by Lilly Atlas
Even though she’d never seen her savior’s face, she knew it then. Logan was the man who had rescued her from the hotel room.
He’d seen her at her very worst.
He knew who she was all along. Knew who she was when he approached her in the bar. He’d lied. She’d broken every one of her rules, leapt outside her comfort zone, and given the man her trust. And he’d lied to her at all stops along the way. The sense of betrayal and mortification was almost suffocating. She had to get the hell out of there.
“Chloe—” he started.
“No!” she shouted as her stomach churned like a washing machine. She backed up, holding her hands out toward him off. When her next step had her chair crashing to the ground, she stumbled around it and spun. Two running steps had her nearing the side exit. Her knees wobbled, her vision went fuzzy, her breath came in ragged gasps, but she focused on that exit sign with nothing but the thought of escape in mind.
As she continued toward freedom, she thought she heard Stephanie call her name.
With only a few feet separating her from the exit, a strong hand closed around her upper arm at the same time a familiar scent invaded her senses.
Logan.
How could she have been so stupid?
“No!” she yelled again as he jerked her back around. Why wasn’t anyone helping her? She was being attacked in the middle of a coffee shop and not a damn soul was helping.
She had to get away. She struck out wildly, aiming for whatever she could hit, but he wrapped her in a bear hug from behind, ending her pathetic attempt to fight him off. “Please, don’t,” she said as he started to walk her toward the others.
“Jesus, Chloe, I’m not going to fucking hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
But he had. The pain cut so deep it nearly sliced her in two.
Chloe could barely process what was happening. Her brain screamed with so much fear she couldn’t think. All she knew was she needed to get away. She tried to suck in a monster breath, prepared to scream the place down, but the air got stuck in her throat. It was then she realized how dizzy she was and how shallow her breaths had become.
“I can’t…” She wheezed a whistling sound. “I can’t b-breathe.”
Logan’s hold immediately slackened, and the next thing she knew a chair hit the back of her legs and he was shoving her down into it. A gentle hand clasped the back of her neck, guiding her head between her knees.
“Slow your breathing, baby,” Logan whispered in her ear causing her to focus on slowing the choppy, rapid gasps.
“P-please l-let me g-go,” she managed to get out around the gasps.
“I can’t do that.” Logan said, and she’d swear she heard sadness in his voice. But that didn’t make sense.
You can thank the Handlers for this.
She hadn’t thought it could get any worse than the kidnapping. But with the group of scowling bikers frowning down at her, she had the feeling shit hadn’t gotten anywhere near the fan yet.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“YOU NEED TO move,” Rocket growled down at Stephanie where she stood sentry outside his own goddammed room. It’d been three hours since Chloe arrived at his clubhouse. Three hours since he witnessed her lose her mind with panic at the mere sight of him. Weeks of progress undone in a matter of seconds, all because he was trying to protect her from a threat she had no idea existed.
Fucking Esposito deserved to die almost as much as Lefty.
“Look, Rocket, I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but she took one look at you and freaked. You have any idea how hard it was to convince her to come back here? I thought I was going to have to get Izzy to slug her and drag her unconscious body here, which given her history would have probably made her have a complete breakdown. After begging for a half hour, Izzy and I were finally able to make her understand there was a credible threat to the club and her association with you put her at risk. I swore on my life no harm would come to her here and that this is the safest place for her. Don’t you dare break my promise and hurt her further.”
“She’s stronger than you think,” he said, giving her his most lethal glare.
A former FBI agent, Steph didn’t cower easily. She glared right back up at him.
“Swear to fucking Christ, Stephanie, if you don’t move I will toss your ass—”
“Wanna tone it down a bit, brother?” Mav’s furious voice broke through Rocket’s red haze. Shit, his brother was gonna rip him a new one for trying to intimidate his ol’ lady like that. And rightfully so.
Rocket stepped back, running a hand through his hair. Ever since he’d walked in that damn coffee shop and spotted Chloe, he’d been spiraling out of control.
Mav’s shoulder slammed into Rocket as he made his way to Stephanie. It was the least he deserved for speaking to her the way he had.
“You good, babe?” Mav asked.
“Totally fine. He’s not as scary as he thinks.”
Mav grunted, clearly not ready to join Team Rocket.
“Shit. Sorry, Steph. I just need to talk to her.” This time, Rocket tried for genuine instead of asshole.
She cocked her head. “I don’t get it, Rocket. You said she never saw your face. She shouldn’t have known who you were on sight. What’s going on?”
Mav may have been shitty over the way his ol’ lady was being treated, but he was smart enough not to let that interfere with club business. “Hey, babe, why don’t you go downstairs and hang with Izzy and Shell? I think they’re making some food.”
Folding her arms, she turned her displeasure on her ol’ man. “Seriously? You’re sending me off to the kitchen?”
Mav whispered something in her ear that had her rolling her eyes, but she nodded then gave him a quick hard kiss. “Don’t fucking scare her,” Steph warned, jabbing her finger in Rocket’s face. “You look like you’re about to rip the heads off a bunch of puppies.”
Scare her. Shit, there was only one person scared and it was him. Terrified she’d order him out of her life forever. Not that he’d listen. No matter what, he wasn’t stepping away from her until Esposito had been dealt with and Chloe reclaimed her life. Even if today set her back. Now that he knew what her skin felt like against his, what she tasted like, and how her face glowed when she came, his obsession with Chloe had morphed into a full-on addiction. One he couldn’t walk away from.
“You gonna stand in my way too?” Rocket asked Mav who now stood in Steph’s place, arms folded, and legs spread.
Lifting his hands in surrender, Mav shook his head. “I ain’t looking to get a bullet between my eyes, brother. Just didn’t like the way you were talking to my woman. Want to make sure you get that. Have at her.” He stepped away from the closed door. “Be warned, if you upset Chloe, Steph will probably recruit Izzy to go for your balls. My woman’s like a mother hen around that one.” He inclined his head toward the closed door.
Rocket winced. Steph would unman him if he hurt her friend. Izzy would do it for fun. Hell, she’d probably bronze his nuts and wear them around her neck. The woman was positively bloodthirsty now that she was carrying Jig’s spawn.
Mav whistled a cheerful tune which faded down the hallway until Rocket was completely alone. Church started in an hour, so he needed to get his ass downstairs soon, but he couldn’t leave things with Chloe so fucked up.
After two sharp knocks, he entered without waiting for an invite.
Chloe sat on his bed, huddled in the corner with her chin resting on drawn up knees. Her face was pale, making her auburn hair and green eyes even more striking. Resting just beyond her feet, a sandwich sat untouched as did the glass of Bourbon Stephanie brought her.
This was the second time he’d walked into a room to find a defeated Chloe. Sure, the first incident was a million times worse than this one, but he fucking hated the pattern forming here.
She lifted her head, eyes shrinking to slits as he stepped into the room. He gave her a moment to take him in. This was the first time she
was getting a full-on view of who he really was as opposed to the role he’d been playing in her presence. Her narrowed gaze traced every inch of him, lingering on the patches covering his worn cut. “Rocket,” she stated, the name sounding like a revolting taste in her mouth.
He nodded. “My road name. A nickname,” he added when her forehead wrinkled.
“Why?”
“Leftover from my days as a Marine. I had a knack with weapons. Explosives especially.” He shrugged. The name hadn’t been his choice, but the club liked it, so it stuck.
She huffed out a bitter laugh. “So that much was true? You really were in the Marines?”
Ouch.
Her tone was heavy with accusation. Any ground he’d gained over the past weeks had been obliterated in the blink of an eye. One look at him, at who he really was, and Rocket fell even further back than square one.
“I was.”
“Am I a prisoner?” she asked in a flat voice, staring out the window at the woods that stretched for miles behind the clubhouse.
What? A prisoner? “Fuck no. I thought Steph explained it to you. You’re here so the club can protect you.” He balled his fists to keep from reaching for her, though denying that need made his insides coil into a tight knot.
“Protect me?” she asked with another harsh laugh as though being helped by his club was the most foreign concept imaginable. “Please, after all the other lies, you can at least spare me this protection bullshit.”
Well, shit. He deserved that.
He could see her walls erecting, blocking him out. Well that wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t stand for it. In two long strides, he reached the bed. The moment his ass hit the mattress, Chloe curled in an even tighter package. Her eyes were so guarded, so wary, Rocket’s chest ached.
Death was too good for Lefty. Though he couldn’t blame everything on the motherfucker. He’d done plenty himself to fuck her up.
“Chloe.”
Once again, she fixated on the woods outside the window.
“Baby, please look at me.”
She did, her angry expression doing nothing to alleviate his conscience. “Don’t call me that,” she said with heat. “I know who you are now. The fucking charade can stop.”
Damned if he knew why that word set her off, but that was a conversation for another day. They had a larger mountain to scale before they could get to his use of endearments. He could see he wasn’t getting anywhere until they addressed the elephant in the room. “You know I’m the one who rescued you.”
This time her laugh was empty, a hollow sound. “Rescued. That’s fucking rich. You can thank the Handlers for this,” she said, robotic and monotone as she turned away again.
“What?” Thank the Handlers for what?
“That’s what he said.” Her gaze never left the thick forest, green now that spring had returned to Tennessee. “The very last thing he said to me. While he was…” She swallowed, then cleared her throat. Now she was looking at him. Straight on, gauging his reaction. “When Lefty was raping me, he said, ‘You can thank the Handlers for this.’”
Lefty. His eyes fell closed as he absorbed the impact of her statement. No wonder she lost her shit when the lot of them waltzed into the coffee shop like they owned the fucking place. This entire time she’d thought the Handlers had a hand in her assault. The thought of her fearing him in such a way, of her thinking he condoned Lefty’s actions shattered the remaining pieces of his heart.
Fuck death. Lefty wouldn’t be getting death until Rocket was good and done with him. He was going to revel in each scream, each plea for mercy the motherfucker made. And he’d scream.
They always did.
“Then you showed up, Rocket.” Again, she said his road name like it was poison on her tongue. “I had no idea why you took me out of there and to the hospital. Still don’t. But you did. You saved me. And I gave the police a bogus story, like you asked. Mostly because I was afraid your club was involved. Even though you were so gentle with me. And as much as I was hurting and terrified, for those few moments on your bike I felt safe. But Lefty’s words were right there. Whispered in my ear over and over.” She shivered and Rocket fought the desire to hold her. “I didn’t want to know what else could happen if I went against the big bad bikers. Her voice hitched and Rocket swore his hardened insides softened to mush. He wanted to gather her in his arms and promise no man would touch her as long as he was fucking breathing. But she’d probably gut him at this point.
“Chloe, I never would have hurt you. I’m not like him. The Handlers are not like him,” he said.
It was as though she hadn’t heard him speak. “And then Stephanie came to see me.” Her recounting was flat, emotionless without a flicker beyond a neutral expression on her beautiful face. “It didn’t make sense. If you guys wanted to scare me into keeping my mouth shut, why send a woman who was sweet and kind? I had no idea what to think, so I just kept to myself and avoided Townsend for all I was worth. I didn’t know how the MC was involved, just that you were. Then I met a man named Logan. A man who—” Her voice grew wistful right before a sob caught in her throat. “A man who turned out to be a fucking liar.”
Rocket hung his head. “Shit,” he ground out. Every word grated on his brain a million times worse than nails on a chalkboard. Though any of the Handlers would have given up their patch to keep a woman from suffering what Chloe endured, it was at least in part the club’s fault. Chloe deserved the truth, as much as it killed him to speak it. “The club got word through a contact that a woman, you, was kidnapped. Lefty had been up to that shit for a while, so we were on the lookout for any abduciton reports. The club was able to get our hands on footage of the guys abducting you from the parking lot.” He ran a palm down his face as the memory of that recording played through his mind. He’d been drawn to her. Even then. That tape was the reason he’d been the one to rescue her. He’d practically begged for the job. “I’d give anything to bring the two fuckers who kidnapped you back to life. I’d love nothing more than to rip them apart with my bare hands. Won’t even tell you my plans for Lefty.”
She snorted. “Get in line.”
His lips twitched. There she was. The feisty woman who’d left him cuffed to a bed a few weeks ago. “I’m going to kill Lefty,” he said to her startled expression. Cards were falling all over the table now. Before this day was over, she’d know exactly what kind of man she’d been sleeping with the past few weeks.
“Lefty’s gang, the Gray Dragons, were enemies of my club.” Every ounce of Chloe’s attention was trained on him and now it was his turn to avoid eye contact. Admitting his club’s role in her fate was harder than he ever imagined. “Our president, Copper, took a few guys to meet with Lefty. See if he could convince him to release you. At the time, Copper was trying to avoid a bloody war. Lefty didn’t want war either, so he claimed. He’d just taken over the Gray Dragons and was working to build up the gang. Copper gave him until the end of that day to deliver you to the motel room completely unharmed or we’d rain hell on him.”
“Lefty delivered you. Had no choice. Copper would have gone after him, but he hurt the fuck outta you before he did it. It was a big fuck you to Copper. Because he knew Copper wouldn’t start a war if you were in the motel and alive.”
Her lips rolled in and her head moved up and down as understanding set in. “Even though he didn’t do exactly as your president said, I was alive and your club wasn’t going to start a war just because he beat and raped me.”
He winced. Christ, it sounded so heartless. Shame washed over him. He’d done some heinous shit in his day, much justified in his mind, but plenty that didn’t live up to even his own loose moral code. Nothing though had ever made him feel shame, until he had to admit to Chloe his club had failed her. “I didn’t agree with his decision,” he said. “And maybe had the others seen you that night, they’d have sided with me, but I was out voted. We called getting you back alive a victory and let Lefty go about his business until
we found out he had a barn full of underage girls.”
“So your club didn’t order him to kidnap me?”
“Fuck no. Copper would strip the patch off any member who harmed an innocent woman. Trust me, that’s a fate worse than death for any of my brothers.”
Trust him. Like that would happen anytime soon. All he could do was hope and be forthright.
“Has the club been keeping tabs on me ever since you found me?” She was still tucked tight into herself, but a bit of color returned to her cheeks. She no longer looked like a light breeze would take her out.
“We did at first. For a week or two. To make sure the cops bought your story.”
“Oh.”
Admitting this could be a huge mistake, but after all she’d been through, the least she deserved was the unvarnished truth. “But I’ve been watching you on my own.”
Her eyes bugged wide and she let her knees drop down, ending up in a cross-legged position. “Y-ou’ve been following me?”
He nodded.
“For how long?”
Their gazes connected. Something crackled between them. Rocket had no fucking clue what to call it. He’d never experienced it before. It was some kind of magnetic pull. A need to protect her, to be near her, to comfort her. He felt compelled to answer honestly even if she wouldn’t like his response. “Since the beginning. I’d drive by, make sure your car was there. When you started going out on Friday and Saturday nights I tailed you.”
She gasped. “You followed me to the bars? How many times?”
He just stared at her.
“E-every time?”
“Yes.”
“W-why? I assumed you ran into me by accident that first time.”
“Because I couldn’t stay away.”
He saw her lips begin to form the word why once again, but she changed her mind with a sharp shake of her head. “Fuck all this. I want someone to take me home. Stephanie or Izzy.”
His heavy sigh caused her eyes to narrow once again. “I can’t force you to stay here, but I’m asking you to give the club a few days to work some things out. The threat Stephanie mentioned is very real.”
