by Lilly Atlas
Now, more than ever, she needed the comfort of his fragrance. She ached to the very core of her being, missing his arms around her. His gravelly voice whispering in her ear while the beard she’d grown to love tickled the sensitive skin. She even grieved the loss of the deafening rumble of his motorcycle as he rolled down the street toward the house they’d shared for more than thirty years.
With a brick where her heart once lived, she breathed Viper’s scent one final time before carefully folding the shirt and setting it in her top dresser drawer.
God, had it really been ten days since Viper had been taken from her? Ten days since he’d done exactly what she’d have predicted he’d do in a crisis and thrown himself over a woman they both loved as a surrogate daughter. Jazmine survived a brutal attack on her place of business with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises for one reason and one reason only.
Viper sacrificed his own life for hers.
Ten days ago.
Ten days since Cassie had felt his touch, cooked his breakfast, listened to him curse while he tinkered with the old bike he’d been restoring.
Each of those days, she’d woken in their big bed, expecting him to roll her way and draw her tight to his chest as he’d done for countless years. He’d rumble a good morning in his deep voice made raspier by sleep…
Every time, her brain took a few seconds to catch up and realize she was alone, but when it did, pain slammed into her chest, devastating in its intensity. It was as though Copper stood before her, informing her of Viper’s death all over again.
Cassie felt the spine-crushing weight of every one of those ten days since her beloved husband had uttered the very words that she’d clung to every moment since she’d learned of his death.
I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow whether you’re here with me or waiting for me among the stars.
The first time he’d said those words to her, she’d been seconds away from a full-on panic attack after learning of her cancer diagnosis. The forty-something physician had delivered the sobering diagnosis followed by a flurry of treatment plans and possible prognoses, before instructing them to go home, breathe, and mull over their options. All it’d taken was one utterance of the word death for her to miss every other word spoken.
Death. Death. Death.
The D-word had hit her like a bucket of icy water to the face.
At fifty-eight years old, she wasn’t close to being prepared for death. Not when she had so much life left to live. Hell, her boys had only begun pairing off over the last year or so. Now some of them were popping out the next generation of hell-raisers. How could she miss out on that?
She couldn’t. Plain and simple.
She’d stood in the parking lot of the physician’s office, fingertips going numb, breath coming in sharp, tight bursts as the fear had threatened to pull her under.
Her husband, bless his romantic soul, had wrapped her in his thick arms, told her they’d fight it with every ounce of strength they possessed and promised her he’d hold her up every time she felt too weak to stand on her own.
He’d done it too. He’d been strong. So goddamned strong.
They hadn’t had an incident-free life together. Most involved with one-percenter motorcycle clubs understood the world could be an ugly place. As a couple, they’d lost close friends and loved ones to disease, tragic accidents, and at the hands of others. They’d seen their club through dark days of dangerous struggle and despair. They’d battled enemies both within and outside the club. But through it all, the times of great joy and prosperity as well as the grave times of hopelessness, one thing had kept them going.
Their commitment to each other.
So when, there in that parking lot, Viper had whispered against her ear, “I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow, whether you’re here with me, or waiting on me among the stars,” she’d believed every word.
As the weeks had passed, and her aggressive treatment got underway, she’d slowly come to accept the possibility of her life ending far before she’d ever hoped or planned. Viper’s sweet words, which he’d begun saying whenever he left her and before bed each night, had been the key to her accepting whatever fate befell her.
Though she’d never been called a religious woman, there were a few spiritual concepts Cassie wholeheartedly believed. One of those was that her connection to Viper would not end with either of their deaths. It couldn’t. They’d laughed, loved, lived, fought, adventured, mourned, suffered, and grown together over the past thirty years. They were so close, it often felt as though their souls had joined together as one.
Death wasn’t a powerful enough foe to sever a link as intense as theirs.
Some might find it trite, but Cassie believed the sentiment with all her heart. Knowing they’d reunite was how she’d come to terms with her cancer diagnosis, and how she’d made it through each day since Viper had been ripped from the earth.
“Goddammed hero,” she whispered as a small, sad smile curled her lips.
Cassie lifted her gaze until she looked straight into her own eyes in the mirror above her dresser. Sure, there were bags under those suckers, her skin had quite a few more wrinkles than it had just a few months ago, her nearly bald head required wrapping in a colorful scarf, and she looked no stronger than a wet twig, but in reality, she was on the mend.
Three days after Viper’s death, Jazz had accompanied her to her final monthly oncology follow-up appointment. The doctors couldn’t have been more positive about her progress. None were ready to firmly state she was in remission, further tests would be run in the coming weeks, but still, her oncologist had winked and all but told her she’d beaten it.
“I don’t like to give false hope,” he’d said with a beaming grin, “but you can go home and rest easy. You’ve been a champion patient, Cassie. There is no doubt in my mind you’ve kicked this.”
She and Jazz had held each other through gallons of tears while sitting in Jazz’s car. They hadn’t exchanged words. Cassie knew Jazz had been thinking about how Viper should have been the one there receiving the good news.
And while Cassie had wished with every fiber of her being that he’d been by her side to receive the incredible news, she knew he heard it from wherever he may be. And she knew he was overjoyed for her and the gift she’d received.
She was so proud of him. Proud of the way he’d saved Jazmine’s life in such a selfless manner. Even if part of her wanted to rail at him for allowing himself to be taken from her, she couldn’t deny her pride in her hero.
How many people would save another’s life, sacrificing their own without a second’s thought? Not many. Most weren’t brave or honorable enough.
But then, Viper had always been a hero. From the moment she met him.
CHAPTER THREE
1982 - WASHINGTON
No matter how tightly Cassandra huddled into herself or how vigorously she rubbed the parts of her arms and legs she could reach, she couldn’t seem to infuse any warmth into her body. The house wasn’t frigid, at least not compared to how the outside had felt, but it certainly wasn’t toasty. And after what had to be a full twenty-four hours of being unclothed without a blanket, she was chilled to the bone.
Not that these men cared about something as trivial as her comfort. No, most kidnappers weren’t overly concerned whether their captive was cozy.
God, she’d been kidnapped. And sold off like some kind of auction item. Straight out of a fucking movie, only no one here was acting.
The overwhelming panic hovering just beneath the surface of her skin threatened to overtake her. Cassie rested her forehead on her bent knees and fought to steady her breath as she thought of waves on the beach, rolling into shore and flowing back out. It’d worked this far to keep her from losing control of her emotions. After her mother had died in a car accident when Cassie had been eight, she’d started having episodes of difficulty breathing and heightened anxiety. One day, a t
eacher had found her hiding out in the bathroom at school, near full-on panic attack. She’d taught Cassie the breathing trick. She’d used it ever since when she needed to clear her mind and manage severe stress. Who knew how long it’d be before the technique lost its efficacy, and she freaked out?
She’d been so stupid; a damn cliché. She was the reason stereotypes about naïve rich girls existed. Apparently, she also happened to be precisely what some sickko was looking for. A dumb, spoiled, sheltered rich girl who’d never had sex, and had no clue how the real world worked.
Well, whoever he was, he’d gotten her. Well, some asshole who worked for that slimy Wayne had drugged her drink and snagged her from a bar, and the buyer would get her in a day or so.
And he’d break her. Or so the bikers kept saying as they laughed and pawed at her mostly naked body. Wouldn’t take much; she was so near broken already she might shatter before the buyer ever got his hands on her.
Maybe whoever purchased her would be disappointed if she broke too quickly, and he’d return her. Was there some kind of trial period? A trade-in credit if she didn’t work out? A harsh laugh escaped into the quiet room. There was that naiveté again, like a bright light blinking on her forehead.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Another ragged and inappropriate burst of laughter escaped her. God, she was really losing it.
“The fuck you laughing about?” a deep, irritated voice asked as the door flew open.
A beefy guy with a flaming red mohawk and freckles galore stood in the open doorway. He was one of the ugliest men she’d ever seen, with a deformed nose and cauliflower ear on both sides of his head. A long scar ran straight across his forehead as though someone had tried to scalp him. Whoever he was, his face had been through the mill. Looked like this guy had replaced Legs as her prison warden at some point in the hours she’d been there. How many hours, she had no freaking clue. The men didn’t exactly leave a clock or anything in the room. Too bad the bikers were smarter than they looked.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the enormous booted feet filling up the doorway.
The biker, whoever he was, grunted. “You ain’t got much to be laughing about right now, bitch.”
Why the hell did they call her bitch like it was some kind of common pet name? She’d been called bitch more in the past twelve hours than in her entire life.
“Nothin’ to say?” He snorted out a laugh. “That’ll change fast. You’ll be saying ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ all day long.” She glanced up just as he smirked. “Mostly ‘yes, sir.’”
A run of terror skittered up her spine. Clenching her teeth, she tried to give him a formidable glare. She refused to let him know how every word he spoke was a lightning strike of fear directly to her heart.
“W-why are you doing this to me. I don’t want to be here. I’m not a willing participant. It’s kidnapping. And it will soon be rape.” For some reason, the why mattered to her. Was he in some sort of financial crisis? Struggling to feed a horde of children? Was this a desperate attempt to save his family? It certainly wouldn’t justify his actions, but it’d give her some hope that she had at least a snowball’s chance in hell of being set free if she discovered he did, in fact, have a conscience.
The ogre cocked his head and grinned. “That’s an easy one. Money, baby doll. It makes the world go ’round.”
Money? She could work with money. A tiny spark of hope flared low in her stomach. “Are you in some kind of financial trouble? I have money. I can help you out if you let me go. You know you kidnapped me, right? You could do hard time for this.” Hard time? Who was she, some kind of wanna be TV detective?
“Nice try, bitch, but nah. Club’s got money. You know how many bitches just like you we move each year?” He shrugged. “Profitable business. Ain’t gonna risk fucking that up to let you go. No matter how much you offer.” Then he laughed as though he found himself hilarious. “And we’ll only do that hard time if we get caught.” With a wink, he stepped back into the hallway. “And we ain’t gonna get caught. Get comfy, princess, you’ll be here for another day or so before your master comes to collect his new pet.”
Any hope she might have had seconds ago burned up into ash. Greed, straight up money-hungry business was driving this bus.
For one fleeting moment, while that smarmy asshole Wayne had been delivering her to this piece of shit shack in the woods, she’d thought she’d glimpsed a man who didn’t approve of what was happening to her.
An angry-sounding growl had come from the hunk in leather who seemed to be some kind of guard dog for the bikers. Something about him struck her as different. A kindness none of the others possessed. The energy he projected drew her attention.
Now she was trying to read biker’s auras? Yep, she was cracking up.
It didn’t matter what she thought she’d seen in the man. When she’d given the guy her most pleading save me look, all she’d received in return was a cold, hard stare. Clearly, she’d been desperate enough to romanticize the biker’s honorable moral code.
He’d been a gorgeous man. Tall, lean but not skinny with a leather jacket and jeans hugging his firm thighs. A floodlight had shone in her direction, blocking her view of his true eye or hair color, but both appeared some shade of brown. Maybe on the lighter side. A few days’ worth of stubble obscured his cheeks. Cassie had had the insane desire to rub her face against his to find out it if was scratchy or silky soft.
Hot was too mild a word to describe him. Incendiary more like it. Had she run across him at her father’s country club, she’d have swooned and stammered like a schoolgirl.
Another bark of laughter left her. That man wouldn’t set foot inside a country club. And not just because security wouldn’t allow it, but because he was way too badass.
Too bad he was as evil as the rest of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
PRESENT DAY - TENNESSEE
The low hum of Copper’s truck pulled Cassie from memory lane back to her empty home. He’d volunteered to pick her up and take her to the clubhouse for Viper’s second memorial of the day. This one would be far more informal than the one held at the funeral home earlier that day. In fact, this was a family event for the club only. Patched members, their ol’ ladies, and prospects by invite only. Thunder would be there since he’d been present the day Viper died, but he was the only prospect as far as she knew.
Even though she’d been expecting it, the sharp rap on the door had her jumping. Being constantly alone in the house would take some getting used to.
She opened the door to find the six-foot-five man frowning down at her. “Why didn’t you ask who it was or peek through the window?”
Despite her jumbled nerves and heavy insides, Cassie laughed. Leave it to Copper to scold her before taking her to a club memorial service for her husband. Since it came from a place of love, she stepped up to him and gave him a hug. He’d been a son to Viper as much as he was a president or a brother. “I heard your truck pull up. I knew it was you. I’m not stupid, Copper. I know we still have to watch out for the Chrome Disciples even though you got the one who blew up the diner.” She couldn’t say, “got the one who killed Viper.” The words wouldn’t come.
His response was a low-pitched grunt. Exactly what she’d expect from him.
The oddest thing about Viper’s death was how much of her life remained the same despite the fact that everything had changed. She almost laughed out loud. The thought barely made sense, but everyone around her was the same person they were ten days ago. A little sadder maybe, but the same. They went to work, took care of business, loved their families. The world turned in exactly the same direction in the same amount of time. The sun rose, set, and warmed the earth. Yet Cassie felt she was an entirely different person than she was ten days ago.
Maybe a more accurate description was that she was half a person now.
“How are you?” Copper asked, holding her tight. “And none of that bullshit I know you
’ve been giving everyone else. Don’t even think about telling me you’re fine.”
She smiled against his massive chest. Leave it to Copper to give it to her straight. She sighed. Might as well give it back to him straight. “My head hurts. It has for days. But it’s nothing compared to the ache I can’t get out of my chest.”
Copper didn’t respond, just held her closer.
“I’m sad, lonely, and a little scared. You always hear people saying they don’t know how to go on without someone, the person they loved so much. It’s not true,” she said while he still hugged her. “I know how to do it. I know how to get up in the morning by myself. I know how to take care of my house, pay the bills, make it through the day. I know how to go to bed alone each night. I just don’t want to.”
Copper tensed and she realized how her words might sound.
“I don’t mean that I don’t want to live, Copper. All I meant is that I want Viper here with me. I just…” She shrugged against him, fighting tears. “I just want him with me. It’s just that simple. I want him and he’s gone, so I’m sad. Tremendously sad.”
It felt as though her heart weighed five hundred pounds.
Copper relaxed. “Makes sense, Cas.”
He wouldn’t wax on about life, love, and death. That wasn’t Copper’s way. But he and the club would take care of Cassie for the rest of her life. She’d never want for family or love. And that was far more important to her than him being able to spout flowery words that didn’t mean much anyway.
“You ready to go?”
Cassie nodded. “Just gonna grab my bag.”
After a quick trip to the bathroom to fix the eye makeup already smudging, she grabbed her purse off her bed and followed Copper out to his truck. For the first half of the twenty-minute trip, they rode in silence until Copper finally said. “You know, one time, a good few years ago, he told me the story of how you two met.”