Whisky on My Mind by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle Page A

that part of it?” Bella asked after a few minutes of companionable silence filled by the soft music from the stereo.
    “Which part?”
    “The whole, obedience thing. You Jane—me Tarzan thing.”
    Picturing Sawyer in a loin cloth was enough to tug her lips into a reluctant smile. “It’s not like that.”
    “Sure it is. You said yourself you have no idea what Sawyer does when he goes away on club business. How do you know what he does while he’s away?”
    Bella’s question made her uncomfortable. No one in the club ever questioned how things were done and ever since Sawyer came into her life again, the only people she really got to talk to all worked with or for the club in some way…they knew the score. “I trust him.”
    She could feel Bella’s thoughtful gaze on her and tried not to squirm beneath it.
    “Must be nice.”
    “What must be?” Whisky asked briefly , glancing across at her friend.
    “Being able to trust someone that much…I’m not sure if I ever could…not after…” She let her words drift off and stared out the window.
    “You will one day, Bell. When the right guy comes along.”
    “I hope so,” she smiled , looking over at her. “I’d really like to have what you and Sawyer have, some day.”
    Whisky found herself going over their conversation for the rest of the trip home. She felt bad about not admitting there were times when she resented Sawyer’s secret club business. That it felt like a double standard, that he was allowed to have a part of his life she would never be completely included in, and yet he expected her to devote herself completely to him. It’s just a normal reaction, she told herself once more. She just had to get used to it. She didn’t like the uneasy feeling that tried to squeeze its way into her mind…the little rebellious streak that demanded she had a right to live her own life, too. It was a stark opposite to the biggest part of her that loved Sawyer beyond reason and wanted to be happy living the life she chose with him.
    It scared her.
    There didn’t seem to be any middle ground with the two sides of her mind. She knew that if she fought the system, she’d lose him. And what if you don’t fight it? Are you happy to lose yourself? This was why she tried never to have too much time to think.
     
    ****
     
    “Has all the Switchblade stuff been put on hold after Sorenson’s press conference?” Whisky asked, as she lay with Sawyer late one night on the sofa in their apartment. They hadn’t talked about the club decision to take on the Switchblades since after the day of the vote. This was one of the first nights they’d both been awake this late in days.
    Sawyer toyed with her fingers, and she guessed he was kind of grateful they weren’t facing each other if his hedging kind of answer was anything to go by. “It made us re-think a few things. Don’t worry, Baby, we’re not going anywhere just yet.”
    She was relieved to hear it. Each day she wondered if this was the day they rode off to go face the Switchblades. She had no idea what all this involved, but an image of a mass shootout at the O.K. Corral managed to turn her blood to ice in her veins. She turned in his arms so that she faced him and snuggled her face tightly into his neck, breathing in his warm, comforting scent.
    “Hey?” Sawyer said softly, pulling back so he could look into her face. “It’s going to be okay, Baby. I promise.”
    She nodded quickly, unable to trust her voice as a fierce rush of dread washed over her. She hated this calm before the storm feeling that hung heavily over the club. The waiting was driving her insane.
    The next afternoon as they worked side by side in Sawyer’s office, a knock on the door announced Jackson’s arrival. “Sawyer, there’s a cop in the bar, wants to see you, Detective Santiago.”
    A string of expletives flew from Sawyer’s mouth as he pushed himself away from the desk and sent a wary frown Whisky’s way. “Fantastic. Just