by Debra Kayn
He hadn't been sure where he and Risa were headed. Now he knew, and no one was going to stop him from taking what he wanted.
Upstairs, he knocked on her door and tried the handle, which turned in his hand. He let himself in. He was past indulging her and proving he was a better man than what she'd had. He wanted her, and tonight, he'd show her exactly what she could expect from him. Time continued to go forward, and she'd have to figure out fast that she could take him for his word.
She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. He walked toward the hallway. "Risa?"
He stood in the opened doorway of her bedroom, and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, still clothed in the extra short cutoffs, tank, and wearing her sneakers she had on earlier. She gazed at him, but she wasn't looking at him.
Tonight had shocked her. "Angel?"
No response, but she was there. She'd inhaled sharply when he'd stepped into the room. Her hands rubbed her bare thighs. Her gaze followed him the closer he got to her. Sitting beside her, he moved to pick her up and put her on his lap, but she placed her hands on him and pushed away. He let her go.
"Talk to me." He stayed sitting, watching her walk across the room to get away from him.
She glanced at him and shook her head. He grabbed onto the edge of the mattress and squeezed. "I don't have much patience when it comes to head games. If you have a problem with what happened tonight, then tell me."
Her breasts rose in anger and her eyes narrowed. He clenched his teeth and looked down at his hands, thinking he should've worked more steam off at the bar, because he still wanted to go two rounds and beat the shit out of someone until he had control of himself. Risa would learn not to screw with him, he played it straight, and he expected the same courtesy back. Nothing that happened tonight should've come as a surprise to her. He was a biker. He was Bantorus until the day he died.
Just because things shifted between them tonight, she had to know how he was feeling. Hell, he'd told her he was here to protect her and he'd let nobody hurt her.
That's why he took her out to the bar. He had an agenda. The statement he made about her belonging to the Bantorus MC would only help her.
He approached her, and she continued to buck every attempt at communication. He cupped her face in his hands. "This is who I am. I talk with my fists. I take care of what's mine. I rode into town expecting a club and everything it encompasses. I got more, because you were here, and I recognized something in you, all covered in silver, that had me thinking about you when I was trying to sleep, wanting to hear your voice when other people were talking, and hurrying to finish my business so I could put my hands on you. You're making me work for the pleasure I know I'll find with you, and as much as I'm willing to prove to you that you're worth every frustration, I'm not willing to baby you or stand here and quote my strengths so you'll give me the time of day. You're looking at me with desperation in your eyes, wanting me to understand what you're thinking, and I don't have a fucking clue. So, you're going to have to fill me in. Just don't fucking shut me out or I'll walk straight out that door."
Several seconds ticked by, and he wanted to shake some sense into her. What more could he say to get through to her?
"Don't ever, ever, defend who I am, again. To anyone in this town," she said, through a locked jaw.
He braced himself at the vehemence coming from her. "What kind of shit is that? Tell me who you are, because I thought I had this all figured out and knew exactly who Risa Kohl is."
She pushed away from him, walked two steps, and turned, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't think I know who I am? I've lived with the knowledge of what my mother did for a living my whole life. I walked out of a bordello every day to leave for school, knowing none of the kids would be able to talk with me, play with me, or call me their friend because of who my mother was. I respected Nate, who had no reason to claim me as his daughter, and every time he looked at me with love in his eyes, I died a little inside, because it was a lie. I started Silver Girls exactly a week after he passed away, because I was tired of pretending every time I walked down the street that people weren't whispering, ogling, and planning what they'd do to me. Unlike you, every man in Federal knows what I am. They don't lie and pretend I'm somebody else. They'll give me money, they'll leave their wives, they'll promise me the moon, and shit marriage proposals out their ass, one after another, to try to find out if Lou Lou Kohl was everything her reputation said she was by getting between my legs, because everyone thinks I'm just like my mom."
"Angel, stop right—"
"No. You don't get it. Tonight, I heard you defend me and take responsibility for who I am...threatening everyone to stay away from me. That's my job, and because you stood up for me, you're feeding everyone's thoughts that I'm just like my mom. Don't you get it?" She grabbed her purse off the dresser and threw it at Kurt in a fit of anger.
He caught the bag and flung it to the bed, stalking toward her until he had her upper arms, not letting her walk away from him. "I don't get it, angel."
"I did what everyone expected or feared. I opened an entertainment club where women stripped. They all believe I'm following in her footsteps, but I'm not. On my own terms, I'm rebuilding my reputation. I have never slept with a man for money. I stand before them naked, letting them have their look, and that's so I can stand up tall when I run into them at the grocery store on a Wednesday afternoon, or wave to them on their way to church on Sunday mornings, because I have nothing to hide. I know, they know, and in twenty years everyone will know, I'm not a prostitute." She sucked in air. "I'll prove to them all. Someday, I'll erase what my mom has done to me, so I can raise a daughter or a son, who will never have to look into someone else's eyes and see that they're not good enough."
By the time she finished, he could barely hear her, but he'd caught enough. "Angel, that right there, makes you the person that you are. No one can make you be a shadow of your mom, because you're nothing like her."
"That's not true. There will always be men who've heard the stories. They know the first six years of my life were spent living in a whorehouse. It's not good enough that I guard myself and try to fit in with everyone else. I have to show them, in a way only they can understand that nobody can use me, no matter if I'm naked in the street and flaunting myself. I never wanted to end up like my mother." Her eyes shined with tears that refused to fall. "And tonight, you told them all I was your woman, and that's a lie because you refused to sleep with me even when I wanted to. That doesn't matter to them. I'm a prostitute's daughter who doesn't know who her dad is...he could be any of the men in town over the age of fifty. What you told them proved to everyone that I'm someone to use, and there's a definite proof that you need to protect me."
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, before letting her go.
He marched to the opposite side of the wall, and punched a hole in the sheetrock. His muscles spasmed and his vision centered on rage. He'd fucked up, and he'd made her feel like the very thing that had her running scared.
Over and over, he punched the wall to squash the damage he'd caused. Pain ricocheted up his hands, and he continued to numb the hurt over what he'd done. Risa was the exact opposite of her mother, and he'd set her back. He'd made her feel worthless.
His hand hit the solid two by six boards and he grunted in agony, punching out with his other fist, until hands grabbed him and feminine screams reached his ears. It wasn't a crowd cheering him on. It was one woman's horror at what he was doing. He flung himself away from his MC brothers who'd came into the room and connected his gaze with Risa through the crowd gathering around her, protecting her. From him.
Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, validating what he'd done. All these years he'd focused his anger, his commitment to succeeding, his drive to ignore the faults of his own mother, and now he'd ended up hurting someone because of his anger. She'd already faced judgment, and rose above her past.
"Angel," he said, holding his hand out to her.
Her gaze went to his bloody hand and she stepped back, bumping into the dresser. He stared at her and spoke to the others. "Get out."
When the girls only crowded around Risa tighter and his men stayed in position, he lowered his voice and said, "Get. Out."
The men removed the girls, but Remmy hesitated beside him. "Prez, check yourself."
Without taking his gaze of Risa, he shook his head roughly. Rage and frustration seeped from his pores, but he'd already done too much, gone too far. "I'd never hurt her."
His words were for himself. He needed the reminder that Risa wasn't from his lifestyle. She barely knew anything about him. He promised her a better man and to do that, he had to tell her everything.
"Get out," Kurt repeated.
Remmy slipped out of the room, closing the door. Kurt stayed away from Risa, giving her space. He ignored his hands dripping blood onto the hardwood floor. The pain numbed him.
"I'd never hurt you," he whispered. "This is me, and I fight. It's how I handle what I can't control. When I have a grip on life, I escape by riding. But, I never fucking ever hit a woman."
She nodded, reaching out and bracing herself against the dresser. He held up his hands. "I'm not coming near you. I promise. But I get how you don't know that."
In the past, during his rages, his brother Lee would've talked to him until the urge left him. His dad would've hauled him into the garage and had him beat a body bag until he couldn't lift his arms any longer. Rain would've forced him to do some stupid shit task at the bar and stayed with him the whole time to reinstate that the club had his back. But that was years ago, and he hadn't needed anyone to help him control his anger since he was twenty-one years old and tried to speak to his mom at Banjoey's place, and she refused to see him.
"Your mom..." He swallowed and lowered his voice. "Whether she had a choice or not, did the best she could for the life she'd made for herself. She gave you breath, and though I don't understand your fight to correct her mistakes, I admire you for wanting to make something more out of your life. But, I'm damn glad she had a daughter and she's standing in front of me. I only wish she wasn't afraid and angry at me."
She swiped at her cheek. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's over."
"No." He moved slowly over to the bed and sat. "It's not over, angel, because what you don't know is at the bar earlier, I wasn't proving I could have you. I was stating that I'm claiming you. When the fight was over, there was no doubt in any of the men's head that you're mine. I'm not fucking around, it's you and me. This isn't some cheap moment in time where I'm going to let you deal with what the town thinks you do."
She raised her hand to her throat. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, we're together. You have a problem with any of those men, and they know I'll do something about it. It means, from here on out, you belong to me, and together we'll figure out how to make this work. I think you're worth everything, and I'm willing to put my life in front of you, so someday you can have the son or daughter that can walk around town and never have a moment of doubt that they're not loved, and nobody will look at you with anything less than respect in their eyes and in their thoughts."
She squeezed her eyes closed, shook her head, and met his gaze. "If you claim you're in love with me, you'll be lying. We've had a few moments in a stressful week, granted they were great moments up until tonight, but you've seen the fun and flirty side of me, not the bitchy side or when I'm short tempered."
His chest warmed and he smiled. "Angel, if that wasn't a temper you threw my way ten minutes ago, I look forward to seeing you get pissed."
"I'm serious." She crossed her arms. "You're saying we have a future together."
"We have right now together. Each day, we'll see if we have the next twenty-four hours. Pretty soon, it'll be a month we've had together, and then a year." He inhaled deeply. "Bikers live for the moment. We don't know what will happen tomorrow. Life is precious. I learned that the hard way, and tonight, I learned that I'd fight anyone who threatens to take you away from me. So, yeah, we have a future, angel, for however long we can make it."
She turned around, facing away from him. It took everything he had not to walk to her and make her understand. He sucked at expressing himself. But he'd shown her tonight what she could expect from him, and he'd scared her.
Risa walked through the doorway to the bathroom. The sound of water ran, and Kurt let his chin drop to his chest. He stared at his bloody, scarred hands. He remembered his dad telling him someday he'd understand why a man would willingly give up his life for a woman. But he always believed that someday would never come.
Now he was afraid of losing the woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Kurt sat in the bedroom after having proposed the most whacked out thought that Risa could possibly jump into a relationship after what he'd done tonight. Risa shut off the faucet. He'd promised to take care of her and they'd have a future. A minute-by-minute relationship.
She wrung out the washrag and grabbed the Peroxide and box of bandages from her medicine cabinet. After time, everyone in town might believe they were the real deal, but they'd also think she was insane.
Was she losing her ability to think rationally?
Had her mom suffered from the same sickness, believing the words of any man who wanted to get into her panties?
She sighed and let her chin fall to her chest. Except, Kurt didn't have sex with her after she gave him permission. Even when she practically panted after him, he still proved to her that he was better than any other man.
She'd fallen for his lines, his gruffness, even knowing nothing about him. She glanced out the bathroom door, but he sat out of view. Okay, she knew more than the basics about him.
He had a brother who talked a lot, but he wasn't here as a member of Bantorus. He loved his dad and stepmom. He thought of his biker brothers as family, and he respected her enough not to sleep with her. He spoke the truth, honored her enough to listen. Okay, he demanded that she talk and was more than willing to listen. He was fair in dealing with their business agreement. He respected her employees. He protected her from gunfire, and...liked her in short shorts.
God, he was better than the typical man.
He held her all night long, not making a move, because he wanted to prove she could trust him. She raised her chin. He called her on the phone to hear her voice. When it came to business, he put aside his attitude, and came up with a mutually satisfying agreement to keep her in his life.
Blind to what was going on around her, she'd used every excuse not to let him know her. Until tonight, when he saw her at her worst and learned the truth. At the bar, she'd jumped to conclusions twice, and gave him no chance to communicate with her.
He wasn't much of a talker, but he'd spilled everything out tonight.
She walked straight to Kurt and kneeled at his feet. Wrapping the warm, wet towel around his right hand, she gently massaged his knuckles cleaning off the blood.
She cleared her throat, knowing she had to communicate and no clue where to start, she said, "So, you're a professional boxer?"
He stared at her for the longest time, and she had second thoughts about asking more details about his life. Maybe it wasn't the right time or he was still mad, but she wanted to know.
"Hardly. The pros are a bunch of pussies." He let her work on his hands, even though she knew they hurt. "I fought in the underground fight ring. No awards, no title, only the knowledge that I was the best for fourteen years."
She glanced up at him. "Illegal fighting?"
"Un-sanctioned." He shrugged. "No rules, no doctors, no refs. I worked my way up the ladder at sixteen years old under one of the greatest fighters of all time. I earned enough to buy the Sterling Building, and then I won enough to buy the mine property. Once I had a big enough cushion, I went to the table and asked to open a charter club in Federal and expand Bantorus MC's territory."
"Your club—Bantorus MC, they supported you while you fought?" Sh
e shook her head and moved the cloth to his other hand. "Nevermind, I imagine a motorcycle club doesn't care about rules."
"We're Bantorus," he murmured. "Yeah, they supported me. Even my stepmom. Taylor hated to see me fight, but let me know she was proud of me."
He remained quiet, letting her finish scrubbing his hand. When she was done, she let them air dry and sat back on her heels. "You mentioned you'd learned long ago to take one day at a time. Did something bad happen to make you think that way?"
His jaw twitched in a flash of pain. "My step-mom was abducted and beaten by Los Li, a gang affiliated with the Mexican mafia, when I was a boy. She almost died, and I watched my dad lose hope of ever having the people that he loved in his life. Every day since, my dad wakes up and decides that he'll live the life he wants...that day. The day he's living means everything to him, and he doesn't take it for granted, because no one knows what tomorrow will bring. He set a good example."
She took the time to pour the peroxide over his hands, catching the drips with the washrag. "Your stepmom...she's okay now, right?"
"As right as you can be bearing the scar on your face from her time with Los Li and everyone knowing and remembering what she went through, then yes. She's a lot like you. Everyone can look at her, be reminded of what happened to her—and what they were saying about her wasn't good, angel. She can't outrun the truth of what she's experienced because the scar on her face and the memories in her head are a daily reminder." He turned his hands over and let her wash out his palms. "You'll meet her on Friday. She'll be riding with dad."
