by Debra Kayn
"Please," she whispered.
He rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah."
Forty-five years of terror made a long story. One he'd never told anyone before. One he'd tried to push far away.
Heather put family above all else. Her whole being was based on her experience with her dad, her mom, her uncle, and despite the heartache, she thrived, accepted, and forgave. She'd arrived in Haugan and jumped right into fitting in with the Ronacks Motorcycle Club and getting to know her father.
Meanwhile, he planned to kill his brother.
He cleared his throat and stood. He couldn't worry about what would happen after he finished talking or he'd never be able to tell her everything. And, she deserved to know what she was getting herself into with him.
He swallowed the bile burning his throat. "I've done everything I can since I graduated high school, more fucking years ago than I can remember, to leave my family behind. I left home, which consisted of my mom and Tim, and never looked back. I ended up all over the U.S. for a couple of years before finding myself in Haugan and becoming a lifer with Ronacks MC. I had hoped..."
"What had you hoped for?"
"That I'd never see my brother again, but through the years, he'd show up, harass me, and then disappear. Until now, I've been able to deal with him myself." His chest tightened. "I never told the club about him or confided in anyone about what I'd lived through."
She hugged the blanket to her stomach. "What does he do to you that makes you want to stay away from him?"
"What hasn't he done?" Rod walked over to the window and leaned against the wall. It was the farthest spot in the room away from her, and he hoped distance softened his words. "Tim's got some mental disorders. My mom told me he was bipolar when I was too young to understand what the word meant. By the time I'd hit my teen years, I understood there were more problems going on with my brother. My mom had already done all she could to hide my brother's problems from the world instead of seeking help or institutionalizing him. She lost control of him as soon as he became a teenager from what I can figure out. He's ten years older than me, and I don't remember him any other way than fucked up."
She moved and got on her knees, putting her feet underneath her. "All these years he's been left untreated?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you should talk to him and try to get him to see a doctor." She lowered the blanket. "When I worked for the woman's shelter in Seattle, we had a list of treatment centers in every county who would work with people who need help."
He shook his head. "No."
"What I'm saying is there are doctors and grant money and counselors who work pro bono cases. If there's no insurance company involved or the person is low income, they will work with him. They don't turn anyone away at crisis centers." She tossed the blanket to the side. "I've actually worked with lots of women who came to the shelter for help who also dealt with mental disorders themselves and in their spouses. I could help you and your brother. I'm sure there's a community center in Haugan who can direct us in the right direction. If not local, then at the closest hospital."
"He's not fixable," said Rod.
Heather smiled sadly and sank back down on the bed. "Everyone is fixable."
She refused to listen to what he was telling her about Tim. The last thing he wanted was her involved in dealing with his brother or believing she could save him. It was too late for that.
"Is it normal for a three-year-old to break two fingers playing with toy cars? Cause that's what happened to me when my brother bent my fingers backward. When I was eight years old, our dog went missing. I found him in the attic, butchered into pieces, above Tim's bedroom." His throat closed and he pushed out the words. "Is it normal to be overpowered at the age of ten by my twenty-year-old brother and shoved off a roof, which happened to be the one safe place...or what I thought was a safe place, to hide from the daily terror of living with a brother who wanted to kill me?"
"Rod?" She covered her mouth and shook her head.
"Those are only a few instances that happened in the eighteen years I lived at home. There was more. Bruises on my mom. A fire in the middle of the night and finding my bedroom door was blocked from the outside, and I couldn't get out. A neighbor girl who came up missing and never found. The same girl that I had caught Tim stalking when he thought nobody was watching. Cats around town were found with their throats slit." His head pounded. "Jesus Christ, Heather. Pick up any book about a psychotic killer, and there will be a picture of my brother as the example of what one acts like."
"Call the cops." She stood from the bed. "If everything you say is true—"
"True?" He ripped off his vest, pulled his shirt up to his chest, and pointed to the scar running under his rib case. "This is my brother's latest work. Somehow, I survived. Again."
"You knew it was your brother who attacked you outside the bar?" She gasped for air. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"At first, I didn't know who stabbed me." He shoved his shirt back down.
"What made you think it was Tim?"
"I remembered..." Tension straightened his back. "When the man who attacked me pulled the knife out, he laughed. And, before you doubt how I could identify Tim from a sound, it's a noise I'm familiar with after hearing it all my life after each time he's tried to kill me or he got away with one of his sick games he enjoyed playing."
She'd approached him when he was talking, and yet her hands on his sides came as a surprise. He sucked in his breath. She never kept the space he'd created, giving her the out of caring about him.
"You've never told anyone what you've lived through before," she said.
He stared down into her eyes and shook his head. The admittance pained him. He'd gone through a range of emotions dealing with his brother throughout his life. Fear, embarrassment, anger, and for the last couple of years, he'd achieved the impossible. He'd pushed Tim out of his mind and convinced himself he'd done everything possible to be free of him.
"The guns around the house?" Heather moistened her lips. "The gate? That's to keep him away from you?"
"The cameras, the club, the house." He closed his eyes an extra second. "It all makes it possible for me to sleep at night. I can work out in my garage on my bike without worrying about who is standing behind me."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Don't." He pulled her to his chest and stared at nothing over her head. "I might never have had a choice when I was younger to escape him, but I survived. I've made a good life in Haugan. I won't let him fuck with me anymore."
"He's caused you so much pain," she said.
Rod inhaled deeply. "I don't ease pain. I overcome it. That's what I'm going to do."
She tilted her head back to look at him. "What are you going to do when you catch your brother?"
"Get rid of him." He held her closer when she pulled to step away. "Then, you won't have to worry about me ever leaving you again. You can come and go when and where you want. I won't allow him to touch you again."
She pulled away, and he let her go.
Everything inside of him wanted to grab her and convince her that nothing changed between them. That he loved her. He never stopped.
But, she had to decide on her own. He'd given her all the information she needed to comprehend what was going on.
"I don't understand what getting rid of him means." She turned around and cradled her arm.
"It means I'm going to get him out of my life. Out of your life." Rod exhaled loudly. "Things I do, for the club, for myself, will never touch you. I'm going to make sure Tim doesn't hurt you or succeeds in finally killing me."
She whirled around and faced him. "But, he's your brother. He's got the same blood flowing in his body as you do."
"Family means something different to you, sassy." He slid his hands into his pockets. "That word, the idea of what family is supposed to represent, doesn't mean anything to me."
"Do you realize how wrong you are?"
He drop
ped his gaze to the floor. "I'd rather be wrong than right."
The heat and confusion from Heather's stare paralyzed him. He closed his eyes against the judgment she threw at him. The disbelief and disgust that the man in love with her was willing to kill his brother were too much for her. He'd known it would happen.
He opened his eyes to tell her it was okay that she couldn't accept him for who he was and found his room empty.
Heather was gone.
Chapter Twenty Nine
A black dog stood in the hallway of Rod's house, snarling with teeth bared. Heather backed up a step and froze when Girl's growl grew louder. All she wanted to do was get out of the bedroom, away from Rod, and into the bathroom before her stomach rebelled over learning he planned to kill his own brother.
"Oh, God," she mouthed, feeling behind her for the door, somewhere she could hide.
The dog's fur stood along its back. Heather's heart raced. What was she supposed to do? Rod had told her the dog had issues.
He was wrong.
The dog had huge issues.
"Girl, stay," said Rod behind her. "This is Heather."
Girl growled, baring all her canine teeth. Rod walked around Heather. She grabbed on to the back of his T-shirt as he passed, thankful he was wider, taller, and more solid than her.
"Walk with me while I put her outside." Rod moved forward without any hesitation.
The dog skirted forward, keeping an eye on Heather. She swallowed. There was nothing trustworthy about the dog. Girl was ready to attack her before Rod showed up and while it was the first time the dog had come out to see her, Heather had slept in Rod's house many times.
Rod disengaged the security alarm, removed his pistol from the back of his jeans, and opened the door. Girl ran outside and blended into the shadows.
"She'll come around when she wants to come back inside," said Rod.
Heather let go of him and walked into the kitchen on wobbly legs. Holding on to the counter, she let her head fall forward. From everything Rod had told her about the dog, she expected a shaggy mutt who peed on the floor in fear when someone came in the house. Not a rabid dog.
"Are you okay?" Rod put his hand on her back.
She shook her head. There was nothing okay about anything in her life at the moment.
"I need to sleep." She straightened and turned around. "I can't talk anymore. The sun will be coming up in a couple of hours. My head is pounding. My heart hurts. I just want to go to sleep."
He nodded and walked her back to the bedroom. She clung to his hand when she climbed into bed. "Hold me?"
"If that's what you want me to do." He shut off the lamp beside the bed and laid down fully clothed, wrapping her in his arms.
Squeezed into the slim spot between him and the wall, she closed her eyes. Her body wouldn't relax. Wavering between middle of the night insanity at loving Rod more now that she understood the hardships he'd lived through and desperation to avoid what was happening, she trailed her hand down Rod's chest, his hard abdomen, and to his jeans.
Rod's hand clamped over her wrist, stopping her from touching him any further. "No."
She opened her eyes, meeting darkness. He'd never turned her away before. The rejection pushed her into an uncomfortable and desperate area, and she rebelled. She shook her hand free from his hold and went to work on his belt.
Panicked over the thought of losing him and fear of his problems too big to fix, her chest tightened. That morning, she'd lost him. Tonight, she got him back. She couldn't chance waking up in the morning to find him gone from her life without telling him she was falling in love with him, too.
Despite the danger in their lives.
Despite the plan for him to kill his brother.
Despite her doubts pounding away at her brain.
"Heather," he said. "Don't. Not when you feel this way about me."
She rolled into him and pressed her mouth against his neck. Kissing his skin, she found the soft spot below his ear, free of hair and whiskers, and sucked on his skin. His belt gave way, and she unbuttoned his jeans, pulling and undoing the next three buttons with a soft pop, pop, pop.
"God damnit," muttered Rod, his heavy breath whooshing out.
"Fuck me," whispered Heather, licking his earlobe.
The cords in his neck tightened. "You don't want this."
She caught his lobe between her teeth and nipped him. "Yes, I need this."
"No, sassy." He growled and yet made no move to stop her hand from wrapping around his cock.
She stroked the hard length of him. Her insides rapidly pulsed in sync with her heartbeat. Everything spiraled out of control. Her eyes burned, and panic swept through her.
"Please." She kissed his jaw, his lips. "Please. Please."
"Heather?"
"Yes."
He rolled her to her back, grabbed a condom off the nightstand, and handed her the protection. She ripped open the package and covered him. Her breath came hard and fast.
The hurry. The need. The desperation.
She hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of her panties and shimmied out of them, bending her knees, and maneuvering her body to get her legs farther apart, all while Rod lowered his body over her. Vulnerable with her legs spread and unable to see him in the darkness, her body trilled needing him.
She felt hollow. Alone. Hungry. Frantic.
Rod clasped her hips and pulled her toward him. His hardness slid between her legs. She lifted her ass off the mattress, trying to position herself onto him. "Hurry."
He leaned over her and braced on his elbows, framed her face with his hands, and in the darkness, that close, she got hit with his intense gray gaze. She gasped, holding still, shocked at the way he filled her completely. There was too much about Rod to discover to lose him now. To give him things he'd never had a chance to enjoy. To give him a safe place where he never doubted her love and had someone to watch him sleep to keep him safe.
Had he ever had a family dinner without worrying about his life? Had he ever walked through a day without looking behind him? Had he ever slept all night without his past visiting him? Had he ever dreamed of the perfect woman, the perfect home, the perfect family? Of her?
He took her slowly. Dependable, steady, slow, gentle strokes. Her throat closed at the myriad of emotions playing over her, and her body shook.
He was inside her.
Rod looped his other hand in her hair, wrapping the strands around his fist possessively. The prickles of each hair pulling against her scalp sent tingles down her spine. She arched against him. A squeak came out of her mouth at the loss of control.
The security coming from him overwhelmed her. It should be her that comforted him. He refused pity but deserved so much more.
Her hands clutched his arms, holding on while her body accepted every pleasurable move. "Rod...?"
Her legs trembled, weak and unprepared for how he was making her feel.
Her lungs burned without enough air.
Most of all, her pussy spasmed, each tickle of pleasure coursed through her body, pounding in the truth. She couldn't condone Rod's actions toward his brother, but she could no more leave him than judge him.
She loved him. With her body, mind, and heart.
"Let it go." Rod thrust inside of her, withdrawing, and plunging again.
Unable to do anything more than hold on, she held her breath knowing the magnitude of what was coming. Wound tight, she trembled underneath him, reaching for her orgasm.
He set a rhythm that took her higher, filled her completely, and stroked her from the inside. Her body, no longer warm but hot and out of control, almost scared her at how desperate he made her.
Rod let go of her hair and held her head. "Give it to me."
As if he, and only he, could make her feel better, she convulsed around him. She arched her neck, digging the heels of her feet in the bed. Pleasure exploded and circled inside of her, and she shuddered her climax.
"Sassy." He grunte
d his release.
He remained over her, his hardness inside of her. Every twinge of his climax rebounded in her. She trembled, weak and broken for him.
"Sh," he said.
The hand in her hair twisted and he swooped in, angling his mouth over hers, giving her everything. Deep and hard, he kissed her, his mouth alone driving her head back against the pillow.
It was only when she stopped fighting her emotions and let him take her that she sensed the wetness on her cheeks, the sobs bursting out of her lungs. All the strength in her body left her. Rod rolled to his side taking her with him. She closed her eyes wanting to hide how pathetic and weak he made her. Hoping that he could see past her insecurities and know in her heart, she loved him.
Love that she couldn't speak of yet, because fear held her back.
Chapter Thirty
The steam from the coffee warmed Rod's face. He blew over the surface, drank, and swallowed the scalding liquid. Caffeine stopped working on him a few hours ago, and yet he kept drinking. He needed something to keep his hands busy.
Girl laid her head on his boot. He reached down and petted his dog. After staying in bed with Heather for two hours, he'd gotten up to find Girl sitting at the back door, patiently waiting for him. Apparently, she'd pouted long enough and wanted back inside the house.
Not wanting to sleep, he retreated into the spare room where he kept his computer and took the dog with him. For hours, he'd stared at the security monitors on the wall. Everything remained quiet inside and outside the house.
"Rod?" called Heather.
Girl sprang to her paws. He leaned over the chair and held on to the fur at the back of Girl's neck before she could escape.
"I'm in the spare room. Come on in." He looked at the dog and added, "Come in slowly. Girl's in here."
"Um." Heather paused, staying out in the hallway out of sight. "Maybe I should go home."
Fuck. His fingers curled into the fur. "It'll be okay. Girl needs to meet you on better terms than in the middle of the night."
"It's noon. Is that a good time for dogs?" said Heather. "Cause around three this afternoon would be better for me."