The Originals (Ghosttown Riders #10)

Chapter Eight

Meg had seen fights before. In school, boys would get into an altercation, they’d talk over one another in veiled threats, and maybe one would get a punch in before a teacher would jump in and break it up. It was over before it started. Those schoolyard fights did nothing to prepare her for the violence she’d witnessed tonight.

Meg barely said a word on the ride back to the motel. Once they’d arrived, a few members cracked open beers in the parking lot and discussed going to a bar in town. It was as if they were celebrating. A few made jokes at the other club’s expense, mainly the brother who’d got punched. All the while, Meg stood silently replaying the fight. It was a strange contrast between them and her.

Mick pressed his hand on her back, and she inched away, heading toward their room. She still hadn’t spoken a word. She noticed Mick didn’t join in when the others were bragging about the violence. He merely stood silently, watching her.

He opened the door, ushering her inside. She turned, watching him walk into the bathroom to wash his hands. She clasped her hands, waiting for some type of apology or signs of regret. When he walked out of the bathroom, he looked up at her.

“Gonna hit a few bars. You need to get ready, or are you good?”

What? That was it?

“We need to talk about what happened.”

Mick furrowed his brows. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do, Mick!”

He folded his arms and jerked his chin. “Then talk.”

Meg had a feeling he wouldn’t be receptive to anything she said. But she was going to speak her piece anyway.

“You didn’t have to choose violence,” she muttered and stared at the pea green carpet in the motel room.

She heard a faint snort. “ They fucking chose violence. They knew coming up to me would end in a fight. They just thought their odds were better. Had I been with the club instead of you, they wouldn’t have said a fucking word.”

Meg swallowed the lump in her throat. She could understand his position, and maybe he was right. But the circumstances were different.

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” Meg whispered, picking at the edge of her shirt.

Mick slowly turned, scowling.

Meg licked her lips and shrugged. “Three of them and three times more of you.”

“Yeah, and now they know not to start shit they can’t finish.”

“They were trying to walk away, Mick.”

He snorted. “Yeah, and you think had the brothers not showed up having my back they would’ve? Don’t fucking bother answering ’cause I’ll tell you” —he paused, hardening his glare— “they wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that. They could’ve…”

“Yeah Meg, I do fucking know. You think this is the first time some fucking assholes have tried to flex their club? They specifically came at me because I was wearing my colors and alone with my girl. They saw that as a weakness, thinking their three against just me was gonna get them a win.”

He had a point, but there had to be another way.

“Why not just give them a warning?”

“I fucking gave them one, and they didn’t back down ’til the club showed up. Then they wanna take it? No!”

Mick scoffed, shaking his head, ripping off his shirt. He tossed it across the room and bent down, digging into his bag and pulling out a clean one. Meg felt as though she was being dismissed. She walked to the bed, sat, and gripped the edge of the mattress.

“Okay fine. I just think…”

“Your thoughts aren’t worth shit when it comes to this.”

Meg flinched, not only at his words but his aggressive tone.

“I don’t get a say…”

“No, Meg, you don’t. This is my fucking world, and I know how it works. You don’t! They got exactly what they fucking deserved. Anything less and those fuckers would still be a threat. Now, they’re not.”

Meg clamped her lips, watching him put on his shirt. He stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door. Meg stared for a minute, and she heard the faucet running. This was not at all how she envisioned the night going. It had started on such a high, she could’ve never predicted the drastic turn it would take.

Mick wouldn’t even listen or hear her thoughts. He’d completely shut her down and dismissed her concerns. He didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. What kind of relationship is that?

Five minutes later, the door opened, and Mick walked out. Meg was still on the bed pondering her next move. Clearly, this conversation wasn’t done. Maybe he just needed to calm down. The adrenaline rush was probably over, and they could talk rationally now.

Meg wasn’t sure how to open up the conversation again, and when she saw him grab his cut and put it on, she doubted talking was anything he was interested in.

“Mick?”

He drew in a breath, shoved his cigarettes and wallet in his pockets, and stalked to the door.

“Come on. Everyone’s waiting at the bar.”

What?

Mick stood at the door and glanced back at her, clutching the handle of the open door. “Let’s go.”

Did he really think after the fight and their argument, she would just go out to the bar and pretend nothing happened? Apparently, yes.

Mick opened the door and arched his brow.

Meg turned around on the bed giving him her back. This wasn’t over, and it wasn’t something a beer and a few laughs could fix. He’d done all the talking, shutting her down. But she wasn’t leaving the room until they figured it out. She folded her arms waiting for him to say something. At the very least some type of apology.

A few seconds passed, then she heard the door close. She drew in a breath, a sign of relief. Finally, he’d seen it from her side. If this was going to work, they had to find common ground. Meg couldn’t see his side, and he couldn’t see hers. But this relationship was worth figuring it out.

Meg slowly turned around, looking to the door. Her heart immediately sank.

Mick was gone.

****

Fuck!

Mick stretched his legs, cracked his back, and covered his eyes with his arm. The sunlight streaming through the blinds was an unwelcome wakeup call.

He wasn’t sure what time he’d strolled into the motel room, but it was close to sunrise. After his fight with Meg, he’d gone out with the club, hit a few bars, and in Mick’s case, drank too much. He was nursing a raging headache and sore fists from the fight yesterday. It would be a long ride home.

He dragged his hand down his face and reached over to Meg. His hand slid over the sheets. It was only a full-size bed and not much room, but he stretched his arm until his hand curved off the side of the bed. Mick sat up, staring down at her side of the bed. Empty.

He scanned the room. Her bag was sitting by the door, packed and ready, but there was no sign of Meg. When he heard the knock on the door, he assumed it was her, and she’d forgotten her key. He got up from the bed slowly and dragged his hand down his face.

He opened the door to find Tully and Maureen standing a few feet away.

“Late night?” Tully arched his brow.

“Something like that.”

“Yeah, well your day is about to get shittier. Jack wants to head out in thirty minutes.”

Fuck.

Mick gave a sharp nod, silently cursing his president. Mick was too hungover to enjoy the ride home. He would have preferred to have a little more time. But when his president gave an order, they all followed it. He’d down some water and aspirin.

Maureen stepped forward, offering him a cup of coffee and a bag. As soon as he grabbed it, he could smell the bacon. This woman was his savior right now. It would definitely help with his hangover.

“Thanks.”

She smiled, though it seemed forced. “Thank Meg.”

Mick blinked and shifted his gaze between the couple.

“She was the one who bought your breakfast. She just asked if I could bring it over to you,” Maureen said.

“Where is she?”

“We ran into her at the diner across the street,” Tully said.

That was good. She had the club. He was now cursing himself.

“Thanks for eating with her.”

“We didn’t.” Tully’s tone was stern, and his sharp glare was directed at Mick.

Maureen stepped in between them. “A few of us went over together, got a big table to eat. I asked Meg to join us, but she wanted to sit at the counter. By herself.”

He fisted the bag and nodded. There was nothing more to say. Tully started to walk away, and Maureen gave him a sympathetic and knowing smile. She knew. Tully knew. Now Mick knew.

I fucked up.

Mick shut the door and sighed. Leaving her last night had been the wrong move. In hindsight, he should’ve stayed. But he’d had so much anger and aggression from the threat to her, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. His adrenaline had still been pumping from the fight. Combined with Meg’s opinion, it had only fueled him more. Her inability to see what he knew to be fact from his experience only escalated his anger.

Mick took a shower, packed up, and ate his breakfast. He expected Meg to walk through the door at some point. She didn’t.

Mick dropped his keys off at the office and started toward the lined-up bikes. He held both their bags in one hand and brought his cigarette to his lips, searching the lot for Meg. Most of the brothers were packing their bikes. His eyes shifted to the lawn, landing on Meg. She was sitting on the curb across the lot from the club, staring down the street.

Mick walked over, and even as he grew closer and knew she’d heard his boots pounding on the pavement, Meg never looked over.

“Hey,” he said, his voice graveled.

Meg peeked at him, squinting from the sun beaming in her eyes. Mick moved to his right to block it.

“Hi.”

Her voice was void of any feeling or emotion. Everything he saw and heard last night was gone. She pushed up from the curb, glancing at the club. She was clearly avoiding him.

“You okay?”

Meg slowly nodded. “Yes.”

It should’ve put him at ease. It didn’t.

Mick sighed, walking toward her. “Jack wants to get on the road.”

“I’m ready.” It was the only thing she’d said that had any ounce of emotion.

Fuck.

Meg started past him, and he quickly tossed his cigarette on the ground and reached out, placing his hand on her stomach, halting her. Meg stilled but refused to look at him. He inched closer until her arm brushed against his chest.

“We’ll talk when we get home.”

He heard a faint sigh, and she nodded once again, whispering, “Okay.”

But it’s not fucking okay, is it?