The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,57

I'm pacing outside the front door when I see him descend the stairs with his phone pressed to his ear, his eyes searching for me. They skim across the foyer and land on me outside the door. Our eyes lock, and I don't need his words to confirm it. It's written in ghost letters all over his face.

I crumple—spiritually, mentally, and physically—into a heap on the floor. And I don't cry.

I breathe.

~

The ensuing couple of hours are a blur of men in blue, sirens, yellow tape, and questions. Lots and lots of questions. Someone throws a blanket around me and sits with me on the front steps.

I see familiar faces. Grunt's and Onyx's.

Mouths are moving but I hear nothing. It feels as if I'm underwater, white noise gushing loudly in my ears. It's sunrise by the time the stretcher is carried out, Kathy’s body outlined under a pristine white sheet, a tendril of her golden hair peeks out at the top.

"I'm so sorry," I mouth as they load her into a white van.

I don't know what happened. But I do know it's all my fault.

I killed Katherine de Glücksbeigch-Oliveros.

Chapter 14

Scratch

"How is she?" I ask Kendra eagerly when she walks up to the raised path where Onyx and I are parked on our motorcycles.

"No change." She tugs on the collar of her prudish black dress, visibly uncomfortable. "She's still shutting me out. Isaac’s the only person who’s been able to get a word out of her."

I haven't touched, seen, or spoken to my woman in almost three weeks. After Kathy's death, her emotions went on lockdown. She shut me out, wouldn’t let me touch or comfort her. The morning after, she’d slept until noon. I had lunch ready and waiting for her when she woke up, but she told me she wasn’t feeling well and wanted chicken soup instead. Desperate to do anything to help her, I went out to get her chicken soup. But when I got back, she was gone. I didn’t see it coming, though I probably should’ve. All my calls were rejected, all my messages ignored.

So, I brought in the big guns—Kendra, who came running from whatever part of the world she’d been once she heard what happened.

Only then did I find out where she’s been hiding. At that little turd’s place, Zacpack or whatever the fuck his name is.

She’d ran from me and straight into another man's arms. From our home into another man's home.

Am I pissed clean the hell off and want to smash that tool's skull in? Damn straight I am. But Grunt—my perpetual voice of reason and maturity—talked me down from my rage, from kicking that little shit’s door down and killing him with my bare hands.

“Ley's grieving,” Grunt had said to talk me down. “You gotta let her grieve how she chooses. Hurting her friend and choice of comfort right now is gonna ruin any and all chances of you ever getting her back. Just wait it out.”

I'd fought him on every argument he made, but I knew he was right. In the end, I listened, as hard as it was to do.

Now three weeks later, this is the closest I've been to her. At the cemetery. Two hundred yards away. Separated by hundreds of headstones.

It should be me by her side right now, hugging her while she sobs into my chest as Kathy’s casket is lowered into the ground. But she denied me that. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be here. She’d told Kendra to tell me not to come to the funeral. Though Kendra was confused by the request, I wasn’t.

I hated that bitch for what she did to Leyana and I'm not in the least bit sorry she's dead. If she hadn't offed herself, I probably would've been the one to do it. So of course, I don't give a shit about her funeral. Leyana knows this.

That said, I do care about my girl and the hurt she’s going through. But my girl doesn’t seem to care about me, does she?

Kendra's her best friend and she won't even talk to her. She's shut us all out and that shit hurts.

"This is bullshit," I spit, plucking my joint from behind my ear and lighting it up.

Kendra sighs and leans back against the tree we're parked behind. "She's gone right back into her loner shell and we'll be lucky if she ever comes back out."

"Wanna beat that shit stain to a pulp," I growl, smoke spilling from me with each