Silver and Chrome: A Bad Boy MC Romance (50 page)

Chapter Forty-One

"Um,
are you sure about that?" Mark asks, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. 
He's not a stupid man, and he heard our conversation.  He probably knows, when
Chase said to take me wherever I wanted to go, this wasn't one of the places he
had in mind.  Yet, at the risk of offending me, he obviously wasn't prepared to
just pick up the phone and call Chase back.  I'm not sure how long that
politeness will last, though.  He might have second thoughts.

"Of course.  I know all about her,
Mark."  I decide to try a bluff.  Chase might be a poker player, but I'm
willing to gamble that his driver doesn't have his same skills at reading
people.  Especially as I have the advantage of Mark's eyes and attention being
mostly focused on the road and not me and my face.  "Denise told me
everything.  I just wanted Chase to confirm if it was true.  But now that I
know, Chase knows I'm going to want to meet her.  For obvious reasons." 
Let Mark decide what those reasons are.  "It's not far, is it?"

Mark pauses, clearly considering what I'm
saying.  Finally, he turns the car around and we start heading in the opposite
direction as he answers me.  "It's about 20 minutes from here."

"Okay."  I pause, wondering how
far I can push my luck with him.  "Have you known her long?"

I see him glance at me in the rear view,
clearly still uncomfortable answering my questions.  He pauses longer this
time, and I wonder if he’s re-considering whether or not this diversion in our
route is a good idea.  If he decides to call my bluff and check with Chase, I
have a feeling this trip will be cut short.  "I think they had just gotten
married right before I first began working for him, must be close to two years
ago now."

"Oh, that's right," I agree,
trying to sound like that fits with the information I already know.  It's clear
by the way Mark keeps looking at me that he’s still unsure about this, so I
decide to abandon my plan of trying to bluff him and instead stare out the
window to avoid his gaze.  Hopefully he'll read that as me being unconcerned
and conclude it must mean that Chase really doesn't mind me going to visit
her.  I'm not sure what he’s thinking, but he doesn't turn the car around again
or try to call Chase, so I consider that a win.

As we continue driving, I try to think
about what I'm going to say to Chase's wife.  How will I even introduce
myself? 
Hi, I'm your husband's mistress
, seems a bit harsh.  It's
probably better if I figure out their exact situation first, before I say
anything, but how would I do that?  I had hoped to get some of that information
from Mark, but I dare not ask him any more questions.  He's the only chance I
have at getting there in the first place.  Without even her name, I would be
dead in the water.

I'm devastated by this latest revelation,
but I don't really feel like it has all sunk in yet.  Chase is married.  To
someone else.  A third woman, n
ot Denise
. 
Thank god for that, at least
. 
The
only thing that would make this whole thing worse was if he had been married to
Denise.

Of course, we all have a past and our
right to it, but this isn't the past.  She’s not his ex-wife.  And regardless
of whether they're separated or have an open marriage or whatever, I'm not okay
with this.  This is someone who Chase had significant enough feelings for that
he married her, someone who was even more important to him than Denise, and he
never mentioned her.  That alone is enough to make me suspicious.  She might be
just as in the dark about all of this as I am, and if so, I feel like it might
be up to me to let her know.  I'll decide after I get there and talk to her. 
Hopefully I'll be able to figure it all out.  Once I do, I'll head to the
airport and this time I won't be coming back. 

The car drives through a residential
neighborhood with houses that are big, but not ridiculously so.  The houses
seem average sized, certainly not as nice as the house Chase is trying to buy
now.  How can he be trying to buy a new house and get serious with me when he
has a whole other house and wife somewhere?  It just boggles my mind.  I know
the man is cocky, but this takes it to a whole other level.  I'm beginning to
feel like a fool again, for all of the nice things I believed about Chase. 
This would have been the last thing I expected of him.  He had me completely
conned.

I wonder again what Chase and Denise are
doing right now.  Whether he’s still there at the office, with her, or whether he
left to go back to his hotel.  Or maybe he’s hailed a cab and is racing to the
airport to make one last effort at convincing me to stay.  Spending the whole
ride there coming up with some new story, some new lie, to keep me from leaving
again.  To explain away the fact that he’s married.  Why he never mentioned
her.  That Denise knew, as she seems to know everything, but I didn't.  Of
course Denise was fine with it.  She would be.  That woman would probably put
up with just about anything to be able to be with Chase.  It blows my mind that
he took so long to admit that.  Or maybe he knew all along, and it was just
another lie that he told me. 

We continue to drive, passing through the
neighborhood and turning enough that I'm completely lost.  Stop signs and speed
bumps keep us from moving very fast, protecting the various children we see
playing in yards from injury.  Finally we pull up in front of a modest size
house. 

"This is it," Mark says. 
"Did you want me to wait?"

"Please.  I won't be long."

I gaze up at the house.  Chase used to
live here.  With his wife.  Maybe he still does.  There’s no white picket
fence, but everything else seems completely perfect.  The lawn is well
manicured; the house seems to be in good repair and is freshly painted.  There’s
a single car garage, and a long driveway that leads down to the street.

And at the foot of the driveway is a red
bike, lying on its side.  Dear god.  I hadn't even considered that. 

He has a kid, too.

Chapter Forty-Two

My
heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the red bicycle lying half on the lawn
and the other half on the asphalt of the driveway.  It hadn't even crossed my
mind before, but of course it’s possible.  If he has a wife, he can certainly
have a child as well.  It's like a bad Jerry Springer episode about fathers
with more than one secret family. 

I almost tell Mark to leave right then and
there.  I don't even know if I can do this anymore.  How can I confront this
woman and her child?  How can I tell them about how he’s living the life of a
bachelor, out of hotel rooms with possible ex-girlfriends all over the city? 
Maybe all over the world?

She must know.  How could she not?  What
lies could he tell her that would keep her in the dark about this?  Chase and I
have been almost inseparable for the last couple of weeks.  Maybe he popped
back in while I was home during those few days.  I imagine him sitting here,
eating dinner with his wife and child, all the while plotting in his head what
he could say to me to get me to come back.  What kind of a monster can do
that? 

She must already know, or at least be
suspicious.  Sure, Chase travels a lot as a professional poker player, but when
I was with him he never really snuck off to make secret phone calls, or
disappeared for long enough for secret rendezvous
’h
back
home. 

Of course, it was the time he spent with
me that was the secret.  Technically I'm the “other woman” in this case.  The
home wrecker.  I feel sick to my stomach.  Chase is a master of deception.  His
work relies on it, and I've seen it operate first hand with the house.  It's
totally conceivable that this woman could be completely in the dark about
everything.  I have to at least find out if she already knows.  And if she
doesn't, then I can decide whether or not to tell her.  But first I have to
know.

I push open the door and am immediately
greeted by the now familiar Vegas heat.  It's like stepping into a blast
furnace until you get used to it.  I hurry up the driveway, trying not to stare
at the bike so that the implications of that don't wash over me again. 
One
problem at a time.
  Even though it only takes me a few seconds to get onto
the porch, the shade from the roof is still a welcome relief.

I can already feel a bead of sweat
dripping down my back, and although I know it’s most likely from the heat, I
’
m
aware of how on edge my nerves are now that I'm standing in front of the door,
just a knock away from confronting a reality that I hadn't even imagined an
hour ago. 

Turning back to make sure Mark hasn't
decided to abandon me after all, I'm not surprised to see him already on the
phone.  It's not a big leap to guess who he’s talking to.  His first allegiance
is and always will be to Chase.  Chase pays the bills, and Mark has been his
driver for almost two years.  I can't blame him for ratting me out the second
I'm out of the car.  At least he brought me here.  Still, it adds a little
urgency to things, since once he hangs up that phone, there’s no telling what
Chase will do.  Will he race over here?  I'm 20 minutes away.  Will he call me
and try to convince me not to say anything?  I reach into my purse and flip my
phone to vibrate.  I don't even want to hear it if he does.

The other alternative is that he calls his
wife.  Makes up some story about a crazy lady that he beat in a poker game here
to spread lies about him or something.  I have no idea, but at this point
anything is possible.  If I'm going to act, I have to do it now.  No more
stalling.

I reach up and knock on the hard wooden
door before I have a chance to change my mind.  I can hear a voice yelling from
inside, and then the door swings inward.  Before me is the face of a boy, at
most about eight years old.  But his look is wrong.  I expected to see blond
hair and blue eyes, but instead I see black hair and brown eyes.  And skin the
color of milk chocolate.  I feel myself breathe out, tension I wasn't even
aware of being released from my body.  This kid doesn't look anything like
Chase.

"Uh, hi," I say.  "Is
your... is your mother home?"

The boy looks at me for a moment and then
nods, turning on his heel and racing away as he yells for his mother.

It seems unlikely that someone who doesn’t
live here would answer the door, so I'm not sure what to make of the child. 
Still, it relieves me that he doesn't look like Chase.  Hopefully that means
that it’s just a wife I have to deal with after all.  Yet I still don't even
know what to say.

I don't have any time to think about it
though, as a woman appears.  She has a smile of greeting on her face, but a
quizzical look in her eyes.

"Hello," she says.  "Can I
help you?"  Her voice has a familiar sounding accent that I can't quite
place, but her English seems fine.  Her skin is dark, like the boy's, and she
seems older than I expected.  If I had to guess, I would think she was in her
late 30s.  I'm suddenly not sure that I'm even in the right place.  Did Mark
take me to the wrong house in order to give Chase time to get here? 

"Uh, hi, sorry, I'm not even sure I'm
at the right house.  Umm, I'm looking for..."  I don't even know her
name.  "Mrs. Anderson?"

The woman's expression changes, but she
nods quickly.  "Yes, you're at the right house.  That is me."

Now it’s my expression that changes, I'm
sure to one of confusion.  This woman doesn't look anything like what I would
have imagined Chase's wife would look like.  Given the fact that he was dating
me, and before that Denise, this woman doesn't seem at all like his type.  And
yet, maybe that was why he was cheating on her. 

She raises her eyebrow now, and I realize
I'm just staring at her and not saying anything more.  Her face seems familiar
the more I look at it, but I'm not sure why.  Suddenly the boy appears beside
her, grabbing onto the woman's arm and hugging it.  She puts her hand on his
shoulder, pulling him close.  The resemblance between the two is obvious. 
That’s likely why I thought she looked familiar.  The boy looks just like her. 
And she’s Chase's wife. 

Which means he very likely could be
Chase's son after all.

Chapter Forty-Three

"Are
you okay, you don't look so well?"

I blink at the question, barely hearing it
or registering the concern that is creeping across her face.  Chase's wife has
dark eyes that match her hair, and her voice is heavily accented.  Her English
seems pretty strong, but it’s obviously not her first language.  In terms of
her looks, her features are strong but not overly pretty.  She’s not an ugly
woman, but I'm surprised nonetheless.  For some reason I would have expected
her to be at least as beautiful as Denise.

"Are you injured?"  The woman's
eyes are scanning my body now as she examines me, looking for the cause of my
strange behavior.

"No.  No, I'm fine.  I just... You're
Mrs. Anderson?  Wife of Chase Anderson?  The professional poker player?" 

"Mirana.  Yes.  Hello.  Do you know
my husband?  Is he okay?"

Her husband.  Not her ex-husband.  The
look on her face shows genuine concern as well.  "Yes.  He's fine.  I
just...  I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes.  It’ll be
quick."  I avoid the question about whether I know him for now.  I don't
know how to explain my relationship with Chase, and although one of the main
reasons I came here was to make sure his wife knew what was going on, now that
I'm faced with it I don't know what to say. 

Mirana looks confused now, but she nods
and stands back, gesturing for me to come inside.  She says something to the
boy in Spanish and he nods, quickly running off.  I hear a door close in his
direction as she leads me into her living room and offers me a seat on a high
backed, cushioned chair.  "Would you like something to drink, Miss?"

"My name is Lila.  Lila Hunter,"
I quickly say, embarrassed that I hadn't even introduced myself.  I'm about to
say no to the drink, but then I realize how dry my mouth is.  If anything, I
could use the excuse to put this whole thing off just a little bit longer. 
"Sure, that would be lovely, thank you.”

Mirana smiles tightly, and I wonder if she
had been hoping I would say no so that I would leave quicker.  "I was just
about to make some tea, is that okay?"

I nod and she disappears into the next
room which I can see is the kitchen.

It's strange to be sitting in this room,
with Chase's wife in the other room after I've been flying around the world and
fucking him for the last couple of weeks.  Despite the fact that I had no idea
he was married, I feel incredibly guilty.  More so because there’s a child
involved.

It takes Mirana a few minutes to return
with the tea and by the time she gets back I still haven't figured out what to
say.  She places the cup next to me and then sits down.  The look of confusion
that was on her face earlier has shifted to one of suspicion now as she watches
me, waiting to see what it is I want.  I should have had more of a plan about
what I was going to say, but part of me had been hoping that I would get here
and it would be immediately clear that the whole thing was just a
misunderstanding and I wouldn’t have to say anything at all.  As it is, things
seem even worse than I had expected.

"How can I help you Miss
Hunter?" she finally asks when I continue to sit silently fidgeting.

"Um, right.  Well I just wanted to
talk to you for a minute.  About your husband."

Chase's wife just continues to stare at me
with a questioning look on her face, so I push ahead before I talk myself out
of this whole thing, or she throws me out.

"How long have you... have you and
Chase... been married?"

A quick look of alarm passes across
Mirana's face before she quells it and takes a deep breath.  I feel a twinge of
guilt.  Does she suspect what is coming?  Has this happened before?

"About two years," she answers.

If this has happened before, if he’s
cheated and I'm not the first girlfriend to show up at his wife's house, what
does that mean?  Why does she stay with him?

"Do you love him?" I ask before
I can stop myself. 

"Of course," she snaps back.  If
I were her, this is the point where I would be throwing me out or demanding
answers, but for some reason she just sits there.  She doesn't look happy, but
she isn't telling me to leave, either.  

"He must travel a lot.  It must be
hard, with him gone so much."

Mirana nods cautiously.  "We make do
with the time we have.  But yes, his job takes him around the world.  But
because of Diego I stay home.  Otherwise I would go with him."

Diego.  Suddenly something strikes me.

"How long have you known Chase?"

"We met 4 years ago through mutual
friends."

So he was in his early 20s when he met
her.  A feeling of relief passes over me.  At least the child isn't his.  I
feel bad enough, but if the kid was his it would make it all the worse. 

I look at Mirana and she seems agitated,
probably because of the questions about her relationship coming from a complete
stranger.  I'm again struck by the fact that she hasn't told me to leave or
asked more about me, but I wonder if it’s some sort of cultural thing.  Like
she doesn't want to be rude.  The least I can do is explain myself now.  It's
obvious that Denise wasn't making things up in this case.  Chase is married,
and although he isn't the biological father of her kid, he must be at least the
step-father. 

They're a family, and that makes me a
home-wrecker.

"I guess you're wondering why I'm
here," I begin.

"I know why you're here," Mirana
says quickly.  I can hear anger in her voice, but she’s keeping it in check. 
"You aren't the first person to show up asking about my relationship with
my husband.  I keep hoping they will stop, but they never do."

I swallow hard and let out a slow breath. 
How could I have been so wrong about Chase.  He's a serial cheater, and for
whatever reason his wife puts up with it.  Each time she hopes it'll be the
last, but it never is.  I'm not the first to warn her, and by this point I'm
probably doing more harm than good.  She clearly has her reasons for not leaving,
and I'm simply a reminder of his constant string of betrayals.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. 

Mirana shrugs.  "It's not your
fault.  I understand why you're here.  Lots of people cheat."

I don't even know how to respond to that. 
I'm not sure if she’s referring to me or Chase.  I don't think of myself as the
cheater here.  I didn't know he was married.  But from her perspective I'm sure
I'm just as much to blame even if she does say it’s not my fault.  How can she
help but not blame me on some level.  But I don't think there’s any use in
explaining myself and making her feel worse with the details.

"I should go," I say.  My tea
still sits next to me untouched as I stand. 

"Yes," Mirana says.  "Just
please remember that I love my husband, and my marriage is very important to
me."

The words are like a punch in the gut, but
all I can do is nod.  I should never have come.