by Rie Warren
“That’s right.” My jaw hardened as I met her stance. “Because you don’t have to. Because I—” I shook my head.
I couldn’t tell her that. Not now.
“You have to separate yourself from him. It’s not fucking good for you.” I crossed my arms over my chest as she toed up to me, green fire blazing in her irises. “You can’t keep putting yourself in that position. Fuck, Rayce!”
I was furious with her for letting herself get hurt. Again.
“You don’t understand.” She whirled away.
I grabbed her shoulders. “You’re right.” Spinning her to me, I tried to be gentle. “I don’t. I must be missing something here. Gotta be. What aren’t you telling me, Rayce?”
“Nothing.” Her gaze skated aside.
“I don’t buy that. I’m gonna find out.”
Wild fright filled her eyes. She locked her hands on my arms. “No, don’t. Just . . . you have to leave me alone.”
I paced away. “Are you serious?”
“He needs me. My dad needs me.”
I passed my fingers over my mouth. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
“No. You can’t.” Walking around me, she drew my gaze to hers.
Her eyes were so sad and too wise, and I realized she was referring to her and me.
Swallowing hard, I pulled her into my arms. I rested my cheek on top of her head.
She clutched me just as fiercely, holding me tight to her so I felt the thunderbeat of her heart.
I buried my fingers in her hair. “God. Why are you breaking my heart like this?”
She held on for a few more moments before disentangling herself from me.
“He’s my dad,” she whispered. “He’s all I have left.”
“No. He’s not, Phoebe.” I stared at her, stony-faced.
“I think it’s better if I go.” Her head dropped.
A wild pulse beat in my jaw, and my heart cracked open. I slumped onto the couch. “I can’t let you do that, not tonight, not knowing what state your dad is in.”
I dragged my eyes to hers. “Just sleep on it. We both need to go to bed.”
Tears poured silently down her cheeks. I wiped them away before scooping her into my arms.
We lay in the same bed—my bed. The clock ticked. The cat prowled. I remained stiffly on my side until Rayce rolled against my back, her hot tears falling on my neck.
She clenched her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Boomer!”
Sobs shook her body.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” I turned around, sweeping her hair from her face and the tears from her cheeks, but they kept rolling out.
“You don’t ever need to apologize.” Holding her to me, I felt her body wrack against mine like waves breaking on a rocky shore.
When she quieted, after she fell asleep, I stayed awake.
Rayce was so close to me. But the distance was already growing.
I caressed her back and smoothed her hair and kissed her temple.
In the morning, I heard her moving around the room. I’d overslept after finally going to sleep way too late last night.
I’d wanted to remember every moment with her.
I sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over my face. She was quietly packing.
“You can’t get all that on your bike.” My voice rasped out.
“I’ll figure something out later.”
“What about breakfast?”
“I’ll get something on the way to work.”
Rolling out of bed, I hauled on a pair of jeans. I matched her steps on the stairs, my heart nearly done-for.
I blocked the door in front of her. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not good for you, Boomer. You don’t know . . .”
“Tell me.”
“Can’t.”
I crushed the impulse to keep her with me, keep her safe.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” Stepping aside, I opened the door. “But I’m not sure I’ll come after you this time.” Those were the hardest fucking words I’d ever said.
“I never expected you to in the first place.”
On the front porch, I crashed her against me. Our kiss was violent. Needy. A soul-searching goodbye that shouldn’t have been.
“Don’t worry about me.” Her hands cupped my face.
“You’re asking the impossible.” My voice barely worked as I let her go.
One tear slid down her cheek as she turned away. “Goodbye, Boomer.”
Chapter Twenty
The Ugly
I WENT INTO WORK that day ornery as hell. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone, and if anybody mentioned Rayce, his or her ass would be grass.
I shut myself in my office and pounded away at my computer, pistoning through the paperwork. Total focus. No lunch break. No joking around. No laughs. No smacktalk with Cat or Brodie or Lucy.
My whole attitude shouted leave me the fuck alone. Luckily everyone took that warning to heart and stayed out of my face.
Nothing could stop the loneliness when I got home. The key I’d given to Rayce sat on the countertop. Shitlock mewled sadly, slinking after me as I fed and watered and scratched him.
I trudged upstairs trying to shut off all the memories of Rayce in my house.
Her, soft and sleepy in my arms.
Wet and slippery in the shower.
Teasing me beyond control as she swayed up the stairs in front of me, slowly revealing her back and her ink with her shirt sliding off her arms.
Her scent—both one hundred percent girly and garage.
The tears tracking down her face when she said goodbye.
In my room—our room—I checked the closet, the dressers, the nightstands. She hadn’t taken everything.
Good.
I was not above stubbornly holding her belongings hostage . . . while trying to forget about her and move on.
Riiiight.
That would never happen.
I flopped onto the bed, worrying about her. Wanting to text her.
Trying to cut her out of my life.
****
The following days burned me out. Everything turned to shit at the same time. It wasn’t just Rayce leaving me. Kinkaid’s Grampa Dean—the man who’d raised him—died suddenly.
That took despair to a whole new level, knowing one of our own was hurting, our newest youngest prospect.
We did the honor guard thing for the funeral. We celebrated Mr. Dean’s life with a less rowdy than usual get-together at the MC. Made sure Kinkaid was going to be okay.
He and Sadie made up—again—only to break up—again.
The pain kept on a-coming.
The mood was morose in the MC, and it wasn’t just me.
I couldn’t go after Rayce one more time. I couldn’t stand by and watch her get hurt one more time.
And I could not stop thinking about her.
Every time I walked into Retribution I hoped she wasn’t there. I also hoped like hell for one single glimpse of her.
I didn’t contact Stone about her, though I wanted to.
I walked away from JB and Sadie when they mentioned her.
I just couldn’t . . .
Neither could I let her situation with her dad go.
I made first contact with MPPD, off the record. But I didn’t go to Hunter. I needed a woman’s perspective. It was a bene having an almost family member as a high-ranking local LEO.
Knock up a woman. Adopt her daughter. Get engaged. But still spends hang-time with her before tying the knot?
Totally Brodie.
I managed to snag Ashe one evening at Retribution a week and a half after Rayce had done a runner on me.
Ashe wore all her earrings—something she couldn’t do when she was officially on duty—the silver metal running up over the tiny tips of her ears. Blonde hair in waves around her face, a tight shirt showcasing her small baby swell, she was totally glowing at four months pregnant.
“Can I grab you for a few minutes?” I asked her.
“I hope you mean grab in the figurative sense.” Brodie claimed his space beside his woman.
“I’m surprised you even know the difference.” I cut a glare at him.
My hand tucked around Ashe’s elbow, I guided her to the only table set away from the rest of the bar. Two seats. Where the important conversations went down.
“Sure! You can borrow her,” Brodie called out.
“He doesn’t need your permission,” Ashe returned.
“Told!” Tail avidly watched all the action.
“Uh oh. The private table? This must be serious.” Ashe shook her head and smoothed her hands over her belly. “Now, I love this little wonder, but sometimes I wish I could still drink.”
“I can get you a cranberry juice?” I settled her into a chair.
“I’m about up to my gills with that shit.”
My beer bottle sweated between us as I sat down. I took a drink and wiped my mouth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s so much better this time around. Brodie’s incredible.”
I peered at my brother who was slinging drinks next to Cole just as fast as the insults that flew out of his mouth.
“What’s up, Boom?” Ashe leaned across, clasping my hand.
“It’s Rayce.”
“I heard about that.”
“How much?”
“Her dad at Redemption. Other stuff.” Her silver eyes narrowed on me.
“What other stuff.”
“What do you want me to tell you, Boomer?”
I rasped my hands over my face and took a slow drink. “I don’t know.” Looking up, I asked, “Can she press charges?”
“Abuse is a hard one. Really fucks with my head.”
Mine too.
“She said he hasn’t hit her, but I’ve seen him get pretty damn close.” My gut roiled, remembering every instance.
“We’d need evidence.”
“I hope it never gets that far.” I pulled my fingers across my jaw then linked them around my beer. “So. Nothing you can do?”
Because my heart is fucking breaking.
“The system isn’t airtight,” she said.
“I know.”
“She has to get away from him.”
“I know.” I punished the rest of my beer. “She won’t.”
“Rayce is so perfect for you, Boom.”
I laughed harshly. “You mean she knows how to bring on the pain?”
“No. She’s just—everyone can see—she’s your girl.”
“I can’t be with her like this.”
“I understand.” Ashe tapped her forehead. “Unfortunately she’s got a victim’s mindset. I should know. After Dirk . . . it took a long time for me to snap out of what he’d done to me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“Oh, hush. It’s okay.” She shrugged. “The thing is maybe Rayce feels more confortable where she is.”
I rocked back in my chair. “What?”
“Look at it this way. It’s what she’s always known.”
“Being verbally abused and who knows what else.” A scowl formed on my face.
“To be honest, yes.” Taking my hand in hers, Ashe peered at me. “This doesn’t have to be the end though. Bring her to the station. Let’s start getting shit on record. I can talk to her about getting an Order of Protection if she moves out.”
I hung my head. “She won’t do that.”
The door to Retribution swung open, and I inevitably swung around to look. Rayce snuck inside.
I shoved away from the table. “I gotta go.”
“What if you talk to her?” Ashe asked.
“Can’t.” I couldn’t even look at her.
That sleek hair.
Her big curves.
Her body I craved, and her heart I wanted even more.
Rayce glanced at me, then her eyes slipped away.
“I’m outta here.” I heaved up to my feet. “I can’t. I can’t help her, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“Boom.” Ashe stood and patted my face. “I hate seeing you like this. Why don’t you come back to the house with us tonight?”
I reared back and hooked an eyebrow at her. “What? So I can listen to my younger brother jump your bones?”
“Boomer!”
“Had enough of that when y’all spent the night last September.”
“You heard us?”
“Kind of hard not to.”
“You’re not supposed to talk about it.” She did that whole hands-on-hips thing.
“You brought it up.”
“I did not!”
“Close enough.”
“Hmmph. Well”—she rolled her eyes—“you could always take Cara for the weekend if you’re lonely?”
“Now that’s just plain mean.” Grinning, I ran my arm across her shoulders. “Kidding. You know I love having her whenever you want.”
“She thinks you’re pretty damn cool. Just watch it on that motorcycle.”
“You got it. I think she’s awesome too.” I tapped the gentle swell of Ashe’s belly. “And I can’t wait to meet this little one, you know?”
Ashe kissed me on the cheek. “I hope you work it out with Rayce. You’re gonna be a great dad some day.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I am.”
I took my leave with the pain drilling into me, not once touching or talking to Rayce.
****
So I had Cara for the weekend. Why not? Uncle Boom ranked, and she was a welcome distraction. Cara turned out to be pretty handy in the kitchen—unlike Brodie, not to mention Rayce who I wasn’t thinking about. At. All.
Cara even made pancakes from scratch for breakfast. No doubt about it, Brodie had gotten one sweet deal with the Kingston women.
In return, I let the little lady have a friend stay for a sleepover. They slept in Brodie’s redone bedroom, and when the pop music got too loud and the nail polish fumes enough to make my head ache, I headed out to the deck to text Brodie. And complain. And ask if I could bring Cara home early.
He called me back to laugh his ass off. Big surprise there. Not.
I took the girls out to lunch at Cosmic Dogs the next day before dropping them off—both of them going nuts over my TopKick, which was a pretty hardass ride.
For two entire days I didn’t think about Rayce. Okay, I hardly thought about her.
All right. She barely left my thoughts.
The next week I managed to avoid her some more. Not that she came looking for me. Or vice versa. I tried to be less grumpy.
Probably failed.
Valentine’s Day had come and gone. I would’ve spent it alone if not for the one bright spot of ambushing Kinkaid—who was healing from his grandfather’s death—at The Gentleman’s Quarters, all male revue strip joint.
Holy Hell.
Who knew?
Hunter, of-fucking-course.
The boy could move, too. Seemed like Kinkaid had his own in-house entourage of women—and suddenly I understood why Sadie Grace had kicked him to the curb more than once.
Shock didn’t even cover his reaction when he saw us lined up against the back wall of the high-class, mega-money strip joint. Hunter, Brodie, Tail, Tuck, Handsome, Cole, and me.
Brodie got in Kinkaid’s face, busting his chops while Kinkaid stood in front of us in nothing but a slick dick-pouch, blushing all the way to his hairline.
That shit was going down in history.
The deal was Kinkaid had to make good with his woman in order to earn his Retribution patch.
Not to be outdone, Kinkaid had turned the smooth smug charm on, strutting away. “I already decided I’m going after Sadie. This is my last show. Hope y’all got your rocks off.”
****
The Saturday after Valentine’s Day I was in the garage. Since Brodie had moved out his bike and shit, I’d converted the extra space into a gym. Cool air steamed o
ff my straining muscles as I dropped into weighted squats with a two hundred pound barbell balanced on my shoulders. Sweat streamed down my shirtless chest. My thighs hardened with each heavy lunge and thrust. My chest heaved, and I blew out a grunt with every lift and hold.
The garage door was raised to let the lukewarm air inside, and I stood back-to, replacing the barbell on the stand. I took up a pair of huge kettle weights, settling on the bench to go to work on my biceps and shoulders. Perspiration dripped into my eyes, trickled down the center of my back, slipped under the waist of my loose shorts.
I heard a sharp gasp and swung around, dropping the kettlebells with a heavy thud. Swiping the sweat from my eyes with one hand, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Rayce stood in the doorway. Her mouth popped open, her eyes, too. The sun’s rays spread out around her, making her even more of a dark angel.
I stood up slowly, the sight of her flummoxing me.
Exhaling loudly, I grabbed a towel, running it over my face. I tried for a smile when I lowered the damp terrycloth.
Failed.
My throat glugged. “I guess you’re here for the rest of your things?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Making Up
RAYCE STOOD MOTIONLESS, STARING at me.
My brow furrowed, and I slung the towel around my neck. “I’ll get your stuff. You need a lift?”
Breaking from her trance, Rayce quietly asked, “Just like that?”
I dropped back, my shoulders meeting the wall. “No, Rayce. Not just like that at all. It’s the last goddamn thing I want to do, if you want to know the truth.”
“Then why?” She stepped closer, chewing on her lip.
“I just want you to be okay. If you can’t be good with me then—” I shrugged.
She started talking so fast I could hardly keep up. “I didn’t come back to move out. I came back for you. You were right. I was lost and you saved me, found me, and I’m not strong enough to be without you.” She raised soft, sad eyes. “When Kinkaid’s grandfather died just like that it hit me how quickly everything can end.” Enormous tears spilled out of her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”