Page 14 of Absolution

The longer he has his arm around her, the more the tension builds in my body. Her face remains hidden as another female bartender joins them in the huddle, comforting her.It couldn’t be her. Could it?

My heart stops, when I realize the source of my tension as the brunette turns around and reveals a familiar face.

Ricca.

My body instantly freezes into place, unwilling to move in case this is all a daydream. Months apart, and her presence still affects me like she’d never left. Her crescent-shaped brown eyes that have haunted my every dream. The perfectly placed curves of her body. Even the scars that dotted her skin like battle scars screamed out for me to kiss each and every one of them. She was my everything back when I could call her mine. My beautifully damaged creature. My siren.

Every night I felt her calling to me. Screaming for me to find her. Begging to come to her. Yes, I know that thought is fucking bat shit crazy, but I know what I felt. It’s hard to describe something that has never existed, until she walked into my life. Walked being a relative term that could be used to describe her. Ricca was more like a delicate flower with thorns. Delicate and beautiful, until the need to strike hit her. If you brushed her petals the right way, she was soft and loving. But brush them the wrong way, and she would leave you bleeding and writhing in pain. She was the embodiment of a vengeful goddess, and she was mine.

My eyes stay on her, watching her every move and every touch she is given by her boss. A low growl settles into my throat as the scene plays out before me. It took me months to get where he is now. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. I start to get up and walk away, but she skirts around the edge of the bar, and finally gives me a full glimpse of her. It’s in that moment that I know no matter how hard she pushes, that I’ll never leave. Not without seeing her first.

Years of abuse, and fighting to stay alive dulled her radiance. Yet here, she shines like the face of the sun on the longest day of the year. Her hair has remained long, beautiful threads, but it’s light blonde color has now been replaced with a chocolate brown, which thanks to Voodoo, I now know to be her natural color. The shade of her hair has never mattered more to me than it does in this moment. The dark color encircles her face like an angel’s halo, and I love it. Her face is natural, and lacking of the war paint, that most women cling to hid their flaws. The make-up she wore back in California was her own version of camouflage. It hid her pain, but no matter how much she wore, I still saw through it. She didn’t need it, and seeing her like this was like learning to breathe again after someone stole your breath away.

The lean tone of her body has been replaced by even more beautiful curves. Her hips are more rounded, and her perfect ass teases me as she sashays back behind the bar. The tight jeans she looks to have painted on sends my hardening cock rubbing deeper into my zipper. I try to adjust myself, but even I know it’s not going to diffuse the critical mass situation happening below. As much as I want to rush to her, and fuck her back into her senses for leaving me, I stay. She may not even be mine anymore.

Jealously coils inside of me when a dark thought flourishes in my mind. Did she need to leave me to find herself again? Did this place bring her shine back? How could I take her away from this place if she’s happy here? Question after question fills my head, rooting the seed of doubt further.

Every bone in my body screams at me to go to her, but I force myself to wait to see if she senses me here. The last thing I want to do is to scare her off. Patience may not be a virtue of mine, but I need to take this slowly. I watch her intently as she shivers from the touch of her boss, that I know made her uncomfortable, and my reaction suddenly makes sense. While the others around her may not have noticed it, I did. I spent months observing her and making note of the little things about her. Just like her aversion to the touch of anyone outside her circle of trust. And trust me, it’s lonely in that circle because until she took off, I believe I was the lone male member in the group alongside Dani. It took months for Ricca to be comfortable with me staying in the same room with her, after her time with Twisted Tribe. Those fuckers tried to leave her for dead, but she wasn’t meant to die in that basement. Anger courses in my veins just thinking about how she looked when I found her. Blood soaked everything, and her skin was more bruised than the beautiful tanned hues she sports now. How she survived I will never know. She slept in my bed while I took the ratty couch I had dragged in from one of the outer garages. It wasn’t exactly comfortable with the spring that dug into my back, but she needed space and time to heal. It was the least I could do to I give that to her.

Her eyes remain downcast as she pours a draft beer into a glass for the customer to her left. She slides the glass with ease across the bar top, before motioning to the other bartender. She mutters something to her as she flips up the counter of the bar and walks out from behind it. She starts to walk away, but stops. For the first time since I spotted her, her eyes lift to take in the room, almost as if she was searching for someone in the crowd. She stands still for nearly a minute, before shaking her head in likely disbelief. With one last look around, she stalks out of the side exit outside, giving me my opportunity.

Tossing a twenty dollar bill down on the table for Brenda, I slide from the booth. My stomach grumbles in a mix of protest from the lack of food and nerves, but food isn’t what will satisfy me now that I’ve finally found her. She is what I’ve hungered for the last six months, and will be the only thing that satisfies the gnawing pain inside of me.

It’s now or never, Ratchet. Take it slow, and let’s see how things go.

I stalk towards the side door she escaped from, and open it quietly. I look to the left and find no one, but when I turn right, I see her profile illuminated in the dark by a neon sign above her head. The quiet creak of the door closing behind me doesn’t startle her. I take a deep breath, before I move a few steps closer. Her tall and curvy form leans caressed by the night against the wall. Had I known it was her who was touched without permission, Johnny Boy wouldn’t have walked out of this place. No man deserved to touch her smooth skin. Even me, but for some reason, she allowed me into her world for just a split second.

I watch as her chest heaves up and down in a panicked reaction from her encounter in the bar, like I had seen so many times before during her recovery process at the clubhouse. Even the slightest touch or accidental brush, from one of my brothers, would send her into a panic attack. At first, it killed me to watch her attacks as a spectator, but as she let me in, I became a source of comfort for her. Seeing her like this again, my body riots for me to jump in and soothe her.

Just do it, pussy. Pull the Band-Aid off, and talk to her.

Shrouded in darkness, I approach her, but she hears me and her head snaps in my direction.

There goes quietly approaching her. Smooth move, asshat.

“Johnny, if that’s you, your ass better get to stepping the fuck on out of here. Willie will kill you if you darken his door again.”

“Johnny boy won’t be bothering you anymore, Siren.”

Her body tenses and her eyes grow wide, before she gasps.

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