Page 17 of Dancin' with Demons

Walking over, I sit on the arm of the sofa next to her. “You tired, honey?”

She turns her head toward me, her eyes droopy with a silly little smile on her face as she nods. “Mmm, hmm.”

Standing, I reach behind her and grab the light blue throw blanket that’s hanging over the back of the couch and one of the small, square pillows from next to her. “Why don’t you lay down and take a nap? Mommy can wake you up when it’s time for lunch, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy,” she says as she lays to the side and snuggles into the blanket as I cover her.

Heading back into the kitchen, I sigh again. Staying for a little while and actually getting to know Renegade wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. One thing that was true three years ago and stands until this day is that in his presence, I feel safe— safer than I’ve ever felt. I don’t know why or what it is about him, but I know that as long as Savior and I are here, no one can hurt us. I believe Renegade when he says that he’ll make sure we never want for anything again, too. I’m just not sure how I feel about it. The last thing I want or need is to owe someone. Hell, I still feel like I owe him for saving me as he did.

I know damn well if I told him that, though, he’d just say it isn’t true. Renegade doesn’t strike me as the type to hold what good deeds he does over others as leverage. If that were the case, he’d be holding my rescue over my head already, and he doesn’t. Back then, he didn’t even want my apologizing for shit. Something tells me he’s not changed that much in three years.

I quietly root through the cabinets to find all the makings needed for coffee and put a pot on to brew. I usually have a cup at work, but at home, I go without because buying a coffee pot is a luxury I haven’t had in the last two or so years. Even when I have extra money, I try to spend it on Savior so that she can do normal kid things, and those moments are few and far between. Instead of sitting down, I stand at the counter and watch the coffee flow in a steady stream into the pot, the aroma quickly filling the kitchen.

Just as the pot is almost done, I turn to check for creamer in the fridge.

“Fucking, Christ,” I gasp as I almost run into a body standing in front of the fridge. It takes me a second, but I realize it’s Sandra, Catacomb’s girlfriend. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Savior is asleep, so I thought I should be quiet as I came in. You looked like you were thinkin’ about something, so I was waitin’ to say hi.”

Sandra is older than me, clearly, but probably not by much. Maybe early thirties. I just turned twenty-nine this year, so it’s not like I’m super young anymore. Come to think of it . . . I don’t even know how old Renegade actually is. That’s something I really need to ask him, especially since I’ve pretty much made out with him several times in the last twenty-four hours.

“It’s okay,” I say as Sandra steps around me and further into the kitchen. “Catacomb mentioned you’d be stopping by; I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

“Is it okay if I hang out?” she says.

After pulling the French Vanilla creamer out of the fridge, I turn and look at her, confused. “This is the club’s house.” Moving back to the coffee pot, I grab a mug from the cabinet. “Do you want some?”

“Sure. Just creamer.”

Grabbing a second mug, I make both coffee and take them to the kitchen table, setting Sandra’s in front of her. I’m kinda hoping Renegade comes back from his phone calls soon. I don’t really do well with one-on-one conversations unless it’s Edna or Miss Irene. Hell, the other waitresses at the diner hardly talk to me at all. Partly because I’m weird around people now and partly because most of them think that Edna and Troy favor me, and that makes them jealous. Sitting in the chair next to Sandra, I hum as I take a sip of the coffee.

“Raylynn,” Sandra says softly, getting my attention, “I want you to know that just because this house belongs to the club doesn’t mean Cat and I will intrude if us being here makes you uncomfortable.”

My brows bunch together. “Why would either of you care if I’m uncomfortable? You don’t even know me.”

Sandra chuckles. “But we know Renegade and how much you mean to him.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, but it’s not a humorous one. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t really know me either.”

“How did you and him meet, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Catacomb didn’t tell you?”

Sandra shakes her head with a soft smile. “Catacomb gave me the bare minimum when I first met him and Renegade. There was an issue with another club, and you were one of the women they rescued. Renegade took responsibility for you, but after a few days, you left, and they haven’t seen you since. Other than that, he said it wasn’t his story to tell.”

For a moment, I stare at this woman with wide eyes. “Uh, sorry, I kinda figured he told you everything.”

This time her laugh is much heftier. “Oh, sweetie, you clearly don’t know much about lovin’ a biker, especially one in a position like Catacomb and Renegade. My ol’ man doesn’t lie to me, but when it comes to club business or his brothers, he’s very tight-lipped. Women in this lifestyle don’t generally have access to club stuff. I respect that. Personal stuff, Cat doesn’t speak on unless the other person gives him permission, and believe me, Renegade hasn’t allowed anyone to speak about you.”

“The short version is that three years ago, I went to graduate school in Tennessee. I was friends with Catacomb’s cousin, Lacey, but I hadn’t met her family yet. We’d been friends for a while, but I worked and was pretty obsessive about school. I came home from work one night, and someone broke into my condo, put a bag over my head, and knocked me out. I woke up in a cell in a basement and spent six months there. They eventually got Lacey, too, and she was in the same cell as me for a little over a month before we were rescued. The guys that took us took a lot of girls and were raping and torturing us. Renegade found me blindfolded and tied down to a table. He saved me and took me back to the clubhouse, stayed with me, and was the best kind of person even though he didn’t know so much as my name.”

“But you ran?” Sandra tilts her head, and there’s a strange gleam in her eyes. It’s not judgment or pity, more confusion, I think.

Sighing, I nod. “I was a fucking mess. Being raped and tortured for that long, I didn’t even want to live. I slit my wrists in his bathroom. He stayed with me the whole time in the hospital, and all I could think about was how he deserved someone better. Someone that wasn’t beyond broken. So, when the hospital agreed to discharge me, I waited until Renegade left to go get clothes for me, and then I bolted. Went to my condo, left a note for him on the counter, cleaned out my bank account, and took the first bus I could. I figured he’d go looking, and Lacey would tell him where I lived. I honestly don’t know if he ever got the note or not.”

“Wow,” Sandra says as she hangs her head for a moment before bringing her gaze back to mine, “Ren’s issues make a lot more sense now.”

“What issues?” I say, sitting a little straight.

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