She shrugged.
“We don’t treat women like that, and Thorn, well he’s different, but we don’t abuse women.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.
Her face colored and lips thinned. Finally, a reaction.
“Thought you’d at least be honest.” She stuck her finger in my chest. “You know, call it like it is.”
“Finally, Red, get mad,” I encouraged her, wanting her to let out what she held inside.
“What does getting mad ever do? What? Does it make me bigger? Does it make it stop? Hell no, just another way to hurt myself.” She turned away from me, but I heard the emotion breaking up her voice. “If I get righteous and mad, does it mean I never see Thorn again? Mean he goes to jail for assault? Mean the Brotherhood wants me seeking vengeance or justice? Please.” A brittle laugh punctuated the end of her rant.
All true, especially about the Brotherhood, and they were me, so how could I stand here defending them while wanting her to forgive me. “He was out of line, so we’d understand if you pressed charges.”
“Are you damage control?”
“No,” I bit out. “That was MJ, but she came back so pissed, almost ready to call the police herself. We screwed up.”
“Don’t see a shiner on your eye,” she shot back, but then dropped her head.
“Only because neither Jericho nor Thorn hit back when I planted my fists in their faces.”
Her gaze flew to my swollen, scraped knuckles.
“I could’ve beat them senseless.” I hated that I’d wanted to hurt them, my brothers, just as much as I hated seeing her hurt.
“Bikers fight, a lot.” I started to step forward, but stopped. “When we don’t defend ourselves, it’s our way of saying we had no excuse. We were totally wrong.”
She looked wearier than I’d ever seen anyone look. I understood what MJ meant—my Red had vanished and some shell of herself had taken over.
“Can I take care of you, stay with you?” I looked away.
Tension built as she stayed silent, her face still a mask of nothing. I had no clue what she thought. If it were me, I’d kick my ass to the curb. I’d never hoped so much as I did in those silent seconds.
“Yeah, I’d like you to stay.”
I let out the breath I’d held as she decided. “Let’s get you to bed.” I tucked her in and pulled up the covers, taking the now unthawed corn and returning to the kitchen for more ice. She had another bag of corn, and barely frozen peas but no icepacks. I left the corn and hit the speed dial for Zayn. “Bring me the three icepacks from the shop.” I clicked off and waited.
He didn’t get a chance to knock before I opened the door.
Worry lined Zayn’s face. “Is she...?”
“She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
Zayn nodded. “Call anytime, no matter what you need.”
I shut the door and tugged off my boots before I headed back to her. She lay motionless but I didn’t think she slept. I stripped out of my clothes and lay down beside her on my side. “It’ll be cold.” I placed the icepack across the left side of her face.
“Where’s the corn?” she mumbled, half asleep.
“Shh,” I soothed her, gently running my fingers over her curls. I told myself it was to help her sleep, but I knew it was as much for me, to calm me, as it was for her. In truth, being here probably comforted me more than her.
Chapter Nineteen: Lila
I woke up stiff the next morning with everything hurting. Dare slept on his stomach next to me, so I scanned the room, trying to figure out what had dragged me out of my numb sleep. I inhaled coffee-tinged air and knew immediately that was the culprit. I stood, wrapped up in my robe and padded to the living room to see how coffee had magically appeared in my place. Jericho sat drinking a to-go cup of coffee. He had two shiners and a split lip with more bruises on the way. I wondered which of us looked worse.
But what worried me most was how he sat sprawled on my couch in my locked apartment. How many people had keys? Did Thorn? Shit, I’d buy a security chain today.
Jericho nodded toward my kitchen where two more cups sat on the counter.
I grabbed one and studied him—rumpled, weary and looking like he hadn’t slept—someone else had a nasty day yesterday too. “Who else has a key to my place?”
He smirked at me. “Wanted to talk to you.” His voice was low. “Dare said not to.”
I pointed over my shoulder. “He’s in bed.”
“The shop?”
The man didn’t use any spare words. I thought about it and my first instinct was to walk away and back to Dare, but I did need to know about the keys and changing the locks, so I agreed.
Once we’d settled into chairs in the workroom, he sipped his coffee while he looked me over. “Painful?”
“Fuck off. Who has keys?”
He chuckled. “Dare, me, MJ, the Old Man.”
“Can I change the locks?”
“So you ain’t quitting?” He raised his brows over the cup tipped to his mouth.
I snorted. “Don’t be stupid.” I liked my job and no one would scare me away.
“Really?” Disbelief echoed in the one word.
I returned his stare, waiting for what he came to say.
“Change the locks, add five, I don’t care.” He blew out a breath. “Both MJ and Dare—”
“You call your mom MJ?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “They both said you didn’t need to hear Thorn’s side. He was wrong and if you put his ass in jail, fine by them.”
I knew it. Dare might be okay with justice, but the club wasn’t. No surprise there. Men protected each other in a brotherhood no matter what a man did. The metallic taste of blood made me realize I’d bitten my cheek.
“It’s not about it being okay to smack women around. Will you listen?” He frowned and with his bruised face, he appeared menacing, frightening.
But I was too drained for fright.
I shrugged, secretly wanting to hear the big man’s story. Thorn could’ve killed me, yet something about the encounter nagged at me.
“A man named Thomas served his country as delta squad recon and marksman. One day on a fairly routine mission in Afghanistan they were ambushed.”
Being a fucked-up veteran didn’t excuse him randomly hitting women. My foot tapped, but I didn’t interrupt.
“Long story short, they captured and tortured him, along with the other two men. They died. He didn’t. But he did shit we never even want to know while a prisoner. He was eventually rescued and shipped home.”
Well hell. I hadn’t expected the sympathy I now felt for the guy.
“Six months in a VA psych ward addicted to drugs they prescribed him, then they set him loose in the world. Romeo found him on a company mission and brought him back. We helped him out, renamed him Thorn.”
I opened my mouth to deny the feelings of sympathy rushing through me.
“Goddammit, Jericho.” Dare rushed at him, fist connecting with Jericho’s mouth.
Shit. Dare growled in a feral way and punched him again.
“Dare. Stop!” I hoped my voice penetrated his thick skull.
His fist shook, cocked for another hit. He turned to me, rage and concern warring on his stark face. This man didn’t look anything like the one I knew.
“I want to hear, please let him finish.”
His face relaxed.
“Sit with me.” I patted the chair.
Dare’s nostrils flared, and he dropped his head before slowly moving to me. I stood and let him sit before I settled on his lap. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart.
Jericho spit blood into the trash can and grabbed a towel from a station.
“Deadly
right hook, brother.” Jericho bowed his head toward Dare before he spoke. “Thorn has severe PTSD. He locks himself in his room at night, afraid he’ll hurt someone in his sleep. We make him go to a VA counselor and we put rules in place to keep him functioning, but I fucked up, forgetting you didn’t know the rules and Thorn didn’t know you.”
“So it’s not my fault I ended up on the floor?” Doubt dripped from my words. It was the only defense I had. I didn’t want to feel sorry for the broken giant.
Dare’s hands tightened on my waist.
“No, mine, and Thorn’s, of course. I didn’t protect you. And you were under the Brotherhood’s care.” He pinned me with his almost black eyes. “Lots of us were headed for jail, but the Brotherhood put us on another path. Some of it ain’t pretty.”
“So it’s not my fault, but you also don’t want me pressing charges. Is that it?”
He rubbed his temples. “Thorn would go in for over a year because he’s on probation now. He wouldn’t come out sane.”
I almost laughed. I didn’t think he was sane now.
“What keeps him from hitting other women?”
Jericho’s gazes flicked everywhere but toward me. “He likes to screw. A girl wants him, he’s not abusive in bed. You don’t, then you say ‘I’m Dare’s property.’ Or my property.”
“She’s mine,” Dare snarled.
“All the women, even those who ain’t mine are told that’s how you decline Thorn. He thought you were teasing him, making fun of him, and he reacted badly.” Jericho pushed his long hair behind his shoulders.
Badly? What an understatement. But, considering his size, he could have done lots more damage.
Jericho stood. “Do what you need to, he deserves whatever you do, but I wanted you to know the story.”
Dare shuffled under me.
“Don’t you want an answer from me?” I called to Jericho’s back.
“Nope, don’t deserve one.” Jericho rubbed his chin and looked back at me. “This is all me. Thorn hit the club late in the night. MJ, Dare, no one knew he was there. They didn’t abandon you. I did.”
Jericho’s boots echoed on the hardwood floor, and then he was gone. I rested back on Dare, thinking about yesterday and what Jericho told me. I’d never once turned in my dad or my first boyfriend, both abusers. They’d done more physical and psychological damage than Thorn.
Slowly it came to me, I’d never planned to press charges. Hell, I hadn’t considered quitting my job or breaking it off with Dare. I’d suffered a lot worse for much less. Dare’s world was dangerous, and now I understood the danger mattered more than the legality.
“He shouldn’t have come.” Dare’s angry voice startled me.
“He didn’t change anything.” I sighed, turning so I sat sideways across his lap. “I was never going to the police. Not my style.” I caressed his cheek.
“Pisses me off, you being so accepting of getting the shit knocked out of you.” His voice turned menacing. “It makes me see red.”
“Yeah, that’s like being pissed I’m a redhead.” I stood and paced the workroom. Tamping down the memories of all the ugly names my dad called me—all of them centered on the color of my hair. “It’s who I am. We can’t get rid of our past, that’s just the way it is.”
“Let me take you upstairs, make you some soup or something. You need to rest.” Dare still sat, unmoving.
“I gotta get showered and dressed for work.” I headed for the back door.
“Take a few days off, paid, of course.” His voice soothed but his gaze skittered away from mine.
“Because you don’t want people asking why I got a shiner?” I wouldn’t hide or tell people I’d tripped down the stairs. I’d worked and went to school with a lot more damage than this.
He didn’t answer.
“Fuck that. I’m getting dressed and working. You have a problem with it, you take time off.” I stomped past him, and he grabbed my arm, strong but gentle.
“What about us?” The words were quiet.
“I’m not saying enough—not yet anyway.” I barely spoke the words before he’d crushed me to him.
His kiss held a hunger, a need that was new. It drove me wild, and gave me hope. Together we made it upstairs and he joined me in the shower. I was late for work.
* * *
The following Wednesday I stood in the kitchen of the club with MJ on one side of me and Dare on the other, both frowning at me. My bruises had faded to a purplish green and were mostly hidden by my makeup. It had been a tense week at work with testosterone skyrocketing every time the guys in the shop focused on my bruised face. But it beat hiding.
“What?” I huffed, hands on hips. “Am I or am I not welcome to cook?”
“Of course, but don’t you need a break?” MJ asked again, wringing her hands.
We’d repeated this conversation twice on the phone. The first time she’d called, tiptoeing around the issue, wondering if she should replace me. Confused by her mixed messages I tracked Dare down, made him stop mid-tattoo and explain. He’d been shocked I was considering cooking, but finally admitted MJ wanted me but felt guilty asking.
I’d called her back and said I’d be there Wednesday and she’d babbled on about whether it might be too soon plus I could avoid Thorn by waiting another week. But I held firm because I didn’t want to fear when I’d see him again. I needed to face him now.
In the end, I got my way.
Now they filled the kitchen with worry and enough testosterone to make me crazy. Turning to Dare, I pointed to the door. “You. Out there doing biker shit.”
He scowled at me.
“Now.” And I glared right back at him.
He left my kitchen, finally. The man would curdle the batter with all his bad attitude.
“You.” I jerked my chin at MJ. “Cook or leave. No fucking talking.”
She smirked at me. “You got some fire in you.” She headed to the counter where I’d set out the bacon and baking sheets.
“Blame the hair.” I fiddled with the radio, blasting out a rock station. Two hours later, MJ and I carried out the first round of meats and cakes. She’d stocked the bar with all the condiments while I flipped countless pancakes.
“I’ll help,” Dare commanded. “He’s not here.”
After we set it up, Dare and MJ dragged me to a table to eat, messing up my morning routine. Only my sixth Wednesday, but I’d found a routine. Mix, cook, serve, clean up, restock, eat and if there was time, bake.
I washed up a few dishes before refilling the platters. I pushed through the swinging door, turned toward the counter, and found myself facing Thorn’s chest. I ducked my head, emptying the pancakes into the serving pan before I dropped them. My hands shook and pulse pounded. I squared my shoulders and met his eyes. I was done cowering.
“Sorry, Lila. I fucked up so bad, hitting you. I...”
Dare headed toward us, but slowed, having heard Thorn’s words.
“Apology accepted. I, uh, didn’t know the rules. Or I’d have said I was Dare’s property.” I walked a fine line here. I refused to apologize for being put on the floor, but I didn’t have to be a bitch about it.
“Food’s best I’ve had,” he rumbled. “You ever make pies when I’m around, lemon meringue is my favorite.” He dipped his head. “Not that you need to do me any favors.”
“Dare said you leave tomorrow?”
He nodded and crunched the edges of the disposable plate. The crumpling edges made the center bow, and I thought it might break any second, just like my nerve.
Dare stepped forward but I gave him a look, hoping he’d understand I could handle this.
“Come by around two and there’ll be some lemon meringue in the kitchen for you.”
His gaze leapt up to mine. “Th-thank
s, Mama.”
“You’re welcome.” I walked slowly away into the kitchen with my hands shaking, needing a few minutes to collect myself. I heard Dare talking to Thorn and breathed easier. Thorn scared me, but not in a panicked way anymore. No doubt he was dangerous, but if I were careful and kept my distance, I’d be okay. I wanted to be part of Dare’s world, which meant finding peace with Thorn. And baking was my language of comfort, so I’d bake him a pie, and remember the lesson I’d learned.
I headed for the dishes since hands in warm water always calmed me. The door swung open minutes later, and Dare stalked toward me with a soft smile, then he crushed my wet hands and the bowl between us when he kissed me, possessed me. The bowl clattered to the floor and the space between us disappeared.
Even when the kiss ended, he caressed my cheek with such tenderness. “You didn’t have to, but it was fucking perfect. To show such class and respect, no one expected it, but it touched me. Touched Thorn—kindness isn’t something he gets a lot of.”
As he hugged me to him, I melted into his big chest. I’d followed my instincts, doing what I always wished someone had done for me.
Everyone deserved kindness.
Chapter Twenty: Lila
Dare and I relaxed on my couch after a morning ride on his bike. He’d declared Friday a day off for both of us and told Zayn to handle the shop. I had loved the three hours on his bike, and now I lay relaxed on his lap while he watched TV. I traced the curve of his biceps and followed the twisting artwork down his arm to the JB boldly designed on his wrist.
I scooted onto his lap. “I’d like a long, hot flame, like a spiral or wall of fire and from it a fire dragon being born with the dragon wrapping over to the top of my shoulder. At the base, a word would start the fire.”
His face shuttered and he leaned back. “Get Zayn to do it. He’s great with what you describe.”
My heart dropped to the floor, splintering. This tattoo symbolized my rebirth and I’d hoped he’d do it.
“Could Zayn do the Sanskrit and you do the dragon?” I didn’t want to beg.
“Oh Sanskrit.” His features changed again. “I’ve done that, cool.” He almost said something else but shut his mouth. “You got some paper, a pen?
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