Page 43 of Strider's Misstep

I’m dumbstruck. “You took me to see her to show me there was no room in your life for anyone else.”

“I took you to see her so you’d understand I had nothing to offer. Hell, Jasmine. I hated myself after I made you abort our baby. I panicked. At the time, it felt right. But after? It didn’t just tear you apart. It tore me into pieces. And, what was worse was knowing I’d made you do that as compensation to a woman who, even at that time, was beyond the point she’d ever understand. You could have had the baby, paraded it in front of her, and she wouldn’t have given a damn.”

“Helo said you thought you’d caused her condition.” I offer it as support, not accusation.

Again, his shoulders rise and fall. “I couldn’t see any other reason for it. If you’re interested, Chaz has thought I’ve been an idiot all along. Punishing myself for something that probably wasn’t even down to me. Even if the crash caused her illness, I hadn’t lost control of the bike on purpose.”

There’s the rusty taste of blood in the air that I breathe and dead bodies around me. It seems an incongruous place to have such a talk now. But somehow, for us, it’s right to have this conversation in a place of darkness. Maybe it’s the start of us both finding our way back into the light.

And the right time for my confession. “I told myself I was leaving as you’d shown me how much you loved your wife and that there was no way I’d ever be able to measure up to her memory, even after she’d died.” Strider goes to speak, but I let my words come out fast. “But I felt guilty too. I knew I was still married. I wasn’t free. If I’d hung around until Anna died, even if you wanted me, you couldn’t have me.”

He surprises me when he spits out with vehemence, “It’s a shame Barclay Aster is dead.” As my mouth drops open, he continues, “I’d have wanted him alive, to tear him limb from limb myself. I’d have made him suffer tenfold for everything he put you through.” His hands do that familiar action of pulling his hair back into a ponytail before letting it drop. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us about him and what he’d put you through?”

“He is,was,” I make the correction with no little satisfaction, “a powerful man with powerful connections. The Wretched Soulz gave me sanctuary. How could I thank you by bringing the Mafia down on your head?” I look around and see Helo being helped out by Chaz, presumably being taken to see the medic they’d been talking about. “It seems like I now owe you my life. Somehow, you got Helo into the signing, so she was there when I needed help.” I bite my lip, hoping she’ll have no long-lasting repercussions.

He reads me so well as he tries to put my mind at ease. “Helo will be fine. But yeah…” he pauses to pull his hair back again. When it flops forward, he continues, “That book, when we realised it probably wasn’t fiction, when Mayhem…” At my look of confusion, he explains, “The best data analyst around and a Soul from LA, well, when he discovered that you’d written a sanitised version of the truth, we had an inkling who we were dealing with. I wanted to talk to you and explain about Anna, but until you started making arrangements with StoryTeller’s ol’ lady, I had no idea how to find you. I was over the moon to know I had a chance to see you in Dallas—I’d planned to meet up with you after the signing.” He pauses and his brow draws down. “Then we fuckin’ realised if we knew where you’d be, so would anyone else who was looking for you. So…” he breaks off, his face lightens and he grins. “Chaz offered his secret weapon. His woman.”

“I’ll never be able to repay what I owe you.”

He moves closer. “I know ways you can try. Be my woman, Jasmine. Agree to be my ol’ lady, and now we’re both free, my wife.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

STRIDER

Ihold my breath, waiting for Jasmine to answer, but we’re interrupted by a commotion as the man who Helo disabled downstairs is brought up, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, but struggling despite his bindings. They haven’t thought to gag him, so he’s swearing up a storm.

It’s a stark reminder of where we are and who I am.

While Jasmine already knows more about the Soulz than Anna ever did, I have an overwhelming need to shield her from the dark side of MC life. Worried that she’d never agree to stay with me if she sees what I truly can be like.

Wanting to hide her from any further distress, I move close, pulling her to me, turning her face into my chest to protect her from the sight of him being manhandled. But I can’t block out her ears, and I shout, “Shut him up.”

Jasmine struggles in my hold. I don’t want to hurt her, so I allow her to get loose. She pulls away from me and spits on the man who Shotgun and Buzz have firmly in their hold. Turning to me, she states, “I want to be there when you question him. I want to hear about everything Barclay planned. Everything he was involved in.”

“No,” I refute softly. “Jas, you really don’t want to see or hear that.”

She regards me haughtily. “No? Strider, I’ve just heard he’s left me a legacy, and I’m entitled to know what. And don’t you think for a moment that I can’t imagine the types of persuasion you’ll use. I might even have some ideas of my own. A man says a lot when he’s threatened with the loss of his balls or dick.”

It’s not only me unable to hide a hiss, but her words have me rearranging my thoughts.

Anna never wanted to be involved in the club. She’d never set foot in the clubhouse, let alone when we had our parties. But Jasmine’s already been exposed to all that. My inner man wants to protect her like I had my deceased wife, but now I realise, Jasmine’s cut from a different cloth. She’s not lived a protected life. She’s been exposed to horrors I don’t want to think about.

She’s proving herself stronger than I ever expected. She’s proving herself as…

Shotgun puts it into words. “That, there, Prez, is an ol’ lady worth the title.”

I raise my eyes to the heavens, then look down at her. Hoping to fuck I’m reading her right and not making yet another misstep, I lean down and speak directly into her ear so only she can hear me. I offer, “I accept. Full involvement. But only if you let me fuck you first.”

She draws in air as she gasps. Her cheeks flush. She looks down, then raises her gaze to me. “Your wife only died a short while ago. My husband less than an hour ago. My head’s in no space to make decisions right now. I can’t agree to be your old lady, let alone your wife. But if your other offer is still on the table, then after months of being alone and only able to use my vibrator, then I think working out our sexual frustrations sounds nice.”

Nice?If I can only get such an insignificant rating, I need to up my game.Nicewasn’t the way I’d describe our previous encounters. Instead of being annoyed or abashed, my cock starts to thicken as I think of ways I can improve her assessment. But I’m sure not going to awe her with my prowess in an unknown clubhouse or anonymous hotel room. I need to get her back to Austin.

Shotgun and Buzz have just disappeared with the man they brought up from the basement as Rufus’s prospect had delivered the promised truck, then disappeared just as we’d requested.

“Let’s go,” I tell her, suddenly in a rush to get her back to my club, my room, my bed. I’m going to fuck her so good she’ll never again want to leave me.

She chuckles at my impatience and, taking the hand that I offer, comes out into the sweet fresh air.

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