Hard Truth (The Alpha Antihero Series Book 4)

by Sybil Bartel

  “Now you’re callin’ me a liar?” she challenged.

  “I’m not calling you anything.” Except my woman.

  “You just did.”

  Done pussyfooting around, keeping my tone even, I went to war with my words. “Is this what you want to do? Argue semantics and parade around in clothes showing your ass while you work for one man and break bread with another? This is the life you want?”

  “You don’t get to judge me, Tarquin Scott.” Her eyes welled.

  Fucking finally. Finally getting through, even though I was an asshole for making her cry, I kept going. “Don’t I?” I earned that goddamn right. “I watched our child bleed out of you. I watched the life leave your body. I held you, and I watched every goddamn thing I ever cared about die. Then you know what I did?”

  Tears streaming down her face, she barely shook her head.

  “I fucking stayed true.” I thumped my fist against my chest. “I kept my word because we were bonded.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she cried, covering her face with her hands.

  “I never said it was. But this shit now? You running away, working for some asshole and sharing food with another, when I’m standing right here? That’s your goddamn fault.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  Angrier than when I saw her get out of that asshole’s truck, I spun. “Why?” I bit out. “Give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn’t walk the fuck away for good.”

  She opened her mouth and gutted me. “I’m not the one who walked out first.”

  My nostrils flared, my hands shook, and I stood there.

  Like an asshole.

  Because goddamn it, she was right.

  I’d walked away first.

  I’d walked away from her in the Glades. I’d walked away from her dead body. I’d walked away from her in the Hangman clubhouse.

  It hit me like a fucking sniper’s shot—there was no coming back from any of that.

  I turned and left.

  He walked away.

  Again.

  I couldn’t even blame him.

  I wasn’t worth his brand of loyalty.

  Hurting too bad to cry anymore, I went inside and showered. I was crawling into Talon’s guest bed in a house too big to be comfortable when I heard a knock on the door. My heart jumped, and I had to remind myself that there were only three people I knew who could get past the gate at the front of the property. And a robber wouldn’t knock.

  I wasn’t sure if my heart was racing at the prospect of that knock being Tarquin, or the frantic beating was because I hoped it wasn’t.

  Tiptoeing down the hall of a house I had no business being in, I looked through the peephole.

  My pulse skyrocketed.

  With shaking hands, I undid the alarm and opened the door. Fine lines around his tired eyes, Tarquin looked so much older than his twenty-seven years.

  I hugged myself against the cool nighttime breeze. “Hi.”

  He held out a fancy cell phone. “You know how to use one of these?”

  “You bought me a phone?”

  “Yes.”

  Unable to read his expression or lack of emotion in his tone, I didn’t take it. “Why?”

  “Because we can’t talk to each other without yelling.” He dropped his gaze. “I thought this would help.”

  Tarquin Scott never dropped his gaze. When he spoke to you, he looked you in the eye. Always. That was a part of what made him, him. A big part. Tarquin was honest, direct, and he never wasted a word he didn’t need to say.

  My heart hurt even more.

  “Thank you very much.” I took the phone and shoved it in my shorts pocket.

  “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.

  The breeze kicked up and brought with it a trace of his scent. I missed him so bad, I ached. I missed our cabin in the woods. I missed his arms around me at night. I missed the quiet of his voice in the darkness, and I missed the way he used to tend to me.

  Without thought, I stepped outside and put my arms around him. His scent—dark earth, musk, and man—assaulted me, and for the first time in seven years, I took a deep breath.

  His arms at his side, his body deathly still, his muscles stiff, he didn’t move.

  I didn’t care.

  I was holding on to my past and the man who used to be mine. But when he continued to not move, I couldn’t deny the truth of his lack of response.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, stepping back and aiming for the front door that’d closed behind me.

  I didn’t even get my fingers around the handle.

  He reached for me.

  For the third time in my life, Tarquin Scott put his huge arms around me and he hugged me. He hugged me so completely, so hard, and so true, that I felt it deep in my soul, and I couldn’t stop it. A sob escaped. Then another.

  And suddenly I was crying in Tarquin’s arms, the very last and the only thing I wanted to do.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked out.

  “Don’t.” His deep voice broke. Then the way he used to speak to me all those years ago surfaced. “Do not apologize to me anymore. Let it go,” he ordered, dominant and authoritative.

  Gripping handfuls of the back of his T-shirt, I buried my face against his hard chest and I did exactly what he told me to do.

  I let it go.

  I held on to the one good thing I’d ever had in my life, and I cried my heart out.

  The boy from the swamp, the man he’d already been all those years ago, the hardened Ranger he’d become, they all merged together, and he did what Tarquin Scott did best. He held me.

  He held my body, he held my heart, and he held me together.

  But he didn’t push meaningless words of comfort or try to make me feel better. He didn’t raise me up to the very stars above us and tell me everything would be okay. Instead, with hands that had killed and with arms that could crush me, he held me in his stoic embrace and he did the most perfect thing I ever could’ve asked for. He grounded me.

  I cried until the tears stopped.

  Not saying a word, he didn’t embarrass me. He silently gave me something I’d been desperately craving since he’d pulled back that curtain in the hospital—he gave me forgiveness.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  His chest moving with a deep inhale his only response, he dropped his arms.

  Remembering our time together in the Glades, remembering his limits for personal contact, I didn’t push for anything else from him. Already getting more than I deserved, I reached for the front door of Talon’s house. Feeling like I was cheating on Tarquin, my hand wrapped around the handle.

  Not stopping me this time, but also not walking away, his body heat stayed at my back.

  Inhaling, not wanting him to leave, too afraid to ask him to stay, I turned the handle.

  Except it didn’t turn.

  A half laugh, half groan escaped, and I leaned my forehead against the door. “Apparently I’m just addin’ to my fall from grace by lockin’ myself out.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Don’t suppose you have a key?”

  The anger that’d been drawing his eyebrows together all last week was missing as his gaze locked on to mine with a serious expression I couldn’t discern. Then the compound speak, the way he used to be with me, it came back. “You do not need one.”

  “I can’t get in without one. Can you call Talon and ask him if he has a spare? Or give me his number? Or Braige. Do you have his number?”

  His jaw shifted, but his expression didn’t change. “It is late.”

  I didn’t want another argument between us, but I couldn’t stand out here all night until Braige came back in the morning to pick me up, and going back to Tarquin’s was a bad idea. “Please,” I pleaded. “Can you call Talon?”

  He didn’t show any sign of anger at my plea, but he also didn’t budge. “In the morning.”

  “I can’t stay out here all night.”

  “I would not let that happen.”r />
  Not trusting the sudden change in his demeanor even though I was desperate to hold on to it, I had to ask. “Why are you being nice?”

  He held his hand out. “Come.”

  “Why are you talkin’ different?”

  He cleared his throat, and his compound speak disappeared. “I’m not.”

  Not missing the contraction, I glanced at his hand. “Where?”

  “Where you belong.”

  “Tarquin—”

  “Stop.” He took my hand and pulled me toward him. “One night.” Before I knew what he was doing, he picked me up.

  “Tarquin.” Oh sweet mercy. “Put me down.”

  “No. You do not have shoes.”

  “You’re slippin’ back to compound speak,” I pointed out as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He didn’t comment. He walked us to Talon’s gate and punched numbers on the control pad, then waited as the gate slid open.

  “How do you know the code?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Kendall?” I asked, trying not to sound bitter.

  He glanced down at me. “Do not be jealous.”

  The irony of him telling me that wasn’t lost on me. “I never gave my heart to anyone but you, and I only got you for a short time. She lived with you for years.” Just the two of them, in his house, for years.

  His nostrils flared with an inhale, but he didn’t say anything. Walking us out the gate and a few yards down the shoulder of the road, he stopped where his Road King was hidden under a huge sea grape with an overhanging canopy.

  Setting me down, he swung his leg over the Hog, then he glanced at me and tipped his chin at the seat behind him.

  I should’ve insisted he call Talon or Braige. I should’ve kept my mouth shut about Kendall. I should’ve never believed a word out of Stone Hawkins’s mouth. I should’ve done a lot of things. But cried out, tired beyond exhaustion, and wearing nothing but a charity tank top and shorts, I got on the bike.

  My ass hit the cold seat, my feet found the foot pegs, and I put my arms around Tarquin’s waist.

  But he didn’t start the bike. Inhaling deeply, he was still a moment. Then he reached for my ankles and brought my feet up over his thighs.

  I knew what he was doing. He was worried because I didn’t have shoes on. The ache in my heart easing a little bit, I held him tighter and pressed my cheek to his back. “I’m ready.”

  He turned the engine over, and the girl I used to be came out.

  A smile touched my lips, and the smell of gas filtered around us, but it was the beast under me that really made my adrenaline spike. Nothing on earth sounded like the choppy V-twin of a Harley.

  I hadn’t ridden in seven years, and suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to ride on the back of Tarquin’s bike and hold on for dear life.

  When he kicked the Road King into gear, my heart pumped faster and I held by breath.

  No hesitation, Tarquin gave the engine gas.

  A lot of gas.

  I let out a whoop, and we were flying.

  My hair was blowing everywhere, the wind was too cold, and I was shivering like hell. My outfit and all my bare, exposed skin was a horrible disaster waiting to happen if we crashed, but I didn’t care.

  It was perfect.

  Gone was the inexperienced boy from the Glades who couldn’t turn a bike without stalling it. The man under my arms and legs was made to ride. Handling the beast with confidence and experience, taking turns like he owned gravity, shifting seamlessly through the gears, Tarquin Scott was a biker.

  And God help me, I loved him more for it.

  I revved the engine, and she let out a sound of excitement.

  On edge, I was too fucking tense to comment. The second she’d thrown her arms around me like the innocent girl in the Glades would’ve done, shit shifted and the years disappeared between us. I wasn’t Candle anymore.

  I didn’t know who the fuck I was.

  Holding my breath and hoping like hell she didn’t change her mind and tell me to fuck off, all I could think about was getting her back home. Where she belonged.

  Ten minutes ago, I’d been too pissed off to fuck her.

  Now I was remembering every damn minute of the last time I took her, and my dick wanted inside her.

  My head fucked, my woman on my bike in a way I never imagined, I drove to my house. By the time I pulled into my driveway, she was shivering so bad, I expected to find her lips blue. Throwing the kickstand down and cutting the engine, I issued an order like she was a subordinate. “Wait.”

  She dropped her arms and legs, but otherwise she did as I said. She didn’t move.

  Careful not to kick her, I got off the bike, then I reached for her.

  She didn’t recoil, but she hugged her arms to her chest instead of putting them around my neck. “You don’t have to carry me.”

  Yes, I did. “No shoes.”

  She let out a nervous half laugh. “Not the first time I’ve walked barefoot in the dirt.”

  “You used to hate it.” She’d never gone to our outdoor shower in the Glades without shoes.

  “You remember that?”

  “I remember everything.”

  She didn’t say any more as I carried her into the house. Bypassing the guest room, I took her to the master and into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I reluctantly set her down.

  She looked around, then dropped her gaze. “Every time I enter your house, you gonna make me clean up?”

  Inwardly cringing at her last two words, I grabbed a towel off the rack. “No. You were shivering on the ride over.” I nodded at the shower as I tossed the towel on the counter. “Water’s hot.” I walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind me before I did something I’d regret.

  Going back outside, I pulled my bike into the garage and locked up. Making my way back into house, I kicked off my boots, dumped my keys and phone on the kitchen counter and put water on to boil.

  I was searching in the cupboard for the tea Kendall used to keep around when Shaila came out of my bedroom.

  Her arms crossed around herself like she was still cold, she looked everywhere but at me. “I never said it, but I should’ve.” Dropping her gaze, she toed the edge of the area rug. “You did good for yourself.” She inhaled sharply and looked up. “Thanks for gettin’ me free.” Her voice went quiet. “I never said that neither.” Not waiting for a response, she pivoted and aimed for the guest room.

  Fuck. “I’m making tea.” Sounding and feeling like a fucking pussy, I threw down the desperate ploy, then I compounded it. “With honey.” How she used to like it all those years ago in the glades.

  With her back to me, she let out a half laugh. “You don’t drink tea.”

  “It’s not for me.”

  Her shoulders rose with an inhale, and she turned around. Her eyes met mine. “Please stop.”

  Fuck. “Stop what?”

  “Don’t do this.” She shook her head. “Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. I don’t want you to change. I never did. I don’t need you to be anyone but who you are. If that’s an angry biker with a street name, so be it. But please, just…” Her hand waved toward the stove. “Don’t do that. The man I dragged outta the swamp, he didn’t make tea.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He never would’ve done that.”

  She was right.

  Lost inside my own damn house, hell, my fucking life, I laid it all out for her. “Everything I did, I did for you.”

  Her gaze cut to the floor. “I thought I was doin’ the same.”

  “He played us both.”

  “I know.”

  The waves crashed outside, the water on the stove boiled, and the air conditioner kicked on. We stood there. She stared at her damn feet. I stared at her.

  “I don’t know what else to say to you,” I admitted.

  “The Tarquin I knew wouldn’t have done that either. He wouldn’t have said that.”

  I dared to fucking ask. “What would
he have said?”

  “Nothin’.” She looked up at me. “He didn’t waste words.”

  I hated talking just to talk. But I hated the look in her pretty green eyes more. She was right. About everything. Tarquin, Candle, Army Ranger, biker, River Ranch, whoever the fuck I was, I wasn’t someone who hesitated or second-guessed myself. Fucking ever.

  Fuck this bullshit.

  Turning the stove off, I aimed for her.

  Alarm flashed in her eyes, but I didn’t so much as fucking blink in hesitation.

  I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

  “Tarquin!” she gasped, grabbing at my T-shirt. “What in the hell are you doin’?”

  Not explaining myself, not asking permission, I carried her to the bedroom. Done pussyfooting around with her, I dumped her on the bed and issued a command. “Stay.”

  Retracing my steps, I grabbed two waters out of the fridge and turned off the lights. When I walked back in the bedroom, she was sitting against the headboard looking scared as hell with her knees drawn to her chest.

  Setting the waters on the nightstand, the way I used to speak surfaced. “I am not going to fuck you tonight.” Hitting the light and yanking off my shirt, I didn’t analyze why my old speech patterns came out around her, or how she managed to bring me back to the roots of who I used to be, or why the hell I even liked it. But I did. “We are going to sleep.” Unbuttoning my jeans, I stepped out of them and clarified my last statement so there was no confusion. “Just sleep. Together.” I got in bed and reached for her.

  Not protesting, but stiff as fuck, she didn’t bend into me when I pulled her to my chest.

  “Relax.” I issued the command like I had the right.

  “I’m tryin’,” she whispered. “But you just kinda dropped a bomb with the whole tonight comment.”

  Candle would’ve told her to try harder. Tarquin would’ve addressed her comment. I did neither. Pulling her too-small body in close, I suffocated in guilt. “You will eat what I feed you tomorrow.” Since the day she’d pulled me out of that swamp, every bad thing that had happened to her was my fault.