Wind Therapy (Sacred Hearts MC Pacific Northwest Book 2)

by A. J. Downey

  Really now? I filed that away, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t put a smile on my face to hear it.

  “What’s that?” Fen asked, walking up. Tic-Tac handed him a towel and Cipher handed him a beer which he downed greedily while patting at the sweat and blood on his chest.

  “Marisol was worried about you. Couldn’t take anymore,” I said. Fen grinned savagely and sniffed.

  “She’s a good girl,” he said, and I smiled and nodded.

  “That she is. Need stitches?” I asked.

  “Nah, don’t think so,” he said.

  “Better have the doc look at you anyway.”

  “I’m good.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry you took that as a suggestion instead of the order it was,” I said dryly.

  Fen laughed and said, “Alright, Mom.”

  I laughed back and said, “Fuck you.” He went over to the mother chapter’s damn doctor, who was set up at a table under a white easy up tent with a red cross painted on it, though.

  “He held his own, your man,” Dragon called over.

  “That he did,” I agreed and saluted the national pres with my beer.

  “Come on over here, let’s settle up,” he said. I hadn’t placed a wager, so I knew he meant to finish talking about Eastern Washington. Sounded like some decisions had been made and forewarned was indeed forearmed.

  I went over and we drank while we talked.

  The national president had a thing for tequila which wasn’t always friendly when it came to me. Still, when the National P. told you to join him for a drink, you did just that. That shit fucked me up, though. Vodka was my usual go-to. I’d learned a long time ago tequila rhymed a little too close with to kill yah so I couldn’t tell you if the result of those drinks was entirely my fault but it was about to shed a fuck of a lot of light into some dark corners.

  By the time our talk concluded, I was pretty well wasted. Pleased at the result of said talks but wasted, it was time to take my ass to fuckin’ bed.

  Halfway back to the lodge I got an idea, lips curling into an evil grin as I dug the room key out of my front jeans pocket.

  I slipped into the room I was sharing with Marisol and paused. She was asleep on her back, one hand resting on the pillow beside her head, the other by her hip and my cock was instantly hard.

  I wanted to fuck her, and I mean down and dirty. I undid my belt and opened the front of my jeans, stroking myself as I looked down at her in the dim light through the window. I threw back the blankets and she was so out, she didn’t even stir.

  I didn’t want her making a commotion, so I put my hand over her mouth. I mean, shit, she was safe. It was me. She inhaled sharply, those gorgeous eyes of hers flying wide as I climbed on top of her and slid into her. She was warm, wet, and waiting.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” I groaned in her ear. “That’s my good girl.”

  Did she dream of me? Was that why she was wet? Fuck, I wanted to know, but she felt so fucking good and I was enjoying the hell out of her.

  I curse the fact that I was too fucking drunk to immediately realize that she wasn’t enjoying herself – not one bit. I was several strokes in when I realized she was stiff as a fuckin’ board and unresponsive beneath me. It took me even longer to realize the wet against my palm wasn’t from her mouth, but from her tears.

  I pushed up and took my hand off her mouth.

  “Zaychik?”

  She sobbed and I scrambled to my feet, my cock instantly shriveling.

  “Marisol? Baby, what’s wrong?”

  She rolled off the opposite side of the bed, hands pressed over her mouth as she sobbed striding for the bathroom. I heard the spatter of her vomit hit the threshold before the scent assaulted my nose.

  What the fuck?

  “Marisol!” I went for her and damn my drunk fuckin’ ass was too slow. I got to the bathroom just in time for her to shut it in my face, the lock clicking into place.

  “Marisol?” I knocked and then I helplessly listened while she retched around uncontrollable sobs into the toilet on the other side of the locked door.

  Shit.

  I sobered up to the sound of her weeping as the shower ran. I couldn’t do anything but wait her out, and I didn’t want to make shit worse by pounding on the door and demanding fucking answers that I didn’t have a fuckin’ right to.

  I’d stepped hip deep into one hell of a fucking hornet’s nest, but I didn’t know.

  At any rate, it wasn’t fucking about me right now. It was about her. It was about getting the truth and if I had anything to say about it? It was about settling a fucking score.

  The sobbing calmed to weeping, the weeping calmed to sniffles, and I waited calmly, ass planted on the floor, back to the wall beside the bathroom door, sobering up and patiently waiting her out.

  The shower eventually cut, and I listened to the silence that echoed in its wake. A slight sniffle. Another. A shuffling movement. Another. The lock clicked and I bounded to my feet and waited. Several seconds went by, and my palm itched something fierce to put the fuckin’ doorknob in it and twist, but I waited, and I waited some more, hands to my sides and finally the door opened.

  Her sleek black hair hung limp and wet around her face. She wouldn’t look at me. She just stood there looking small and afraid, defeated, wrapped from armpit to mid-thigh in one of the lodge’s fluffy white towels.

  “Come here,” I whispered, and I held my arms open and waited.

  She hesitated only briefly and practically fell into my arms, burying her face in the front of my tee beneath my cut as her pain welled fresh and hot from her beautiful eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so sorry,” I whispered against her hair and I held her tight against me while her emotions raged, swamping her, sweeping her under and drowning her in pain and sorrow.

  “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe with me, I promise,” I whispered, and she was. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t even guessed, and I felt like a fuckin’ fool.

  It took some time for the second squall to pass, but eventually it did, and I simply stood with her, waiting for her to make a move. By now, I was as sober as a fuckin’ judge and in that place where I was so white hot angry, I was as calm and still on the inside as a winter’s day – cold and ready to kill. I just needed a fuckin’ target.

  “Who did what, baby? You gotta talk to me, now. No more secrets.”

  She sniffed and pushed back from me and I let her, but I didn’t let her go. Instead, I helped her to the bed and sat her down on the one side of it, taking a seat beside her.

  She wouldn’t look at me, and I didn’t like it. I preferred her silent defiance and iron resolve much more, but I guess there wasn’t any fronting now. The cat, as it were, was out of the bag. The genie out of its bottle and there wasn’t any putting it back in.

  I tipped her chin with gentle fingers and she met my gaze. The raw pain in her gaze turned my resolve to steel.

  “Talk to me,” I whispered, and I let the note of pleading in my voice ring clear. I was absolutely fucking desperate to make this better somehow.

  “What does it matter?” she uttered dispassionately, and I raised my chin slightly, looking down at her ominously.

  “It matters,” I said. “Now talk to me…” I wasn’t asking anymore, and she gasped at the look on my face. Fear flitted just behind her eyes and I couldn’t say I was entirely sorry about it. I needed the whole story before I could make a play or set anything in motion.

  “Who, what, when, where, why, and how,” I said. “One at a time. Rack ‘em up and knock ‘em down, babe.”

  She took in a shuddering breath and searched my face and with a slight strangled noise I couldn’t quite identify, started talking.

  “My uncle,” she said and closed her eyes. It was as if a visible burden had been set down, her face smoothing, losing some of the tightness around the edges. I stayed silent, knowing that it would wear on her. Knowing the need to fill it would overpower her. I wasn’t wr
ong.

  “I was twelve, the first time that it happened. He –” She swallowed hard, tears leaking out from beneath her closed eyelids. “He came into my room and put his hand over my mouth, climbed on top of me and–” Her shoulders rounded, and she hunched in on herself.

  “I get the picture,” I said softly. If I could spare her, I would, she’d been through enough by this point… and it’s all your fuckin’ fault for not pressing the issue sooner, I silently berated myself. I put a hand on her shoulder and gripped it firmly to support her, whispering, “Take your time.”

  She took several deep breaths and said, “I told Abuela.”

  “What did she do?” I prompted when she remained in miserable silence.

  “She lost her shit. Called me a liar and beat me with a belt.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I tried telling a teacher, school counselors, none of it helped. CPS was called and Abuela, she always knew what to say. She convinced them I was a liar and a problem child. No one would listen to me, so I finally stopped trying… he moved when I was sixteen but, um, damage done I guess.” She shrugged helplessly and I stayed silent.

  She’d been betrayed by literally everyone who was supposed to protect her. My rage was churning in my gut, but she didn’t need my rage. Not yet. Right now, she needed my empathy.

  “I don’t know why,” she said.

  “The why of it isn’t on you, Marisol,” I told her and swallowed hard myself. “The why of it is because he’s a sick fuck.”

  She wouldn’t look at me, fixing her eyes on an empty patch of carpet instead.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked finally, her voice barely audible.

  “Never you mind that, that’s for me to figure out – later. Right now, I’m going to find you something to wear and tonight, I’m going to give you some room to breathe.”

  “You’re leaving?” she asked and the note of alarm in her voice gave me pause.

  “Not if you don’t want,” I said.

  “What about our deal?” she asked sharply.

  “Deal’s changed, baby girl, and I’m not upset or sorry about it.”

  “But, Mateo!”

  “Hush,” I ordered. “Deal’s changed, it’s not off. You’ll get out and I’ll help you get your brother.”

  “Really?” She sounded so hopeful, and that note of hope in her voice was so heartbreakingly tenuous.

  “Really.”

  “So… so, you believe me?” she whispered, and again she wouldn’t look at me. She was hanging on by a thread, had been so strong, all by herself, for so long… shit.

  “There’s no faking that kind of reaction, girl. Of course, I believe you. I believe you and I am so fucking sorry…”

  “Don’t be,” she said gently but sharply. “You didn’t know.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  She snorted indelicately and looked at me then.

  “Sorry your crystal ball was out of order,” she said sarcastically, and I felt my lips twitch, barely resisting a smile. It was remarkable, watching her walls go back up in real time.

  “Things are going to be different from here on out,” I promised her and her expression – God, I’ve never seen anyone look so tired, so weary.

  “Things will never change, Maverick,” she said quietly. “I learned that a long time ago.”

  I pulled her against me, tucking her head under my chin, holding her tight.

  “Things are gonna change, baby. Mark my words,” I whispered savagely.

  She didn’t say anything, just slipped her arms around my waist and let me fucking hold her.

  Trouble was that the damage was already done. There wasn’t any protecting her from the big bad. It’d already been living inside her heart and head for years by now.

  I tell you what, Karma was riding back to Washington and it was bringing hell with it. Some motherfuckers were fixin’ to die. They just didn’t know it yet.

  I couldn’t unilaterally make this type of decision, though. I needed to talk to my men. Get their take… so, I dressed Marisol in one of my clean tees and a spare clean pair of my boxers and laid down with her, holding her close, stroking her hair, waiting for her breathing to deepen and even out as I stared sightlessly into the dark, cogs and wheels going in my brain.

  When she was finally out, it was too late to really do anything, but I wasn’t going to get any sleep. So, I thought, planned, schemed, and generally just did what I did best. I Plotted like a motherfucker on how to get what I wanted and yet keep myself and my club off law enforcement’s radar.

  Of course, there was only so much I could plan for without knowing what the guys were going to think of this.

  That in and of itself would be a delicate operation. I was sure Marisol wouldn’t want them knowing her business, but that wasn’t how club life worked. There were no secrets among the club.

  I sighed and dropped into a light and uneasy sleep, but I was back awake before long, the birds chirping in the pre-dawn outside the lodge’s windows.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marisol…

  He believed me. I’d seen it written all over his face by the dim light through the little room’s window. He believed every word I’d said, and he was silently seething on my behalf.

  It was more than a little mind-blowing to finally be believed after so long. I really didn’t think it was possible. It was certainly vindicating to a degree, but by the same token, I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high that it would change anything. I mean, what was to stop him from making the ride back to Washington and dropping me somewhere that was anywhere that just wasn’t his problem anymore?

  Still, it was hard not to get my hopes up when he held me like he did. Tight to his body, with this utter savagery to it, like he would straight murder anyone who dared come near me.

  I couldn’t help myself. I leaned into that embrace and pretended for the time being that that was precisely the intent with which he wrapped his arms around me.

  We’d sat like that for a long time, with Maverick gently rocking me and stroking his hand over my hair. He didn’t say anything. I don’t honestly thing there was much of a need to. I mean, what was there to say?

  He dressed me in one of his tees and a clean pair of his boxers and laid down with me, holding me gently, cuddling me, and I soaked it up shamelessly.

  Comfort wasn’t something I was used to being shown and it honestly meant the world to me… even if I didn’t think it would last, I would take what I could get.

  By morning, the spell was broken, though. I woke alone. The light in the room told me it was still morning, but I didn’t know by how much and I wouldn’t until I looked at an actual clock.

  I looked around, relieved that Mav’s stuff was still in the corner where I’d stacked it neatly alongside mine. He was still here. I doubted he would have taken off without me but… well, let’s just say I couldn’t put anything past anyone anymore.

  I sighed heavily and got up, going through a half-paced morning routine of brushing hair and teeth and finding an outfit to wear.

  I went for more covered than not – one of my traditional light peasant blouses and a pair of shorts. The blouse was one of my favorites. A black linen-type material, brightly embroidered at the neckline, along the wide short sleeves and hem. I gave it a French tuck and slid my feet into a pair of simple dark leather sandals.

  I was feeling raw and vulnerable, so I stopped and took my time to do my full makeup. I don’t know. It helped. Made me feel like I had a mask to hide behind. Made me feel more composed.

  I slipped a pair of sunglasses up on top of my head to hold back my hair and stuffing the spare room key into the shallow pocket of my denim shorts, I slipped out of the room and let out a breath. Ready or not, it was time to face the day and the rest of the bikers out there.

  “Hey, have you seen Mav?” I asked Sunshine who was already up and helping some of the lodge staff put out a late breakfast. It was already past ten in the m
orning and a lot of people hadn’t so much as stirred – which wasn’t surprising in the least. These guys treated noon like it was the new nine am.

  “Oh, yeah. He and the rest of your chapter are off in the picnic area over by the cabin. Take the fork in the path to the left through the trees but make sure they know you’re coming.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I smiled, and she smiled back, and I went in the direction she’d pointed to.

  I stopped at the end of the trail, outside the trees and turned my face into the sun for a moment, letting it warm me… closing my eyes and soaking in the fiery red glow through my lids. I felt as though I was marching into the unknown and it wasn’t a good feeling.

  I didn’t know what to expect, but I would be lying if I said I expected more kindness. That wasn’t how life worked in my experience. I’d had knives buried in my back so deeply I couldn’t reach them to pull them out. They were still there, the flesh grown around them, the lessons from them so deeply ingrained, I would never be rid of them, would never heal, and I would never make the same mistakes that put them there in the first place again.

  With a sigh I moved forward, the trail neatly maintained, lined with rounded river rock on either side, my footsteps muffled on the hard-packed pea gravel by the accumulation of leaf litter pulverized over time and the native soil. Together they formed a soft loam that all but silenced my tread and I could see why Sunshine had warned me to make my presence known... Of course, I didn’t heed her advice, not when I spotted them through the trees gathered under the little lakeside gazebo out over the water. Not when I heard them clearly talking about me.

  “Jesus Christ, girl’s had it rough.”

  I froze.

  “I never would have guessed,” Glass Jaw said, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin, his mouth disappearing behind it in his dismay.

  I swallowed hard and stood rooted to the spot. I wasn’t hiding, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I stared at Maverick’s back and felt a fresh hot knife of betrayal twist between my shoulder blades, the point buried so deep it protruded from my chest. The feeling of it so visceral, so physical, I put a hand to my chest, between my breasts to stem the outpouring of agony.