by Penn Rivers
“Never been more fucking certain.”
He waited, his breath steady through the phone, as I swallowed over and over trying to talk through the emotions. The ache in my throat wouldn’t leave.
“Then… Kane, I need your help.”
He had five seconds to answer. Five seconds to say yes or no. Because after five seconds, I was going to throw all my necessities into a suitcase, explain my plan to mama and Noah, and spend the rest of my short time here making pancakes for my boy and memorizing his happy smile.
“You got it.” His voice was fierce. A fiery dragon ready to fight my battles beside me. It was such a beautiful sound that the sob I’d been choking back exploded from my chest in a vicious cry. “Anything you need, Gem. You got me.”
Chapter Eleven
KANAAN
I pulled up to the Sapphire at noon, finding Gemma’s Charley parked in its usual spot at the back of the lot. Raw with worry, I gripped the steering wheel until it squeaked under my knuckles.
She hadn’t given me details about what had her in tears. I only knew she needed a place to stay. And I was going to give it to her.
Stopping next to the Honda, I hopped out of the cab and met Gemma as she was taking her suitcase out of the trunk.
“I got it.” I switched out with her, and our hands brushed. She jumped back like she’d touched a live wire.
I loaded it into the bed of the truck before finally looking at her. She was free of makeup, her eyes were bloodshot, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, wearing ripped jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. And still. She was my fucking air. My blood pumping in my veins. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
My stomach clenched. If anything happened to her…
Nothing would. She was with me now, and I’d make sure of it.
“Come on.” I grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the passenger door and shutting her in before getting behind the wheel.
As I weaved the busy side streets toward the highway, I waited for her to tell me what had happened. But she offered no explanation.
Glancing over, I found her staring out the window, jaw rigid, shoulders tense. She was so deep in whatever shit was bothering her, I didn’t know how to reach her. Or if I even should. Maybe she needed me to just say nothing.
“How far is your place?” she asked, clearing her throat twice to get the words out.
“Fifteen minutes. Give or take.”
She nodded, pulling at her earlobe, a nervous gesture. She’d done that at the diner that first night. It had brought my attention to her simple silver stud earrings.
“Stopping by the store on our way,” I added. “I wasn’t ready for you.”
“Oh. I don’t need anything. I’ll be easy.”
I hid my grin by pretending to look in my side mirror. Nothing with her was going to be easy. But I was ready for it. More than ready for this chance with her.
What wasn’t ready, was my refrigerator.
“I’ve been needing to go grocery shopping,” I explained. “I have a package of pepperoni and a container of lemon yogurt I’ve been putting off eating. I’m thinking those two things wouldn’t make an epic meal.”
I looked away from the road and found her gaze. No window this time. Good.
“I call dibs on the lemon yogurt,” she said.
“It’s yours,” I agreed low. Everything was hers. She just didn’t know it yet, and I couldn’t admit it anywhere but in my head.
Three minutes on the interstate and an exit later, we were pulling into the grocery store. Gemma was edgy, her eyes darting all over the lot.
“Do you think it will take long?”
“Give me ten minutes. You wait here, okay?”
She nodded, but I didn’t want to leave her looking like that. Not okay. Not at all, with her shoulders jacked up, tense with worry.
I brought her hand to my lips, dropping a kiss on her palm.
“Ten minutes, Gem.”
She nodded, her teeth worrying her lower lip. I thumbed her chin to make her stop and then forced myself from the truck. When this was over, I was going to find out what was wrong with my girl. Gemma was going to talk to me, whether she liked it or not.
Inside, I grabbed a shopping cart and hesitated wondering which section of the store to start. What did Gemma like?
Fruit. Lots of fruit, right? Women like fruit.
I headed for the produce section, my heart pounding like I was about to fight for my life instead of just buy food. Adrenaline made my arms prickle with chills as I zipped past the bins and tossed stuff in the cart drive-by style. Strawberries. And bananas. A few apples. And then pointed my cart toward the next section of the store.
What about chocolate?
I stopped in the candy aisle, frowning at the selection. What kind did she like? I had no idea.
Shit.
I grabbed one of each kind on the shelf. That would do.
Milk. We needed milk.
I stopped in front of the cooler. 2%? 1%? My hand shook as I grabbed a half gallon of each and some orange juice. Pulp? Or no pulp?
Damn it, I was probably going to fuck this up.
But the toiletries section was where things really got confusing. Toilet paper. I reached for my normal cheapo brand, but hesitated. I never cared what I wiped my ass with before, but now Gemma was going to be using it, and maybe she needed something softer.
Anxiety burned my gut, climbing my chest and threatening to choke me as reality set in. Gemma was coming home with me. Having her there, it was huge. No one had ever been there but me. And Trixie. It was my space and even though I wanted her there—man, did I really want her there—it was terrifying as hell.
But fuck. I didn’t back down from a thing because it scared me. That wasn’t my way.
I faced it. Handled it. Conquered it.
I quickly reached for the brand that had a bear in the commercials. It was supposed to be the best, right? And I also snagged some scented hand soap before leaving the aisle. Something to make her feel more comfortable in my masculine bare-bones place. And a toothbrush? No. She’d pack her own toothbrush, wouldn’t she?
Gritting my jaw, I hurried from the aisle before I could overthink anything else.
Minutes later, I was back at the truck. Gemma was just as I’d left her, and didn’t say a word as I cranked the ignition. I backed out of the parking space and pointed us in the direction of my little suburb.
“Wanna tell me what this is all about, Gem? Or are we going to just keep on pretending it’s a sleepover?”
She tucked her arms around her middle, looking so small. I didn’t like it. She was my badass, my strong girl. And I hated that she didn’t know it.
“I’m going to tell you. I am. I just… I don’t know how to start,” she said.
My gut told me whatever it was, it was bad.
“Start with the worst of it. Get that part out and then the rest will follow.”
She nodded, her chin dipping down to meet her chest.
“You remember at the diner, I told you Noah was the only man in my life?”
Fuck. Okay. Hell of a way to start.
“Yeah.” A brutal knot was building in my chest. A warning that the bottom was about to fall out if my little piece of the world. Felt like a barbed wire tumbleweed snagging on my throat as I tried to find words that would stop what I knew was coming.
“That wasn’t true,” she said. “He’s not the only one.”
My fingers went numb on the steering wheel as her words crashed over me. All those vicious territorial feelings I’d experienced at the diner came rushing back with a vengeance. I shook my head in denial.
“Don’t tell me that, Gemma. Don’t you dare tell me that.”
“I lied to you in the diner, Kane. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t intentional, but I did.”
“No.”
“I did.” Her voice was soft and pain-filled. It sounded like my heart felt. I’d always been too soft. Marco knew it. Sal
did too. Dr. Trammel. My mother, and every one of her despicable boyfriends. But all that soft shit was turning to anger in my veins and I didn’t know how to stop it. “I didn’t mean to, Kane.”
“No, Gem,” I ground out.
“I’m married!” she blurted, stalling my breath.
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
Red flickered in my vision, and I jerked the wheel to pull the truck to the side of the road just so I could breathe.
“To Noah’s father.”
That explained the questions I’d had about the kid. Shit. Goddamn it.
“Married.” My voice sounded like rocks under tires.
“Yes,” she whispered, causing the air between us to vibrate with tension.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Finding out my girl belonged to someone else? No. Any suspicion of that had died after the diner.
“Then why… why are we even here?” I bit out, devastated. “Why did you ask for my help? Why did we… goddamn it, Gemma. You let me touch you.”
“Kane, It’s not what you think—”
“You’re supposed to be mine, and you’re married,” I boomed. “It’s exactly what I think.”
The cab went silent as I struggled to rein in my temper.
Vengeance. Fury. Bitterness that acted as fuel. My past was full of this kind of shit. But I wasn’t that person anymore. I didn’t let my anger control me. I controlled it.
Your hurt feeds your anger. Fix what hurts and the anger fades. That’s what fucking Dr. Trammel always said.
So I was hurt.
Okay. I could work with that. I could find a place to tuck it away like I did all my other hurts.
“I am yours,” Gemma murmured. So quiet, maybe it was only a thought. Something conjured from my imagination. “I… I told you my life was complicated.”
But this was more than simply complicated, wasn’t it?
I pulled in a sharp breath, determined to find the control I’d too easily lost with her. Find a place, asshole, to tuck it away. Get through this, and I’d sort out my feelings later.
“You said get the worst out of the way and the rest will follow. Do you want to hear the rest, or not?”
Did I? Could I hear anymore? Without losing my shit over her?
No. Not when my throat ached with the threat of tears. Fucking tears.
I shook my head.
She had me wrapped up too tight. I hadn’t cried since I was a boy. Barely older than Noah. Shit.
“Just tell me why you need my help. Forget the rest, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Gemma was silent, but I couldn’t look over.
My fists wrung the steering wheel like it was a wet rag.
“This was a mistake,” she whispered. “Shit, what am I doing?”
I made myself look. She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Just take me back to the club, okay? I can do this on my own.”
On her own. Fuck that. I still didn’t know what kind of danger she was in. And she had another thing coming if she thought I’d let anything happen to her. Married or fucking not.
“No. Tell me what you need from me. I’m going to keep you safe. It’s my job.”
Her gaze snapped around, suddenly furious. “It’s not your fucking job, Kane. I’m not your job. It’s not your job to protect me from my asshole husband so I can keep my son safe. It’s not your job to buy me food or fix my car or let me stay at your house. Or give me the first orgasms I’ve had in years. None of that is your job. Your job stops at the club doors. Now take me back there.”
I stared at her, swallowing back my rage. It had a different source now. Not pain, not entirely. But concern.
“He hurt you?” My voice was dark, laced with all the blackened history of my past.
“Yes, Kane,” she said, her voice weary. “He hurt me. He hurt my boy. And he won’t stop. I can’t make it all stop.” She pressed her head back against the truck seat, squeezing her eyes closed while tears continued to leak from the corners. “I’m tired. So damn tired. And all I want is for Noah to be safe. It’s all I want in the entire world. Can you understand that?”
Fuck, I was trying.
“Where is he now?”
“With mama. They can’t find ‘em…” Her voice slurred off, her body going lax in the seat. “As long as I’m a ghost, they can’t find ‘em. Take me back to Charley so I can leave. Okay, Kane? Please.”
I pulled the truck back onto the interstate, rage swirling inside my chest like a goddamn tornado.
“Thank… you…”
Visions from my past pummeled my brain like it was nothing more than a punching bag.
The fan spinning and spinning. Focus on the fan so you don’t have to watch her get hit. Round and round it goes, the neon lights in the window flickering every few seconds. Together they make a distraction. One that is frequently interrupted by her terror-filled screams. Singing to drown out the sound. A favorite song. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Sometimes the flickering lights make it seem like there are stars in the room and I imagine I’m up there in heaven. But then I see the fan. Hear the horrifying grunts. The curses and heavy breathing. And I know heaven is very, very far away.
I shook my head, determined to clear it. I wouldn’t think about my mother right now. Couldn’t thing about the wrongs done to her. Especially the one that brought me into the world. I couldn’t. She was gone, lost a long time ago, and there was no saving her.
My gaze rolled over to Gemma where she slouched in the passenger seat, exhausted.
Yes, Kane. He hurt me. He hurt my boy. And he won’t stop.
My girl was married.
Motherfucking hell.
But it didn’t mean I’d let her stay that way. And I sure as hell wasn’t letting her be hurt anymore. That shit was ending. And fast.
Mine. Whether her ring finger said so or not.
Chapter Twelve
KANAAN
I pulled to a stop about as far away from the club and Charley as we could get: my house. I turned off the engine and got out, shutting the door quietly. Grabbing the groceries from the truck bed, I took them inside, gave Trixie a quick belly rub, and then went back out for Gemma.
Opening the passenger door didn’t stir her so I reached around to unbuckle her seatbelt.
“Gem,” I murmured, but nothing.
How many days since she’d slept? Where was the fucker who called himself husband?
I stared at her form in the seat of my truck. She said he hurt her. But I would have noticed bruises, wouldn’t I? And I could have protected her.
I swallowed back the poison that wanted out of my throat. There’d be no answers until she woke up. And until I could keep my temper under control long enough to fucking listen.
Damn it, I was an asshole. Being hurt made me an asshole. I’d always known this. And I couldn’t help feeling like I should have protected her from that too. From me.
Carefully, I lifted her from the truck and pressed the door shut with my hip. She was lighter than I realized, and close like this, all my protective instincts flared to maximum.
How do men exist in the world, who can hurt others so carelessly? Sure maybe it was some evolutionary trait for us to fuck up. But the ones who never try to do better, the ones who hurt for fun or to prove their strength… those are the ones that don’t deserve to have a woman of their own. Or a son. A family at all.
They’re the ones I hate with every ounce of my being. They’re the reason I am what I am today, the reason I take my job at the club so seriously. The reason my body couldn’t wake up until Gemma.
“Kane.” Her drowsy voice brought my gaze down. But her eyes were struggling to open. “Are we at the club?”
“No, Gem.”
Her lids fluttered in earnest now, and she managed a sliver peek.
“Need Charley,” she mumbled. “Gotta get out of town.”
“You’re staying with me. We’ll figure thi
s shit out after you rest.”
I pushed through the front door, kicking it shut behind me. Trixie grumbled from her bed on the floor, looking perplexed. A stranger in the house wasn’t something she understood.
“I can… walk,” Gemma slurred.
“Bullshit,” I whispered, dropping a kiss to her head. Goddamn it, it was already easy like habit. I needed to rein that shit in until I got my head straight.
I took her down the hall to my bedroom. She was snoring before I reached it.
I laid her on the bed, stepping back to stare at her there. Conflicted feelings bubbled in my chest. The bed that I hated and the woman that I very much didn’t. It was strange to see her at peace in the place that had brought me so many sleepless nights. But the man in me never wanted her to leave that bed. Wanted to share it with her.
Visions of taking her against the headboard invaded my mind. Of her, with legs spread wide, screaming in pleasure as I buried myself inside her.
Married. Shit, Gemma was married.
I tugged off her shoes, tossing them aside, and pulled the covers up, tucking them around her shoulders. My hand brushed the stray hairs away from her face. Watching her made my chest ache.
I rubbed at it with my palm, needing it to fade. But it only got worse the longer I stared. My eyes drifted to the ceiling fan. The blasted thing mocked me. Someday, I’d overcome the revulsion.
Twisting, I turned to leave. I’d come back when I was less emotional.
Before I reached the door, Gemma’s voice stopped me. “Smells like you.” She’d tossed, and her face was half-smashed into the pillow. I stared, checking to see if she was waking up. But she was still as the dead.
“Gem?”
No answer. No movement except her soft breathing that verged on a snore.
I waited some more, just to make sure. But she was out.
Shaking my head, I moved for the door again.
“I’m sorry…Kane,” she mumbled. “Sorry I fell in love with you. I shoulda jus lef… so… so… sorry…”
I froze, my heart thundering under my ribs at what I thought I heard. Love.
My ears burned, my throat ached. My mind scrambled to make sense of her words, but every combination of possible misunderstanding seemed off.