Page 65 of Traitor

I smacked his arm, stinging my hand. “You son-of-a-bitch! It should count for something? How could you go to her after what we had?”

My screaming had dissolved into sobbing again. This was about so much more than Sandra. I knew that I couldn’t voice my real question—how could you leave my mother to die after everything we had?

Had it only ever been a big thing to me?

He gave me a warning look before growling, “Don’t you hit me again.”

I slammed the palms of my hands into his chest and he stumbled back. “Why? Are you going to hit me back like your dad hit you?”

I immediately drew back and covered my mouth in horror, but the words were already out there. I tried reaching for him as he backed away.

“Mike,” I started, but he shook his head. “Mike, please. I’m sorry!”

His jaw clenched and I could see his pulse jumping in his neck. He opened his mouth and then closed it again before shaking his head angrily. “I witnessed my first murder on my eleventh birthday. My father killed a woman right in front of me—didn’t understand why I wasn’t in awe of him.”

I felt sick and started to apologize again, but he stopped me. “I’m not finished. When I was eighteen, I got jumped. My old man was so afraid of me turning into a pussy that he forced me to learn how to fight like he did. I hit the kid with an uppercut and he fell back, cracked his head on a curb. I fucking killed him with one stupid, unlucky punch. I called my mom and do you know who she sent to bail me out?”

I nodded. It all made sense.

“She called my father. He and the club took care of it. Now, I’m nothing more than a crooked cop on a MC payroll because of a mistake I made at eighteen.”

I covered my mouth to stifle my sobs. He’d sold himself to his father’s biker gang before he’d even had a chance to go straight.

Mike continued, “I’ve done a lot of fucked up things in my life and you’re right, I may be no better than he is. I’ve covered up a lot of shit for the wrong people, but what I have with you is real and I have never once faked my feelings. I am so far from perfect and I feel like I ruin you just by looking, but I am not letting you run away from this.” He dropped to his knees in the mud. “Forgive me. You have to forgive me, Lauren. Please. Forgive me. Forgive all of the fucking stupid things I’ve done to hurt you.”

He kept repeating the words until something inside of me broke. The armor surrounding my heart gave way, leaving me exposed.

Raw.

Two broken souls—who’d had their childhood stolen from them and been forced to resort to other means to survive.

Were we really all that different?

The rain battered our bodies, yet cleansed our souls. He knelt in the mud in front of me and for the first time, I saw him—truly saw him.

The man behind the badge.

The scared boy behind the cocky man-whore.

And I knew that there would never be anyone else that made me feel like he did—whose scars mirrored mine so perfectly.

No one had ever seen the real Mike Sullivan. Until now. And I could keep running away every time we had a problem or I could stand by my man, at the gates of Hell, ready to fight anything that came our way.

As a team.

I’d hesitated in forgiving Monica, but if I had it to do over again, I would’ve willingly handed it over immediately if it meant more time with her.

His face ran with a mixture of tears and rain and with the decision made, I reached out and wiped them away. My voice faltered as I gave him what he needed most. “I forgive you.”

He buried his face against my belly and mumbled, “I wanted to keep you out of it all. It’s too fucking much to burden someone with.”

My hands slipped down to his jaw and tilted his face up toward mine. “I swore to love you in the gray areas. Tex, it doesn’t get any grayer than this.”

He was back on his feet in an instant, scooping me up and carrying me back to his truck. He popped open the door and set me down on the leather backseat before climbing in after me. “I had to get you out of that rain—you’ll get sick.”

I smiled. “And where’d you get this sound medical advice?”

He rubbed away the moisture on his splotchy face and grinned. “Abuelita—the woman’s better than any doctor. My shoulder was giving me trouble last week and she rubbed Vick’s all over it. Worked like a charm.”

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