Page 4 of Reconciling the Consequences

The fight had happened so quickly. Diggins had had her on the ground and stunned immediately. She had managed to get away and grab a knife from the block in the kitchen. She sliced him once before she had been overpowered.

They had scuffled again, and when she went down that time, her foot had been caught between his, and she heard the pop in her knee—her ACL snapping. Diggins had kneed her in the face right after that, most likely giving her the concussion.

She had been dazed and in pain, so the details were fuzzy. She had backed away from him, trying to find a way out, when she bumped up against the basement door. She had struggled to her feet and managed to open the door only for Diggins to attack again. They had scuffled at the top of the stairs, and she’d landed a couple of well-placed elbows to his gut and face, and down he went.

Her downfall was not moving fast enough to avoid his leg striking out and sending her sprawling down the stairs.

She was missing memories, though; something more had happened in the basement. When had she gotten the cut on her arm? How had her house caught fire? She kept thinking she saw Johnny there. Had Johnny been there? Did he carry her out? Why?

After she’d gone by the clubhouse to break up with Johnny, Derrick, and Kevin and let them know her father would be taking over the Granger Ltd. case against Mac, Johnny had been the most vocal. He’d been livid. He had called her a whore and played into every single self-conscious thought she’d had while dating the three of them.

Her heart hurt, thinking of them. She wanted to call them. She wanted one of them to hold her, to hear Derrick’s goofy chuckle when he laughed at his own jokes, see Kevin’s bright smile when he saw her walking toward him at the office, or even hear Johnny’s sarcastic Princess nickname when he thought she was being a little too spoiled.

She missed her guys and vowed she would see them again.

Johnnywasworkingonhis F-250 in the garage at the Ravager Knights’ compound. The large lot had multiple buildings. It housed their clubhouse, a sprawling three-story building with multiple dorm-like bedrooms upstairs and a full bar and restaurant downstairs. They served the public, but you had to be a friend of the club to continue to come back. Also in the compound were the garage where they ran their legit auto repair shop, a long and sprawling storage shed, half of which they rented out to tenants, and, at the back of the lot was the Pit.

Kevin was giving Johnny a hand, change the oil in the open bay of the garage. Derrick sat off to the side of the garage messing with the radio.

It was Friday morning, and most of the clubhouse was quiet still. Most of their out-of-town guests didn’t get up until noon. Johnny was grateful. He needed some time with just his two best friends and brothers. It was long overdue.

“We need to figure out this shit with the Devil’s Psychos, man.” Kevin groaned. “This lockdown shit is getting old.”

“Agreed.” Derrick called from across the garage.

Johnny shot him a look but nodded at Kevin. “I know, man.”

“And Kara.” Kevin added.

Johnny shook his head. They had already had their time in the ring over this. What more was there to talk about? It was dead in the water anyway. She broke up with the three of them. “I don’t see how there’s anything to talk about. She ended things, remember?”

“That wasn’t Kara.” Kevin shook his head vehemently. “Iknowher,” he stressed. “Something happened to spook her. Someone said something, got to her.”

“Yeah, man.” Johnny snapped, turning his back to the open bay door. “Someone got to her! They attacked her! They tried to fucking kill her!” His voice rose with each sentence. “That’s exactly what we were trying to avoid by putting fucking distance between us and her last week! The trade routes are already under attack from the Psychos. We already lost a brother, and then our fucking girl was attacked in her home!” Johnny panted as he continued his tirade. “No. There’s nothing else to discuss about Kara. She’s better off without us.”

Johnny stared at Kevin, but Kevin and Derrick were looking past him with disbelieving expressions on their faces.

“Doesn’t she get a say in that?” a female voice asked behind him.

Johnny froze, his shoulders tensing. Her voice was raspy and low, but he’d recognize her sweet voice anywhere. Kara was behind him. He whirled around, his heart clenching in his chest as the air whooshed from his lungs like he’d been sucker punched in the gut.

She looked rough. Her blond hair was a mess, her blue eyes no longer sparkled, as deep bruising surrounded them. She also had a split lip, but that was inconsequential compared to the black and blue bruising covering her face.

Her right arm was in a cast from just below the elbow down to her hand. It included her thumb, ring, and pinky fingers. It was also bright-ass pink. There was a bandage over her left forearm, covering a good portion of it from elbow to wrist. She leaned heavily on the side of a car; her left knee and most of the leg were in an immobilizing brace.

She stood before them in socks and hospital scrubs, looking like she’d walked through hell…and survived.

“Kara.” Johnny breathed, unable to move.

She assessed him, as he had her. He knew he looked rough; he hadn’t slept much in the last week since she had been attacked. Knowing she was in the hospital fighting for her life and being unable to go to her had killed him. Then there were the bruises on his face and his own black eye from the fight with Kevin and Derrick.

“Holy shit,” Kevin muttered from behind Johnny.

“Baby girl, fuck.” Derrick groaned and went to her.

Kevin and Derrick pushed past Johnny, and he let them. He stepped aside so his brothers could go to their girl. They moved slowly, as if they were afraid they would startle her. “Can I?” Kevin asked softly.

She nodded as tears lined her eyes. She rested her forehead against Kevin’s chest while Derrick circled behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His mouth immediately found the sensitive spot on her neck, and she let out a low moan.

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