“Stop being such a baby,” I say, curling my fingers back around Koda’s arm and tugging it toward myself. “The more you flinch, the harder it is for me to clean this up.”

“Quit fuckin’ bossin’ me around,” he growls, panting with pain.

I glare at him. “I’d happily let you bleed to death, but I’m not going to do that because you risked your life for us. So, you can either sit here and carry on, or you can let me sort this out.”

“How do you even know what you’re fuckin’ doin’? For all I know, I could walk away armless.”

“Tempting,” I smile at him, and it’s full of sarcasm. “But, I actually know what I’m doing. Do you forget who I grew up with? I’ve seen worse. I’ve helped worse. Now sit still.”

He sits still, one arm toward me, the other gripping a bottle of scotch that he’s swigging down every few seconds. I dab at his arm, trying to remove any dried blood but not irritate the wound too much that it starts bleeding again. By the time we got into Scarlett’s ranch on the hidden path, Koda’s wound had dried up. Which is good, because the bleeding slowed, but it also meant that I now have to gently try and clean it.

I dab it over and over with a warm, salty cloth. Cleaning the skin around it. I slowly remove the dried-up blood, revealing the wound beneath. Fleshy, straight through and out the other side. He still has full movement of his arm and hand, which means there is a good chance it didn’t hit anything important. That’s a good sign.

I think about what happened tonight and how incredibly stupid I was. Not only could I have gotten myself killed but everyone else, too. Using that phone, answering it, hell even bringing it, was absolutely idiotic. Of course my father could track it, of course he could. I’m only lucky that it doesn’t seem to be him that got hold of the number but someone else wanting to cash in the hit. At least, that’s what Malakai said. Those two men didn’t seem to be involved, but they’re questioning them thoroughly anyway.

In other words, they torturing them until they tell them what they need to hear.

I know, I’ve seen how this all works, been in this situation before.

It’s brutal, but it’s the way of life for them.

“Tell me something, Koda,” I say, still cleaning Koda’s arm, trying not to stare too long at his biceps, and the way the muscle curves so beautifully to make his arm.

Incredible.

“What?” he grumbles, head turning, eyes locking with mine.

My heart jumps.

It literally skips a beat.

“How come you’re so adamant on taking my father down?”

His eyes flash with a pain and rage that I’ve not seen in another’s eyes before. Not even my own. It’s the kind of pain that goes right to your soul. There is more to the story—somehow, there is more. I just don’t know what it is. Has it got to do with his brother? Scarlett told me he had a brother who died. Did something happen in his life to make him obsessed with bringing people like my father down?

Or does he know my father?

That’s a terrifying thought.

One I didn’t consider before.

My lips part slightly, and I whisper, “You know him, don’t you?”

He grunts and turns away. “No, I do not. I just fuckin’ hate people like that. Monsters that hide behind their power. They do more harm than good. They take innocent lives. They tangle people in their filthy fuckin’ web until there is nothin’ left. Wouldn’t matter if it was your father, or any other man, I’d want the same blood.”

I’m not so sure I fully believe him.

But it does make sense.

“What happened to your brother?”

It’s risky.

An extremely risky question.

But I had to share my entire story with him and his entire club tonight, so I’m sure he can give me a little information.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts.

Anger bubbles in my chest.

I squeeze his bicep, and he hisses. I know it hurts, but I’m also done being treated like crap from this man.

“I don’t know why you hate me so much, Dakoda,” I growl. “I don’t know, and I don’t care to know, but what I don’t appreciate is the way you treat me. For whatever reason, you have it out for me. I’ve done nothing. Nothing but help your club. I sat there tonight, and I bled my fucking heart out, do you think that wasn’t my business? That maybe I didn’t want to fucking share ...”

My voice hitches and I release his arm, looking away.

I will not cry.

I will not let any of this beat me.

I won’t.

I take a few shaky breaths, and for a moment, we stand in pure silence. I wait for him to snap at me, to growl some curse and walk out. But he doesn’t, for a few good minutes, we just stand there, both of us panting. If he’d let me in, he’d see I house the same demons he does. We’re two peas from the same pod. Two damaged, broken souls.

He just won’t accept that.

He’s so wrapped up in his own pain, he can’t see anyone else’s.

I understand that, I really do, but it doesn’t make it fair.

“He got tangled up in the wrong crowd when he was younger,” Koda says, his voice low and deep. With shaky fingers, I keep swabbing at his arm. If he’s going to talk, I’m going to let him without interruption. “Became an addict, started sellin’ drugs to be able to purchase drugs. Got deeper, as they all do. Got more addicted, his brain more damaged. And he did stupid shit. Really stupid shit. Hit got put on him, and he got killed. He was young. Fuckin’ young, and he fucked up, but he did not deserve to fuckin’ die.”

Koda’s voice becomes strained and my heart aches; it literally feels like it’s going to split right open. It makes sense now why he is so obsessed with helping me, and why there is talk that he goes around looking for people with hits on them, and if he finds out they don’t deserve it, he sorts it out. I heard Maverick and Malakai speaking about it. It didn’t make sense then; it certainly does now.

He’s not obsessed with my father.

He’s obsessed with the fact that I have a hit on me, and he doesn’t think I deserve it.

Just like his brother didn’t deserve it.

And he wants to take it down, because people like my father ruin innocent lives.

“I’m so sorry about your brother, Koda. I know how it feels.”

I stroke a finger over his arm, without thought, and he flinches a little, but doesn’t pull away. I was attempting to give him comfort, without even realizing it. For me, it’s been a very long time since I’ve tried to give comfort. Hell, it has been even longer since I’ve received it.

But he held onto me tonight.

When I ran to him and my fingers locked in his shirt, for a few moments I was a kid again, the little girl so terrified of her father, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t let him go out of fear, I’d fall and never get back up. And he held me up. Intentionally, or because he had to, I don’t know but he did it, and because he did it, I didn’t crumble.

“Sorry about your mom,” he says finally, his voice scratchy but not rough anymore.

“Thanks,” I murmur, staring at the ground.

“Never easy losin’ the only person you have left that you believe in. Bitter fuckin’ world out there without someone by your side.”

Don’t I know it.

“Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

“You have anyone else? Ever?”

I swallow. “I had Oliver, for a little while. Not in a romantic way, of course, I was only a teenager, but he showed me there was compassion out there, good out there, people that would risk themselves to help you. So yeah, for a while, I had someone.”

“Then you lost out, again,” Koda adds, finally turning and holding my eyes.

“Yeah, then I lost out again. But then I met all of you, so I figure you do lose out, but if you believe, you’ll always find again. I was lucky enough to be reminded that there was still good out there, even when I really didn’t want to believe there was.”

“You’re lucky, then.”

I frown. “You’ve never found anyone else?”

“Got the club. Know they’re family. Know they’ve got my back. But if you’re askin’ if I’ve had a person again, one I trust, one who stands by my side and makes this fuckin’ emptiness in my chest go away, then no, I have not.”

That breaks my heart.

More than he’ll ever know.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, because everyone deserves someone. Even assholes like you.”

I give him a small smile to let him know I’m playing, and for the first time since I’ve been involved with this club, his eyes lighten just a touch. Not a lot, and he doesn’t smile, but his eyes lighten.

“How is your arm feeling now?” I ask him, changing the subject.

He holds my gaze for a few long, intense moments, then glances back at his arm. “Sore, but you did a good job cleanin’ it up. Didn’t think you had it in you. Was certain you were just takin’ on the job to give me some sort of infection out of revenge ...”

I roll my eyes. “And there he is, the ass we all know and love.”

He grunts, but that lightness is still in his eyes, even if it is really hard to see.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Appreciate it.”

“Make sure you keep it clean and covered. It should drain and clear itself pretty well, there is no point in putting a few little stitches in it, most of the time they’ll pop out anyway.”

He stands, and when he’s in front of me, looking down, he seems so big, so scary, so dominant, and yet I feel so safe in front of him. I want to take a step closer and bury myself in him, just to feel that comfort and safety.

“Thanks again,” he says, looking at me with those eyes, and god if I don’t want to throw myself at him.

“You’re welcome, and thanks for helping me tonight.”

He nods, and then with one last lingering glance, he’s gone.

I swallow and watch him go, and only when he’s gone and the room is vacant do I exhale.

You cannot get attached to him, Charlie.

You can’t.

It’s that simple.

~*~*~*~