Page 30 of Fighting Dirty

Pulling back slightly, he gently lifted her chin with two fingers. “I knew your name. That’s all I needed to track him down. Don’t you worry about that kind of shit anymore.”

He’d checked up on her? Tracked her ex down and everything? But, of course, he did. What had she expected from a man like Ryder who had a firm grip on every aspect of his life? And now that she was a part of that life, it only made sense that that control would extend to hers too. Still, Tiffany didn’t know how to respond.

Seeing the angry red scratches on his face from her own hands made her feel like hell all over again. “I’m sorry I clawed your neck and face up.”

She didn’t know if the look he shot her was irritation with her or himself. “Fucking hell, give me a little credit. Your pretty fingernails ain’t gonna do real damage to a badass biker like me. Now, what’s all that shit about being a gingerbread girl?”

Scrubbing her hands over her face, Tiffany tried to order her thoughts. “I was married for close to five years. I tried to leave more times than I can count. The first time was Christmas Eve, two months after we were married,” she revealed, the ugly truth pouring out of her. “It didn’t take me long to realize what a horrible mistake I’d made.

“Stuart wanted a wife that looked good on his arm in public and one he could use as a punching bag at home. I ended up going back to stay at my parents’ house. Then Stuart started sending me expensive gifts, and then a card with a gingerbread girl on the front.”

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I know it sounds childish, but he wrote a note on the inside taunting me. He said no matter how fast or far I run, he’ll track me down and drag me back. Each time I ran, the abuse escalated when he got me back.”

Ryder’s expression was murderous. “Not anymore. You’re with me now. I know just how to handle rich assholes like the Chamberlains.”

She chose to ignore that statement. “I don’t know what triggered the dream. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

Ryder’s eyes got glassy with what could only be tears. “It was me being on top of you the way I was tonight. I wasn’t thinking about how you might react to…to… It was a poor decision on my part.”

Jerking her face back out of his hand, she shook her head. “No, we’re not doing this. Last night was fantastic. We’re not going to change up the way we have sex because of that bastard. I don’t think it was that anyway. I think it was seeing the basement.”

“The bastard kept you in his basement?”

“Yeah, every time I ran, he played this little game with me,” she said, doing her level best to keep the darkness of her past from sucking her into its powerful grasp. “First, he’d chain me up on his back porch. If I was good, he’d lock me in the shed. Hell, that was better simply because I was out of the elements.” She remembered well those cold, wet nights spent shaking on the unforgiving, splintering old wood, keeping an ear out for any local fauna that might try to sneak up on her in the night. “I had to earn his trust back for the privilege of sleeping on the cold cement floor in the basement.”

“I can guess what you had to do to earn his trust,” he said hatefully.

Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Tiffany stared at the floor. “That’s the thing—you probably can’t guess. He was into weird loyalty tests where the other person had to really degrade themselves to prove they were worthy of being in his good graces.”

“Fucker. I’ll circle back around to him the very first chance I get.”

“Babe, I hate to ask this, but I really need a favor,” Tiffany said, looking up into his eyes.

Kissing her on the top of her head, Ryder murmured, “Anything, you name it.”

“If he ever gets me, and you can’t stop him, put a bullet in my head,” she rasped, emotion clogging her throat. “I can’t do the Stuart thing again. I just can’t. It would be a mercy.”

Ryder’s features hardened and a fierce, determined light entered his eyes. “One way or another, I’ll make sure he never touches you again.”

Lifting her off the counter, her rough-and-tumble biker carried her into the shower and began gently washing her hair and body under the warm cascade of water. She soaped her hands and did the same for him.

Normally, silence hanging in the air was awkward and uncomfortable for Tiffany. This morning, neither of them needed words to know they were on the same page.

~ Ryder ~

Ryder took Tiffany down to the kitchen, and they came to a sliding halt just inside the doorway. The prospects were busy cooking, and the sight at the table about floored him. Darkness was sat staring at Abigail Fucking Andrews, who was apparently all thumbs when it came to taking care of her own child. Her movements were awkward, forced, and she seemed unsure of how to handle the little one. The baby was screaming her little head off, and Abby kept trying to put a bottle in her mouth, but the kid wasn’t having it. And there Abby was, unlike any mother he’d ever seen, getting frustrated and embarrassed.

Like a typical nurse, Tiffany walked over and began looking the child over. She gently squeezed her stomach, and a little burp gurgled up. Grabbing the bottle, she shot Abby a strange look and popped it into the microwave for a few seconds. Taking it out, she shook it and squirted a bit onto the inside of her wrist. This time, when Abby tried to feed her, the little one settled down and nursed greedily.

Darkness motioned for Ryder to sit beside him. “Report?”

“Well, sir, based on what I just saw and the information provided by the caregivers, I believe the child has mostly been left at a boarding school.”

“Boarding schools are for school-aged kids, not little babies,” his president pointed out.

“This one was different,” Ryder informed him. “It was a private affair and clearly said Mockingbird Lane Early Education and Boarding on the front door.”

Glancing at one of the men standing nearby, Darkness sighed. “Ace, can you please…”

---