“Hombre,” he murmurs. “You ain’t good.”
There’s that word again.
Brother.
With a heavy sigh, I decide to tell him what I’m thinking, at least part of it anyway. “It’s bothering me, but I got zero fucking right to let it…” I begin.
Shaking my head, I wonder if I should continue. I don’t want sympathy, not just because I don’t deserve it, but also because I’ve never desired pity, from anyone. Silver clears his throat, and I know he wants me to finish my thought, he’s waiting to hear what I have to say next.
“Pamela,” I continue. “She won’t ever have the protection she deserves from the club or the brand accompanied with the title of Old Lady.”
He doesn’t say anything right away and I wonder if he heard me. A few moments later I hear him chuckle and I watch him, wondering what the hell he finds so damn funny.
“You seriously think that Jailbait won’t be protected? After she’s been nothing but cooperative, after she’s been at the club and not caused an ounce of drama. She’s done nothing but pull her weight and help Pinkie out. She’s a Beast as far as I’m concerned.”
“But she’s not and she won’t be.”
He doesn’t say anything else for a while, then finally he clears his throat. “You think you won’t be asked back into the fold?” he says, his voice low.
“I know I won’t be and I’m cool with that. Being a prospect is enough for me. I betrayed everything that I’ve ever loved and fought for. I don’t expect shit, but I am worried about Pamela.”
We drive in silence until we get to the first gas station. Silver jumps out and I do the same. Without being told or even being asked, I walk over to the gas pump and start to fill up the truck, well, I start to then realize that I don’t have any money—none. I don’t have a credit card or anything either.
It hits me.
It slams into me.
I don’t have any money. How am I going to take care of Pamela? How are we going to move out of the clubhouse? How am I going to take care of the kid I most likely created in the last few weeks?
Fuck.
“Jag?”
Silver’s voice breaks through and I turn to him, but I don’t see him. I don’t see anything. It’s a vast sea of nothingness. Nothing but debt, but poverty, but utter disappointment. This is not how I am going to protect Pamela. Not in the fucking slightest.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
I feel his fingers wrap around my shoulder and he gives me a hard jerk. Turning my head, I look over in his direction and he slowly comes into view. He looks concerned, his brows are furrowed, but I can’t think about anything but my dry mouth.
“Jaguar?” he snaps.
“I’m fucking broke,” I say.
He frowns, his finger digging into my shoulder harder. He doesn’t say anything right away, but he clears his throat, then pulls me against him. He hugs me. His fist banging on the center of my back.
“It’s gonna be okay, hombre,” he murmurs. “It’ll work out.”
He releases me, and I take a step back, feeling like the biggest pussy on earth. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair and tug on the strands. I look to the side, then back to him and try not to cry and completely embarrass myself.
“How can I be? I’ll be a prospect for the rest of my fucking life. Got a woman, and won’t be able to provide for her. I didn’t think about that when I was fuckin’ her bare, didn’t think about that when I told her she was mine. I did what I always fucking do, and I selfishly took what wasn’t mine to take.”
“Jaguar,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.
I don’t wait for him to say anything, to try to reassure me. There’s nothing he could say that will change this. Not a damn fucking thing. I fucked up yet again. Turning from him, I walk away. I don’t go far, knowing that there are a dozen men with their eyes focused on me, waiting to take me down if I make one wrong move.
I just need to breathe.
I just need to try and figure out what the fuck I’m going to do.
Run.
That’s the only thing that plays on a repeated loop in my head. Run. Let Pamela be free, let her live a good life without the burden of me as her man. Run. Let my brothers breathe easy knowing they don’t have a coward, a Judas beneath their roof.
Fucking run.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JAGUAR
“Never took you for the kind of pussy I was,” a deep voice calls out from behind me.
It’s Hawk. I would recognize his voice almost anywhere. In the woods all those weeks ago, his voice was a kind of comfort that I didn’t know I needed. I made sure his daughter got free, knowing that Trista would have been hurt beyond repair had she stayed. I would never let anything happen to her, I watched her grow up, I love her.
“I’m not,” I lie.
He snorts. “Yeah, I think you are. Just in your own way.”
I think about his words and he’s not wrong. I am just that. I’m a gigantic fucking pussy. I’m not sure if I’m even ashamed of the fact that I am exactly what he says I am. I can’t deny it, what’s the fucking point in trying?
“I ain’t running, but I want to,” I admit.
“Why?” he asks.
Without turning around, I let out a heavy breath. “Because I’m a selfish fuck.”
“Yeah?” A voice chuckles. “We all are.”
Spinning around, I see Dragon, Mountain, Silver, and Wolfe standing with Hawk. They’re all watching me, staring at me, waiting for me to do something. They’re waiting for me to run. They’re waiting for me to fuck up so that they can put me down like the no-good dog I am.
“We’re all selfish, Jag.
