Page 21 of Her Outlaw Biker
I gasp. “What?”
His voice is flat, but I catch the tremor under his calm. I reach for his hand. He seems to hesitate for a split second, but then relaxes, letting me hold on.
“They were all found in our home. My parents…my grandfather…all dead, and it was labeled as a burglary gone wrong.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I mutter, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
He nods, his hand tightening around mine as if grounding himself. “I started to dig around, and I discovered that my dad and grandfather were about to uncover a conspiracy within the army, and that’s why they were eliminated. I tried to report my findings, but instead of getting justice, I was dishonorably discharged for insubordination.”
My heart wrenches with anger at the unfairness. I press my lips together, blinking back the tears of frustration pulling at my lids.
He pauses, a soft, humorless smile curling at his lips. “Don’t cry for me, sweetheart. I’m no saint.”
“It’s just so unfair,” I murmur, sniffing slightly.
“Life’s a bitch sometimes,” he replies with a sigh. “I was so angry after my discharge, so devastated…I wanted revenge. I met Rigs in a bar one night and he told me about the Iron Vultures. I thought it was a good way to fight the system, so I joined. Biggest mistake of my life.”
He lets go of my hand and rubs his palms over his face. “Only got more blood on my hands. One night, we were scouting a target, and a kid—barely seven—got caught in the crossfire.” His voice breaks. “That wrecked me.”
“De he…did he die?”
He shakes his head, anguish in his eyes. “He made it, but barely. I anonymously donated everything I had for his treatment, but…I’ll forever live with the guilt of ruining his life.”
I move closer, brushing my cheek against his arm. “That must have been hell.”
He closes his eyes. “It was. After, I realized the Vultures were in bed with the same corrupt government I was trying to bringdown. I was just a puppet on their string. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I just…disappeared.”
My throat tightens. “Three years.”
“Three years of living like a ghost,” he says. “Every day, I was just waiting to die…and then you showed up.”
I swallow. “I’m glad I did.”
He stares at me, uncertainty warring with something softer. “It’s got you into trouble now, Clover. The Iron Vultures are trying to take us both out…tonight.”
“I don’t care,” I whisper. “I’d run with you anywhere.”
I lean in and kiss him, soft but fierce. He responds, claiming my mouth, wrapping me in his arms, pressing me close.
When we break apart, his forehead rests on mine. “I wanted to tell you all that,” he says quietly. “But I was scared you’d leave.”
I trace the scar on his collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiles sadly. “Good. And I’m done running.”
Chapter Eight
Ghost
The night is quiet. The air in the room feels heavy, like it’s holding its breath, just as I am.
I stand near the window, half in the dark, one hand resting on the curtain, looking out at the silent stars like they might calm the tsunami rising within me. It’s almost midnight. The intel should’ve come an hour ago.
Still nothing.
I glance down at the burner phone on the table. Silent. Screen black. Rafe’s never late. Not unless something went sideways.
I clench my jaw and scan the parking lot again. Nothing but an old pickup truck two spaces down and a flickering motel sign casting weak yellow light over the gravel lot. My reflection stares back at me in the glass, jaw tight, eyes sharp, scar on my cheek like a warning label.
