Road to Freedom
Page 21
He walked away again, and I died a little more inside.
* * *
One month ago...
I groaned, trying not to make any sudden movements. The pain from the injuries of the most recent beating Michael had given me took over all coherent thought.
My brother had shown up unannounced and informed me that Kinsey and I were going with him. Apparently, someone had squealed that Michael was hurting me, and Valen had flown into a rage, hauling his ass over here.
He and I were in a heated argument about that very fact when a knock at the door sounded and Badger pushed his way in.
No. He couldn’t be here. I had to shut this down.
“Get out!” I snapped.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he growled. “When did the asshole do that to you?”
“Knox—”
“No, Quin, this stops now.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I can’t believe I let you shut me out. This stops now.”
Valen shook his head. “Pack, Quin. Not up for discussion. Badger, come with me.”
Badger crossed his arms. “Give me a minute, Alamo.”
“Badge—”
“Alamo,” he said slowly. “Quin and I need a minute. Alone.”
Valen left us and I shook my head. “Knox,” I rasped. “You can’t be here.”
He stared down at me. “Bullshit.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“He hasn’t yet.”
“Don’t be so flippant.” I blinked back tears. “You almost died, Knox.”
And he had. I’d kept tabs on him by calling my friend, Andi Rivers, who was an ER nurse at our local hospital. I’d contacted her via a burner phone (Michael hadn’t found that yet), and she’d filled me in on what she could without giving out anything confidential.
“I heard you,” he whispered.
“Heard me?”
“Your voice. You were telling me you loved me.”
The night that Michael had left, I’d begged Andi to go to Knox’s room and hold the phone to his ear.
I stifled a sob. “Stop.”
His hands cupped my face gently. “Did it mean nothing to you?”
Memories of our first and last night together flooded my heart. He had no idea just how much it had meant. I’d held onto the memory of his touch, and called on it when I needed to hide from my pain.
“Stop,” I whispered.
“Eyes, baby.”
I shook my head.
His thumbs wiped my tears from my cheeks, whisper softly, and his mouth touched mine for a brief second. “I love you, Quinlan. I told you that three years ago and it’s still a fact—”
“We can’t—”
“I swear to Christ, woman, you say we can’t ‘do this’ one more time, we’re gonna have a problem,” he growled. But he growled in a sweet and gentle way, a way that didn’t scare me. A way that made me long for him even more.
I lost my battle with my sadness and dropped my cheek to his chest. “He. Will. Kill. You.”
“Welly.” He wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair. “No. He. Won’t.”
I let out a quiet snort. He’d called me “Welly” from the second he found out there were two meanings for my name. In Irish, it meant graceful...but in Gaelic, it meant shaped like a well. He could have been sweet and called me Gracie, but no...he called me Welly.
When I was fifteen, I hated it. But...when I got to know him better, and realized he only called me Welly when we were alone, I loved it. Cherished it. Held it close to my heart.
“If anything happens to you again...”
“Quit,” he demanded, lifting my face again. “We’re gonna get the fucker, then you, me, and Kins are gonna finally be a family. Hear?”
I studied him. “I can’t—”
“Goddammit, Quin, I’m—”
“You’re supposed to be packing,” Valen snapped, stalking into the room.
“I’m going.” I sighed and pushed away from Badger, heading for my closet.
“You seriously gonna stand and watch?” Alamo challenged.
“Yeah, man. You got a problem with that?”
I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a suitcase.
“She’s married,” my brother continued.
“No longer give a fuck,” he said.
“He’s gonna make this hard on her.”
I walked back into the room in time to see Badger scowl. “And I’m gonna deal with that, but it won’t touch her.”
“Okay, you two, quit talking about me like I’m not in the room.” I threw my suitcase on the bed. “If I’m going to get this done, it has to be soon. Michael’s due home in an hour.”
“What do you need me to grab for Kinsey?” Valen asked.
“I’ll do it,” I said, and waved them out of the room. “Just let me get dressed first.”
“She said something about Moana.”
I sighed. “Of course she did. I’ll grab it.”
Valen nodded and headed out of the room. Knox lingered, but I smiled, and he studied me for a second before turning around and walking out the door. I changed, then packed and set my bag out on the landing.
After packing a bag for Kinsey (and discovering my house filled with bikers), I followed my brother out to his truck, grabbing the car seat and stroller from my car, and driving in silence to his home. I’d never been more scared (or felt safer) in my life.
* * *
Redeeming the Biker’s Past is coming soon!
Piper Davenport is the alter-ego of New York Times Bestselling Author, Tracey Jane Jackson. She writes from a place of passion and intrigue, combining elements of romance and suspense with strong modern-day heroes and heroines.
She currently resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two kids.
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