Redemption_A Defiance Novel

by Stephanie Tyler

  The other half of the garage was for the tubing, where the giant cranes and other machines were stored. Defiance had started building their heavy equipment from salvaged spare parts of construction equipment partially destroyed from the Chaos, because they were a necessity for their tubing business. When the tubes were done, Caspar would send teams out, in separate trucks. The tubes were assembled once on-site, because they were afraid they’d be ambushed if anyone saw them along the way. People would kill for the generators alone.

  The warehouse had held up well enough after the initial Chaos, Caspar told us, and had since been further fortified. But being underground was always safer, which is where the rest of Defiance was, since the compound was on lockdown.

  There was a trapdoor, but bringing an outsider down into the tubes wasn’t done, not even if they were in need of medical attention. The tubes were Defiance’s last and greatest defense and letting a stranger see what exactly we had down there would be a mistake of epic proportions.

  Rules were in place for a reason. Letting our guard down could harm Defiance, and that was one rule I understood.

  I’d send Bish down to let Caspar know what the hell happened at the lake, but Jessa and I would have to ride out the storm here, unless something happened. Like the warehouse collapsing. In which case, I guess going underground wouldn’t matter since we’d be dead.

  But for now, I was the one to distract Jessa from...everything. Including and especially the fact that Charlie was still tied up and drugged, that Bish was currently taking him out of the van and carrying him to a room where he could be tied more securely, and locked in.

  Thankfully, she was too engrossed in looking at the rows of motorcycles, and the music was loud enough to mask the sounds of the van doors opening and closing.

  Even though she wasn’t jumping at every sound now, she was more tense than when we were driving. Grudgingly, I pulled out the alphasmart device I hated, but Bish kept charged for situations like this.

  I typed in, It’s all right. We’re prepared for this, and I showed it to her.

  “Okay,” she managed. “I just don’t like storms.”

  Are you ready to talk about what happened out there?

  She countered with, “I want to know where I am. Defiance? Is that another gang?” I typed MC and then pointed to all the Harleys lined up around the warehouse floor. “What’s the difference between an MC and a gang?”

  These days, sometimes the line was thin, but there was a difference. For one thing...motorcycles.

  That got a slight smile out of her. And then she said, “The Lords are an MC too, right?”

  I nodded. They’re not like Defiance.

  “I want to believe you.” She glanced around. “I have to admit, I was expecting to be tied up the second we got here. Not that I’m giving you any ideas.”

  I gave her a grin, mainly because I was picturing her in a far different tied-up position than she was thinking about. It must’ve shown on my face because half a second later, she blushed and gave me a shy look. “God, you’re a flirt.”

  I shrugged. I really wasn’t. I just couldn’t remember ever being this blown away by any woman, the way I’d been from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her.

  Bish would tell me it was because I didn’t get laid enough. He went to Kat’s—the local brothel—a lot. I couldn’t. Even though the women there were happy and willing, it was too fucking sad to me. So I got a few blowjobs from the local Defiance women during parties, but as long as I got to fight, I didn’t need a lot of sex.

  But now, my blood was goddamned pumping. Jessa was too close and smelled too damned good, somehow, even through the smell of fear and blood and dirt.

  “Can I...get out? Stretch my legs?” she asked and when I nodded, she did just that. While she wandered around, I set up the air mattress in the van—kept the back door half opened, because sometimes small spaces were more comforting. The motorcycle I normally stored back there was being restored by Rebel, so there was a lot more room than normal.

  I caught Bish heading back my way out of the corner of my eye. He took a look at the mattress and back at me with an eyebrow cocked.

  What? I figured she might want to sleep, or maybe talk more. And then I can get her to answer my questions.

  Not going to answer without some major coaxing, Bish signed discreetly and raised his eyebrows. I’m guessing you’re up for coaxing.

  I shot him the finger and he smiled as he signed, Yeah, thought so.

  Defiance had gone through hell and had crawled out. But no one was left unscathed. Charlie secured?

  “Of course.”

  What if Caspar tells us to go?

  “We go,” Bish spoke now, his voice low.

  And her?

  “Could take her if she wants to go. Could leave her with Tru.” Bish glanced toward the door that led to the tubes. “You all right staying with her for now?”

  More than okay, and Bish knew it, only kept probing to see me squirm. Asshole.

  “Always said you’d fall for someone in a goddamned split second.”

  Shut the fuck up.

  Bish smiled and then went serious. “Got your back.”

  You never have to say it.

  “Sometimes, I want to.”

  Chapter Five

  In your wildest dreams

  Jessa

  It was a warehouse, with high ceilings and reinforced metal and small windows that were shuttered against the storm. When the music that had been playing came to a stop, I heard hail hit the metal and it sounded like bullets. I cringed the first twenty times or so and then my senses got used to the dull pings.

  At some point, Bishop had disappeared, but Mathias was here with me. I can’t say I wasn’t happy about that. I knew there must be some kind of underground bunker, like we’d had in D.C., and the thought of all the people I’d have to meet frightened me. At that point, I was ready to pray that the storm continued indefinitely, if it meant I’d just stay here with Mathias.

  I rubbed my bare arms and shivered. The warehouse was heated, but the ceilings were so high, it was hard for it to stay very warm. It didn’t help that my feet were bare.

  It didn’t help that I knew Mathias was watching me—watching me in the way a man watches a woman he wants. Finally, I turned toward him.

  I was sure he was armed, but in the blur of the fighting, I hadn’t seen him pull a weapon. And he hadn’t pulled one on me after I’d stabbed him. He hadn’t, at any point I’d seen, taken time to dress, or even look at the wound. I couldn’t see anything through the jacket though, and I thought better of reminding him what I’d done.

  I looked down just then and realized I was covered in dirt and blood and dust. Self-consciously, I touched my hair, which must’ve been the rat’s nest it felt like. It had been forever since I’d had a proper shower, which is probably why that man had studied me so hard today before agreeing to buy me.

  Maybe I should be grateful I looked like hell. That hesitation allowed Mathias and Bishop time to save me.

  I stared at my hands, the blood caked under my nails, and then Mathias’s hand was in front of mine. I looked up and he was right there—I hadn’t heard him move or seen him, but he was holding out his hand to take mine.

  I stuck my palm against his and he gave no indication of his feelings, instead gave a light tug and I was following him across the large floor, weaving through motorcycles until we got into a large bathroom area. There was an empty four-stall community shower in here.

  “Is there water?” I asked, and he turned it on in the closest stall, put my hand under the cold water, pointed to the hot and shook his head. When I told him, “I don’t care,” he turned, grabbed a few towels and placed them on a bench outside the shower. And then he took off his shorts and disappeared...into the next
shower.

  I didn’t look but I heard the water turn on. There was a five-foot wall between the two, and the showers faced in opposite directions. It took everything I had not to blatantly stare at him, and after the experiences with men I’d had recently, you’d think I’d want nothing to do with any of them. But my body felt differently about Mathias, and the sensation was nerve-racking, to say the least.

  “Idiot,” I told myself as I stripped my dirty clothes off and turned the shower on. He hadn’t been kidding about no hot water, and I stood under spray that was so cold it burned and I didn’t care. I rinsed and scrubbed the LoV and Charlie and the entire past weeks off me, rinsed my entire damned life away as fast as I could. I forced myself to rinse the shampoo fully from my hair. My teeth were literally chattering by that point.

  I turned the water off. Mathias’s shower was still running. I wrapped a towel around me and dried off my arms and legs, wrapped my hair and rubbed some of the water out of it. And then I finally got the courage to look over at Mathias. There wasn’t a curtain. His back was to me, and he stood with his face under the spray. His shoulders were wide, his back muscled, narrowing to a cut waist—and he was heavily tattooed. The soap ran down the ridges in rivulets, between his ass cheeks, down his muscled thighs and calves.

  He wasn’t shivering. I’d stopped too, and now my cheeks were heated. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not that he appeared not to have tried to look at me. Which was ridiculous after all I’d been through.

  Then again, Charlie and I had barely consummated our marriage.

  Mathias was signing something, with his back still to me. Of course, I had no real idea of what he was saying but he obviously knew I was looking and that was the point.

  I turned away and noted he’d left me sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I put both on hurriedly, ducking out of his sight when I heard the shower shut off. I was back at the van, sitting inside, my bare feet tucked up under me when he strode out with a towel around his waist, rubbing his hair dry with a second one.

  He was completely comfortable with his nudity. I could see why. I wouldn’t have minded if he stayed naked, and my cheeks flushed again for feeling that way.

  Where was this coming from? Before today, I might not have fit into my other world, but I’d never have thought that being in this one would make me feel so free. Not after what happened with the Lords of Vengeance. But that, like my time in the bunker, my time with my family and Charlie, seemed like a lifetime ago, and I was ready to live in the here and now, where I was safe.

  Besides, Mathias was going to think I was an idiot if I sat here, silently staring at him for much longer.

  “I’m sorry.” I pointed to his arm and he shrugged. He’d wrapped a big piece of cloth he’d torn from his T-shirt around it. It was black, so I couldn’t see the blood but I knew I’d hit my mark. I picked up the first-aid kit that had been on the seat next to me. “Will you let me clean it? It’s the least I can do.”

  He nodded. But he didn’t move closer to me. He let me move nearer to him and I wondered if they even made gentlemen anymore these days. The world around me had sunk into such a barbaric level that to even see a man who actually still respected women—or did a good job of pretending—was a rare thing.

  I pushed my hair behind my ears and dug into the box, grabbing the gauze and peroxide and triple antibiotic cream.

  When I looked up at him, he shook his head. “You’re trying to tell me I don’t have to do this.”

  He nodded.

  “Yes, I do. It’s the least I can do, after you saved me. Twice.”

  He pondered that for a second, then typed, And to think, at one point, you hadn’t even known if you’d wanted to live.

  As I read, he reached out to brush my scars lightly with his thumbs. He wasn’t ignoring them, choosing instead to acknowledge my pain. Whether or not he understood it didn’t matter. He accepted it as a part of me.

  “I don’t...I can’t talk about it. Not yet, okay?” But I wanted to, felt like letting it all spill out.

  He didn’t push, simply mouthed, Okay.

  “I’ll bet people tell you things all the time—secret things—because they think it’s safe. That you’re safe.”

  What do you think?

  “That you’re the most dangerous person I’ve ever met. That anyone who thinks you’re safe is stupid.”

  You don’t seem to mind.

  “I never realized that dangerous might be exactly what I’ve been missing.”

  And that scares you, that you might like it.

  “Maybe. And maybe there’s such a thing as too much safety.” I paused. “I will tell you why I tried to kill myself.”

  You think that will drive me away?

  “Fair warning.”

  Let’s just say I don’t scare easily.

  “I don’t think I do either. Not anymore.” With that, I untied the cloth from his arm. And then I stared for a long moment, then blinked and looked harder.

  I’d stabbed him right in the middle of a snake tattoo, a tattoo along his biceps tat seemed to undulate with the muscles of his arm. The snake looked exactly like the one he’d killed today. When I touched the tattoo, he jumped a little and I swore, for just a second, the snake was alive. Which was ridiculous. “How...”

  He shrugged. Typed, I knew.

  “That you’d meet me?”

  Something like that. Signs were all there.

  “You really believe in signs.”

  I’m waiting for you to tell me you don’t.

  I stared between the tattoo and his hands. He was threading a needle, and then he motioned for me to clean the wound and pat it.

  When I did so, he hissed—silent, but I knew it was a hiss of pain—while I irrigated the wound. And then, as I watched, he stitched himself up, tied it off and showed me where to cut the thread. The thin black line was perfectly done and I cleaned it once more and then repacked the box while he got rid of the bloody trash.

  He stopped me, though, pulled out two pills—showing me they were aspirin and an icepack he had to punch to fill—and he placed it on my head. I gulped down the pills with the water he gave me. I hadn’t realized the pain I was in from that asshole.

  He was signing. I guessed it was so ingrained in him that he’d always sign first, no matter if someone couldn’t understand. But his eyes were so expressive that I knew what he was saying. “You’re angry Charlie hit me.”

  He nodded.

  “He never did before. I just can’t believe he’d sell me out to save himself.”

  Mathias grabbed the alphasmart and typed, Sorry you had to find out this way. You’re better off.

  “I think so too.” I let my gaze drift over his mostly naked body again. There were tattoos all the way down his arm, covering the backs of his hands, along with the heavy silver rings. I saw more ink on his neck and wondered if he was completely covered.

  I’d spent weeks with heavily tattooed men and thought I’d have nightmares anytime I was in the presence of anyone like them. Instead, I was fighting an urge to take off my clothes.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  Mathias smiled, like he knew but wouldn’t share. I hadn’t taken any drugs in hours and I actually felt more clearheaded than I ever had. And when a giant blast of thunder shook the warehouse—and the ground underneath my bare feet—I jumped and Mathias ushered me into the van. He’d set up a bed back there, and he motioned between me and him and the doors. Then he signed something.

  He was asking me if it was okay to close the doors, to close us both in here together. I nodded and he did so, which immediately made me feel more secure. If nothing else, it blocked out the sounds of the storm a little, and he helped that along with music he blasted.

  It was Bad Company’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love.�
�� He joined me in the back and I said, “A little obvious?” and he smiled, that wickedly dirty smile that made my stomach all fluttery. I was like...a girl. A silly schoolgirl who didn’t have to worry about anything, who could let the big, strong man take care of her. And I loved it.

  I moved into his arms, onto his lap. All he did was watch me carefully, his dark eyes lazy-lidded and telling me everything I needed to know. I felt like nothing could touch me here with him and he was communicating that to me silently, but somehow more strongly than I’d ever thought possible. I’d never thought that not being able to communicate to someone would actually bring me closer to them. But that’s exactly what was happening.

  Chapter Six

  It just may be a lunatic you’re lookin’ for

  Mathias

  Jessa was trembling a little. I didn’t want to freak her out so I waited her out, but I couldn’t do anything about my cock pressing against her belly. Not when she sat in my lap.

  Finally, she dropped her arms to her sides and took my hands in hers. She brought them up between us and leaned back so she could look at them. Her scars showed when she did that and she made no attempt to hide them. I think even if I hadn’t already felt them, she wouldn’t have had a problem letting me see them. But she was busy studying my hands, turning them over, running her fingers down mine.

  They were just hands, big and strong and calloused, but for me, they were everything—the way I talked, the way I communicated, by sign or by touch. They sometimes took the brunt of my fights, which was inevitable. Because they were also deadly hands, and she knew that now, but she didn’t know everything.

  They were weapons that could create a charmed tattoo or strum a guitar or take over a woman’s body and give her enough voice for the both of us. And even though she didn’t understand anything I signed yet, it didn’t matter. She definitely understood my hands.

  The music pounded and I reached out to lock the van doors from the inside. I’d become oddly protective of someone I was pretty sure was just using me to prove to herself that she was most definitely still alive.