Page 58 of The Bonds We Break
“Don’t talk about her like that,” King says, his tone gruff.
There’s confusion on Niro’s face, but in my heart, there isn’t. King just defended me, even if the reasons aren’t entirely clear.
“Take care,” Ryker whispers.
I squeeze his fingers and step toward King, stopping only when I am inches away from him.
He looks down at me. “Ready to go, duchess?”
“I am. Six months. I won’t run because I know what it means for Ryker. If any of your men hurt one hair on his head, our deal is off.”
King looks to the right of the room. “You heard the lady. Saint is now an Iron Outlaw again. On six months’ probation with Rae as insurance.”
A series of images flash through my head. Of me being here again, only we’re laughing. My brother is wearing a wedding ring. So am I. King is smiling and his hand rubs my ...
I force the thoughts away. I’m no more a psychic than I am a motorcycle club old lady. But I note the symbolism to truly think about later.
“Where are you keeping her?” Clutch asks. “Why not let her go with me or Spark? She can spend time with Iris and Gwen.”
King shakes his head. “She’s staying with me. We have a deal, don’t we, duchess?”
“We do.” I walk to the seat by the door where I left my leather jacket and helmet. When I turn, I notice King’s eyes tracking my butt. He’s not as immune to me as he suggested. “I assume we’re leaving.”
“Are you claiming her?” Spark asks. “If not, I’m with Clutch. Let her come stay with me and Iris. Better that I look after my friend’s sister.”
King looks at me, then back to Spark. “Definitely not claiming the banshee. And, no, she’s not coming home with any of you motherfuckers. She’s coming home with me. Let’s go.” He storms over to me, reaches for my hand, and leads us out of there.
“Look at you not killing anybody today. Well done,” I mutter as I pull my helmet on.
“There’s time yet, duchess. So watch your tone, yeah?”
He climbs on his bike; his long legs in perfect-fit denim make it look easy. I climb on behind and wrap my arms around him, although this time, instead of gripping my own wrists, I lay my palms flat against his chest.
Heat fills my right hand as I realize King has laid his hand over mine. Tentatively, I open my fingers a little so his slide between them. My breath catches in my chest at the sweet gesture, and I drop my helmet-clad forehead to his back.
In a heartbeat, it’s over, and the bike rumbles to life beneath me.
But I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.
King is carrying so much hurt. He’s parched for love he can trust and believe in.
The love, I can’t give him, because it wouldn’t be fair. This isn’t a life I want to be a part of.
But I’m determined to teach him how to trust again.
We pull out of the compound, and I experience the thrill I’ve felt the last couple of times I’ve sat on his bike. I was serious when I said I want to get a bike. Once I’m home again, I’m going to learn how to ride and buy one. Perhaps one not quite as powerful or obviously heavy as King’s is, but one that works for me.
I love the way it feels when we turn corners, when we move in synchronicity. And I love the speed of the straight road.
Perhaps there is a way to make the next six months feel more like this. I need to find a way to survive it with my own emotional and mental health in one piece. When King kidnapped me, I thought it would end today. Now I realize it’s only just started. The boundaries I put in place to survive everything up until now, will not be enough to keep me whole for half a year.
King looks down into his mirror, then does a double take.
We speed up suddenly and I jerk backwards for a moment before I lean into King’s solid frame and tighten my grip around his waist.
I try to glance over my shoulder but can’t. The way I’m clinging to King prevents it. But in the mirror, I see two bikes and a truck gaining on us.
I want to believe that the bikes belong to the Iron Outlaws, but the speed at which we’re travelling suggests otherwise. Perhaps they are gaining ground because there are two of us on the bike and only one of them on theirs.
