Scooter

by Marie James

  I hate even the mention of the fiancé waiting for her back home, not that he’s made much of an effort to get her back. Broken women take time and understanding, and even though I didn’t technically meet him at the hospital, my first impression of him didn’t lead me to believe he had the patience for the work it would take. No, he seems like the guy that will show back up once she’s already been put back together.

  “The attention was nice. He flirted with me, and I thought it was harmless. Just a little fun, a few minutes of joy before I walked away and went back home to Jason, but then we neared his car. The pinch in my neck wasn’t even that much of a concern. Louisiana is filled with mosquitos, and that’s about what it felt like, but then I saw him pulling the needle away, and my first thought was this cute guy is kind of a jerk. Even as my arms and legs grew sluggish, I never imagined that he was taking me. I never thought that I’d be gone for seven weeks.”

  Tears wet my shirt, and I flex my arm around her middle, knowing that if I hold her any tighter against me, she’ll find it difficult to breathe.

  “The bag he put over my head smelled of defeat, and when I woke in the trunk of the car hours later, I knew I wasn’t the first one to wear it. I wasn’t the first woman this handsome smiling man drugged and abducted. I didn’t know where we were going or how long I would be there, but I knew I was going to be raped. I knew that men who took girls used them in the most degrading ways, and I swore in the trunk of that car that I’d fight them every step of the way. If they killed me, I could die knowing that I was strong even if they were stronger. I may lose my dignity, but I wouldn’t lose my will to live.”

  She grows silent as sobs shake her entire body. I don’t whisper to her. I don’t promise her that everything will be okay. I don’t know that they will. Her body is healing rapidly from what they did to her, but it’s the mind that takes the longest. And sometimes, the trauma is just too much to overcome fully.

  “But I did.” She cries harder. “I lost that will to live, and I prayed to God to come take me. I offered my soul to the devil, just knowing that hell would be easier to endure than the nightmare I was living on earth.”

  I rest my chin on the top of her head as my hand begins the slow glide up and down her back.

  “Then, the door to the room opened, and I vowed to push the next man to his breaking point. I knew the next time would be the last time because I would force him to kill me. It had to end. I was done being their victim. But it was you who walked into the room that day. It wasn’t the man with the scars on his face or the man with the tattoo on the back of his hand who liked me to fight him. It was you. You saved me that day.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that I’m only one piece in a massive machine that was working that day, but I can’t. I want to be her savior. I want to be the man she always comes to when she’s scared, lonely, or when she just needs someone to hold her.

  I need to be that person for her, for me.

  “I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but I just wanted you to know that no matter what, even if you can’t take down those evil men, you saved me, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

  With tears staining her face, Mia raises her head and presses her lips to mine. Softened by her crying, her mouth is pure perfection, but this kiss is nothing like the one she tried to wield against me when she thought I was angry. This kiss is sweet and tender, a salty reminder of the woman she was, and it’s filled with the promise of the woman she hopes she’ll be again one day.

  It’s over way too soon, but then she brushes her fingers down my cheek while looking into my eyes, and I’m lost to her. I’m lost in her pain, in the prospect of her future happiness, and now I’m the one making vows, promising my soul to whichever entity will take it if it means I can spend my life with this amazing woman.

  “Just make sure you come back to me.”

  I nod my head without even thinking.

  Even death couldn’t keep me away from her at this point.

  “I promise.”

  Her lips press to mine one last time before she settles back on my chest. She drifts to sleep quickly, while I lie awake and imagine a life I never even dreamed of before.

  Chapter 16

  Mia

  My confessions last night drained me, but the benefit of that is I slept like the dead.

  But when I wake, Ryan is gone, the side of his bed cold, revealing that he’d been missing a while.

  Anxiety tries to take over, but I push it down and stand.

  Doubt that I can survive without him tries to seep in as I shower for the first time without him standing sentry at the door, but I manage to shove that down as well.

  Just like I’d grown tired of being hurt while at the compound, I’ve also grown weary of letting my racing thoughts and fear control me. I’m safe here. I know that. I’ve known it since the first time I stepped foot on the property, probably since Ryan scooped me up off the floor in Miami, but only now, am I actually letting myself believe it. I have to. Living in fear is no longer an option. If I want my life back, I have to fight for it, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  A knock and voices down the hall don’t make my skin crawl like it once did, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge the increase of my pulse.

  “Mia?” a female voice says on the other side of Ryan’s bedroom door. “Are you awake?”

  The question is followed by a knock, and even though I want to be alone, I open the door, knowing that I’ve had enough solitude for the last two weeks to last a lifetime.

  Misty smiles at me from the hallway, and even though she’s only like ten years younger than my own mother, I feel like we could be friends, and I need as many friends as I can get since Ryan will be gone for an undisclosed amount of time.

  “Hey,” I offer because I’m unable to think of anything else to say.

  “We were having breakfast and coffee at Em’s. Want to join us?”

  “Sure,” I answer before I can even think about telling her no.

  Misty waits for me to grab one of Ryan’s oversized hoodies since we have to leave the clubhouse to get to Emmalyn’s home. I blame the frigid cold for the way my body shakes and shivers as we take the kitchen exit, but it continues as we step inside of the magnificent home.

  “Wow,” I mumble as we enter through the kitchen of Em’s house. “And I thought the kitchen in the clubhouse was huge.”

  “We do most of the family stuff here,” Misty explains as she shrugs out of her jacket.

  I opt to keep Ryan’s sweatshirt on, certain I’ll never get warm again even as heat surrounds me.

  “Even as big as it is, it still gets crowded when all the kids are home from college,” Khloe says as she joins us in the kitchen.

  The luxurious scent of coffee and sweets fill the air as we step closer to the kitchen island. Before long, Emmalyn joins us with a smile on her face.

  “Now that the men are gone, we can talk freely,” she says, pouring four steaming cups of coffee.

  This was a bad idea. They want to talk freely? It took everything I had to make my whispered confessions in the dark last night, and even though I’ve grown closer to Ryan with each passing day, it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I can’t discuss the same things with these women. As nice as they seem, I don’t have a bond or connection to them like I do with Ryan.

  “I would never tell Dustin this,” Khloe begins, “but I’m bored beyond belief, and even though it’s only been six months, I regret retiring.”

  “Me too,” Em adds. “There’s only so much I can find to keep myself busy.”

  “What did you both do?” I ask, hoping that the topic of conversation stays on them and doesn’t begin to veer to me.

  “I taught elementary school,” Em says before hitching a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Khloe. “She was braver and taught middle school.”

  I look at Misty, who just shrugs. “I’ve always stayed at home. I don’t have a pr
oblem with boredom. That’s what naps and books are for.”

  Emmalyn scoffs, and Khloe chuckles.

  “We’re used to chaos, but since Landon is older now, I can’t seem to find anything that holds my interest. He’s so wrapped up in sports and his friends at school,” Khloe explains.

  “Don’t forget his recent discovery of the opposite sex,” Emmalyn interjects.

  They all chuckle, and I find myself smiling, too.

  “And there’s that.” Khloe smiles. “I miss the baby days when the entire daylight hours were spent making them meals, cleaning up after them, and providing for their every need.”

  “I don’t,” Misty huffs. “Griffin and Cannon were a damn handful. Hell, Cannon is still a handful, and he’s a grown man.”

  “I’m a grandma,” Emmalyn says with a smile. “That’s what you ladies need. Grandbabies.”

  Khloe takes a step back, waving her arms in front of her. “I think I’m a couple of years away from that stage.”

  “Ivy has to finish school, and I’m pretty sure they’re enjoying their alone time together. Cannon? Well, with the way that boy behaves, I wouldn’t be surprised if we had babies show up on the doorstep.”

  “Ivy is your daughter?” I ask Emmalyn.

  She nods.

  “And Griffin is my son,” Misty adds. “And when they get married, we’ll truly be family.”

  “Do you want children?” Khloe asks as she blows the top of her coffee.

  “I did,” I answer honestly. “Now, I can’t even think about—”

  I frown as I look at them.

  “Now I don’t know,” I rush out.

  “You’ll know when you’re ready.” Emmalyn sets down her coffee cup as she stands. “How about we have some real fun?”

  Misty groans, but she stands as well. We all follow Emmalyn through her house, and seconds later, we’re stepping into a craft room that would rival anything Martha Stewart could imagine.

  “Holy crap,” I mutter as I step inside.

  The walls are lined with shelves filled with canisters of different crafting materials. The far-right corner is a sewing station with four different types of machines.

  “I can never stick to one thing at a time,” Emmalyn confesses as she walks toward the huge table in the center of the room.

  “Last month it was quilts and learning to knit,” Misty whispers, but she keeps her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Now she swears this diamond painting mess is relaxing. I find it only hurts my eyes and makes me feel twenty years older than I actually am.”

  “Diamond painting?” I ask. How rich are these people?

  “Diamond painting,” Khloe confirms. “And it is very relaxing.”

  She points to a canvas with color-coded little squares all over it.

  “These are called drills.” Emmalyn points to several baggies with tiny pieces of plastic in them. “It’s sort of like paint by numbers, but it’s 3D, and the end product is magnificent.”

  “So you’ve heard,” Misty interrupts her friend before turning back to look at me. “She hasn’t actually finished one yet.”

  “We just got started,” Khloe says in defense of herself and her friend. “It’s going to be amazing.”

  “Interested?” Emmalyn asks as hope fills her eyes.

  “A nap would be better,” Misty mumbles. “Or that book I was telling you girls about.”

  “My entire life is a fairy-tale,” Emmalyn says with sparkles in her eyes. “I don’t need to read about a happily ever after when I’m in the middle of my own.”

  Misty shrugs, and it seems she can’t argue it either way. Not for her friend or for herself.

  I try not to feel bitter. I try not to judge them for the things I’ve suffered. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on another living soul, but not everyone lives a fantasy. Not everyone gets to have a fairy-tale happily ever after. Some people are hurt and broken. Some people fight demons daily, never knowing if they will overcome them at all.

  I take a deep breath, resigning myself to spending time with these women even though I feel even more like the odd man out. I try not to feel like a charity case, like the lost girl who needs attention.

  I pull up a stool, with my opinions changing of these women, and start to attach the little plastic pieces to the sticky canvas. I can’t be friends with them, no matter how genuine their smiles.

  I’m pitying myself and hating that I’m here in their perfect world and in their perfect house with thoughts of their perfect husbands filling my brain when Emmalyn opens her mouth and smashes all of those preconceived thoughts with a single sentence.

  “My first husband beat me for years before I was able to escape.”

  I listened with tears in my eyes as she spoke of being alienated from her entire family, so the man who was supposed to love her could control and hurt her.

  Then Misty spoke of her religious upbringing, of her parents’ willingness to disown her, and how she sat at the clinic, mere moments away from aborting her first son Griffin before she realized she could have a different life.

  Khloe spoke about losing her best friend in the Middle East, and how she downed a bottle of pills because she didn’t see another way of moving on.

  Then they talked about Diego, Morrison, and Dustin, the men of the Cerberus MC that arrived at just the right time to change everything for them, and I feel kindred with these women because that’s exactly what happened for me with Ryan. And as the day goes on and the conversation continues, I allow myself to think of a future. By the time evening rolls around and the diamond painting has transformed from a sticky mess to a sparkling piece of art, I’ve forgiven myself.

  I forgive myself for smiling at the stranger at the mall.

  I forgive myself for not fighting harder when I had really bad days at the compound.

  I forgive myself for hurting, for staying in bed longer than I should have, for being afraid because what happened to me was terrible.

  And when Emmalyn offers to let me stay in her guest bedroom so I won’t be all alone in the clubhouse, I agree because there’s safety in numbers and these women aren’t different from me. The only thing that they have over me is time. They’ve had time to heal, time to accept that they deserve more than they were initially offered, time to love those that love them.

  They deserve it.

  And I deserve it, too.

  Chapter 17

  Scooter

  I’m distracted more today than I have ever been.

  I’m distracted by the scent of her on my t-shirt that I refused to change when I woke up.

  I’m distracted by the warmth of her skin I swear I can still feel on my lips from when I pressed them to her forehead before crawling out of bed.

  I’m distracted by the need to run back to her even though we’ve only been in South America for a handful of hours.

  “You’re distracted,” Jinx says as he walks up to me.

  I chuckle with his observation. It’s like the man is in my head.

  “Distraction is dangerous. Distractions will get you killed,” he adds.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Distractions can get me killed,” he continues, rubbing his hand along his scruffy jawline. “I’m too pretty to die, so you need to get your head in the fucking game and leave New Mexico and Mia behind until this mission is over.”

  “I’m fine,” I snap.

  When my phone chimes in my pocket, he raises an eyebrow when I reach for it.

  “You’re distracted,” he repeats before walking away.

  He isn’t telling me anything I haven’t already thought of myself but hearing concern for his own safety and anticipating that I’ll be the cause if something goes wrong makes me take a step back and reevaluate.

  The text is from Mia, the very first one she’s sent me since I programmed my number into her cell before leaving. I’m turning my phone upside down, trying to figure out what in the hell the glittery thing is in the image when ano
ther text comes in.

  Mia: I’ve been diamond painting with the girls today.

  “Diamond painting?” I mutter.

  “Em loves it.”

  I nearly drop my phone when Kincaid sneaks up on me.

  I won’t get into trouble for getting a text message, but I stow my phone back in my pocket because I don’t want my boss to come to the same conclusion both Jinx and I have.

  “Em also says that Mia stayed at our house all day while they worked on it, and she’s agreed to stay the night there as well.”

  This news calms some of my fears. I was terrified she’d have a nightmare, and there’d be no one there to comfort her, or worse, she’d end up leaving because I was gone.

  “She’s safe, and from what Em said, she’s happy right now.” Kincaid slaps me on the back. “So, get your head in the game, so we can all make it back home safe, yeah?”

  I nod and follow him to the huge table set up in the center of the main room of the command center.

  More than forty men are grouped around, waiting for final details and intel.

  “Those the new guys?” I angle my head at the men I don’t recognize.

  It’s not uncommon to have a few unfamiliar faces when we have a job to do. Shadow and Blade have always been adamant that we involve local forces as much as we can without compromising our main focus, but there are at least a dozen men in addition to the federal agents.

  “Yeah,” Rocker says. “That’s only half the team. There are ten still back at the hotel.”

  “And Jinx was worried about me having his six. Can we trust hired guns?”

  “Technically, we’re the hired guns,” Rocker mutters. “I’ve never worked with their entire team, but we did a job six years ago, and a couple of these guys tagged along. They’re like the Rambos of infiltration, recon, and recovery.”

  “You make them sound like they’re better than we are.” We both chuckle, our hard-earned egos not allowing us to let those thoughts sit very long.