Numb (King's Harlots MC Book 5), Page 2

  “I’ll do that.” We talked until I reached town. Which consisted more of Jay talking and me grunting answers. It used to be the other way around. But since Jay had found her one true love, engaged to be married, and now pregnant with his child, I had become the bitter one. I was happy for her, but I was also jealous. It was the most honest emotion I had allowed myself to feel in weeks.

  “Max?”

  “I’m almost at the gallery. I’ll talk to you soon, Jay.” I hung up the phone before she even had a chance to respond.

  Pulling my bike into the narrow alleyway beside the gallery, I shut her off and waited. The wind whipped around me, brushing over my skin like the touch of a lover’s kiss.

  A shiver rippled down my spine, and before I could allow my mind to drift to that pain, I slid off my bike and headed into the gallery.

  It was midafternoon on a Thursday. The gallery would open in a couple of hours and go well into the late evening. Artists from our small town and the surrounding cities would come out to see my work or try and get their own art into my space.

  It had been the same old routine ever since I started working there a couple years ago. I never went into painting expecting to sell anything. I also didn’t go into it to make a quick buck. I did it so people could see my work if they wanted to and hopefully become inspired in the meantime.

  Rounding the corner of the building, I unlocked the front door and headed to the back where my home away from home was.

  As soon as I reached my office, my heart stuttered. Blank canvases sat against one wall. A table lined with paint, brushes, and pencils sat against another. And the easel stood in the middle of the room, holding another blank canvas I hadn’t been able to touch since … I swallowed hard and shook myself.

  Although Dale was in a coma, I wouldn’t give him the reprieve of shattering. It was unfair of me. I knew that. It wasn’t like he knew what had happened.

  Our baby. Our sweet, precious baby girl.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  Fuck.

  “WE NEED SOMETHING new from you. Something fresh. Something not so damn painful,” Josee Ross stated, rummaging through canvas after canvas. She was the manager of the gallery after I met her at a showing a couple of years before. Although she owned the gallery and was my boss, we had become fast friends. She had come highly recommended and I loved her no bullshit attitude, even though she was royally pissing me off now.

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Jo,” I mumbled, staring at the sea of white in front of me.

  “Max, baby.” Jo sighed, turning to me, and blew her red curls off her forehead before pulling her hair into a messy bun. “I love you. I think you’re fucking brilliant but you have to get your shit together.”

  “My shit is just fine.” It was. It was peachy-fucking-keen.

  “You may lie to yourself and your fucking friends but you can’t fucking lie to me.” Josee continued looking through the canvases lined against the wall. “These are intense as fuck.”

  My lips pulled up into a smile at her overuse of the F word.

  “Have you started anything new?” she asked, all joking set aside.

  “No.” I rubbed the back of my neck, stretching my arms above my head, and shivered at the crack rippling down my spine. “I’m not inspired.” I hadn’t been inspired for weeks.

  “Well, get inspired.” She pointed at me. “We have some big names coming here next month. They’re expecting something new from you.”

  “I can’t force it, Josee.” I pointed the brush at her. “You know that.”

  “Take a vacation. Go to a damn graveyard for all I fucking care. Just paint something new.”

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and focused back on the blank canvas in front of me. I thought about what I should paint, what I wanted to paint, but even my mind was blank. What the hell was wrong with me?

  After a couple of minutes of trying to think of something to paint, a sharp pain pierced into the side of my head. The impending headache wouldn’t help so I took a couple deep breaths and placed the brush back on the table.

  “Max,” Jo barked.

  My eyes snapped to hers.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Don’t strain that artistic brain of yours. Just let the paint flow. Which is what you usually always do. I’ve never seen you actually think about what you want to paint before you paint it. It’s not how you roll. Why is it hard this time?”

  She was right. I never outlined my paintings beforehand or even thought about them until I sat in front of an empty canvas. Sometimes, something inspired me and I just had to paint it but not usually. I flew by the seat of my pants and it had always worked. Until now.

  I let out another heavy sigh, dipped my brush in some paint, and lifted it to the canvas. But again, nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I waited. I paused. I begged for something to come out of me and pour itself onto the bare board in front of me. But nothing happened. I needed to go for a walk or … see her. That could help.

  Josee sat beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Give it time. I know I ride you hard but it’s only because I’m proud of you. You’re the best in this area but I want you to be the best you can be. For yourself. Not to make money. Not for fame or popularity. For you.”

  I nodded, a hard lump forming in my throat.

  She sighed, pulled her curls loose, then redid the messy bun. It was her signature move when she was either nervous or stressed. This time being the latter. “How long have we been working together?”

  “A couple of years.” I shrugged. “Why?”

  “I know nothing about you,” she said, pushing her black-rimmed glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “Tell me something about you.”

  “There’s nothing to know.” There wasn’t. I was boring. Besides being the vice-president of an all-female motorcycle club, there was nothing to tell.

  “As fucking if, Max.” Jo clucked her tongue. “You hang out with that motorcycle club and those other men.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my life.” I rose from the stool, cutting her off. “If we’re done here, I’d like to get back to painting. Or try to.”

  “Tell me one thing about you that has nothing to do with painting and I’ll leave you alone,” she insisted.

  “Fine.” I thought a moment. “I’m the girliest of my sisters.”

  She laughed. “I already knew that.”

  “Is it obvious?”

  “Little bit.” She smiled. “Tell me something else.”

  “I go see Dale at the hospital even though I know I shouldn’t,” I confessed, the words pouring from my lips unexpectedly.

  She stared at me. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

  “Tit for tat?” I asked, sitting back on the stool.

  “Something like that.” Josee didn’t push further. “Take care of yourself, Max.” She squeezed my arm gently and left the room. “Feel better?” she called out.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, I did feel a little bit better.

  But once I was alone, the dam of my demons broke. The sobs left me, shaking through my core, and split me wide open. I tried forcing them back but they took control and forced me to submit.

  Slender arms wrapped around me. “Shhh …” Josee rubbed my back. She was the only person who didn’t know every singled detail about my life. Even before shit went down, I didn’t say much. She knew about Dale and that was it. I was a private person but the need to tell someone who would be unbiased was on the tip of my tongue. I needed to talk about the baby but the words wouldn’t leave me so I just reveled in her hug.

  “I don’t know what’s going on but I want you to know I’m here if you ever need to talk,” she said, her voice soothing.

  I nodded, wiping my cheeks roughly.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, grabbing hold of my hand.

  Yes. “No.”

  “Okay.” She tapped my hand
. “Back to work?”

  I stared at the blank canvas. “I guess.”

  ***

  “You’re here,” Jay said, leaving the clubhouse and coming toward me.

  I slid off my bike and pulled off the helmet before pulling my hair back into a ponytail. “I am.” It had been months since I had been to the clubhouse. Nothing had changed, really, just that it became bigger after Vice-One had reconstructed it.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth over my face.

  My chest tightened. She wasn’t one to worry over things but since getting kidnapped months ago, add to the fact she was pregnant, she worried over everything. Especially when it came to me.

  “Jay,” I grit out, clenching my jaw. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you? I’m only asking because you didn’t come back to the house last night. Where did you sleep?”

  Home. I didn’t have a fucking home. “I slept at the gallery.”

  “Seriously?” she raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because,” I snapped. “This place is no longer my home. Your home isn’t mine. It belongs to you and Angel. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I really do. But the gallery is all I have right now.”

  Jay crossed her arms under her chest, resting them on the pronounced bump she was now sporting and stared at me.

  “What?” I frowned.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen any emotion from you since …” She waved a hand out in front of her. “You know.”

  “Yeah, well, you get on my nerves,” I muttered.

  “And you’re back to being a bitch.” She sighed. “I thought I was the only one allowed to be a bitch.”

  “Not long now,” I said, ignoring her comment and pointed at her very swollen belly.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed the bump. “I am sorry.”

  “Don’t.” I shook my head. “Don’t go there. Not right now. I can’t take it.”

  She nodded. “Fine. Let’s go inside. The guys are getting antsy and I know the girls want to see you.” She hooked her arm through mine, leading us into the building.

  “Max,” Brogan exclaimed, jumping off the stool by the bar, and ran toward me. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She wrapped her arms around my middle.

  I pulled back, leaned down, and gave her a proper hug. She was several inches shorter than I but, man, could she pack a bite. I had seen her dark and sadistic work. It made sense now, seeing as I felt that same darkness.

  “I’m here,” she whispered in my ear.

  Swallowing hard, I gave her a squeeze and released her. “How’s your wrist?” I asked, nodding toward the cast on her arm.

  She shrugged. “It’s getting there,” she answered, looking over her shoulder at Coby. He met her gaze, his eyes filling with a warmth that was envious.

  I cleared my throat. “Did you accept the vice-president role yet?”

  “I have.” She grinned and pointed at Jay. “Not like I had a choice in the matter, really. She’s kind of a hard ass.”

  I smiled softly. “She is.”

  Jay scoffed. “Whatever. You bitches love me.”

  “Not as much as I love you,” Angel Rodriguez said, walking toward his fiancée, and handed her a bottle of water.

  She sighed, taking it from him. “I really wish this was alcohol.”

  He chuckled, kissing her forehead.

  “You two are disgusting.” Brogan scrunched up her nose.

  “She thinks we’re disgusting.” Jay barked a laugh. “I know your ways.”

  Brogan stuck her tongue out and went back to her boyfriend sitting at the bar. Their relationship intrigued me. Something disturbing happened over a month ago and it brought them closer.

  I watched as Brogan slipped between Coby Porter’s legs, cupped his cheek, and kissed him softly.

  The warmth and love in his dark gaze made my own heart stutter.

  Before they caught me staring, I headed to the meeting room. It had felt like a lifetime since I had been in this room.

  After everything that had happened, I found I just couldn’t cope with life and being in a motorcycle club.

  “Max?”

  I jumped, spun around, and found Creena Chan standing in the doorway.

  Her brows narrowed in the center, her concerned gaze zeroing in on me so hard it felt like she was reaching into my chest attempting to make my heart beat again.

  But no one could give it the life it needed to pump. Except for one person. And he no longer existed in my life.

  “Do you have plans tonight?” she asked, crossing her arms under her chest. “We can hang out at Asher and Meeka’s. Please. I’m not taking no for an answer, either.”

  Funny, neither had he. “I have to work.”

  “Yeah, right. You’ve been working nonstop for the past couple of weeks, Max. We need to do something tonight.”

  “And just what are we going to do?”

  She winked. “Don’t you worry that beautiful brain of yours. I got your back.” She started whistling to herself and sat in one of the leather chairs around the large oval table.

  Just when I was going to ask her what the hell she was talking about, everyone filed into the room.

  “Max?” Jay sat her swollen body at the head of the table. “You good?”

  “Yup,” I muttered.

  She winced, breathing deep and even.

  Angel cupped her shoulder, whispering in her ear.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, patting his hand. “Don’t worry so damn much.”

  “Woman, I’ll worry about you all the fuck I want,” he said, smacking a hard kiss on her mouth.

  My chest tightened, the air in my lungs coming out in short shattered breaths. I would not break. I was strong. I got this.

  “I …” I blurted, my cheeks heating.

  All eyes landed on me, the sudden stare down sucking the breath right out of me.

  “I need some air,” I said quickly and ran out of the room. Once I was outside, I ran around the building and collapsed to the ground. Taking deep painful breaths, I chanted over and over that I was okay. I was fine. I would get through this.

  I needed to go see Dale. It was the only way I could ease this anxiety in my chest. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Not when I hated him. But he was the only one who could make me feel better.

  “Max?”

  My head snapped up. “What?” I bit out as Creena approached me. I was getting sick and fucking tired of the pity. Just let me be and let me deal. I could handle this on my own.

  “Listen” —she leaned against the wall beside me— “I was going to take you out, but maybe being around other people might not be the best idea right now.”

  I scoffed. “No kidding.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  My brows narrowed in the center. “You’re the first person to ask me that.” Jay had meant well but she always assumed I would stay with her and Angel. I knew the guys didn’t want us to be alone but the security at my gallery had been newly updated since the last show down with that damn organization.

  “Well, it is a reasonable question.” She shrugged. “I figure there’s three places you could be. Jay’s, here, or your gallery. Unless you’re staying somewhere else.”

  “No,” I sighed. “I haven’t even bothered to look for a new place.”

  “I understand.” Creena pulled away from the wall. “Text me where you’ll be later. I’ll bring by beer and junk food.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as she walked around the corner, leaving me alone to wallow in my own self-pity.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I went to head back into the building when the door leading to the basement caught my eye.

  Brogan had spent many hours in the dark damp area, doing what she did best when it came to getting information out of informants.

  I unlocked the door, closing it quietly behind me, and slowly made my way down the staircase. I had never been in
this room without my sisters before but something about the empty space called out to me. With everything that had happened, was the darkness washing around me finally pulling me in deeper? I had no idea but it was frustrating and exciting as hell.

  Once I reached the basement floor, I turned on the light and swallowed hard. The room was clean but what I noticed first were the tools lined up on a table against the far wall. I had seen Brogan use them before when trying to get information or when she just wanted to have some fun and scare the bastards who sat in her chair.

  I always had respect for her. Anyone who could do what she did and not let it mess them up was strong.

  “Max?”

  I jumped, spinning on my heel, and saw Brogan standing a few feet away from me.

  “What are you doing in here?” she asked, tentatively taking a step toward me.

  “I …” I looked around me, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’m not sure.”

  “You just needed to get away?” she asked, running her fingers over the back of the chair in the middle of the cool damp room.

  “Yeah.” I leaned against the table opposite her. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?” She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms under chest.

  “How do you do this” —I waved a hand toward the table lined with tools— “and not lose yourself in the process?”

  Brogan shrugged. “Having Coby now helps but I’ve always craved this … darkness. It hasn’t been easy to deal with, Max. Whatever you’re thinking, I’m not that woman. I’m not a killer. I do what I need to do to survive and protect those I love. That’s it. I’m just … me.”

  “I know.” I nodded. “I know that. Do you ever regret it?” I needed to direct the conversation elsewhere. I didn’t want to talk about myself.

  “Sometimes,” she paused. “Is something going on, Max?”

  I hesitated, wringing my hands in front of me. “I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be down here. I’m sorry.” I rushed past her and up the stairs before she could ask me any more questions. I didn’t know what I was doing or what my purpose was anymore.

  Dale was in a coma.

  My friends were getting partnered off, and I was alone. Always alone. All I had was my painting, and even that was proving to be difficult.