Preacher nodded. “I raised Tals and Tenn. Cage too, and all at a time when I wasn’t even raised myself.”
* * *
“Where is he?” Maddie had demanded of Tenn over the phone that evening. He hadn’t answered her, but two days later, an hour after Tals pulled his magic disappearing act—again—Tenn picked her up and drove her to a big building with a mainly empty parking lot.
There was Holly’s borrowed car, and another one.
She followed Tenn up to the building and they went inside quietly. There were several closed doors along a hallway, and Tenn stopped at the third one. Pointed.
Maddie peered through the glass at the top of the door.
Tals was with a woman—she was half under him, and for a brief moment her heart nearly stopped with the shock of being so completely wrong.
They were moving, the woman pushing up against him with her entire body, and Maddie almost turned and walked away.
But she didn’t. And then she saw the woman attack Tals and realized there was a self-defense class happening.
“He’s done this for a while. It took him time before he even told me. I got into my business because I couldn’t save Mom, so I get to save her in spirit, over and over. Now Tals gets to too, every time he trains another woman to fight back.” Tenn sighed. “It’s amazing—we’ve never blamed each other for not getting her out of the game, for not showing her how to defend herself, just in case. She was used to men doing it for her. But we’ve never forgiven ourselves. Not sure we ever will. Or can.”
“She shouldn’t have put that on you.”
“Maybe not. But she did the best she could. It’s all she knew.” Tenn shrugged. “Just know it’s his penance, okay? He does it willingly, but a big part of him hates having to do it.”
“Because he revisits what happened to her every time,” she said quietly.
“Vipers has some old-fashioned rules, but they’re mainly about protection—keeping the members, and their women, safe.”
“It’s a strange world for someone who didn’t grow up inside of it.”
Tenn gave an understanding smile. “And for Tals and me, it’s all we know. We all try to prove our success to our parents. Always trying to please, even if we don’t consciously realize it.”
“How’d you get so smart?”
“Lots of sex.” Tenn moved away from the door and she followed.
And then she backtracked, but she didn’t make it all the way to the door before Tenn caught her. “I think I want to see him.”
“He’s going to hate that you’re here,” Tenn told her bluntly.
“Yes, Tals wants some fucking privacy.”
Tals’s voice. Angry. She turned to see the door open and him behind her, sweating in a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The woman was nowhere to be found.
“Told you,” Tenn said.
Tals pointed at him. “Shit list.”
“Used to it, brother.” Then, “I’ll give you two some space.”
When he walked away, Maddie said, “I think it’s . . .”
Tals held up a hand. “Don’t.”
“Tals—”
“I don’t want to hear what you think it is.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You’re going to say it’s great that I’m giving my time to help these women, et cetera.”
“Is that so wrong?”
He just shook his head. Muttered, “I’m not a motherfucking saint, Maddie. You’ve got to know that.”
“Thin line between sinners and saints,” she said quietly. “I know that now.”
“Ah, babe. I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re exactly who I think you are. I know what you’ve been doing.”
“Teaching self-defense?”
“Trying to put space between us because of what happened. Because you can’t stop thinking about the fact that I was almost hurt, just the way I can’t stop thinking about the fact that you did get hurt—for me.”
“It’s something that’s hard to get past. You think that by staying with me, you’ll be in less danger?” he demanded.
“Yes. You said you protect people.”
“At a cost. Don’t romanticize it.”
She crossed her arms, jutted her chin defiantly. “Calla seems to be doing fine,” she pointed out. “And Holly—”
“Ah, fuck. Don’t even go there. Don’t try to put Holly and fine in the same sentence.” Tals pressed his palms to his temples. “I know you so well, Maddie. And you know me. What I have to adjust to is letting you have some freedom.”
“We both have adjusting to do, Tals. But we’ve done the hard part. We’re here, together. Right?”
“Right,” he murmured. “Fucking finally.”
“I guess good things really do come to those who wait.”
He picked her up, and she wrapped herself around him. “Not waiting any longer,” he growled.
“Tals,” she protested, but he was taking her into the room, pulling the curtain on the door and locking it before carrying her over to the mats. “Is this part of self-defense training?”
“Only with you, Maddie. Only with you.”
Chapter 32
Preacher stood at the doorway of Holly’s room and knew she was gone. He gripped the doorjamb so hard his fingers would ache for days afterward. And he couldn’t bring himself to walk inside her room. He knew most of her clothes would be there—probably a bit of her jewelry too, some of which he’d gotten her. But he’d bet that her ring—her wedding ring from Mickey—would be gone.
He’d bet that if he ran the guy’s number again—the one he’d found in her pocket—he’d see calls to him tonight. Probably several of them, just like the several he’d found over the course of the last two weeks. And probably one of the calls would be right before she left to go “shopping” before work.
She never showed for work. None of her usual haunts reported seeing her over the last few days, never mind tonight.
Her bank account stood untouched. “She’s got no money,” he said to Cage, who’d come up behind him.
“She was storing cash,” Cage told him now. “Had to be.”
Preacher didn’t doubt it, had thought so himself, but it was still a knife through his gut. And heart. A betrayal he’d seen coming.
Then again, maybe it was wish fulfillment. Holly lived up to what he’d always expected her to do. So he shouldn’t be surprised she’d done so.
You can only trust your own.
He thought about Maddie and Tals, hating to be like that. Maddie was a Skulls girl, so he took some comfort in her town ties.
But Holly . . .
He’d never get her over the ghost of that bastard husband of hers. He couldn’t even lie to himself and say she didn’t know what he’d done. She knew. She’d been involved . . . but then again, so had Preacher.
That was something he doubted she knew. He’d had no idea that Mickey was married, or that Holly would be implicated or involved.
If he were honest with himself, he probably would’ve gone ahead and done it anyway. Hindsight was fucking blind.
Guilt made him give her refuge. He’d never expected to fall for her, despite all the odds. He’d always expected that he’d push her away like this. It’d taken longer than he’d expected, and it’d killed him slowly every step of the way.
Yeah, he was a completely selfish prick. As long as he could keep proving it over and over, he didn’t have to admit he might not’ve been.
“You going after her?” Cage asked.
Preacher glanced at him. “Is that club business?”
“Actually, yes,” Cage said. “The second you brought her here and gave her refuge, you crossed the No’Ones, and now we just forget it?”
Preacher turned to Cage, attempting to remain calm and failing. The anger in his tone was at himself more than Holly, but he pretended differently. “She left our protection. Thinks she’s queen of the fucking univ
erse, can do whatever she wants and we’re gonna be there to protect her. She knew what the goddamned risks were if she cut ties with us. The agreement to keep her safe never entailed me chasing her to the ends of the earth. I don’t run after any bitch.”
Yeah, saying it like that almost had him believing it.
Cage frowned. Stared at Preacher like he was seeing him for the first time. And Preacher didn’t like that look at all. “What?” he barked.
Cage shook his head. “Nothing left to say.”
Cage was right—there wasn’t. “Clear out the rest of her shit and paint the room. I don’t want any trace of her left here come morning.”
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is never a solitary venture. I have to thank my editor, Danielle Perez, for her patience and help. For Kara Welsh and Claire Zion, for their support. For the art department and their simply amazing cover.
For the wonderful readers who buy my books, chat about them on Facebook and Twitter, and send me terrific e-mails. I couldn’t do this job without your support.
And as always, I have to thank my family for their constant, unwavering faith in me. Thank you.
Don’t miss this novel in the Section 8 series
by Stephanie Tyler
FRAGMENTED
Available now from Signet Eclipse.
Chapter 1
“What are you so afraid of, Andrea?” her school counselor probed.
Fifteen-year-old Drea Timmons shifted in her seat, wanting nothing to do with this. But at least the woman sitting across from her with the smooth bob and placid expression hadn’t tried to call her by her nickname. That, Drea reserved only for friends, and these days, that pool was small. “I’m not afraid. Where do you get this shit from?”
That last part was one of Danny’s favorite expressions and was usually a conversation ender with most adults.
Not with this counselor, trying to bore into her brain by pulling the “we’re all very worried about you” card. “Your grandmother is concerned that you’re hanging out with dangerous people. I’ve heard the same thing from your teachers. They’re particularly concerned with your boyfriend . . . I believe his name is Danny Roberts?”
Drea shrugged. It was all the truth, yes, but what was the counselor going to do?
Continue to push, that was what. “Andrea, do you consider the people you’re hanging out with dangerous?”
Drea hadn’t bothered to learn the counselor’s name, because she was simply another in a long line of seemingly well-minded people trying to help. She wanted to ask where they’d been when her mother was doing drugs in front of her, when her mother’s boyfriends touched her in her bed at night, but she’d learned from Danny that showing weakness was to be avoided at all costs. As was the truth. “Why does it matter? I mean, they’re not dangerous to me.”
“Not yet,” the counselor countered. “But eventually, you’ll get caught up in it. There’s no way around that.”
“He’ll keep me safe.”
“Who’s he? Danny?”
Drea clamped her mouth shut—she’d said enough already. Danny didn’t like her talking about him to anyone in authority.
“Andrea, listen to me. I understand how you’re feeling.”
“No you don’t. How could you? You’re not me. You’re not in my mind. You have no idea how I’m feeling,” she challenged. “Danger isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes his kind of danger makes me feel alive.”
“And the other times? Does it scare you?”
“Sometimes. But being afraid is part of life.”
“Not to the extreme to which you’re taking it, honey.” The counselor shook her head. “To you, danger has somehow come to mean safety, and that’s completely wrong.”
“Who says?” Drea demanded.
Seventeen years later
“You’re angry.”
Drea stared back at Dr. Siegel, the casually dressed older man who sat across from her, alternating his gaze between her and the open laptop in front of him. He and his wife, who was a doctor as well, made a formidable team. Some days they tag-teamed her, but today it was one-on-one. “Wouldn’t you be angry if you were me?”
He wagged a finger at her. “Spoken like a true medical professional. You’ve got to open up to me if you want this to be of any help.”
She threw up her arms. “Hypnosis didn’t even work—so how is just talking going to do it?”
He turned the laptop to face her, and there was a picture of a dark-haired, dark-eyed man wearing a black leather jacket. He’d been caught off guard by the picture, but he still looked easy and relaxed as he stared at her through the screen. “Tell me about him.”
She looked at that picture an awful lot these days, and for a guy she had zero memories of, the man called Jem certainly consumed a lot of her thoughts. But she hated having to admit that, and tried even more not to show it. She forced herself not to grit her teeth as she answered, “I can’t.”
“Tell me what you know. Tell me what you’ve heard. Tell me what you’re feeling when you look at him.”
She frowned and sat back in the chair like a petulant child. “He’s the reason I’m here. He’s part of the reason I don’t have a memory, although he didn’t do anything to me himself. He rescued me.”
“So he’s a white knight?”
Drea snorted softly, blurted out, “I wouldn’t say that,” without thinking.
“So what would you say, Drea?”
She crossed her arms for a second, but once she realized she’d done so, she uncrossed them, going for a more relaxed, neutral position, telling Dr. Siegel in a reasonable tone of voice, “I’m not sure what he is. Maybe it’s not black or white. Because he rescued me, but according to Carolina, he’s also the reason I was in the position to need rescuing in the first place.”
“So this man, he got you into trouble. He put you in danger.”
“From what I’ve been told.” It should’ve been painful to hear about all this, but whenever this topic was broached, a part of her went numb, like her mind was still trying to protect her from whatever horrors she’d endured. Some days she thought that maybe she was better off not remembering the hell she’d gone through. But that would mean not remembering Jem, and she’d been clawing at that memory desperately. “But I wanted to go with him.”
“In spite of the danger?”
“That. And maybe because of it too.”
“Because you didn’t have enough in your life already?”
“I didn’t say it made sense,” she muttered. “You’re very judgmental.”
“It bothers you?”
“I thought you people were supposed to stay neutral.”
He wrote down some notes, then glanced at her casually. “I thought you wanted to figure your missing memories out.”
She sighed, stared around the sitting room in the grand old house that had become her touchstone.
Both Dr. Siegel and his wife had been working with her for just over two months—longer than any of the others, but her tolerance was running low. Especially for him, because he was more fond of telling her what she was doing was wrong instead of waiting her answers out. Probably because he knew he’d get none. “I just want you to realize that you’re repeating old patterns. Over and over again, it appears. And you have a chance to finally break them.”
“How? Because of my amnesia?”
“In spite of that. Because the one thing you didn’t lose is your feeling that somehow danger equals security. And that’s wrong.”
From everything she’d heard about Jem from Carolina, Drea knew this therapist was the one who was wrong and she’d finally found something so right she wasn’t about to let logic ruin it. Jem’s picture did something to her insides, made her stomach flip, and she leaned forward and pushed the laptop screen back toward the therapist so she didn’t have to see Jem staring back at her. “Okay, that’s not exactly true, about the kidnapping-me-the-second-time part. Apparently I volunteered. More th
an once. He took me up on it both times. The second time is when it went bad.”
“You volunteered to put yourself in danger?”
“Yes.”
“This is the first time you’ve done something like that in your life?”
“I’ve always been attracted to danger. I guess I feel like the more dangerous a man is, the more he can protect me from the danger I’m running from.” Even so, she knew that Danny’s kind of dangerous had never been good. But Jem? He was a whole other story.
Dr. Siegel steepled his fingers as he stared at her. She felt she’d had some kind of breakthrough, but of course it didn’t make her recognize the man in the picture any more than she had before. Truthfully, she didn’t even want to look at the picture.
“Are you?” Dr. Siegel asked.
“Am I what?”
“Running.”
That she could answer truthfully and without reservation. “Every single day of my life.”
Chapter 2
Six months later
When Drea first arrived at Carolina’s a year earlier, she hadn’t realized she’d been running from an outside danger . . . and running just as hard from her missing memories. She’d also thought she was only seventeen, that Danny was still her savior, the only man who stood between her and her grandmother, who treated Drea like she was the devil incarnate. Truthfully, after just escaping her mom and her mom’s never-ending series of boyfriends, living with her grandmother should’ve been a dream come true for Drea.
Instead, her grandmother had been a nightmare, and Danny, the son of the president of a very dangerous motorcycle club, was the only person in Drea’s life who’d ever stood up for her.
She believed she owed him loyalty . . . She believed she owed him everything.
Slowly, she’d begun to discover that, despite these feelings otherwise, something inside her was off, and that Danny wasn’t the right man to love.
Now she kicked the treadmill into high speed, ran until her mind was settled and her muscles were jelly, all the better to give the trapped memories a chance to surface. This was part of her daily routine, since she couldn’t run outside. At times she resented it, yes. However, it was one thing to be a prisoner in Carolina’s house—and she had no doubt she was a prisoner—but there were many worse places she could be.
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