Part 32 (1/2)

d.a.m.n, I almost want to make some wisecrack about the grown-up on the phone, but something about the tension in his voice tells me he's probably not in the best mood for jokes.

”Alright. I'll leave a key under the mat. You remember where my place is?”

”Yeah.”

”I'm training 'til late. Have something I need to do tonight. Tell Jess to make herself at home.”

”Sweet, bro. Thanks.”

We disconnect after grunted good-byes, and I throw some clean sheets on the bed and pull out some fresh towels before snagging my keys to head out.

There's a little part of me that's looking forward to Drake and Jess staying for the weekend. At least it'll distract me from worrying about Trix. Ah, who the f.u.c.k am I kidding?

Trix A firm grip on my shoulder shakes my body. ”Trix.” Another shake. ”Babe, wake the f.u.c.k up.” There's tension or anger in the voice that I immediately identify as male.

And not Mason.

Sadness washes over my body, leaving me heavy with an ache in my chest. I groan and bat at the hand that will not let up its grip. My mind settles back into my head, and I instantly regret it as the throbbing pain between my temples roars.

Hatch.

Did we . . .? I take quick stock of my clothes, the aches and pains in my body being in my stomach, neck, and head. If it didn't hurt so bad to do so, I'd smile at how well my plan to get drunk and pa.s.s out in the bathroom worked.

”Trix, come on. Wake-”

”Stop-aargh!” I grip the sides of my head and curl into the fetal position on the hard floor. ”My head. Shhh.”

”I'm outta here. I left the s.h.i.+t about tomorrow night on your dresser.” His voice is farther away, as if he went from crouching beside me to standing up. ”Bring Angel and that other chick, the redhead.” The sound of a fast-flowing stream of liquid hitting water permeates the air. ”These guys have cash, high-roller types. Dress to impress. They don't-”

”Are you peeing!?” I curl up into a tighter ball, as if the act could protect me from Hatch's lack of respect for my personal s.p.a.ce.

He groans, low and raspy. ”Didn't give me much choice, babe. Tried to get you up.”

”Ee clean.” He holds up a finger. ”One chance.”

Oh s.h.i.+t, he must know about Mason. I stretch my legs out, feeling for my phone without making it too obvious. No phone. Dammit. ”I don't know, Hatch. I mean . . . I'm sure there's a lot we haven't talked about.”

”You stickin' with that?” He lifts his eyebrows, giving me a chance to fess up.

”You do realize making me think this hard is excruciatingly painful, right?” I close one eye and look at him. ”Are you trying to hurt me?”

I expect him to laugh or at the very least crack a smile, but he doesn't. He stands and walks away. ”See ya tomorrow,” he calls out just before the sound of the front door closes.

What the h.e.l.l brought that on? I deleted all Mason's messages on my phone, so if Hatch did snoop, he'd only read one that must've come in recently. I drop my head into my hands. If that's what all this is about, Hatch can get over it. We've always had a no-strings relations.h.i.+p that's gone both ways. No way he's allowed to get jealous now.

Pus.h.i.+ng up to standing, I stumble off-balance, bracing myself with my elbows on the sink. My mouth is dry, and as much as I want water, just the thought of drinking has my stomach protesting. I breathe through a fresh wave of nausea, remembering that I never did end up tossing up my liquor last night. Too bad. Probably would've felt better if I had.

Hatch and I drank until . . . f.u.c.k, I have no idea. We talked, and with the exception of a few stolen kisses, I managed to get too drunk and avoided having to cheat on Mason.

Memories from the night trickle back, one at a time. He told me about Mexico, that he was on the run for killing a couple of guys who got too deep in MC business. He swears he didn't do it, not that it matters now. A rival MC wasn't happy about Hatch's men offing their members and went after Hatch. I guess the rival MC ended up with an indictment and several mysterious deaths. So things mellowed out. Hatch came home.

I'd brought up the man he started to tell me about before he left-the one who he said, ”cut women up for fun.” He'd remembered telling me about him, admitted the dude is bad news, but didn't give me anything else.

At least he's back to talking, and I seem to be on the right track. Getting in with Hatch and his a.s.sociates can only bring me closer to finding out who this guy is, and tonight's party is the perfect opportunity to do that.

I splash some cold water on my face and pull two pain relievers from the cabinet, was.h.i.+ng them down with a palm full of tap water. I never did text Mason last night, but by the time Hatch showed up, I'm sure Mase was already sound asleep. If he tried to contact me this morning . . . A red flag fires in my head. That would explain Hatch's interrogation. What did Mason say that Hatch read?

Unease crawls through me as I search out my phone. Last time I had it . . . I close my eyes and concentrate, pus.h.i.+ng through my painful headache and focusing on what I was doing when Hatch showed up.

Sorting my drawers. I push from the sink and head to my room.

My bed is still strewn with clothes, Hatch most likely slept on the couch. I run my hands through and beneath everything, searching for my phone, when my fingers brush across a photo, slicing into my skin.

”Ouch!” I pull my hand out, sucking on the thin line of blood from the paper cut. d.a.m.n, that hurts.

I shove my uninjured hand into the pile and pull out the photo of my brothers and sisters and me. I grin at my Mickey Mouse sweats.h.i.+rt and Mason's response to my Disney obsession.

Right, Mason. I need to find my phone. I search my pocket. ”Swore it was there . . .”

I race out to the living room, the back patio, and even pull all the cus.h.i.+ons off the couch, but it's gone. Nowhere to be found.

What the f.u.c.k? Where is it?

I find my charger in the kitchen and head back to my room. Sitting on my dresser is my phone with a slip of paper beneath it. Scrawled in barely legible writing is Car will pick you up at nine. Dress f.u.c.kable.

Charming. I shake my head and go to read whatever is on my phone that got Hatch's hackles up. Dead battery. I move to the kitchen, plug in my phone, and wait for it to get enough juice to power up.

No new texts. Hm . . . then what the h.e.l.l did Hatch mean?

I hit Mason's contact.

It rings and I check the clock. It's almost noon. I'm sure he's working. His voicemail picks up, and I close my eyes, allowing the sound of his recorded voice to soothe my racing heart and aching head.

Beeeeeeep!

”Hey, Mase, it's me. Sorry I didn't text you last night, but . . . he's back.” My lips pinch together, almost as if I'm waiting for him to get angry, even knowing this is a one-sided conversation. ”Don't worry. I'm still only yours.” G.o.d, I want to see him. Fall into his arms until I feel better. But I can't. I'm too close now. ”I love you.”

I end the call and then move back to the bathroom to take a shower. I have to be to work by six. I have only nine hours to revamp my plan to get information. Getting him drunk and talking isn't working, but maybe the right combination of biker buddies and a whole h.e.l.l of a lot of booze will do the trick. I'll try just about anything at this point because I'm ready get what I need and go back to Mason.

Mason The sun is almost down by the time I head out of the training center for home. I think Rex and I set a d.a.m.n record for longest sparring session. Usually I don't train this hard on Sat.u.r.day, but with Trix tied up and my brother and Jessica taking up most of my place, I need to be gone and keep myself busy.

I drove by Zeus's last night around seven and saw her car in the lot. It was near torture knowing that she was just inside, separated from me by a wall of brick and mortar while men, possibly even this Hatchet guy, were in there enjoying my woman's body. I could've put a hole through my d.a.m.n dashboard, but, instead, drove up to our spot in the mountains and lay in the bed of my truck, thinking about her.