Page 17 of Redemption

She nods her head again and I can feel her steeling herself to say more. “You may not think it. But you got off so damn easy.”

When she swipes her tears away, we simply lie there studying each other for long moments and as much as I want to justify myself against her accusation of vanity, I can feel how raw her pain is and right now, I know it’s more important that we start to heal a little. Each in our own way.

“I shouldn’t have said that shit,” I say, trying my hand at an apology. Leaning up, I kiss the trail of tears on each of her cheeks. When she reaches for the salve, I roll onto my stomach and allow her to massage it into the scar tissue.

And I wonder if she’ll ever understand how much her ministrations mean to me.

Chapter 7

Sloane

As attracted as I am to this man I don’t know if I can do this.

He’s nearly a decade older than I am and is still carrying so many scars—inside and out—that I’m not sure I’m capable of dealing with. Not after losing Billy.

The brothers I have left, Beau and Austin, are the main characters in every childhood memory I have. Billy was born a few years after me and while I resented him at first for stealing my limelight, he became my best friend and confidante.

Laying half-naked in Vector’s arms, after this huge revelation and applying the cream, hardly seems like the time to excuse myself, but I’m saved when an alarm goes off in the room.

“Shit!” he growls. “Get dressed.”

“What is that?” I ask, hurrying to pull my own clothes on as he picks up his phone and the remote for the TV.

“What’s happening?” He questions the person who immediately picks up and I see his nostrils flare as he listens. “I’ll be right out, then we ride. Swann and Crasher stay here with Bridget. Everyone without a patch … okay, good.”

I’m dressed and standing near the corner of the bed when the screen with boxes indicating camera numbers flicks on and my eyes scan over them, looking for the bar. I miss it at first, since I wasn’t expecting it to look so empty. Another box catches my attention due to the movement of the cars filing out of the parking lot.

“I should get going,” I say when he’s hung up and is pulling his jeans back on, like armor he wears over his scars. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I want you to stay,” he counters me. “If anyone’s watching, they might think to pick you off since you’re leaving separately than everyone else.”

Considering that the men left in the bar area all have cuts on, and the rest of the party goers are nearly through the gate, I can see his reasoning about being a straggler on the road. But …

“Who’sthey?” I ask him, even as I warn myself not to get dragged into anything club related until I make up my mind about us.

“I’m sure Bridget would like the company,” he tells me, grimacing but otherwise stoic as he pulls on his boots, disregarding my question. “And you can distract her from trying to follow us.”

Sighing, I nod in agreement, understanding not to pry into the club’s affairs.

Fully dressed again, he pauses in front of the door and reaches a hand out, wrapping it behind my neck, even though he doesn’t turn to look at me. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to get saddled with a cripple. No harm, no foul. But we have enemies and I ask that you let me make sure you don’t get caught up in anything, alright?”

My throat tightens up for a number of reasons, so all I can do is nod my head, simply committing to staying here until he gives the all-clear.

When we re-enter the bar, the men remain silent in my presence, and he walks me directly around to where the office is located. Bridget looks up at me as she’s clearing off the desk.

“I thought we could play cards,” she says, smiling like we’ve known each other for years. I nod, still in a bit of a daze as the events of the past twenty minutes play over in my mind. “I’ll be right back. Um, don’t touch anything. Please.”

Crap.I plop down on the seat in front of the desk to get settled in.

It’s one thing to distance myself from a handsome biker, no matter how good he treats me, once his club comes under some sort of attack when I’m here. It’s another to do that when he refers to himself as a cripple.

Because I don’t see him that way.

Vector

The Wretched Rebels have been amping up their attacks over the past few months. They’re nothing more than cast-offs from other clubs, including two guys who never made it past the prospect phase of my club.

Unfortunately, one of those guys, Able, turned out to be well spoken enough to get the others to follow him. And turn all their angst against the Northern Grizzlies. Of the two men I know though, it’s Tyre that I’ve always taken to be the brains, even as quiet as he is.

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