it’ll distract me from worrying about Trix. Ah, who the fuck am I kidding?
Trix
A firm grip on my shoulder shakes my body. “Trix.” Another shake. “Babe, wake the fuck 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 pass 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 shit 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 space.
He groans, low and raspy. “Didn’t give me much choice, babe. Tried to get you up.”
“Ewww, get out—ugh! Stop making me yell.” I dig my fists into my eyes and whimper. “Fuck.”
He zips up his fly and the toilet flushes. “You strapped one on last night. Not shocked you feel like shit today.”
“Stop. Talking.”
He grips my shoulders, rolling me to my back, and sets me on my butt. My brain feels like it should leak out my ears at any minute, and I groan as the room sways. He dips to meet my gaze. “Anything you wanna tell me, Trix?”
What a strange thing to ask? I blink, trying to figure out what the hell he’s getting at. “Um . . . no?”
“You sure ’bout that? I’m giving you a chance to come clean.” He holds up a finger. “One chance.”
Oh shit, 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 hell 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 relationship that’s gone both ways. No way he’s allowed to get jealous now.
Pushing 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 . . . fuck, 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.