“Hmm, sadistic pleasure. Yet, you stitched Kat’s cheek back together, and something tells me you didn’t love that.”
This is also true. Rosie’s quite the clever observer.
“Nobody ever said I don’t get gratification out of helping those I love. I do. When I went into nursing, I thought the exposure to blood would help my morbid fascination with all things morally wrong.” Yet, years of nursing only heightened my obsession with the body and how easy it expires. If people knew the disturbing thoughts that dance inside my head like a creepy, red-lipped marionette, they’d go crazy. It’s a miracle I haven’t already.
“I’m not like that. With blood, I mean,” Rosie explains.
“I know.” Not many are. I’m a special brand of sadist. She’s an angel. Two very different things.
“Killing is a means to an end.” She tucks the blanket around her waist.
“For you.”
A single nod. “Yes. For me.”
“It—” I start, not sure how to explain what ending someone’s life feels like.
“Turns you on,” Rosie finishes in my stead, taking the words straight from my head, speaking my truth as if it doesn’t frighten her.
This is the most honest conversation I’ve had in my entire life.
She… gets me.
A knot of warmth uncoils in my stomach, spreading into my limbs, zapping my heart—making it beat triple-time. It seems to do that a lot in her presence.
“It does,” I mumble, overtaken with emotions.
“That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”
Fuck. She’s killing me.
I swallow hard. “It doesn’t make me a good one.”
Rosie nervously adjusts the beanie keeping her head warm. “I’m not good either.”
She’s wrong about that. So very wrong.
Staring at her face, I hope she can see the truth on mine as I speak from the heart. “You’re perfect.”
My kind of perfect.
Sharp and jagged around the edges like a raw, uncut diamond.
“I’m really not.” Rosie’s head dips as she hides from me, arms wrapping around her middle, knees drawing up.
“Trust me, I feel you in here.” Driving my point home, I pound my chest right above my heart. “You feel it to me.”
“You can’t say stuff like that,” a hoarse whisper.
“I can if it’s true.” If only she knew the extent.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I know her more today than yesterday, and tomorrow is yet another day to learn.
“It does. It matters a lot… I was with someone…” Rosie shakes her head, severing her train of thought. “Nevermind.”
“No. Tell me,” I beg, desperate to hear more.
“I told you I won’t—can’t.”
Every cell in my body weeps with the need to discover anything and everything about her. “One thing. Please. Just one. I told you my darkest secret. Tell me one of yours.”
Rosie
I should’ve run away when I had a chance. Why is Kade talking to me like this? Why… do I want to listen? Kade’s broken pieces, they’re not like mine. His run far deeper. Having a parent do that… is worse than not having any family at all. To live with those memories. To be tainted by them every waking moment of every single day for the rest of your life. I know what that’s like… to be molded, not from your own doing, but the choices of others.
Now… he asks this of me.
Pain rips through my torso at the mere thought of sharing them with anybody.
“I don’t think I can,” I choke on my words.
“One secret. Set it free. It’s just us here. I won’t tell a soul. Ya know I won’t.”
The blackened organ that beats in my chest, gives a reassuring whoomph.
“I know,” I admit aloud, because Kade is safe. I dunno why he is or how I know it, but I do. He’s safe in a way nobody else is safe. Just as I’m attracted to him unlike anyone before. Every moment in his presence messes with me in ways I hate. Ways that evoke strange feelings of wrongness… of… I don’t know.
“One,” he urges, a gentleness overtaking his gruff voice.
I can’t.
They’re mine to keep.
I… I dunno how to share them. I’ve never done it before.
It hurts. Everywhere.
Johnny, I dunno how to share you. Is it okay? I don’t know how to do this without you. These feelings are so different, I’m drowning in them. With… a man as screwed up as me.
Fingering the edge of the blanket, I wait for Johnny’s reply. Like always, nothing comes. For some reason that makes my insides ache all the more. This is why I don’t dwell in the past. Why I keep it buried deep, deep down, where even the faintest rays of light can’t reach.
“Please,” Kade nearly begs.
Swallowing down a knot in my throat, I pause, exhale, close my eyes, then speak, because it’s the right thing to do. “I was married once, and his name was Johnny.”
I can’t believe I said his name aloud. It’s been so long.
“Did he hurt you?” I try hard not to smile at the protectiveness in Kade’s voice.
“Not until the day he died.” I died that day, too. Officially becoming the living dead. But I don’t tell H.B.B. that. I’ve shared plenty this evening.
“Thank you, Rosie.”
“I’ve never said that before. Not like that.” It’s important he knows what I bared isn’t to be taken lightly.
“I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me about your Johnny.”
I shiver at the thought.
Maybe someday.
Knowing I need alone time after… all this, I climb to my feet. “Goodnight, Kade.” Our eyes meet through the darkness, his blues tethering to mine. Unspoken words pass between us… of acceptance and something else I can’t put my finger on.
“Goodnight, Rosie. Sweet dreams,” Kade calls to my back as I disappear into the night, to return to the cabin where Kat and Ryker are spending time together in the living room once more.
Chapter Eight
Rosie
Sitting on the cabin’s hardwood floor in a baggy tank top and black jeggings, my legs are spread out as I clean blades and ninja stars with a cloth. Each weapon is carefully placed in its own spot, none of the pieces touching. Katrina’s munching on popcorn, curled up in her favorite oversized leather chair. The TV is on above the fireplace. Kat’s busy watching a chick flick on Netflix. Every so often she makes a lovesick noise or yells at an idiot male character on the screen. The main guy made some bet with friends to get a chick to fall in love with him within ten days, or something along those lines. I don’t really know, nor do I care. She’s enthralled, and safe, so we’re good.
We’ve been here a week as of today. Ever since the first night Katrina roped me into cooking dinner with her, I’ve continued to help. I’m pretty green when it comes to culinary skills, but she’s a patient teacher. Not that I want to learn, but it passes the time and makes her happy. Plus, the food I prepare doesn’t go to waste. Like clockwork, Bear, Ghost, Scarlett, Roxie… and him, have all been present for supper night after night. The domesticity isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’ve gotten used to it. I’m good at adapting to new surroundings and view my time here no differently. Apart from the fact I’ve traded bloodshed for a colander and tongs.
“Are you okay with chicken alfredo tonight?” Kat asks around a mouthful of popcorn.
I glance up from my task. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just checking.”
“You check a lot.” About everything. She treats me like a guest, not her bodyguard. Every two seconds it seems as if she’s checking on me. To make sure I’ve had enough to eat, to drink, if I’m warm enough, if I need anything. The answer is always the same—I’m fine. If her consideration was forced, I’d tell her to knock it off. But this is how Katrina is. She’s a mom through and through. Not that
I have much experience in that department. Katrina’s a genuine caretaker, whereas I’m… not. She double checks her daughter’s backpacks while I double check the cameras for safety. While her mind focuses on dinner, laundry, and other household duties, my attention can stay on the task at hand—protection, communication with Big, Gunz, Bongo, and research. We couldn’t be any more different. Somehow, it works in unexpected ways. Our subtle teamwork seems to be working in our best interests and for that I’m thankful. The last thing I want is us living on top of one another, always at each other’s throats. I do my thing, she does hers, and we come together in between.
“That’s what I do,” she remarks.
I offer her a tight-lipped smile and return to cleaning my weapons. They need to be picked up before her children get home. The girls don’t need to see my arsenal spread out on their living room floor. Knives and youngsters don’t mix.
The movie reaches its inevitable happily ever after and Katrina sighs. “Do you think Matthew McConaughey is cute?”
Ugh. Not this again.
Girl talk.
This, I don’t do.
I can help cook dinner and provide obligatory chatter. What I can’t do is female bonding. I’m not built for it. I know from the way Katrina looks at me, she wants to ask more questions, delve into all that is me. It’s a good thing she doesn’t pry. If she did, I’d spend my days in the bedroom, not out here keeping her company.
When I ignore her, she asks me the same question again, only words it differently. “The blond guy in the movie, did you think he was cute?”
Is this her way of wanting to know my ‘type’?
Sorry to burst her romantic bubble, but I don’t really have a real type.
Johnny.
There.
That’s my type.
She doesn’t know about my husband, so I’m not going to fill in those blanks. My private life is just that, strictly private.
A second time around, I ignore her needling.
Katrina chuckles. “You’re impossible, you know that? What if I asked about Kade? His man whoring has tamed exponentially since we arrived.” This woman and her big, smarty-pants words.
“He’s been too busy talking to me to get laid,” I want to express, but think better of it. Not that our talks are stopping him. Men have needs and he’s more than welcome to fulfill his with whoever, whenever he desires. As long as I’m not on that to-do list.
When Ryker claims Kat’s time at night, Kade’s corrupting mine with stories under the soothing cloak of darkness. I sit at the base of my tree, covered in the blankets he brings, as I sip delicious hot cocoa and relax. I can listen to him talk for hours.
After my small confession on our second night, he doesn’t push me to interact. So, I don’t. Not much anyhow. I’m content to listen as he regales me with stories of his past… those he doesn’t share with anyone, but me. They’re sinister, yet somehow humanizing. After years of hunting sickos to the ends of the Earth, I never get to see a different side of humanity… Where darkness lives and breathes in a gorgeous, heavily tattooed, blue eyed, brown haired, hominoid form that doesn’t prey on women. Where broken for Kade doesn’t mean what it does for me. He knows who he is, what he likes, and what he doesn’t. His mask might be in place when he’s with his family, but he’s aware of that. Kade knows what he’s about and makes no excuses for all the twisty parts that make him uniquely whole.
I’ve never met anyone like him before and it fascinates me.
Wrecked, yet redeemable, like the tattoo on his forearm. Candid to a fault, albeit warm. He’s an elixir of trouble that I can’t seem to stay away from, even if I know it’s not in my best interest. I enjoy his stories more than I’ve enjoyed anyone’s. He’s a distraction I know I don’t need. What’s worse, I know he’s taken with me. Like with everything else, Kade makes no qualms about that.
Grinning privately to myself as I shine a dagger, I recall the story Kade shared two nights ago. The evening he didn’t wear his cut and his facial hair was extra scruffy. His eyes were laden with exhaustion, but he stayed to talk nonetheless.
“Which story do ya wanna to hear tonight, my Swan? The tale of the clown or the balloon animal?” he asked with a charming smile as moonlight illuminated him from the base of his tree.
The day before, Kade slipped in that odd nickname—Swan. I don’t know why he uses it or what it means, and I don’t care enough to ask. Okay, that’s a lie. I do want to know. But it’s too intimate to ask, so I won’t. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. It’s not like he isn’t an open book where I’m concerned.
“Balloon animal?” I took a sip of cocoa.
Those blues lit up with mischief. “It’s gross.”
“Aren’t they all?” I teased, letting my guard down the tiniest bit.
He chuckled, warm and friendly. “True.”
A pause descended as Kade gathered his thoughts. “There was this man we had tied in the clubhouse basement. Pops was to torture him for information. He left me to have my way instead.”
It should’ve been surprising that a father gave his son permission to have fun with a prisoner. But we’re talking Kade and Bear here, not your average relationship.
“Where was Ryker?”
Kade shrugged a single shoulder. “With Kat, I think. I was a teenager. He wasn’t home, I know that much.”
A teenager. When I was worried about finishing high school and learning karate, Kade was killing people.
I gestured with my hand for him to continue and he did. “Have you ever seen a dick and balls wrapped tightly with a rubber band?”
Do you see where this conversation was headed? No? If graphic details of penile torture skeeves you out, I suggest you skip the next part.
I shook my head in reference to his question.
“It bloats, turning it into an ugly, deep purple balloon animal. The tighter you go the more they scream and scream and scream.” Kade’s eyes went wild with pleasure at the memory. The corner of his mouth hooked into a wicked grin.
“You got the information out of him, didn’t you?” Of course, he did.
Kade nodded, strong and sure. “After his dick began to die, yes. After I cut off his nipples with scissors, yes. He bled down his chest in streams. It was… beautiful.” Turned on, Kade re-adjusted the bulge in his jeans for the ninth time of the evening. I counted. The outline was easy to discern from where I sat. It began growing the minute I arrived at our meeting spot, as it did most nights.
His gaze sought mine across the distance. “He begged for me to let him go.”
“But you didn’t.” Do we ever? Not I. When the reaper comes a’calling I do the bidding that is necessary. Ridding the world of vile creatures.
Kade scrubbed his jaw. “No. I got what I needed, then knocked him out to have my fun... To feed the beast inside me. It gorged on him, Rosie. I flayed his chest open and held his still beating heart in my hand… I’m so fucked up.” Ashamed of his admission, Kade frowned and looked away, staring into the shadowy abyss of the forest.
Detesting his change of mood, I asked a simple question. “But you knocked him out beforehand. Why?”
I knew why. He did, too.
Overcome with emotions he couldn’t reel in, Kade still wouldn’t look at me. “I don’t know.” His shoulders lifted and fell as he inhaled a cumbersome breath before releasing it. That fat bottom lip was sucked inside his mouth where he chewed it, lost in the recesses of his warped mind.
“Yes, you do,” I pressed.
“Mercy,” he rasped more to himself than me. Water shimmered in his eyes at the confession, sparkling like pools of silver.
“Yes.” Beneath the protection of the blanket, I massaged the adnominal scar I sustained when Sebastian died. Somehow it made me feel closer to him—to reality.
Kade’s throat dipped as he swallowed. “I’m a bad, bad boy just like my mother always said.”
My heart sank.
“Your mother was a mentally
unstable child molester,” I defended on his behalf. There was no contest. If she was still alive, I’d have killed her myself—with pleasure.
An injured sound emerged from the back of Kade’s throat. “Who bore a mentally unstable monster, who’s ripped more than my fair share of beating hearts from chests with my bare hands.”
How is that much different from what I’ve done?
Hating Kade’s melancholy more than I should, I pressed for more, to make him understand that he’s not who his mother said he was. “Were they all awake when you did?”
“Only some.”
“And why’s that?”
“Mercy.” Kade paused a beat, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, ridding them of the wetness that made my insides sore. “I don’t think I can talk about this anymore tonight, Rosie. I… my chest… It needs a break. I’m sorry.”
That was the first and only time Kade has left me in the woods by myself in the middle of the night.
Ever since his departure, he’s been acting different. Last night he still came, and I joined him under the stars. Yet, the conversation stayed on topics you’d discuss with a neighbor or acquaintance. He didn’t share personal pieces of himself and I didn’t press for more. If he shows for dinner tonight, I hope things aren’t weird again. It’s hard enough being here, adapting, learning new things, putting on a façade, that I’ve begun to appreciate our meetings. They’re the most honest part of my day. Trying to be something you’re not is exhausting. But it’s part of this job I’m here to do. It’s a process. The less I fight my instincts the easier it is. I know this. And like most things in life, it’s often easier said than done. Especially for someone like me. But that isn’t to say I’m not working on me. Change can be a fickle bitch.
Before I know it, I’ve finished my weapons care, Katrina’s read on her e-reader and the girls arrive home. Like clockwork, they give their mother a quick hug and kiss, me a wave, and they’re off to do homework in their joint bedroom.
Wrecked & Reclaimed (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter Book 5) Page 6