UnHinge Me (Savage Beast MC #6) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,104

newly decorated bedroom. It looks nothing like it did a couple of days ago. It is fresh and light, it looks like it belongs in a showroom. It’s absolutely gorgeous. I couldn’t have done any of it without Mountain’s men.

Dragon came by on the first day, looked at the carpets while grumbling, then an hour later there were three prospects here and they replaced all of the flooring in the house. Now instead of old, worn, stained carpeting, I’m standing on warm, weathered mahogany hardwood flooring. It’s heavenly.

The entire house feels amazing and beautiful and kind of a dream come true, in its own way. I know it’s not as fancy as my father’s house, it doesn’t have the luxuries that his did. However, where his was pretty to look at, it held horrors of the worst imaginable kind. This place is a little more worn, a little more torn, but it’s going to be filled with love and hopefully happiness.

My phone rings in my back pocket and I quickly tug it out, smiling as I see the name Unknown Caller flash across the screen, knowing exactly who it is on the other end of the line.

“Hey,” I breathe.

There’s a moment of silence, then I hear him clear his throat. “Heard you been busy?” he asks.

Looking around the room, I press my lips together. “Maybe,” I offer, trying not to laugh.

He chuckles. “Dragon and Taz have been in constant communication. I have a feeling my credit card bill is going to be sky high.”

A sudden sense of dread fills me. A sickness forms at the pit of my stomach. I didn’t think about cost, about money at all. I was so wrapped up in making everything perfect, in making a home that I didn’t even consider that all of this was going to cost Wilder a lot of money. He told me to get what I needed, and I selfishly got what I wanted.

“Mi reina,” he calls out, his voice sharp and there is a bite to it. I shake my head, humming as my response. “Got money, babe. Got plenty. Whatever you want, I’m good with it. All of the bigger cosmetic shit Dragon talked to me about ahead of time. Don’t fuckin’ worry, yeah?”

My stomach still twists, but I shove it down and try to push it completely away. “Okay, yeah.”

“Can’t wait to come back to the home you made. Never had a real one before.”

I look around the house and frown. Of course, he had a home, I’m standing in it, I redecorated it. This most definitely was a home. He interrupts my thoughts as if he can read them.

“Had a house, a hellhole. Never had a home, babe. Not until I moved into the clubhouse and well, that ain’t much of a home.”

Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head. “No, it’s really not, but I can see how you felt safe there,” I admit.

“You feel it?” he asks.

“I do. They love you, Wilder. They truly do. It would make anyone feel at peace.”

“Giving that to you, babe. When I get back, when we’re able to really be together. Giving you that peace you need.”

“I hope that I can give that to you too,” I whisper.

“Already do, mi reina.”

He ends the call and I’m not surprised. Every time we talk about something that is serious, that is real, he ends the conversation before we get too deep into it. I don’t think it’s because he’s trying to avoid it, but maybe he is, I think it’s more along the lines of him wishing to talk about these things in person.

“Looks like you think you’re in love,” a deep voice rasps.

Spinning around, the phone falls from my fingers and I stand, frozen and staring at the man in front of me. Shaking my head, I take a step back, then another, until I hit the wall behind me and have nowhere else to go.

“How?” I breathe.

“Do you think that you could just run away and I would never find you again?”

“You died,” I breathe. “They killed you.”

He shrugs a shoulder, his suit impeccable, his hair the same. My heart starts to race. His gaze flicks down to my belly, then shifts back up to meet mine again. His top lip curls in disgust.

“That’s a little problem that we’ll have to take care of.”

“No,” I rasp, wrapping my arms around my belly.

My eyes frantically look around for Taz, for Trista, for anyone who is supposed to be here. His