Inherent

The trees lining the edge of the parking lot are the most interesting things in my line of sight, but I don’t take long to see their beauty like I usually might—if I were in a lighter mood. If things weren’t so uncertain. If there wasn’t danger lurking in the present from a life I have long left behind. If I had Julia.

Instead, I glare at them with a ferociousness reserved for the few people I would truly like to see dead.

For the past five minutes I have wondered what I am even doing out in a deserted construction area north of Chicago, waiting for Lucy of all people. A girl who is verging on my aforementioned list of people who I would like to see wiped off the face of the earth, and it is all only to her doing if she does ending up landing herself on it. Since she approached me at my club, informed me that Joe is coming to town, to look for me, she has effectively crushed everything I worked for. If he felt so inclined, he could easily ruin the name I have made for myself in business—all he would have to do is bring about the bad blood between us, start a war. And then the life I’ve built, the one with Jules, would be in jeopardy.

Jules… I sigh. I’ve seen Lucy far too many times over the past days, weeks, I don’t know. It’s hard for me to keep track of time now, when things feel as though they will never end. That I will never get it through to Jules how much I care for her. All I know is that is has been far too long, and Lucy’s sporadic drop-ins make it feel that much longer and more torturous.

An idiot, is what I am. For having said such cruel things to the one person in life I would give anything for, for pushing her away when I have been the one to try and inch closer to her for so long. We’d been so close to being truly happy, together. I could feel it, just in the way she opened up to me over the course of the night, put such faith in me. And then she showed up, one of the few people from my past that is very capable of screwing everything up. Every minute I think about Julia: I think about how I very nearly hurt her that night—perhaps unintentionally, but still—and then I think about how I deserve her cold shoulder, and then I hope that she is okay without me. That maybe she is happy.

But then I recall the last time I saw Lucy, just yesterday, and bite harshly on my lower lip. My reaction to her latest news—very nearly losing my mind and going straight to Julia at the store. It was so stupid of me, but I had to be sure she was okay. After the incident at the Castle, knowing who was in my town, I had been on a constant, angry, rage-filled edge. Lucy’s last announcement is just what tipped me off, finally.

***

I am ambling through The Castle’s main lobby, my final destination the basement to get some work done for the first time since Julia left me. It’s impossible to concentrate, not while knowing how much I hurt her, not while knowing I am the reason why she is probably sad right now. Not while knowing I could have prevented all of this from happening.

The basement is mostly unfinished save for a janitorial room and a large, empty, unsettling room where I have set up a desk to work from. Hopefully a temporary workspace, because renovations upstairs in the room off from The Solar haven’t even begun. It is supposed to be Julia’s project with me—I don’t want anyone else touching it. It is our room. I’m going to wait, even though it kills me to be so far away from her.

Right now, however, it might be too much of a risk. Seeing her, being with her. It might only put her in danger.

“Joe is in town,” Lucy told me that night. “And he’s looking for you.”

She’d then told me a heads-up was the least she could do, after all I have supposedly done for her. She really meant after all she had used my status and rank in the club for. Just thinking about him, here, that night, it all causes me to grow more frustrated and angrier than I already was. My now permanent, severe frown and pinched brow lend me an unwelcoming, harsh scowl. Without even knowing what I’m doing, I shove open the lobby doors with brute, unnecessary force, arms aching for release through not my usual punching bag, but upon one certain member of the club.

Because it is just barely after three o’clock in the afternoon, the club is nearly empty. There is no DJ right now, only generic club music played over the speakers which have been turned down, and I don’t spare a glance at the few patrons of the bar before turning the corner, toward the stairs. Employees are scattered about, preparing for an event planned for tonight which I cannot recall—an event I don’t plan to attend.

Today, I don’t have any time for niceties. In fact, I hate even being here, but I hate going home even more. To my lonely apartment which never seemed as barren and empty as it did after Julia came into my life. I hate not heading to her house straight after work, to finally be able to relax in her presence. It didn’t matter what went wrong throughout the day or how many people managed to do something wrong, no matter how much of a challenge I faced with any one of the dying companies I choose to take on, because I could always count on the little slice of heaven I always feel with her.

If I wasn’t before I totally blew up, even though the only thing I was over worried about was her safety, I am totally unworthy of her love now… or so much as a moment of her time. Because of all the terrible things I said, how I treated her that night in response to how blindingly enraged I was…

After Lucy left me in the hallway that night, I’d gone up to The Solar to look for Jules. And she hadn’t been there. That had made me even more anxious, and then much more so when I couldn’t find her with Vivian or the other girls. My frantic mind had put two and two together—Joe was in town, Julia was missing in the club.

And then I had nearly lost it. Again. Hell—I did, and at a huge expense.

I don’t blame her for blatantly ignoring my existence. I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I will stop trying, or stop trying to be a better man for her. Though I have no viable clue as to what she ever saw in me to begin with, what with my stupid ‘bad boy’ persona and businessman alter ego, I care for her so much it hurts. So much it scares me. It scares me to think of how I could not live without her.

Because I would be willing to do anything for her. I saw how broken she was, how she was healing, and how much solace and peace she found when she was with me, much like what I find in her. It’s as though we have been waiting to find each other, our other half—one we weren’t even aware we were missing… at least, that’s how it feels to me.

Most importantly, I see how breathtakingly beautiful she is. And I may be totally undeserving, but I won’t ever turn her away or give up on us. Thinking of her brings a mind-boggling calm, one that is always as startling as the first time I felt it, the first time I saw her. The first time we spoke, touched, locked eyes. Normally I would recoil from this feeling, wary of anyone having so much control over my emotions and state of being, though I welcome this. I’m totally fine with the calm sensations running throughout my system, how the tips of my fingers tingle at the mere thought of her.

Unfortunately, however, my calm is—as usual—short lived. Right as I turn down the hallway which leads to a staircase which leads to the basement, toward my hole in the ground where I plan to bury myself for a good while, someone clears their throat in an annoyingly obvious way. I continue to think of Julia as I turn around to face whoever wants some of my time, but the grip I use to hold the briefcase tightens significantly at the sight of Lucy.

She stands a healthy distance away, no longer wearing the arrogant smirk that has come to be expected from her, the one which pressed on my very last nerve. In a fraction of a second I take in the smaller, yet very important details.

The large, fresh, dark blue bruise marring the right side of her face, right on the cheekbone, is the most prominent one. And then her busted lip, probably still too sore to form that malicious smile of hers, and lastly the total lack of confidence she usually exudes, shines as a warning signal to me in her eyes.

Something has gone wrong.

I’m not about to take pity on her.

Sparing her just one look, a sort of nonchalant, disgusted dismissal, I angle toward the security guard posted by the lobby doors—Ty has been a part of The Castle since before I even purchased the venue, and I was always of the belief that he took his job seriously, and did it well.

Until today.

A nervous sheen of sweat has already formed along his forehead—but if he can’t do his job, which is only to keep miscreants like Lucy out, then he is of no use to me. I focus my fury on his inability to perform simple tasks.

“You’re fired.”

Ty pales at my cruel, growled declaration, and stutters as his eyes grow two times in size. Before he can stumble over his own mouth to probably beg for me to reconsider, Lucy finally chooses to speak up, and actually has the audacity to sound shocked.

“Wait, Harry. Relax,” she says, appearing shaken. I have no idea why. During her time spent with Joe, she has witnessed things much worse than a simple, sudden dismissal of an inept employee. She has witnessed murders. Seeing something like this take place shouldn’t even cause her to bat an eye.

Yes, something has undoubtedly gone wrong for her, but I can’t quite bring myself to care. With a clenched jaw and fists held tightly at my side, the briefcase’s handle not enough to satisfy my need to hit something, I whirl back to face her. Before I can tell her to leave in a few not-so eloquent words, she quickly opens her jacket to reveal her pretty little handgun. She smiles at Ty, as though in reassurance. “I kind of insisted.”

The silver of the pistol glints against the club’s lighting; I merely stare at it dully, totally unperturbed and without interest.

“Get out of my sight,” I say lowly, a rumbled murmur in comparison to the snarl I formerly directed to my terrified employee. Off to the side I hear Ty begin to scamper away, as far away as he can get from the threat Lucy poses to his safety, and perhaps away from me, though I don’t spare any more of my attention on him. Instead I point a finger at Lucy, ducking my head to glare at her. “I was talking to you.”

Rather than reply with a cutting, witty retort that can only be expected from Lucy, she nervously shifts, gun since hidden within the confines of her jacket. Despite the advantage she might believe she has—surely unaware of the .44 Magnum I have strapped to my calf underneath my dress pants—she moves her line of sight to the floor, unable to hold the intensity of my eye contact. Defeat plainly written across her expression, as well as maybe even a little guilt, she shakes her head and still refuses to look at me. It has been a long time—years—since I have seen her appear so human, or any definition of the word ‘weak’. As far as I am aware she doesn’t know how to feel any emotion other than animosity, resentment, and a thirst for unjust revenge. Feeling my own rage multiply with each passing second, my gaze turns cold as I stare her
down, for once able to see how much I truly do intimidate her. It’s a satisfying revelation.
“What did you do?” I ask simply, coldly.

Pressing her lips together, she looks like she might cry. What the hell happened between two weeks ago and now to incite such a change? I don’t want to ask, because I don’t want to give the impression that I care about her. I just want to know if this has anything to do with me.

With Julia.

After several seconds of anxious hesitation, perhaps the fear of my most likely explosive reaction, Lucy finally breaks, looking me straight in the eye while she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

This stops me. Makes my blood run cold, and I have to fight to keep my shock contained. Eyebrows furrowed as I look straight ahead, refusing to turn around, I try to figure out her angle. When it comes to her there is never a simple honest answer—only lies, manipulation, and contemptuous actions. In all the years of begrudgingly knowing Lucy, not once have I heard her apologize. Ever. Not when she almost got me shot after using me as a human shield at the strip club she used to work at, back when I actually felt the urge to protect her. I was only about eighteen back then. She didn’t apologize after Joe and his buddies beat me up (but don’t go thinking I didn’t get a few swings and kicks in at the bastards) after she informed him that she suspected I was dipping into the club’s money reserve for my own benefit—which was a total, fabricated lie, one she concocted after I let her know once ad for all that I was not and would not ever be interested in her.

Lucy, as a general rule, only ever does things to spite me and she sure as hell doesn’t apologize. Attempting to look past my burgeoning aggravation, I reason with myself that I would be not only stupid but reckless should I choose to turn her away right now, after she has obviously come to me to share whatever has gone wrong. And since she is here, on my turf where I am in control, there isn’t much reason not to listen. One more realistic assumption can be made, too: whatever trouble she is in, I am involved.

As much as I don’t want to, hearing what she has to say might give me an advantage. If there is any to be had.

She has a lot of guts and nerve to come here, armed of all things, and threaten one of my employees. If she were anyone else I might be impressed, but this is Lucy. And Lucy is someone I cannot trust, be friendly to, or take pride in. Because Joe was the one to make her this way. This caustic, cruel being who has only become harder and more unrecognizable over time.

I refuse to believe that she might have changed.

But hell, maybe she is here to tell me that she is getting married and I am invited to her wedding. Wishful thinking—there’s no use fooling myself that maybe Lucy wouldn’t be so interested in my life or involving me in her endless issues if she had someone.

“Upstairs,” I snap a tense minute later, my tone not lightening in the slightest. Without looking back to see if she is following I turn around and walk through the club, ignoring some of the patrons’ curious looks, and ascend the stairs. In front of both them and my employees I must look as professional as possible, ever aware of their presence and the fact that none of them are exactly privy to the club’s business.

While it isn’t a total secret to a few select people in Chicago, those only half aware of my past, I like to keep the two lives as far apart as possible. Moreover, they have not intercepted in a long, long time. It feels wrong to allow her in here, into the room off from The Solar—a room which I consider to be Julia’s.

Sure to maintain my distance, I end up opting to rest my back against the curtained balcony doors while I motion for Lucy to sit down at one of the antique velvet and dark wood sofas, folding my arms over my chest. For once she actually obeys and almost shyly complies to my silent order, sitting with downcast eyes and crosses her legs nervously, as if waiting. Waiting for me to explode, maybe, much like whoever bruised up her face.

Little does she know that it is another huge difference. In me from the club. I do not abuse the women in my life. But scaring her and leading her to believe I would sometimes prove to be effective.

My patience, already non-existent, wears thin. “Explain. Now.”

Knowing how intimidating I must appear, so tense and standing tall, scathing glare focused on her, I don’t lighten up in the slightest. She doesn’t falter any more than she already has. To her credit in past stressful situations, this same look has made grown men, decades my senior, fearful.

Right now she reminds me a lot of the wary, broken girl I found dancing years ago. After clinging to the coattails of my power for so long, she is one of the club’s top-ranking members—which, as sexist as it sounds, is unheard of for a woman. If she hadn’t betrayed me in the past with club business I would admire her tenacity.

Mere meters away, she doesn’t at all resemble the person she has grown to be, but to me she is usually nothing more than an irritation anyway. I refuse to acknowledge the pang of concern which temporarily rattles me when I find the scared woman sitting on my sofa to be unrecognizable.

Her eyes are now calm, unreadable though the giveaway of all the anxiety she feels is in her clenched fists hands held at her sides. I only wish the warning could have prepared me for what she says.

“Joe knows.”

It sounds like she doesn’t even take a breath before dropping the bombshell, like she wouldn’t have to nerve to break it to me if she gave it any more thought.

“What?” I snap darkly, taking a menacing stride forward, closer to her. My ire builds by the second, but I am momentarily shocked when she shoots up from her seating position to stand frightfully as soon as I make a move. This gives me another pause and instead of spooking her any further, I choose to keep my distance. But that’s about it, all the mercy I will give her. I all but spit out my next words which are drenched in heavy contempt. “Joe knows what, Lucy?”

I hate his name being brought into this conversation more than ever, because that means it’s worse than I thought.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, almost begging to my incensed ears. As if to somehow douse the intense, burning rage brought with my reaction.

Mouth set in a straight, unforgiving line I wait for her delayed reaction, once again ignoring her rare apology. I don’t think this is funny and I certainly don’t trust her. For all I know, this could be an act, an elaborate ruse she devised with Joe.

“He… I… he asked—why you won’t help him on the new deal. And,” she breaks off, unable to admit whatever she did, and I grow increasingly worried. “It was so stupid of me, Harry, but I mentioned her. I said her name.”

She is referring to the suppose proposal made in the only call I have had with Joe since the first one at Lou’s salon, months ago, but I don’t care about that.

“You mentioned who?” I ask quietly, fingers curling into fists. Lucy looks like she is going to be sick at my deathly calm questioning, and deep down I already know the answer. I know exactly who she is referring to.

She looks away again, the name slipping out through a mumbled, guilty admission. “Julia.”

For a second it’s as if everything takes a pause—my own breathing slows to shallow rasps while my eyes lose focus on the present, on Lucy, though with the intensity of my stare I know she must feel uncomfortable enough since she listlessly concentrates on a spot near my left shoulder, obviously well away from meeting me in the eye. She stares just as blankly as I do, waiting for my reaction.

But it doesn’t come straight away, the simple sentence which will surely complicate everything takes a good while to sink in; sink into my panic, into my anger, into my intense love for and need to protect Julia, into my very being. It’s this moment that will be difficult to remember, later, when and if things calm. A moment where quite possibly my worst fears have been realized, the moment where you would throw everything away from someone you love—and they don’t even know—someone who probably hates you, but you love them so much anyway… someone you would be willing to sacrifice your own life for. Someone whose safety and happiness is the most important thing to you—and when you realize this has been jeopardized, well, you get angry.

Pissed.

At least—I do.

When I finally process that Julia exists to Joe now, that she might unknowingly be a part of any one of his filthy thoughts, my reaction arrives in a rush of blistering, violent fury. Before it is even clear what’s happening, the coffee table acting as a barrier between myself and Lucy is thrown to the side with the brute force of my trembling biceps, wood screeching against the dark wood of the floor until it topples onto its side, and with a small shocked cry Lucy is forced to clamour onto the sofa in order to dodge the massive object that I mistakenly threw her way.

The noise, small in comparison to the heated curses I was previously unaware that I am even shouting, draws my enraged attention to her. Not in a good way, either—my feral gaze snaps to her unnaturally frightened form stood on top of the sofa—dirtying the cushion with her boots—and I no longer care about her stupid, most likely feigned fear as I menacingly stride toward her. Even her shaking halts as I near, as though an animalistic flight instinct to remain still in the presence of a predator.

“Get the fuck down,” I snarl, the only contact through one hand around her shoulder to wrench her down from such a height. She doesn’t stumble as she lands steadily on the floor, righting herself quickly, and stands tall—though I can see, maybe in the bruises and cuts present and the harrowing look in her eyes, that while she is scared she is ready to be hurt again.

In the next second it takes a lot, a whole fucking lot, to realize that while she is the one who started this goddamned mess, harming her will not do anyone good. It looks like someone has already done enough to her face, and god only knows what could lie in hiding underneath her clothing.

No. I don’t want to hurt Lucy, but I sure as hell want to hurt Joe. I want to hurt him until he runs all the way back to Nevada like the coward everybody knows him to be.

I release her, the pressure I previously applied nothing in comparison to what she felt through the beating she somehow received earlier. It is easy to imagine how whoever hurt her thought it was justified, and the thought makes me sick to my stomach.

I hate the club. I hate it more than I hate Joe himself—because I know, without it having to be said, that he was the one to have done this to her.

The space between us is non-existent, me being furious but too controlled to shove her away like I might if she were someone else, and her too scared to make any sudden movements in fear that I might be like the other members, after all, and lash out at her.

I’m not. I’m not. This phrase is repeated, even as I think about Julia and the possible danger she could be in, while thoughts of protection and violence against anyone who might try to hurt her—because of me or not—filling my mind, I think hard about the man I am, past the rage and my past where I give into it readily, the man I promised myself I would always be.

And as I think about Julia, I start to calm. Marginally, given she is not close and now I’m worried out of my mind, but I calm enough to be able to speak and think at least somewhat rationally.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, defeated, and the hitch in my breathing is to be expected at her stupid apologies—but I don’t allow myself to show any more anger.

“Why did you come here to tell me this at all? What the hell did he say, Lucy?” The heated questions fire off in rapid succession, hardly giving Lucy any time to speak or gather her thoughts. The answers are ones which I could probably guess, but it needs to be said. She needs to see exactly how selfish she is, she needs to see Joe for the cruel tyrant he is.

We both know what could potentially unfold, if Joe is as spiteful as he has ever been. By telling him of Julia—of getting her involved in something she shouldn’t, doesn’t deserve to be—that makes her a target. An innocent one, but Joe has never been interested in details. He thinks big picture, and if he believes Julia may be in the way of my loyalty and dedication to the club, she could be in trouble.

Lucy knows this, but since she is a heartless bitch, she doesn’t care.

If Joe ends up believing her and that Julia is the cause of my pulling back from club business… even though she isn’t, since I have been ‘out’ according to my father for over a year now, right from when things went south here—or his personal job he wanted me to oversee, then… my throat tightens at the dangerous possibilities.

Possibilities Julia should never have to face. At this frantic thought, I reach out and give Lucy a rough shake by the upper arms. This seems to shock her to life, and finally, she speaks. I do not have time for her antics today, real or faked.

“He…” she exhales unevenly. My steady though not barbaric grip doesn’t falter. “He asked me to find out more… about her.”

On a feral snarl I push myself away from her, turning around to shake my head as I bring my white knuckles to my mouth. Behind me, I hear Lucy sigh again as she collapses back into the sofa, and I imagine her face pales significantly. She knows me, and she knows I have to be really fucking angry to the point where I can’t even look at her.

Fuck. I should go for a run to gain some control over this rage, but that will be impossible now. I can hardly exercise at a time like this. What I need is to see Julia. Desperately. I need to see that she is okay, and then I need to never let her out of my sight again.

When I finally leash my temper enough to face her again, she quietly stares up at me, trying to act as though everything is fine. To me, this is the final straw. Before I could put up with the weird little rivalry we had going on… but this surpasses cruel. It is evil. A new low for Lucy, and I think she realizes it.

“I’m sorry,” she wobbles again, voice for once betraying her. “I didn’t want to tell him, Harry. You have to believe me.”

The force of my glare doesn’t ease, but I can see that Lucy, surprisingly, does appear apologetic. Seeing her like this throws me for a loop, but I refuse to let slip any confusion—only suspicion, and a hell of a lot of it.

“Once I realized what could happen I came straight here. I came to warn you, Harry. And to tell you I’m fucking sorry, alright?”

I shake my head in disappointment at her apology, which has come years too late, and will never begin to cover or make up for all the things she has done. But finally, I decide I can’t take being so close to her any longer and give her some most likely welcomed distance, turning away again but only for a moment, only to decide what the hell can be done. Every muscle in my body is tense, a physical reaction to both my anger and intense need to go to Julia even though she hates me, to protect her with my last breath. This, I vow, I will do, regardless of whether or not she wants me to.

Even if she detests me to my very core.

If there has to be just one reason for my choice it would be the reality that I was the one to get her into this, just by being in her life… and aside from that, I would protect her from anything in the world anyway. Hell, she means more to me than life itself.

“You need to watch her,” she warns, which only tests me further. My jaw clenches as I try to refrain from shouting again. “Because I don’t know—I don’t know what he is capable of anymore.”

“I wouldn’t have to,” I snap in a growl. “If you had kept your fucking mouth shut.”

“I had to,” she admits, forced. No—if I remember correctly, Lucy doesn’t like to admit weakness or defeat. Perhaps this is yet another sign of her breaking under Joe’s tight control.

Her explanation gives me nothing, so I all but ignore her and the fact that she spoke at all.

“What happened to your face?” I ask suddenly, scrutinizing her features unabashed.

She sucks in a sharp breath and for a moment, as if in some parallel universe, her eyes shine with tears before she blinks rapidly, looking away once again. It’s shocking, and my mind continually works to keep up with every small thing she lets slip in her vulnerable state. She pretends to look around my supposed-to-be office, and then diverts her attention to her hands help limply on her lap.

While I may not know the exact reason behind her change of heart from her usual vindictive self, something tells me it has to do with the painful, unsightly bruises all across her cheek and the cut on her swollen mouth.

This may be the only biting question I will spare her, already looking toward the door. I need to leave, to do something, to protect Jules. I’ve got to call Louis, even though I know for a fact he is spending the day at Liam’s garage, but I need advice. I need to think with a level head, before totally losing it altogether.

That might be impossible, however. Because it’s Julia. My Jules.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When it comes to Joe it is absolutely imperative that I think rationally, and with Julia involved, there is no room for error. This all only causes me to feel even more out of control. Then, after I assemble some sort of plan with Louis, I’m going to end the weeks’ long separation that has forced its way between Julia and myself, and my ability to keep her away from the evils I unwittingly brought into her life.

I will get on my knees, beg and plead for forgiveness for all my stupidity if I have to, and I will protect her like I always promised. I’ll take care of her, and I will never leave her. I will be the man I failed to be at The Castle.

Joe is both evil and dramatic; and I can’t imagine what actions he might choose to take. I won’t let that happen, won’t even give him the chance. The thought of the club’s wrath coming down on me should something happen to the vice president doesn’t even give me a single second’s worth of pause. Jules means more to me than the club, and she always will.

“Don’t do anything yet,” Lucy begs, stupidly disregarding my question and the only tiny amount of concern I have decided to spare her. A shot of annoyance is added to my already incensed state as I stand by the doors leading back out into the main part of the club, more than ready to rid myself of the woman who may have single-handedly ruined everything—much more than it was already.

This might be irreparable.

“Your face,” I grit out, only willing to ask once more, and totally ignore her pleading. She is no position to tell me what to do. From now on, if I am forced to have any contact from her, she will be the one taking orders from me. And if she does anything else to jeopardize Julia’s safety, she will land herself right on the same level as Joe is to me, and then I won’t care what happens to her either way.

I certainly won’t help her.

Even though I have a good idea of exactly who it was to lay their hands on Lucy, a man who is notorious for not caring whether or not a woman can defend themselves against him… or would be willing to, in her case. Joe doesn’t usually physically hurt other club members, or rather, isn’t allowed to. But he is known not only to bend the rules, but break them entirely. I may despise Lucy for all she is worth, but I have never hurt her. I might grab her, use a few scare tactics which have come to my knowledge over the years, and invade her personal space, but those are just that: things I do because she knows no other way of understanding. I’m willing to bet, that because it’s Joe, she really didn’t even bother to fight back or try and stop him. The power he holds over others is sickening.

She stares up at me blankly, sat lifeless, probably refusing to feel anything other than respect for the vilest man I know.
“He saw me hesitate,” she answers softly, by way of explanation, as if a crime punishable by way of bodily harm. “Before I told him. And, well, you know how he is. He didn’t like it.”

I scoff at the news, won’t allow myself to take any more pity on her.

“I know she’s innocent. I know she has nothing to do with the club, but when he asked… she came to mind.”

Shaking her head, she looks down and sighs, eyes half closed as she recalls the incident. “I swear, Harry. He would have killed me if I held back. I’ve never seen him like this before. He scared me. Lately he’s….”

“Desperate,” I finish for her, pondering. That’s how he sounded during our phone calls. Just barely composed, but desperate.

Blinking back the memories, Lucy nods slowly. My lips curl into a snarl, mind working, and I choose to only utter one more sentence before making my departure. Before I leave, talk to Louis, protect Julia. I have to do something.

“I wonder why.”

***

Then, after I quite literally lost my mind in anger, panic, and worry, I called Louis over to my place. I can’t even remember what was said during the conversation, only that Liam was there, or what happened thereafter at home. I hardly recall yelling at Louis, even though none of this is my friend’s fault, before leaving in a frenzy when they warned me to be cautious, to wait and see if Joe really does decide to do anything.

But when he does decide, it will be too late. I don’t even want to give him the chance. If I sit on my ass and wait for him to strike first, Julia could very well end up hurt. I refuse to wait for that possibility to come true.

So I left, yesterday, and I still don’t quite know what I’d been planning to do, but I got in my car and made the frantic drive to the book store. Knowing I might be planning to do something irrational, Louis and Liam had followed me despite my best attempts to lose them along the way.

With hindsight, even while angry and scared and then even more enraged, because I don’t ever want to be scared for Julia, I realize that all I wanted to do was talk to her. All I wanted was to ask for forgiveness, so I can be with her. So I can protect her. All that had been on my mind was the logic that I can’t protect her if she won’t even speak to me, so I was going to do what she refused to.

I was going to forcefully break the ice, ice which felt like the size of a glacier. If it helps, I planned to do what I knew would eventually need to be done—because she won’t herself. Beg for her forgiveness, tell her everything—or close to it, everything that wouldn’t put her in danger just by knowing—and that… that I love her.

Then I wanted to tell her that I would protect her no matter what.

Maybe it is a good thing that Louis had gone in to talk to her instead, even though I physically ached just to touch her again, to be near, for her to bestow upon me one of those shy smiles as she peeks up at me from underneath her dark eyelashes. To hold her and not let go until I’m sure that she is okay, safe, and happy.

Anything, I would give anything for that again.

I miss everything, down to even our smallest, shortest embraces, kisses, and simple touches… the lengthy text conversations, late-night phone calls, and hours spent in bed just being together. I need it all back, and though I made sure to never take her for granted even for a second, I never will so much as think about doing so because I have had a taste of life without her.

Cold, lifeless, and totally lacking. I need her back. But looking back on how I tried to go about it, Liam having enough since to hold me back is almost positively a good thing. As much as I fought. Having still been so angry at the news Lucy shared, trying to hold myself together in front of Julia’s idiot coworker and the rest of the public’s eye—scrutiny I know for a fact she dislikes—would have been impossible.

The truth is, however, that I hadn’t been able to sleep last night. Not even close my eyes and reach some semblance of rest. So when I did venture out of my apartment today, I was exhausted and crankier than usual… which is not good for Lucy and her stupid idea of dragging me all the way out here.

All the restraint I had to use after Julia called me, yesterday after I snapped, when she wouldn’t answer me straight away and I thought something was wrong. I was so close to dropping everything and heading over, with worries that Joe was there with her, threatening her, or she was in trouble somewhere I couldn’t help her, or that maybe she was having one of her attacks. It took every last shred of self-control for me not to go over and check on her, even after she spoke to me and she was well enough to berate me for paying her grandmother’s medical bills without her permission.

Though I knew when I did it that she was too smart not to, I had almost hoped that she wouldn’t catch on to my assumed identity. But it’s Julia, and her intelligence is astounding, and I expected this. I could hardly keep something like that from her, anyway, but that doesn’t mean I am willing to take a cent of it back.

I was simply happy that she was speaking to me. She could have said I was the worst person on earth and it would still be music to my ears.

Then the call was cut short because I could not sit idly, yesterday, and not try to figure what Joe might be in town for aside from his idiotic attempts at coercing me back to Vegas. Liam and I had hit up some of his old cronies—not members of the club, but affiliated, and disgusting enough for me to not flinch all the much at Liam’s getting a little hands-on with them, showing them how serious we were.

I guess, after all my time away, I forgot how quickly things could go wrong. I’d been in the other room of an old dilapidated house after we’d barged in on a couple of low-ranking gang members of the city, gone off to answer the call from Julia because there was no way in hell I was going to ignore her. Then things got violent and I had no choice but to step in and help.

It killed me, though, to end the call. I hate Joe that much more for it. The only good that came of out our exploration yesterday is that we found out he had offered a firearms deal to this particular gang, a deal I have no doubt he would have wanted me to manage because it’s just a little too dirty and risky for his repulsive taste.

Later that night, after pacing around the house aimlessly with my mind constantly working, trying to create a solid plan that doesn’t involve Lucy, I relented. I couldn’t stay away totally. Around midnight I drove by Julia’s house, just to check. To be reassured. Everything appeared to be fine; the lights were all turned off, the whole place dark, though I still worried. Grossly invading her privacy by staking out the place was out of the question—I felt bad enough that I had to drive by when I knew she most likely wouldn’t want me near.

More than anything I wish I wasn’t forced to borderline stalk Julia to be sure that she is okay. I wish things were like they used to be, just a couple of weeks ago. I wish I could protect her by being right next to her, in bed, secured in my arms as we sleep. Having her so close to me is the only way I can rest peacefully.

Otherwise, I know there is still a threat. In Joe. Just that fact that he now knows she exists is sickening. For the past twenty four hours I felt all but frozen, restless, longing to take more action than I have, to stop everything before it has the chance to start. Before he has the chance to hurt Julia.

My first thought was to call Des to rein in his younger brother, or second in command. If that was what was needed—every few years or so Joe is known to have something of a psychotic break—but then I wondered, what if my father agreed with my uncle? What if he wanted me back, too? It’s no secret he likes to keep members close to home, only very few exceptions scattered throughout America and Europe to expand. He likes to keep a tight ship, to supervise everything. He can’t do that with me out here, but he allowed it a year ago. He’d promised that I was out, given me his word—which I had never witnessed of him before. He would always say that nothing in this business was a guarantee, but he saw how much last year’s events affected me. He saw what the club was doing to me and for once he looked at me as a son rather than a member, and he did what was right.

Nevada… I can’t. Nevada is close to action, to danger, and most importantly much too far from Julia. Not long ago I was informed of Joe’s scheming plan for a weapons trade takeoff, spanning throughout Nevada, California, and Arizona, with one huge deal to start it all off. The project he had first mentioned covertly over the phone, the one he wouldn’t spare me any details. An operation of this magnitude made me suspicious, too. Because last year when things went south here in Chicago, because of Joe, he’d made me take most the blame for it and clean up his mess. It was a hell of a mess, too. One where someone had died, all because of a deal gone wrong.

In reality, all I had been at the time was well paid muscle. I kept people in line throughout the business here, and that was that. I was violent; I liked it that way, because I was angry. Beating up drug dealers and other equally shady miscreants helped me to feel at least a little better with what I was involved in.

Since then I found healthier ways to deal with all the anger built up inside me throughout the years, and today I manage it well.

So I wait, perched on my motorcycle, and continue my suspicious wonderment that this meeting with Lucy might have just been set up to lure me here, either to an ambush or out of town, far from Julia. Lucy, I know for a fact, has done exactly that before. And I don’t see how I could be any different or an exception to her devious rules and way of thinking.

What I don’t feel is any part of nervous or scared, though; at yesterday’s news I started carrying my gun again. At news of Joe, of him knowing about Julia. I keep thinking and dwelling on one memory from back in Vegas, when I first arrived from London. The club’s hierarchy was in turmoil because one of its member’s wives had died—more importantly, shot in the head, shortly after she had urged her husband to break free from the club’s dangerous lifestyle. After he considered it.

Because she’d found out she was pregnant.

No one in the club was so cruel, so bloodthirsty as to assassinate a member’s pregnant wife. At least, at the time, everyone had thought so. No justice was ever served because the killer was cunning enough to hide any evidence of his identity, the murder taken place in the dead of night while her husband was away, and of course an untraceable bullet was used belonging to a gun that was not a part of the club’s usual weapon hand out, but of a rival gang’s. Supposedly.

While reckless and cold-hearted, the club generally isn’t stupid. No one talked, but there were whispers, suspicions that it was an inside job. If it had really been a rival gang or club, then they would have made their presence known through their signature—be it a sign, marking, or something similar somewhere close to the scene. On top of that at the time the club wasn’t in any wars over power or territory. If there has to be, there was no reason for an innocent woman to be killed. An innocent woman carrying an unborn child.

With this knowledge and the rumors circulating about Joe and his connection to that murder, I am not about to let down my guard. Not when it comes to Jules.

I am pulled from my constant concern as the familiar sound of another bike’s engine as it grumbles to a halt next to mine. I don’t glance over my shoulder, don’t give way to any nerves. As steely and hardened as ever, because this is the only headspace I can afford to be in right now. Any other and it’s liable to get you killed.

A risk not glancing over to see who has joined me is one I take because I know it will work. After a moment, the engine is cut, and when I don’t turn around from resting against my bike’s seat, I hear a feminine sigh as Lucy rustles around with taking off her helmet. The last thing one should do in such a situation as this is make themselves appear weak, something she would surely prey on at first sight.

The toe of my boot circles in the gravel scattered across the parking lot’s uneven pavement while I smirk to myself in satisfaction, my tactics working when, after I hear her letting out the clasps of her gloves, one of thrown at my own leather-clothed back. However, past my smugness at silently getting under her skin, I am just barely tolerant.

“Pray tell, Lucy,” I begin, refusing still to turn around. “Why you dragged me all the way up to almost fucking Wisconsin?”

And farther away from Julia. So far it takes a physical tool on my already sleep-deprived body.

I’m too far away to protect her, I realize again. It feels like my chest is being punctured with a round of panic-filled twelve gauge shotgun shells at the recurring thought. But again—I don’t dare to let it show, that I’m cracking ever so subtly.

Since I parked and dismounted my bike, my fists haven’t unclenched once. I can’t relax at all, terminally restless without Julia safe and sound and by my side. How can I, not while aware of danger that could be lurking just around the corner?

“Clam down,” Lucy urges cautiously, and it serves for a bit more of a shock again when she doesn’t quite sound like herself, or the Lucy she has grown to be. She sounds scared, like a small girl rather than the fierce woman she always portrays herself to be. She sounds exhausted.

Finally, I bother to step away from my bike to stand straight, taller than her, and turn around to stare her down the few meters she stands away. Smart distance, distance she neglected before she knew just how serious I am about protecting Julia. I peer at her with indifference.

She stares back at me, for once allowing me to see the worry in her eyes, and she sets down the kickstand to throw her leg over the seat, mirroring my previous stance. I glare harder and cross my arms. Give her a mental countdown to three before I plan to start my engine and leave, in no mood to give in to her games.

When she says nothing still, after useless seconds spent waiting tick by, my anger boils over and I reach for my helmet, rolling my eyes at her sudden lack of nerve. Now is not the time for her to act scared. Not when she got us into this mess, not when she should not expect an ounce of pity or mercy from me.

“W—what are you doing?” She asks quietly when she sees that I am done playing, just before I start up my bike.

Shaking my head, I don’t even look at her.

“You’re a waste of my time,” I mutter coldly, my thumb flicking the switch which causes the engine to roar to life.

“Wait,” she appeals. I don’t—hell, I hardly decipher the one word of desperation over the ruckus my bike produces.

“I want out!” She shouts suddenly, and this statement, one I never ever thought I would hear her say, is enough for me to kill the engine and take off my helmet again, to glance over at her in suspicion while I balance the bike.

Anxiously, she awaits my response. Other than a simple question for clarification, I refuse to give anything away. “Out of the club?”

She twists her features so she is no longer as predatorily pretty, and looks at me with a snarled lip and blank eyes, as though I don’t grasp even the most obvious aspect of this new turn of events. “No. I’d be stupid to want that. But I want out from Joe. From under his thumb.”

Alright—it’s hard for me to admit, but Lucy’s newest whim does shock me from my steely resolve. Not once did I think I would see the day that Lucy would stray from the dog-like loyalty she holds for Joe. Maybe, I ponder to myself, she finally sees him for who he truly is—his true nature, that of a monster. A man who would threaten the lives of others for the smallest things, to somehow benefit the club or himself. The club is all he cares about, and the people in it are simply tools. Tools to make it better.

And when one of those tools refuses to work…

Besides me, Lucy is the only person to see so much of Joe and exactly what kind of evil he is capable of. Not even Des, my own father, knows him as well as Lucy surely does. She is his killer little sidekick, and I bet she never thought he would turn on her like he has.

“Why are you telling me this?” If she thinks I am going to help her take down Joe for her sake, or help her get away from him, she has another thing coming. How could she, when she was the one to open her mouth and spill about my life here in the first place?

She takes a steadying breath and looks out over the barren parking lot, as though she isn’t even ready. “I know you want him gone. I do too. But that’s not what I came to tell you.”

Right now, I refuse to acknowledge the logical reasoning that if not Lucy, someone in Joe’s scheming little circle would have discovered Julia, and the same thing would be happening as it is now—only I wouldn’t have the warning Lucy has for some reason given me. I don’t trust her.

“What then?” I demand, patience thinning and anger flaring.

“If he strikes,” she talks over me, determined. “If he does anything to the girl, I will strike back against him. With you.”

Slowly, I shake my head in disbelief. Something is missing, something she hasn’t told me yet. My suspicious glare turns darker. “Is the club on the same page?”

“This has nothing to do with the club.” She states, firm in the belief.

I am forced to nod in agreement. She’s right—it isn’t. If anything, getting rid of Joe might do the club a favour. In the past he has been far too reckless and sparked more legal attention than Des would have liked.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” I quiz.

In reality, with Lucy, there is no way of really knowing. Even with her word. She sighs softly and looks away, things one doesn’t normally see in a truthful person, but the way she shields herself by crossing her arms and looking down, well... it almost leads me to believe she feels more shame than anything. “He… he’s changed.”

I snort. ‘Changed’ alright. The bruises on the side of her face and her cut lip look worse than they did yesterday. The picture painted of Joe doing the same to Julia—it equal parts paralyzes and enrages me. The rage wins now, and I want to strangle him. I want to put those same cuts and bruises on his face first, though.

“Gotten worse,” she clarifies when I don’t bother with much more of a reply. “These last few months, Harry… he has gone against everything the club stands for. He doesn’t deserve to be a member.”

“Now those are some bold words.” My musing doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Decades ago Joe was the one to form the club, along with my father. He is one of the founding members. He must have done something so horrid, so despicable, that not even Lucy could stand it.

Something so bad she came to this conclusion. One I thought she would never make.

But still—something had to have spurred this meeting today. Like yesterday.

“I know they are,” she murmurs, and I have to imagine how hard this really may be for her. Her life, with Joe, is crumbling around her, and she is the one to instigate his downfall. “We have to act fast.”

“And why is that?” I drawl. There are very few times when fast action is needed—one of them being danger, another being a set up like I expected from the beginning. As much as I want to, I can’t go into this half-cocked and guns blazing. As so very tempting as it is, as hard as it is not to give into my burning rage.

Finally, Lucy glances back to me and stands straight. “I think he is planning something.”

As soon as I hear this I lose my indifferent stance, the hand I use to steady my bike by the handlebars clenching onto the handgrip while my torso swivels to fully face her. It takes everything in me not to act now, and act with violence. I can’t because I am not the man I used to be. I am better, and I will not risk my ability to protect Jules by getting myself thrown into jail—which is what would surely happen, since the club has no influence on Chicago’s police force, unlike it does in Nevada.

Here we are vulnerable. That includes Joe. When I rationally consider it, though… if Lucy is seriously offering her allegiance… I am in no position to refuse. Before I can shout at her, intimidate her into supplying more information because that is the only time she will crack, under such pressure, she continues to explain without any more of my own kind of prodding. My jaw locks, and I impatiently listen.

“He didn’t say anything after he told me yesterday… so I was hoping he’d forget. That he’d let it go.”

No fool, I sense something, something huge hanging off the sentence.

“But?” I press. She takes far too long to continue, and I stare her down with lingering, still guarded distaste.

Hesitant, her eyes slowly travel up to meet mine, bloodshot and obviously sleep-deprived. I can feel the weight to her words before she even speaks them, soft and almost admissible if not for their potentially disastrous content. “He asked me where she lives.”

My reaction is predictable, but warranted. I shove myself off my bike, having subconsciously displaced the kickstand at some point, and every muscle in my body trembles while rough, growled curses leaving my mouth through a shout.

“But I didn’t tell him!” She tries futilely. I whip around to glare at her, wild-eyed and livid.

“And you think that matters?”

I scoff at her unexpected naivety, or perhaps denial, and decide not to waste any more time, to leave, the deal Lucy is attempting to strike shelved, and I mount my bike again, one hand quickly reaching into the front pocket of my jeans for my phone. I try to call Julia first before I go totally crazy, but as might be predicted, she doesn’t answer.

“Jesus Christ,” I swear just before I ignite the engine, roughly stowing my phone back to its place. “You brought me all the fucking way out here to tell me this shit. He could be there now.”

I don’t even wait for Lucy to respond before taking off, spitting gravel and engine roaring with each urgent twist of the throttle, and I leave with only one destination in mind, only one conclusion.

If Joe wants to hurt Julia, he’ll have to go through me first.

Notes

Helllooo :) It took me longer than expected to get this up for you guys, but several things delayed it from happening. I've been sick and had to write/edit much of this under the influence of allergy meds which make it very hard for me to concentrate, so I apologize if it isn't up to par!

Plus, have you seen how freaking long this is? It's over 10,000 words, and with the flashback smack in the middle of the thing I wasn't sure how to go about posting it. I hope the formatting is okay and it doesn't confuse anyone. Usually, with flashbacks I italicise the text, but the Castle scene with Harry and Lucy was so long that I think it would have hurt your eyes to read it all like this. I suppose I could have posted the flashback and then the following events of the rest of the chapter, but I found it didn't flow as well. I hope you guys don't mind!

Anyhow, what do you think?! A lot has been revealed, about both Lucy's and Harry's motivation for their recent actions. What do you think Harry is going to find at Julia's place once he gets there?! More drama, or maybe he is overreacting? :)

Thank you so much for all the love!