The Biker's Fate Chapter 433

Remington

I lowered myself to the floor when Cassidy ended the class, dragging my legs in front of me and leaning over them to grip my ankles as I tried to stretch my muscles back into some form of shape. Good God, the woman was a masochist.

Grace flopped down beside me and mirrored my pose. "I hate her."

I grinned. "Me too."

"She's awesome, huh?"

"Incredible," I agreed.

As I pulled my toe shoes off, Grace pulled her phone out of her bag and put it to her ear, drawing my attention when she gasped. Her eyes flew to me and she lowered her phone slowly. "Ohmigod."

"What?"

Leaning closer, she whispered, "My brother broke Vitaly's kneecap."

"What?" I squeaked.

"He will never dance again."

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

"Excuse me," I said, and rose to my feet, blinking back tears as I walked quickly toward the bathroom.

"Remi!" a deep voice called, and I turned to find Merrick following me. "You okay?"

I didn't answer him, just took a flying leap toward him. He caught me, and I wrapped myself around him and sobbed into his chest.

"Fuck, baby, what happened?"

I shook my head, burrowing deeper.

"Rem, you're scaring me, honey. What the hell happened?"

"You…broke…his…kneecap."

His body stiffened. "Who told you that?"

"Grace," I said on a hiccup.

He relaxed and gave me a gentle squeeze. "Are you coming back to my place?"

I shook my head again.

"I'm going to you, then?"

I nodded and got another squeeze.

"Gotta drop Grace home, then I'll be by."

"Okay," I sniffed holding him tighter so he wouldn't let me go.

"But I got a minute to stand here if you need me to."

I nodded into his chest again and Merrick chuckled, pulling me closer.

"Okay, honey, I got you."

His hand went to the back of my neck and he stroked gently while I held him tightly and we stood in the middle of the hallway as dancers milled around us. I was surprised no one bothered us, but chalked it up to Merrick wearing his badass biker uniform. Sexy as hell, but also extremely intimidating.

"Okay, I'm done waiting," Grace said, and pulled me away from Merrick. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Grace. I'm okay. I think I'm just really tired."

She frowned at her brother. "What did you say to her?"

He raised his hands in surrender and I sighed. "Seriously, honey, I'm fine. I'm exhausted and I had a mini-meltdown. It's all good now."

"I think you should come home with me."

"No," I said immediately. "I want to sleep in my own bed. I promise, if that changes, I'll let you know."

She narrowed her eyes, but finally gave me a nod. "Even if it's the middle of the night."

I smiled. "Even if it's the middle of the night."

"Grab your stuff, Grace," Merrick said. "We'll walk Remi to her car."

I followed Grace back into the room, pulled on sweats and my tennis shoes, then we headed out to the cars.

Merrick waited for me to climb in and start my car before heading to his truck. He then followed me until he had to split off to take Grace to Flea's.

I drove to my apartment and let myself in, feeling safe for the first time in a long time. I showered, then dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top. It was unusually warm and I kind of wished I had sprung for the air-conditioning unit. It was another fifty bucks a month, though, and I just couldn't justify the expense.

I dragged my box fan out of the closet and pointed it toward the sofa before flopping down and trying to find something on TV, just as my phone rang. "Hey, Poohbah."

Michelle Colter and I used to work together at our local coffee house in Savannah when we were teens. She was actually my manager, and we all used to call her the 'Grand Poohbah,' because when I first met her, I thought she was bossy. What I pretty quickly discovered, was she was brutally honest and defended her friends to the death. 'Poohbah' stuck, though, and Kennedy had also adopted the nickname.

"Are you sitting down?" she asked.

"Yes. What's wrong?"

She was fighting Leukemia…had been for over ten years. She'd been misdiagnosed for six years until they finally figured it out and it had been nothing but a nightmare.

"I talked to the doctor today."

I sat up, my heart racing. "And, it's bad?"

"He gave me less than six months."

"What? I thought the chemo was working."

She sighed. "I stopped chemo."

"When?"

"Three weeks ago."

"Chel, you can't just give up."

"I'm not giving up, honey. The chemo wasn't working. It was killing me faster than the cancer."

I swiped the tears from my cheeks. "There has to be something more they can do. You can't stop fighting."

"I'm not," she said with a sad chuckle. "They're working on it. There's an experimental treatment, but I'm not sure I'm going to qualify."

"What now?"

"We wait, honey."

I muted my phone, so she wouldn't hear my sobs.

"But, enough about me," Michelle said. "How's PBC?"

"I was fired."

"What?" she exclaimed.

I sighed, then filled her in on everything that had happened over the last week.

"Holy shit, Remi. What is up with all these assholes who like to use you as a punching bag?"

"I don't know. I'm over it, though."

"Yeah. I can't believe that hottie from the bar's your friend's brother, though."

"Right? I probably should have asked more questions when we hooked up, but I was too busy experiencing orgasm after orgasm."

Michelle groaned. "Way too much information, Remington."

"I know." I smiled. "I could have asked him in between, but that was when I had his cock in my mouth, so…"

"Oh my god, bitch, stop." My friend dissolved into laughter and my heart felt a little lighter than it had a few minutes ago.

"He did this thing with his tongue—"

"I'm hanging up on you now," she threatened.

"Okay, I'll stop." I chuckled.

"I promise, I'll let you know if the end is nigh."

"Dramatic to the end, I see."

She chuckled. "Just wait until you see what's on my tombstone."

"I thought you were donating your body to science."

"Oh, I am, but I still want a tombstone."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Pooh, we'll get you a tombstone. But not for at least twenty years, so you can't die until then."

"Workin' on it, buddy."

"I appreciate that."

"I need to get to bed. I'll call you next week."

"Sounds good," I said. "Love you, Chel."

"Love you, too, honey."

We hung up and the stress of the past week swamped me as I curled into the fetal position on the sofa and cried.

Banging forced its way into my brain and I rubbed my gritty eyes. It sounded like the building was coming down. "Remington Charles, open this fucking door!"

I jumped off the sofa with a squeak.

"Remington!"

I rushed to my door and called out, "Merrick?"

"Open the door," he demanded.

I checked the peephole, then pulled open the door. "Why are you yelling? My neighbors are gonna get pissed."

He pushed in, closing and locking it behind him. "I've been knocking and ringing the doorbell for almost five minutes. What the fuck?"

"I must have fallen asleep," I explained, biting back a yawn. "Sorry."

He relaxed, but still pulled me in for a hug. "Fuck, Rem. You scared the shit out of me."

I fisted my hands at my sides. I didn't want to 'scare the shit' out of him. I didn't want him to care that much. "I really am sorry, but I think maybe I should just go to bed. You and I can talk another day, okay?"

"Hey." He frowned, lifting my chin. "You're safe. Vitaly's on his way back to Russia. He apparently raped the daughter of a high-level official, so he's gonna be dealt with in the mother land."