Then he said, “No. Jackson.” Pause then, “Yeah, I’m on her phone. I’m also in a hotel room in Indy with her sittin’ on the bed and I’m callin’ you on her phone. You get why that is?” I blinked and started to come unstuck, mainly because Tate’s aggressive tone was penetrating the exhausted, confused at life, freaked out haze that had enshrouded me. “No,” I heard Tate say, “you can’t talk to her but you can listen to me. That shit you pulled while I was away, not… fuckin’… cool. We got a problem. We had a worse problem yesterday but lucky for you, since then, I’ve had her, she’s moaned sweet for me three times so I’m feelin’ in a better mood.”

At these words, the haze disintegrated, I came fully alert and I launched myself from the bed at him, exclaiming, “Tate!”

He caught me on the fly with an arm around my waist and held my front tight against his side, leaning his torso and head back to escape me reaching out to the phone, something he could do with his height which ticked me right off.

“Oh yeah, Wood, when I get back, we’re havin’ words and you better f**kin’ believe it’s gonna be face-to-face,” Tate growled, pulled the phone from his ear, hit a button with his thumb and tossed it on the bed.

I watched it land then yanked free of his arm and squared off.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” I snapped.

Tate’s eyes stayed locked to mine. “Believe it, Ace.”

“I was seeing him!” I retorted. “You think maybe I should have been the one to talk to him?”

“No, I f**kin’ don’t.”

“Well I do!” My voice was rising. “You just told him –”

“I f**ked you,” Tate cut me off. “Yeah, I did. I wasn’t so pissed, I’d have gone into detail at how you lit up for me, how hungry you get, how slick and tight your pu**y is and how f**kin’ hot you sound when you come. He ain’t ever gonna have that but I know he has a good imagination, I’d be sure to give him enough to see him through.”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

Then I breathed, “You didn’t just say that.”

“I did and I wasn’t lyin’,” Tate returned.

I leaned toward him and snapped, “What’s your problem?”

“I was on the hunt and back home a man moved on what was mine. That’s my problem,” Tate declared.

“I wasn’t yours!” I shot back.

Tate’s eyes narrowed on me and he looked like he was getting even more pissed. “You were, babe, I told you, I got home, you were on the back of my bike.”

There it was, Carrie was right, that back of his bike business obviously meant more than a date.

“I don’t speak biker, Tate!” I snapped. “I had no idea what you were talking about.”

He took a step toward me and whispered, “Bullshit, Ace, after that kiss you knew exactly what I was talkin’ about and Wood knew exactly where I was at which brings us to why the f**k I come home and you two are tight.”

“I didn’t know what you were talking about,” I asserted. “What I did know is that you left, you didn’t tell me you were going and you didn’t call me once while you were gone.”

“Call you?” he asked as if the concept of telephones was foreign to him.

“Yes, Tate,” I replied then went on sarcastically, “ring ring, hello, I’m alive!”

I could tell right away that Tate wasn’t a big fan of sarcasm.

“Tone it down, babe,” he advised softly but dangerously. “You aren’t the injured party in this scenario.”

“I’m afraid I disagree seeing as you took off without a word, stayed gone for a month, again without a word and thought you could come back and I’d be waiting for you even with all that.”

“I remember that night pretty clearly, Lauren, and I remember I told you I had to focus,” Tate reminded me.

“I remember that too but I still don’t know what it means,” I shot back.

“I got shit goin’ down in my life,” he bit out. “I needed to be in my truck, on the trail of a murderer at the same time not seein’ to that shit and hemorrhaging more money seein’ as I was workin’ that on my own time and my own f**kin’ dime like I needed a f**kin’ hole in my head. You,” he jerked a finger in my face, “were a distraction.”

“A distraction?” I whispered, not feeling happy about that word and really not feeling happy about his finger in my face.

“Life is choices, Ace. I went with the choice I wanted, I wouldn’t have been on the road tryin’ to hunt down a killer. I’d have been home explorin’ shit with you. I call you, I lose focus, I forget what’s the right thing to do and do what I wanna do,” he told me and I felt a shiver slide through me and it was contradictory to the not feeling happy feeling I had moments before. “I told you I needed to focus. I told you I got back, you were on my bike. I made myself clear. In the end, it was all a f**kin’ waste of time, I get home after a month of findin’ a lot of nothin’ that cost a lot of cake to find and you’re mouthin’ off to me about what f**kin’ Wood told you.”

“Maybe we should talk about that,” I whispered but I did it hesitantly because he was making sense (though in my defense, I really didn’t speak biker, so he actually didn’t make himself clear but neither of us knew that at the time). I was realizing I might have made a big mistake and I wasn’t eager to discover I’d made more mistakes but I felt perhaps the air should be cleared. That said, it should be noted that I didn’t relish the idea of clearing that air because I had the distinct feeling I’d made more mistakes and it was more than a feeling that Tate was angry.

“Neeta,” he growled and I knew the way he did it Tate wasn’t getting any happy shivers.

“Yes,” I was still whispering.

“Neeta and I are history,” he stated.

“That’s what Bubba said,” I told him quietly.

“Yeah? So why did you listen to Wood and you didn’t listen to Bub?”

“Um…” I bit my lip and took a step back. “I was swimming. I saw you… with her… at the hotel.”

“Yeah?”