Page 20 of Saved By the Rogue

He nodded steadily.

"I know," he replied, almost calmly. "I get it. But you can’t do this alone. You need my help. The help of the Dogs. We can help protect you, no matter what he throws at you."

"I think Chuck might have something to say about that," I remarked, laughing slightly. I still remembered the way he had glowered at me, like he couldn’t believe he had to put up with my annoying ass – hell, I couldn’t blame him, I knew I was a lot to take on.

"He might be stubborn, but he’s not going to turn his back on something like this," he replied, a note of certainty in his voice. "He’s dealt with a lot of shit over the course of his life. And he doesn’t walk away from real problems like this. He didn’t walk away from me when I needed it..."

He trailed off, stopping himself, once more, before going any further. My ears pricked up. There it was again, that hint at something else – that nod towards a past he clearly didn’t want to discuss, that only had me more curious than ever. I pushed it down. That wasn’t the point right now. No, the point was getting to the bottom of this, one way or another.

"He’ll help," he finished up, simply. "And so will I. Whatever you need. Whatever we can do."

I lowered my gaze to the sheets in front of me and picked at them for a moment.

"This isn’t exactly how I saw my life unfolding," I admitted to him. "Working with a biker gang against my own family, I mean..."

"Just because you didn’t see it going like this doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do," he replied, an edge of certainty to his voice. "Trust me. Sometimes the last thing you thought you’d wind up in is the thing that makes the most sense."

"Like your painting?"

He smiled.

"Sort of," he agreed. I glanced past him, to where his easels were sitting, all his work laid out in front of us.

"I love your art," I murmured to him.

"You’ve hardly seen it," he laughed.

"Yeah, but I can already tell I love it," I replied. "I don’t have to see a lot of it to know that."

I didn’t want to admit the truth to him – that I loved it because he was the one who had made it, I loved it because I adored the thought of him, hiding out in this apartment, working on these gorgeous pieces, stringing them together and creating something so beautiful, something so enduring. And I loved the thought that I was one of the few people who had ever seen them – one of the few people who had ever been trusted with this sacred sight.

I lifted my coffee to my lips again and sipped it, my heart thudding in my chest. I couldn’t believe I had just made the choice I had, to go against my father like this, to do what I had to do, take him down. But now I’d had a taste of freedom, I was certain I couldn’t go back to what I had known before, or even what he had planned for me next. I couldn’t risk letting this slip through my fingers.

And if I had to put up a fight to keep it - I would.

Chapter Twelve – Jaxon

"You don’t have to come with me," I told her again, as she tucked the helmet under her arm and followed me out to the bike outside.

"Yes, I do," she replied. "You heard Chuck. If I’m going to be staying here, I need to make myself useful and start learning the ropes, right?"

Fuck, it was hard to argue with her when she looked as good as that. I grinned and dropped a kiss on the corner of her smiling mouth.

"Fine," I replied, as I shoved the bag full of ammo under the bike seat. "But don’t land me in any trouble, you hear me?"

"What’s that mean?” she asked with a pout.

"You know," I fired back, and she rolled her eyes playfully.

"I’ve never once gotten in trouble in my entire life," she joked. "I’m not going to start now."

"Good to hear it," I replied, as I threw my leg over the bike – I held out a hand for her, helping her climb on behind me, and she slipped on her helmet and wrapped her arms around me tight.

"Okay," she told me. "We can go now."

With her head pressed into my back, we pulled away from the tattoo shop, where Lee was watching the counter while I was out. I had filled them in on what had happened with Bailey, who was still handcuffed to a bed at the club doctor’s hideout, ready to be interrogated if we needed more information, and everyone was on high alert.

But that didn’t mean we could just stop everything we were doing, and Chuck had sent me out to drop some ammo off at the other compound on the far side of Atwood. It was attached to the bar where Chuck had first found me, the Kennels, and it was a meeting place for most of the club’s deals, serving as a neutral ground for our friends and enemies alike to meet and try to thresh out an agreement, if they were open to one.

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