No. No, that's crazy. Devil would never... He couldn't be...
But the doubt is there now, worming its way into my chest like a tornado. I back away from the office, my mind spinning with possibilities I don't want to consider. There has to be an explanation. Maybe it's about something happening in the club, some kind of trouble that requires police involvement. Maybe it's completely innocent.
But if it's innocent, why did his voice sound so guilty?
I make it back to the living room and sink onto the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. My hands are shaking, and I don't understand why. This is Devil we're talking about. My husband. The man who looks at me like I hung the moon and stars. He would never betray me, would never betray the club.
Would he?
The conversation I overheard replays in my head, and I try to make sense of it. "She doesn't need to know about..." About what? What doesn't he want me to know?
I hear his voice getting louder, wrapping up the call, and I quickly grab the remote, flipping on the TV and trying to look casual. My heart is still pounding, but I force myself to breathe normally as his footsteps approach.
"Hey, baby," he says, appearing in the doorway. His smile looks normal, but I find myself studying his face for signs of... what? Guilt? Deception?
"Hey," I manage, my voice thankfully steady. "How was your call?"
For just a split second—so quick I almost miss it—something flickers across his expression. "Just club stuff. Nothing important."
He comes over and sits beside me, pulling me against his side like he always does, and I let him because I don't know what else to do. His arms feel the same around me, strong and safe, but the doubt is still there, growing stronger with every beat of my heart.
"You okay?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You seem tense."
"Just tired," I lie, closing my eyes and breathing in his familiar scent. "Long day."
But as I sit there in his arms, pretending everything is normal, one question keeps echoing in my mind: Who is my husband really talking to, and what is he hiding from me?
Chapter 11
Devil
Fuck my life. I'm pretty sure Dani heard me. There was a squeak of a board outside the bedroom. I knew I shouldn't talk to Mason here—knew it was a bad idea—but I had to let him know that I was sending over the pictures. They were stuck in the cloud, and I didn't want him to wonder if I'd decided to go the way of the club.
Because I'm truly not sure where my heart lies right now.
The next morning, my mind is still swirling around like some dark storm cloud hanging over. But I don't have time to worry with that this morning. Keegan Thompson is starting at the garage today, and I want to make sure no one gives him a hard time.
"Don't work Dime too hard today," Dani says as I grab my cup of coffee before heading out to my bike. "He has his date with Allison tonight."
"Trust me," I grin, rolling my eyes. "He's got a slow day booked for himself. There's no way he's missing it, or being too tired to enjoy it."
She saunters over to where I stand and goes up on her tiptoes. "You make sure he gives my bestie a good time." The words are punctuated by a kiss on the lips.
I chuckle. "I can give him some tips. What do you think Allison needs?"
"A good time." She wiggles her brows. "To know that not every man is like her bullshit excuse of an ex-husband. To know that y'all don't all lie."
Those words hit my gut hard, and I have to grip my coffee cup to keep from letting it hit the floor. Swallowing hard, I lean in and whisper in her ear, "We don't lie, not unless it's for the good of everyone around us."
Her eyes meet mine when I pull back, and it hits me square in the chest. She knows. She may not realize what she knows, but she does.
"Love you, Devil."
"Love you too."
I leave as if my ass is on fire, and the guilt is enough to burn my skin at the cross I wear against my chest. Lying is a sin, and I've known that since I was a teenager and started attending church. When it comes down to it, I'm going to have some actions to answer for, and I better hope I'm strong enough to do it.
The ride to Saint's Outlaws gives me time to clear my head—but not nearly enough. The rumble of my Harley beneath me is usually therapy, but today it just reminds me of all the secrets I'm keeping. By the time I pull into the lot, I can see Keegan Thompson already standing by the entrance, looking nervous as hell.
