by Juli Valenti
“Yes, I’m okay, for the most part,” she told him, allowing her arms to snake around him, her body molding against his. For the first time since she’d pulled Teagan’s gun, it felt like she could breathe, and she gulped air like a thirsty man with water. “Shaky, numb-ish, but oddly satisfied - it felt good to, for once, not be on the ass end of a beating.”
“Looks like I’m creating a monster,” Luke said with a chuckle, pulling her to stand as they took in the almost completely spotless dining area. “Badass Sarah, kicking ass and taking names, and trying to annihilate another motorcycle cub.”
“Babe, the old Sarah’s gone. I’m not going to roll over and take beatings. And, when it comes down to it, Hells Redemption had my back when I needed them. Least I can do is return the favor,” she told him honestly. “Just remember ... I have a gun now, and I know how to use it.”
With a wink, she let Fallen lead her to the door.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he answered coyly, gently swatting her ass.
As she hiked a leg over her bike and started it, she was surprised at how calm she was. The realization of what had happened was going to come, she knew; she also had a few choice things to say to the man who’d claimed her as his. But, as the engine vibrated beneath her, she was going to ride with an easy conscience, for as long as she could. Whether that was five minutes or five years, she didn’t know, yet with the wind in her face, it didn’t seem to matter as much.
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah walked into Fallen’s apartment, surprised that’s where he’d led them, but didn’t say anything. The place had a shower, as well as a set of clean clothes she’d stashed there, and that was all she really cared about.
Throwing her key onto the kitchen bar counter, she continued walking, her steps even as she made her way into his bedroom. From the sound of his boots, he wasn’t far behind her, but she didn’t turn to check. Her mission was to wash the blood off her, her mind on autopilot, like it often was after a long, messy surgery.
Surgery, yes. That’s all it was. It was a gunshot wound in the ER you sewed up. The blood on your clothes, in your hair, under your nails, is your patient’s. She survived, she’s good, the voice in her head consoled, but she shook it, refusing to listen.
“No. The blood I’m covered in is that of my enemies. I stayed alive, I kept my cool under pressure. I kept those in my circle alive to fight another day.”
“You also sent a message to SL that our girls are not weak. That in the absence of any of your men, you can take care of yourself - it’s equally a powerful and dangerous statement to make,” Fallen’s voice said from behind her. Sarah jumped slightly, not having realized he’d been so close, and blood rushed to her cheeks, shame from being so shaken. “Are you okay?”
Ire rose inside her. He’d asked before they’d left the restaurant. He’d asked at every red light they’d stopped at. He’d asked as they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. She was flat-out sick and tired of being asked that damn question, and she said so.
“I’m fine. I’m not my grandmother’s china. I’m not something pretty to look at, to be kept in a glass-fronted cabinet for the world to admire. I’m fine.”
He sighed. “I understand that. But I also understand you’ve been standing in this room, unmoving, for the last ten minutes, rubbing your hurt arm. You’ve been rooted in one place, mumbling to yourself until it turned into downright talking to the air. I understand that, while your words are strong, you’ve been trembling since the moment I walked into the aftermath of the whole situation. So, forgive me, but I’m more than slightly concerned.”
Sarah merely stared at the man standing in front of her. Had that much time truly passed? Where had it gone? She could have sworn she’d just entered the room. And she wasn’t rubbing her arm, was she?
A cursory glance down confirmed she was, so badly in fact that she’d caused the skin to break open further, her hand spreading the blood from her elbow to her wrist. The fresh crimson was bright on her fingers, mixing with the remnants of Annie’s. And, even more, he was right. Her heart rate was up, her breathing faster than a normal rest pace, and her chest and legs remained in a constant quiver.
“Fuck,” she swore, forcing herself to move toward the door of the bathroom, pulling her shirt over her head as she neared. The army-green top was ruined, and she damaged it more by using it as a rag for the blood on her hand.
“Let me help you,” came Luke’s soft words, his palm rising to rest at her hip, carefully guiding her aside so he could get around her and start the shower. He said nothing as he waited for the water temperature to stabilize. When he was content, he turned and dropped to a knee, helping her out of first one boot, then the other. Her leathers followed into a pile before he stood, taking her hand and helping her into the shower.
A small part of her was grateful he’d kept his eyes averted, that he wasn’t looking for any reassurances on her part, or asking any unanswered questions again. Instead, he was trying to give her space, trying to allow her to get through her own head, even while wanting to help her. The help part wasn’t completely wanted, though not unwanted, either. As badly as she didn’t want to admit it, the process was much faster with his assistance, and she was grateful for it ... and despised it.
It was a new feeling, which was consuming her. It was like she’d become someone new the minute she’d pulled that weapon, but she was also still herself. She was a healer, someone dedicated to saving lives. Her mother described her as soft spoken, and kind, and level headed regardless of the situation. Sarah had always hung on to that, taking pride in herself as a woman. She’d seen a lot of women come through the hospital doors, some in charge and feministic, ones who demanded things of those around them, or ones considered “bitches,” and she’d secretly envied their gumption.
This Sarah, though, the one who’d emerged at the restaurant, seemed to fit also. She stood up to protect others, to help keep them safe. She didn’t allow anyone to walk over her, to hurt her as her ex had done so frequently. That part of her, the new part, knew she should be ashamed, guilty, and terrified of what had gone down. Hell, she’d killed people. Flat out, 100% murdered them, not quite in cold blood, but close enough for government sake. She’d felt no doubt or second guesses when it had come to pulling the trigger; she’d also not felt bad about any of the aftermath.
The large puzzle piece she couldn’t seem to make fit, was how to put the two together. Wasn’t it a bad thing she wasn’t all that upset about what she’d done? Sure, she was shaken - the last thing she’d planned to do that day was get in a fight, let alone kill people. She’d been prepared for a nice brunch with one of the girls, for maybe some girl talk and some insight into the club. And while her body was shaking, the adrenaline having disappeared somewhere along the main drag while going fifty-five on her bike, she was more upset that she wasn’t upset.
“Should I be upset? Guilty?” she asked, knowing, without having seen him, that Fallen was still in the bathroom. Fascinated by the water sloughing off the filth on her skin, she ignored the twinge of annoyance stemming from his hovering
A long pause followed her questions, so long she almost doubted that he’d actually stayed, but then he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t.”
Sarah’s head snapped up from its peering down the drain to stare at the shower curtain. His shadow was hunched over, and she pulled the thin fabric aside to look at him. He was seated on the closed toilet, fully clothed, his head in his hands, eyes focused on the tile. The lines on his forehead were prominent, deep, as he remained lost in his own thoughts.
“What do you mean, you wouldn’t?”
He glanced up, his expression softening slightly, though remaining pained. “I don’t have the same reservations as you do, Sarah. The same appreciation for the lives of all humans. I cherish the lives of those who are good, of those I love, and of those who are innocent, and that’s about it. The rest of the degenerates of this pla
net? I couldn’t care less.”
She nodded as he looked away. It made sense. Her instincts had protected the other girls, caring about them because they were good. The men she’d killed had tried to hurt the good, which made them bad.
“So now you probably think I’m bad. I never claimed to be good, Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. You knew I did bad shit.”
Confused, Sarah opened her mouth, closed it, took a deep breath and opened it again. “I’m not judging you, Lukas. If anything I’m judging myself.” She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words, and shivered, the cold air of the room touching her skin. “Get in here so I can explain, please. I’m cold.”
Fallen hesitated only for a minute before standing and stripping, his eyes downcast as he climbed inside the small shower. She reached out, her hand catching his pinky and shaking it to gain his attention. When his gaze met hers, she spoke again.
“I’m not judging you. I asked if I should be upset, because I’m not. I asked if I should feel guilty, because I don’t. And when you said you wouldn’t, I asked why, because I wanted your reasoning, to see if it was anywhere near my own.”
“And?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure of my reasoning, though yours makes a lot of sense. I did take a vow to protect life, which tugs at my morals a bit - I’ve never wanted to live on the darker side of the light, the place where choices are shades of gray rather than black and white. I’ve been told every day of my life that all decisions are either good, or bad, and I blindly believed them. But, the more I was around Vinny, or seeing awful things happen to wonderful people, I questioned it.
“It’s a lot, but I can’t shake the fact that, more than anything, I’m surprised I had it in me. I’m impressed that I was able to take care of myself, that my own thoughts didn’t keep me prisoner in my own head. I ended lives to keep my own, and to protect two other women’s lives. If I feel guilty about anything, it’s that I don’t feel guilty. If I’m sad or upset, it’s because I couldn’t think of a better solution than drawing a gun and firing a bullet to steal their lives. But I’m not sad or upset or guilty because I killed them. What does that make me?”
“I really am sorry I put you in that situation. None of us thought there was any real danger for you, or the other girls. The gun was a precaution, one I’d like you to take regardless of what you were doing ... I didn’t think you’d actually have to use it. Please know I’d never purposely put your life in danger. When I got the call that shots were fired, and you were involved, my heart stopped for a moment.”
Fallen’s hands had moved to her waist somewhere in their conversation, his fingers strong against her skin. The heat of him mixed with the warmth of the water spray, and she stepped toward him. His eyes searched hers once more, looking for something - redemption, forgiveness, instability, she wasn’t sure - and she lifted onto her toes, pressing her lips firmly to his. She kissed him, her tongue forcing his mouth part until they breathed the same air and his body responded against her nakedness. His erection pressed into her stomach and he groaned before pulling away.
“I’m not sure now’s the time. Don’t get me wrong, Sarah, I fucking want you ... but you need to be okay before this can happen.”
“I’m more than okay. And I want you, please. Fuck me, I need you.”
“No, Sarah, no fucking.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I won’t fuck you in this shower, not today.”
Fire burned through her body at his rejection, heat and color rising through her skin. She could feel it, knew he could see it, and it equally shamed and hurt her.
“I’m not going to fuck you because,” he kissed her neck, her cheek, ignoring the fact that her hands had dropped to her sides and she’d stopped trying to crawl up his body, “I’m going to make love to you. And you’re going to let me.”
Fallen’s lips captured hers, his tongue delving into her mouth and stealing her breath from her lungs. His fingers dug into her ass before moving to her thighs and lifting, wrapping her legs around his waist. He pulled them from the shower and into his room, laying her gently on his bed.
The air was downright freezing against her wet skin, but in a heartbeat his weight was a warm comfort against her. His hand reached between them, dragging a finger through her wetness moments before he thrust into her. She moaned, enjoying that he wasted no time with preamble. She wanted him, needed him inside her, and relished his largeness stretching her. His arms snaked beneath hers, holding her tightly to his body as he began slowly moving. Luke’s lips caressed her cheek, her neck, her temple, everywhere he could manage.
He stayed true to his word. He made love to her, slowly, gently, cherishing her body with his every move. And as her climax rose, her body squeezing around his, he let go as well, orgasming inside her and holding her tighter. The intimacy between them was as overwhelming as the pleasure she felt, and when he rolled them so she lay in the crook of his arm, sleep overtook her. And rather than dreams riddled with nightmares, she dreamt the most peaceful dreams.
Chapter Fourteen
“Baby, wake up.”
A noise escaped her throat, a groan and murmur at the same time. Sarah pulled tighter at the sheets covering her, not willing to give in to Fallen’s sweetly spoken waking words.
“Come on, baby. If you’re coming with me, and I’d like you to, you’ve gotta get up.”
“Ugh. Go where?”
“It’s the day of the wedding ... We have to get ready or we’re going to be late. If you’re too tired, you don’t have to go, but I have no choice. It’s personal business as well as club business this time - all hands are called to deck.”
Wedding? What wedding? “Oh God! The wedding! What time is it?”
It’d been a month since the blood bath at Annie’s place. Since then, Sarah’d been a pretty steady fixture at Fallen’s right hand. Not because she was afraid - her emotions remained exactly as they had the day it’d happened, if not colder about it - but because he wanted her there. Somehow she’d been accepted into the riding pack with the rest of the HR club, going on charity runs and helping Artist and Poet when they asked. She did everything from triage to helping finalize wedding details for the club wedding extravaganza. An event it was certain to be, one she didn’t want to miss ... and would if Fallen had let her sleep too long.
“Don’t worry. It’s only seven - I let you sleep as long as I could manage, but I know you’re a woman and women need time to get ready for these things. Didn’t I also hear you offer to help the others get dolled up too?”
She shook her head, rubbing her eye. “I offered but Poet refused. She said, and I quote, ‘you’ve done more than enough. All you need to do is show up looking pretty with that man candy on your arm tomorrow.’”
“How tired are you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “You came in awfully late - and here I was thinking it was the groom and his men that stayed out too late for their bachelor party, not the ladies.”
Sarah chuckled. “You’ve obviously never been around a group of women who’ve spent entirely too much time around men, then. And, to answer your question, I’m fucking exhausted.”
Artist had decided that the night before the wedding was the perfect night to throw Poet’s bachelorette party. And, while the president would’ve been content with a TV marathon and popcorn, that didn’t fly with the sister of the groom. She went all out, renting a limo and setting up an eighteen hole, pub bar party. They found themselves completely wasted by the final round, which was luckily held at one of the local club friendly spots. Apparently instructions had been given to each bartender that if they were all too drunk to get home, to call a prospect who’d come running. And running he had.
It’d been long after three in the morning by the time Sarah’d stumbled her way into Luke’s room at the clubhouse, one of the prospects having to help her use her key to open the door. Her dress had been discarded onto the floor the moment she’d walked in the door, her heels, bra, and panties following into the pil
e before collapsing into bed.
This time it was Fallen’s turn to laugh. “Well, if that’s the case then, baby, go back to sleep. I thought you had to help the others. Since you don’t, I’ll come back in a couple hours to wake you again. Sleep.”
He kissed her on the forehead and she smiled to herself, more than willing to follow his instructions.
Sarah was wide awake when Fallen came back in, peeking his head inside the door before entering completely. She was sitting on the bed brushing her wet hair before blow drying it and she stopped mid-stroke to admire him.
So far, she’d seen quite a few sides to the Sergeant in Arms of Hells Redemption. She’d seen him armed to the T, multiple guns in holsters along with lots of leather, his cut and shitkicker boots. She’d seen him rockstar, in skinny jeans and a band T-shirt with his signature stage DC skater shoes, tons of silver jewelry, and his guitar. She’d seen him in his lounge clothes, his workout clothes, with baggy shorts and a tank top undershirts. This look, was a completely different look.
Gone were his jeans and boots. In their place was a sharp, tailored navy-blue suit, complete with a perfectly pressed white button up. On top of that, he wore a red vest, a matching tie neatly against his neck. There wasn’t a single wrinkle to be seen, and it was clear he’d paid a pretty penny for it, as well as taken the time to ensure it was perfect. A pair of designer black shoes completed the look.
More than just his clothes, though, she was taken aback by him in general. His long hair was pulled back, tied at the nape of his neck, leaving his gorgeous face on display. His eyes twinkled with delight, either from her perusal of him or due to her severe lack of clothing, she wasn’t sure, but he was absolutely breathtaking.
“Hey beautiful,” he said sheepishly, approaching her and snatching the hair brush from her hand. “Turn around.”