A pause, then softer, “It’s gotta be the head injury.”
I blink and pop up on an elbow.I tap the screen, put it on speaker, and stare down at it.“What head injury?”Then I remember the scar, that jagged line across his temple.
There’s a long pause that makes me want to reach through the phone and shake him.“Didn’t you read his file?”
“No, I couldn’t.”It’s a confession that when it comes to Finn, I’m not handling shit like I should.
“Jesus, Gypsy.”There’s a sound like sandpaper being brushed against brick.He’s scratching at his beard.Then the heavy clop of his boots as he begins to pace.“It’s the reason he left the Army.Medically discharged.Courtesy of his time overseas.”
“How bad could it be?He’s walking, talking… seems fine.I mean, he’s their Road Captain, for hell’s sake, and runs a successful business.”I try to keep my voice steady, but the words sound defensive even to my own ears.
“I don’t know.I could have Bones hack into his records and send you a copy.The file we have on him is pretty thin.Guy’s low-key, off the grid mostly.Doesn’t use credit much, limited trackable spending except for utilities and small shit.Has a few rental properties that he reports on his taxes, as well as the strip club.Cell phone and bank account data, but there’s nothin’ much goin’ on there.He’s pullin’ cash from the club, splittin’ it with the HOCs.”
I grit my teeth, frustration prickling up my spine.“So what do I do?Because I’m not about to latch on to him and go down memory lane if he doesn’t know who the hell I am.”
“No man forgets a girl like you, Gypsy,” he says, his voice almost reverent.“He’s just fucked in the head—like Taz.Could be the injury.PTSD.Hell, from what I hear, all the HOCs are fucked up.”
It’s not lost on me that the man other bikers have dubbed “Sonny Psycho” is calling other bikers crazy.
I let out a snort, a grim smile tugging at my lips.“Pot, kettle.”
His laugh is rough, amused.“Touché.”
The pacing stops, fabric rustles, and the sound of papers being flipped comes through the line.He curses under his breath, and then the sound of footsteps resumes.A tiger in a cage, full of restless energy, until his mind works through whatever problem is stressing him out.“I didn’t think—Jesus.Shit always goes sideways, and it’s never how you can predict.”
“I guess I made less of an impression on him than I thought.Maybe I was just some girl crushing on an older guy out of my league.”I let out a sigh as I flop back onto the bed.“Maybe it was all in my head.”
“Don’t do that,” he growls.“Don’t let this guy’s inability to remember you drag you back to that place, baby.Self-doubt is the fuckin’ enemy.You know that.”
“I’m trying, but holy shit, Deeds, hearing him ask me like that was a fucking punch to the chest.”
“So flip it off.Shut it down.Remain in control.They’re your emotions.You can either let them run wild or get a handle on them and try to understand the why of it.”
“Fuck!I’m trying to.But sometimes you can’t see past it, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.But you need to.”
Grinding my teeth, I take a few deep inhales.I force the darkness from my thoughts—the frustration and pain out of my body, pushing it away with a metaphysical forcefield.
“That’s it.Just breathe,” he says.
I roll my eyes and start over.
When my breath steadies, he asks, “So you didn’t say anything to contradict him?”The rock in my stomach solidifies at his words.At his complete lack of interest in my feelings.
“No.”
The rigidness of my tone must go unnoticed because he says, “Good, that’s good.”
“What was I supposed to say?That I was the girl he asked to wait for him, and then disappeared on?That we nearly—” My voice catches, and I stop myself before I say too much.“Hell no.I wasn’t about to lay my heart out on a platter and watch him toss it to the floor and stomp on it.”
“We pivot, then.”His tone is pure business—cold and calculating.“Use another HOC to pull you in.But there’s a risk he’ll figure it out later.”
I grab the phone so tightly that the ache from the dream comes to fruition.“I thought you might say that and figured it was the best way to move forward.”
The flick of a lighter, then a deep inhale comes through the line.“I thought I’d be killing two birds with one stone,” he murmurs.
“I regret ever telling you that.”
