Page 59 of Ruger's Rage

"The way you move. The way they look at you." She studies me, head tilted. "Like everything depends on you making the right call."

"It does."

"That's a lot of pressure."

I shrug, uncomfortable with her perception. "Comes with the patch."

She takes a sip of water, eyes never leaving my face. "Ellie mentioned seeing your Harley this morning at my place."

Heat crawls up my neck. "Yeah, she, uh, mentioned that to me too."

A smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "Did she threaten to tie you to the clothesline by your ear if you hurt me?"

I laugh, tension breaking. "Something like that. She giving you the same speech?"

"No. Just asked if you'd at least brought breakfast after keeping me up all night."

"Jesus," I groan, running a hand through my hair. "That woman's been embarrassing me since I was eight."

"It's sweet." Tildie's voice softens. "She cares about you. About both of us, I think."

"She does." I take her hand, tracing circles on her palm with my thumb. "She actually said we remind her of my parents."

Tildie's eyes widen. "Wow. That's... a big deal, right?"

"Yeah." I hesitate, then tell myself I need to have this conversation with her. "Tildie, things are escalating faster than I expected. This thing with the Vultures, Striker making moves, your ex being in the mix—it's all connecting. I need to make sure you’re safe."

Wariness creeps into her expression. "And what exactly does that mean?"

"I want you staying here. At the club." I gesture around us. "Here, in my quarters specifically."

"Ruger..."

"Just until we shut this down." I squeeze her hand, willing her to understand. "There's too many threats circling right now. I can't be everywhere at once."

She pulls her hand away, rising to pace the small space. "So I'm supposed to just... what? Hide here while you handle the big bad world?"

"It's not hiding. It's a strategic relocation."

"It's running," she counters, arms crossing defensively. "I've done enough running."

I stand, moving to block her path. "This isn't the same and you know it. You're not running from anything. You're letting the club—lettingme—protect you while we handle threats to both of us."

"My trailer is literally twenty yards from the bar. I've got locks, I know what to watch for now."

"Locks won't stop these people." My patience thins. "They burned down a clubhouse last night, Tildie. You think they'll hesitate to kick in your door, or fuckin’ burn you alive in that fuckin’ trailer if Marco points them in the right direction?"

Fear flashes across her face before she schools her expression. "I'm not some damsel who needs rescuing, Ruger. I survived Marco. I'll survive this."

"This isn't about you being weak." I grasp her shoulders gently. "This is about me being stronger with you safe. I can't focus on handling Striker if I'm worried about you alone in that trailer."

Something in my words seems to reach her.

She studies my face, searching for... what? Manipulation? Control? She won't find it. This isn't Marco's possessiveness. This is protection, pure and simple.

"What about Ellie?"

"I asked her to stay here too."

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