call Red. It’s only seconds before he’s corroborated who they are and what they’re here for.
“I’m sorry I didn’t send a face you’d recognise,” he says, regretfully. “But I need all the patched members here.”
There’s a seriousness in his tone that leads me to suspect something’s happened that’s important. But I achieved my objective, and apart from sorting out my undie drawer, am relieved to have some help straightening my house.
Ending the call, I return to the door, and this time, open it fully.
“Sorry about that—”
“No need, ma’am,” Meat butts in. “Good to see you’re being careful.”
