Page 62 of Savage Heart

Two things occurred to her in that moment: itwastime to hear him out, because she was just as tired of walking on eggshells as he was, and she…well, she was just done with being angry all the time. Did she have reason to be be angry? Yes. Was she allowed to be pissed about how life turned out? Yes…but why? Her life wasn’t roses and diamonds and fluffy kittens, but she was okay with that. She’d survived on her own, raised her daughter, achieved her academic and career dreams—the only thing missing? The man she loved. But he wasn’t missing anymore. And that brought up the second thing that occurred to her—she needed to guard herself against whatever was coming. Because she knew that reliving that night in Tipped was going to hurt like fucking hell, no matter how many years had gone by…because she still fucking loved Erik Skaarsen. He hurt her, he buried her in heartbreak, but she handled it. She walked away, and kept walking, and she did it without him.

“Come on, baby,” Trouble said, pressing a large hand to the small of her back. She immediately stiffened at his touch, but she let him lead her out of the kitchen and into the living room.He directed her to the couch, where she sat, then he sat next to her. His thick thigh brushed against hers, and she held herself tightly, unwilling to let the jitters building in her belly have control.

“Now,” he began, and she sucked in a steadying breath, and turned to meet his gaze.

Goddammit! She shouldn’t have done that, because now she was caught. He reached out and grabbed her hands in his, dragging them toward him to pin them to his leg. Her hands were shaking, and now he knew that. “You’re going to listen—all the way though, and when I’m done, I know you’ll have questions, you’ll want to scream and probably punch me in the face, but I ask that you abstain from beating the shit out of me until you hear it all.” He pinched his lips together, and she narrowed her eyes at him, hating that she was paying so much attention to his mouth in the first place. “You got it?”

Shit.

She nodded. “Yes,” she choked out, then swallowed, hating how scared she was. How vulnerable she was, sitting beside the man who’d hurt her even more than the Russian goons had. “I get it…but you have to know how hard this is for me, Trouble.”

He sighed, squeezing her hands as if to comfort her.

“I know. And it’s my fault. I fucked up, and I kept fucking up once you started working for the club. All that…is on me, but I think that once I get this off my chest, once you know the whole truth…we can work on being—if not friends, then at least co-parents who don’t act like they want to kill each other.”

It was her turn to pinch her lips together; Trouble made a good point. Fuck. She hated that he was making sense. Now that he was in Erika’s life, Liz couldn’t just brush him off, ignore him, or murder him. Liz knew that Erika had already fallen in love with her dad, and Trouble loved his little girl. Liz knew, firsthand, the pain of losing a father, she wouldn’t allow Erika toknow that kind of devastating hurt. For her daughter…she could try.

Leaning back, she tried to pull her hands from Trouble’s grip, but he held fast, squeezing them once more. She could tell, this time, however, it was more for him than it was for her.

Dragging in a deep breath, she held it a moment, the let it out slowly, and the whole time Trouble watched her, his eyes shuttered.

“Go ahead,” Liz finally said, and Trouble’s shoulders straighten as if readying himself for battle.

“You know how I found that letter from Stanford—”

“The one you read and assumed I was giving up my life to stick around, slumming it with you, and attend a second-rate school?” Liz snarked, making Trouble roll his eyes.

“Yes,” he snapped, “that one. I thought you said you were going to listen.”

Liz snorted, shrugging. “Doesn’t mean I can’t comment.”

“Now it does. Just listen—no comments—until I’m done. Just let me get this all out at once, so we can discuss it, then hopefully move forward.”

She huffed. “Fine. Proceed.”

Trouble grunted, his nostrils flaring. “As I was saying…I saw that letter and jumped to the conclusion that you were passing up Stanford to stick around, slumming it with a broken Army vet, and attend a second-rate school.”

Liz sniffed haughtily, fighting back a grin at the flash of amusement in his eyes.

“I knew I couldn’t let you do that, Skizzy; your dream was to be a doctor, and I wanted you to do more than be justanydoctor, I wanted you to be the doctor who got only the best education so you could be the best fucking doctor in the world. I know you loved me, baby, and I loved you—” She stiffened at that and tried to pull her hands from hers again, and again heheld them tight. “And I know you don’t believe me, but I did love you, Elizabeth. I never loved anyone the way I loved you—bone deep, right to my fucking soul, you were it for me. And that’s why I did what I did next. I couldn’t let you stay in Vegas and live a half-hearted dream, not after everything you went through in your life. So…I knew I had to make you go. I knew I had to force you out, and the only way you’d go is if I did something so bad that you’d drop me, leave me behind, and run to Stanford as fast as you could.” He swallowed, sweat beaded at his temple, but he still didn’t let go of her hand to wipe it away. “When I left you in the apartment that morning, I headed to the bar. I told Hound, Tosser, and Benny—he was the bar tender then—that I was scraping you off because you were becoming a problem. They’re loyal men—to me and the club, so they didn’t ask questions. After that….” He closed his eyes, the color draining from his face, and Liz nearly called an end to it. The man looked wrecked. One part of her wanted to tell him it was okay, he didn’t need to finish, but the other part of her, the part that had been living with only half a heart for ten years, wanted to know what happened. She remained silent…and she squeezed his hands. His eyes snapped open, right into hers, and her heart jerked. Pain. So much pain and regret and guilt swirling in those eyes. “I called Bonnie. I told her to come to the bar, that I’d be waiting in the office….”

Oh God.

Her lungs felt like lead balloons, and her skin was too tight. Her hands began shaking like crazy, but they remained enveloped in his…even as his large, capable hands began to shake, too.

“I told Bonnie…” his voice caught, “I told Bonnie I wanted to get rid of you, and that I needed her help. She jumped at the chance, thinkin’ that by helpin’ me she’d get a shot at my patch.”

Liz snorted; of course, Bonnie was a patch chaser, she’d even trapped Tosser with a baby before slowly killing him, and then aiming for Odin’s patch. She got herself killed when she turned on the club to get rid of Skathi.

Trouble’s massive body shuddered, making Liz’s heart pound. Whatever he was about to tell her would hurt like hell.

“I told her that you’d be comin’ by, and that I needed her to…to make it look like we were fuckin’—I never actually touched her, Skizzy, then or ever. I just needed her to make it sound like we were fuckin’ in that office. The glass in the door was opaque, so I knew you’d only see the outline of us, and that the sounds would be enough to give you the idea that we were fuckin’—”

Okay, she’d heard enough. Liz ripped her hands from Trouble’s, and shot to her feet.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to wake Erika, but she couldn’t be bothered in that moment. “You’re telling me that what I heard in that office was…what? Make believe? That I made it all up in my head?”

Trouble rose quickly, reaching for her, but she jerked back out of reach.

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