Page 20 of Ripper's Redemption

Tara isn’t some foolish teenager. She’s a grown woman who can understand the serious and severity of a situation.

Gears snarls, stepping closer, balling his fists up at his side. “Shut the fuck up, Ripper, especially when you don’t know shit.”

“Why should I?” I retort, the heat of the moment pushing me forward. “You think you were protecting her, but you just ended up pushing her away.”

“Shut the fuck up before I shut your mouth for you,” Gears shouts, his patience on thin ice.

He swings at me, his fist connecting with my jaw.

Pain explodes across my face, but I don’t back down. There’s no way in fucking hell I’m going to.

“Dad!” Tara’s voice rings out, slicing through the thick tension between me and her father.

She pushes through the crowd, her eyes blazing with fury. “You just can’t leave things be, can you?”

“Keep your nose out of this, Tara,” Gears warns, but she’s already in front of me, inspecting the damage.

I step in front of her, nostrils flaring. “No, you’re not gonna fuckin’ talk to her like that.”

Gears takes another step toward me, “You want more? I’m happy to hit you again, you idiotic fuck.”

Sydney snaps, her voice echoing through the room. “Gears!”

“Come on, Rip. It’s not worth it.” Tara mutters, grabbing my arm and attempting to drag me away from the chaos. “Why don’t I get you cleaned up?”

I end up giving in and Tara leads me out of the clubhouse, I can’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and anticipation.

“Come on, let’s get in my car,” she says, turning to me. Her voice softens, eyes scanning my bruised face with concern. “I’m taking you back to my place.”

I follow her without hesitation, her presence a balm to the raw ache in my jaw.

We get into her car and she drives us into town, until we’re parked behind Tart. “You said we were goin’ to your place, not Tart.”

Tara laughs, “Yeah, well, I live in the apartment above the place. So, welcome to my humble abode.”

Tara leads me around the corner to a stairwell that goes up to the second level.

We climb the narrow stairs to her apartment above it and she unlocks the door.

The moment we’re in the apartment she’s dishing out orders.

“Sit,” she commands gently, pointing to a worn leather couch as she flicks on a lamp.

The warm light bathes the room in a golden glow, casting shadows that dance along the walls.

It’s cozy here, so much different than the harsh and rugged colors in the clubhouse.

“Yes ma’am,” I mumble, sinking onto the couch. My head throbs, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the pain wash over me.

“Don’t be a smartass, Rip,” she retorts, rummaging through a cabinet before pulling out a first-aid kit.

She kneels in front of me, assessing the damage her father caused.

Her movements are quick and efficient, but there’s a tenderness to her touch as she dabs at the cut on my lip.

“Why do you even bother?” I ask, wincing slightly as the antiseptic stings. “I’m just causing trouble.”

“You’re not just trouble, Rip,” she says softly, meeting my gaze with those sage green eyes. “You defended me, and to be honest, you didn’t have to. I really appreciate you sticking up for me like that.”

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