CHAPTER FIVE

“Stay.” - Rider Marinos

 

 

 

      “Jesus, Rider. What the fuck are they even doing here? Are we taking in stray Rebel bitches now? They belong there, or somewhere else just not under our roof.” The VP yanked out his chair and plonked his unkempt self-down. It was a wonder there was no plume of dust around him, the man was allergic to laundry detergent. Hawk’s voice was always calm, like a Tsunami before it hit when everything got real eerie still. The guy had no beef to get angry to enjoy his violence. The quieter Hawk got the more destruction he would exact.

     "I know her." Was all he replied as an explanation for his out of character behavior. No fucking wonder they were all looking at their president like he'd sucked one too many times on the weed bong.

      He and his crew were in the church, door closed behind them so no one outside of their inner circle, namely prospects, would hear their conversation, prospects weren't privy to much outlaw business until they patched in, all were sat around the long rectangle table, apart from Lawless, who was taking care of the kid, against his will and loud-ass protest when Rider ordered him to get her out of there, he'd swore the air blue enough to give a nun the vapours, but did as was asked of him and took the clinging kid off to grab some food from the kitchen.

      His uncle had called his old lady to take the drive down from the mountain, his men were not equipped to play baby-fucking-sitters, and while he hated calling Helen out this late, she was a woman in her early fifties and liked her soaps and sleep in that order, he needed more than his men could provide.

     “What? who? the Rebel bitch?" One of his sergeant's questions.

      Rider pinned him with a stare cold enough to curdle milk. He had to remember these were his brothers and deserved answers. Answers he didn't fucking have.

      Don’t fuckin’ call her a bitch, ever.

      "I knew her a long time ago. Why she was there, you know about as much as I fuckin' do." The stratagem had been simple; the Raging Rebel's building went up in smoke no matter who the fuck was left inside.

      He got that his brothers were now confused to hell why he'd brought two of theirs back.

      She is not theirs.

      He sat back in his president's chair at the head of the long wide dark oak table. The same table that had been here since day one when Homer 'Hammer' Kontos started the club as a rebellion to society, if he couldn't fit in, then he decided to make his own community. Forty-nine years later the club was finally staggering back to its feet after too many years of flagging in the dirt. Rider was always grateful to the old man, now long since dead, because of him he had a purpose, he belonged. Outside on the brick wall was a plaque that read;

 

CLUBHOUSE OF THE RENEGADE SOULS MOTORCYCLE CLUB.

Founded on October 1, 1967, by

Homer 'Hammer' Kontos and Other.

 

      And as the club passed down from one President to the next when their time came, they each looked at it and knew he was part of a rich history of outlaws.

      Rider had never taken it for granted. He loved every shitty inch of his club. It was his, and he wouldn't allow this tiny blip in their scheme to fucking mess with it.

      Noise levels grew. He used the gavel at his right hand to grab the boy's' attention.

      Each set of eyes turned to him.

     "The woman. She's called Zara. I knew her a few years ago, for one fuckin' night, emphasis on the latter."

      He didn't embellish on what he'd done to her the day after. It was useless info and he was already pissing in the wind not knowing what the fuck was going on.

      And he felt oddly exposed.

      He'd never even told Hawk how he'd felt about Zara.

     "Far as her being at the Rebels joint, and the kid…looks like Hades' sick deal with keeping and selling woman." His jaw went like cement.

      The clenched teeth jaw-tick showing how fucking pissed off he was.

      Worse than that, he was angry. If he'd needed a fresh reason to kill that rattlesnake this was it.

      As it was, he'd kill Hades for free anytime anywhere any given day.

       If it wasn't tonight, then it would be soon. He'd make sure of it.

      Rider met Hawk's gaze. Darkness shone through the pale color. It said everything Hawk wasn't; Are you fucking crazy, Rider? what the fuck are you doing, get rid of them both before they bring trouble to our doorstep.

      Hawk would be right, he knew that. Anyone else he'd be knocking their fucking head off for even thinking to bring people in, even if it was a rescue. Club came first. The safety and wellbeing of the club came first, no exceptions.

      Only, Rider was making a giant exception.

      Butcher had deemed her fine, just riddled with injuries and exhaustion. Rider had grunted his reply, picking her up into his arms, all his men had watched their president stride out of the common room carrying the woman, taking her down to his private room. He'd stayed with her only a few minutes before calling an emergency meeting.

      That was an hour ago.

      "What about that kid? We can't have her here if the sheriff comes sniffing around."

      He told them what he'd overheard Zara say, about not going back. His brothers agreed they must have been part of Hades' fresh batch of women. Only some of Zara's injuries were old, she was covered in pink scars.

      He couldn't get past that first glimpse of her then and now.

      Such a contrast.

      What the fuck had happened to her?

     "She appears to have taken a shine to Lawless. The kid is obviously crazy." Snickers traveled.                                      

     "Jed said Helen knows someone who knows someone in social services, she'll get on that soon as she gets here."             

      Rider agreed, she couldn't stay.

      He should hand Zara over as well.

      He ground his teeth. Not gonna do that.

      Not until he had answers.

      So many fucking why's.

     Goddamn, what had she said to him that night, her last words? he couldn't remember and it felt important to bring a good memory to the front of his mind before his fucking brain exploded. Scanning his memory back three years, nothing was coming, only the sweetness of her, the tight body stretching around his cock. And then later how she'd giggled before giving a mind-blowing blowjob. He'd never had a girl laugh before taking his cock into her mouth.

      He'd thought she was cute as hell.

      He'd never had sweet in his life; any fucking wonder he didn't know what to do with it.

      He'd fucked up.

      Had that decision led to where she was now? 

      The thought plagued Rider.

      Fuck. She was meant to be far away in some fancy lawyer school, that much he remembered, how animated she'd been telling him of her plans. He recalled he thought she was a cute as fuck nerd. One of those book jocks who got off on grammar and math. Sweet and intelligent. Any wonder he'd fucked the hell out of her.

      But now his bad decision was coming home to roost and if he found he was to blame for her predicament. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

       How could he know? That was three years ago. Maybe she'd done the school thing and returned home, how long was the lawyer gig for?

     Whichever direction Rider turned his thoughts to, his gut had a sinking feeling he was involved somewhere along that chain of events.

      He'd fucked sweetness and now this bad shit was happening to her

      Thank god, he had raided that shithead's place. Thank fuck.

      She was still sleeping in his room, he had a prospect on the door to alert him if she woke any time soon. He wanted to wrap up the meeting and get back there.

      Club first. Club first. He reminded himself.

      Who the fuck made that rule, he scowled.

      Oh yeah, it was this fucking idiot.

      Anyone would think he cared. Caring wasn't in Rider's wheelhouse.

      No. Nope, he did not care.

      But yeah, fuck, he kind of did. 

      What the motherfuck was wrong with him?

     Within the space of a few minutes, he'd already decided what was going to happen, now he just needed his brothers in accordance. It was the first of its kind and was likely to go over as well as a flea bath.

      He steeled his jaw, waited until all was quiet and eyes on him.

     "If we take her to the hospital those nosy do-gooders will only bring in the law, they'll ask questions, which in turn will point fingers toward us, we did blow up a building tonight of our known enemies, as it is we still have that heat comin' at us." Grumbles of shared agreement.

     "We deal with this ourselves. No one talks outside of this room we brought those girls back here, far as anyone knows we're fuckin' clueless to any Rebels women. And we continue to round those cocksuckers up.”

       Hawk hung back after Rider dismissed everyone. He rose his brow, waiting for it. Didn't have to wait long.

     "Are you sure about this, Rider? We just got right, we're in the middle of a club war, now we're harboring Hades’ property."

      A growl boiled out of Rider's mouth, lips curled back. He spat out with quiet venom.

     "She is not his!” his hiss was fiercer than intended and probably gave away his masked thoughts. “You realize what he probably did to her? You fuckin' realize, that right? And you want me to what... send her back out there to be picked up by one of his crew if he catches on she didn't go up in flames with his club?" His anger was on an uncharted course, unstoppable as he growled at his best friend.

     "You of all people, Hawk, should under-fucking-stand this shit, should understand why I want to help her." When he saw the paleness of Hawk's already colorless eyes bleach out, his lips thinned and two meaty fists clench at his side Rider shut up.

      He wouldn't apologize.

      Fuck that noise.

      Fuck it all.

      He sighed and braced his own fists to his hips.

      "You don't agree with my decision. Fine. Don't. Nothing about the plan has changed, we move forward as we talked about, we pick them off one by one. Meanwhile Red Light is on his way down to the dirty sombrero to fish out who is feeding Hades his supply and help the man make better decisions before another shithead steps in and traffics powder through my city. Fucking Mexican Kingpins.  As for Zara, you can leave any and all things to do with her to me."               

      Oh, Rider saw clearly everything Hawk wasn't saying. The VP might be a locked safe within a steel panic room but he'd known his friend long enough now to know when he was fucked off.

       Something to do with what he'd said, bringing up old shit.

       He wouldn't offer an apology, the same as Hawk wouldn't expect one or accept it. Instead, he stepped forward into Hawk's space, saw how he tensed. Wouldn't be the first time they'd gone through an outbreak of bloody violence, they were both volatile men, Hawk more so, but tonight wasn't the time, he had enough shitstorms at his door without having a rowdy fucking fight with Hawk.

      Instead, he clapped a hand briefly to his shoulder. Felt him stiffen.

     "I need you on the same page as me, bro. I fuckin' rely on you to be my right hand when my left is busy killing some bastard."

      That got Rider a slight snort.

      The closest Hawk came to humor.

      And just like that, the tension swept away. Hawk nodded.

     "Just…just be fucking careful, Rider." He said no more. Turning on his boot Hawk marched out.

      Careful. What did that even mean for an outlaw? Rider hadn't been careful even as a teen when he became serious about joining the Souls.

      He had a feeling, for Zara, he would be less than careful to keep her safe.

      Waiting a few minutes, he too strode out, a tense spine, he was tired, almost dawn now. But sleep wouldn't come yet. Not with his club on lockdown.

      Not with sweetness asleep in his bed.

 

******

 

      There was no staggering gentle rouse from sleep for Zara. She came awake all at once in an anxious heart tapping rush and as always, her first thought was dread.

      Ow. Ow. Ow.

      Her face hurt. Her body hurt. But as she calculated her limbs, turning them in circles she found none were even a little bit broken.

      That was always a good start to the day.

      She fingered her index digit around her eye socket. God, that hurt like a bitch, the skin tender, swollen and throbbing.  That asshole with the meat-hook hand, she was going to spit in his dinner. Just wait you see, fucktard with your gimpy leg.

      She swore to God she was going to do it just as soon as------ her mental recollection slotted into place and within an inhalation Zara vaulted up out of the bed like she'd been stung by electricity, her heart hammering remembering everything with startling clarity.

      And then she saw him.

      The sight of her rescuer did nothing to calm her raging heartbeat. It went into overdrive making a simple thing like breathing hard.

     "Hey, babe. It's just me, Rider, remember? Try to relax.  Didn't want you to wake alone and not know where the fuck you were. Do you remember last night?" The words were said quiet and kindly, but in a way, that suggested he meant to be listened to.

      When the alarm lessened to a dull roar in the back of her skull, Zara's momentum died away, making her catch a seat suddenly on the edge of the bed.

      There was no motivator like fear to move a person and nothing like the relief to sap you of energy.

      She pulled in calming air, nodding quietly.

     Noticing his stature at first. Hard to freaking miss. Had he grown an extra foot since she'd last seen him or was Rider always this big? He was tall as a tree, but so much more wide in the shoulders. Hunched over his knees, both of his arms braced to his thighs his relaxed pose wasn't any less intimidating. His size took up the whole chair.

      This was a big man.

      An important man.

     "You came. You came to the place and got me out." She said incredulously around a stammer, still not quite believing it. Believing she was out of that nightmare.

     "Yeah. I did. Took us all by surprise.  Wanna tell me what you were doing there? I've had some crazy fuckin' thoughts while you've been out of it, babe. None of 'em make much damn sense. You were a scared animal, busted up...that doesn't explain anything, except that maybe your man knocks you around some. Do you belong to Hades? to one of his men?"

      If she'd had anything in her stomach at all it would have hurled its way out of her mouth. She visibly paled, felt the blood drain out of her face as her belly rebound from revulsion at his question.

     "That...man. All those men are fucking disgusting horrifying pigs that need to be euthanized for mankind's sake, do you think any woman would voluntarily be there? That they would put themselves into a sadistic bastard’s hands and be happy about it?" she panted with exertion, though she hadn't moved an inch from where she sat, her feet didn't even reach the floor. She gripped the comforter in two fists, met his steely gaze, watchful of her, making sure she was truthful? how could she adequately convey her disgust, if the one man she vaguely knew a million years ago, would doubt her?

     "I would rather eat my own vomit than belong to him. Does that answer your question? I was not his by choice. I was not there by choice. I couldn’t leave. I tried so many times. He took what didn't belong to him and he broke me. I'm fucking broken. I'm broken! I am fucking broken!"

      Each time she declared it her voice went up and up, more desperate, consumed in pain.

      "He kept me like an animal, worse even. I was his prisoner, the clubs whore-slave, Rider. I didn't want any of it. I tried so many times in so many ways to escape before I gave up. Does that answer your fucking question now?"

      Shame came with tears tracking down her face.

      Too much shame she choked on it in great sobbing hiccups, her body shuddered as she curled into her knees holding herself together.

      She saw it instantly in his blue eyes. Pity.

      The worse of all nouns.

       She didn't want his pity or sympathy.

       Like they'd been waiting to be tagged in for their turn, every negative emotion burst through her doors. Leaving Zara breathless and vulnerable, scared to death of even her own thoughts. Relief and fear all rolled into one fucked up emotion.

      Embarrassment. Anxiety. Humiliation. Isolation. Numb. Lost. Scarred. Desperate. Caged.

      The emotional punches kept on coming as she rocked herself.

     Deflated from the burst of energy she lifted her head, looking over at Rider through dirty strands of hair. He hadn't moved, nor taken his eyes off her.

     "He kept you a fuckin' hostage? Zara! That cocksucker kept you as his goddamn motherfuckin' hostage? RAPING YOU? BEATING YOU?" He growled viciously baring his teeth, growing louder by the second until her ears hurt, eyes wild and wide, he jacked up so fast to his feet she was taken aback by the sheer volume of the man filling the small room, he'd taken a step forward, and without thinking she flinched away, protecting her face with both hands intuitively. She could take punches to the body, but it hurt worse on the face.

     "Please. Don't." She begged in a tiny voice, folding in on herself. The stutter of her heart increasing as fear came with a vengeance. Bam, I'm back, bitch, it seemed to claim.                

      Fear never went away, not even for a second. It was instinct to beg, to dread a fist flying at her and she hated that instinct. This wasn't her, this wasn't who she used to be, terrified of all men for their filthy hunger, disgusting behavior. It came automatically before she could stop it.

     "Fuckin' hell, Zara. I'm not going to hurt you. Fuck. Jesus. Babe. Not ever gonna hurt you. What was done to you, babe...shit. I'm not gonna harm you. No one is going to hurt you here. You got my word on that."

      He'd backed up, sitting again in the brown leather armchair, though Zara felt the weight of his stare.

      A deadly man.

      She'd be a fool to believe anything he said. To want to believe his word. She had no reason to. Trust no one, was her motto and she stuck to it.

      It was not his fault she was projecting her fears of others onto him, but she didn't know him.

      He saved me. Brought me out of Hell.

      How many more days would she have lived for? not many, she reasoned. And that was because she'd been having dark thoughts lately of ending it all, she couldn't foresee that kind of existence going on a day longer, she was beat down so broken from the mental torture, she'd hated that the most, it would have driven her mad eventually, as it was, she was already slightly unhinged, wringing her fingers together, she'd even planned it out, how she'd do it.

      It was easy enough to manoeuvre around their kitchen, they thought she was deeply controllable now, a good little dog to wag tail when they cackled evilly, that she would cook and clean on command, she had access to knives. She'd dreamed for nights and nights of bleeding out, how it would feel, that state of euphoria as the last drop left her body and she was welcomed into eternal oblivion, never to be hurt ever again.

      She dreamed it, craved it until the thought of death was all she tasted on her tongue, wanted it more than anything. Only Angela's arrival unexpectedly had stopped her suicidal plans.

     "Angela!" she popped up to her feet. Eyes wild and alert suddenly remembering the girl. How long had she been out for?

      She asked him. "What time is it? How long was I asleep? She'll be scared, she's only a kid. Her parents were killed, Rider. She shouldn't be alone. They were going to--- they planned to do bad things to that little girl."

     "Jesus H Christ. You're gonna give me a fuckin' heart attack with all your bursting out. Calm fuckin'down babe. I know it's hard, this is all strange to you. You gotta know three things; My club is helpin' you, whatever you need. Passage back home to your people, you wanna recover here, that's fine, too. No fucker is getting in, you're safe, believe it.

      And your girl is taken care of. She couldn't stay here around a buncha hardass men, it wasn't the place for a little kid. I know people who know people, she's with the local Child Protective Services. One of my people dropped her off a while ago, they'll figure the shit out for her there. You just gotta think about you now."

     "Oh..." Deflated.

      "Just as well, she was hysterical as fuck when you decided to pass out, babe, and she took to clingin' to one of my brothers, wouldn't leave him alone, followed him like a puppy for seven straight hours, it freaked Lawless the hell out, he's not exactly Mary Poppins. She told him some of what happened, said you kept her safe."

     "Oh..." she repeated. Rider's expression was poker serious, but she was glad he was telling her straight. And she was glad for Angela, really. “Thank you for taking care of her. I don’t really know her well, just a few days, I tried to do my best for her, I couldn’t let them hurt her, she’d never get over that.”

      Guilt chewed at her. She should feel gladder than she was.

     "Will the police want to talk to me?"

     "Shouldn't do if we're lucky, we told her it was important no one knew you'd been over at Westbank."

      She blinked confused at him. No police? she'd been held captive for years, call her stupid but that was a fucking crime in this country.

     Someone had to pay for that, the police needed telling what those men were. Monsters were walking among the community and were getting away with atrocious crimes right under their noses. Drugs, guns, prostitution, and that was just the tip of the iceberg she'd overheard of their proclivities and extracurricular activities.

     "What...wait..what? I don't understand. Shouldn't the police be involved already? I don't need to tell anything about your club, if that's what you're worried about, I won't even mention you. I'll tell anyone who asks I escaped.  I know as much that your kind doesn't get along with the law. That bastard took from me, Rider..." emotion cracked as she spoke, turning her anger into a fresh cry fest.

      God. She despised crying. Such a baby. Too much change was freaking her system. It didn’t help any to leak her feelings.  Swiping angrily at her tears she decided no more. And went on to ignore herself as fresh tears fell for a few minutes more.

     "We torched the place, babe. You go to the cops now, they're gonna be wantin' to know what happened, how convenient it was you escaped the same night the Rebels place went whoosh-fuckin'-boom. They gonna be pointin' the fingers and it ain't just at us, that we can deal with, we expect it. You really wanna deal with that on top of everythin' else?"

     Zara's brows furrowed in the middle. She'd give anything to be passed out again. This was all just too much and she was weak, lightheaded, listless, her muscles fatigued and heavy. She slumped her shoulders forward and met his shrewd gaze.

     “Okay. That makes sense.”

      His eyes had never changed their vivid color. So vibrant they still gave her the thought of the ocean. She'd once giggled and told him he had pretty blue eyes. Once. A long time ago.                

      Another life.

      He had more facial hair than he did then, but he was as handsome as ever.

      And should she really be thinking that right now?

      God. She shook her head.

      She was as crazy as Hades had always accused her of being. Crazy fucking sweet love.

      Though the man was a psycho so he had no room to speak of.

      Took a crazy to know a crazy, you motherfucking psychopath. Thinking of him rose goosebumps on her skin.

     "I don't want any trouble, but justice needs to come to those fucking savages. It wasn’t just me. My god, there have been hundreds of women, Rider, scores of them, I can still hear their screams, and you know what? I don’t even know what happened to them. They were there one day, gone the next. They need to pay for that." she answered vehemently, at last, meaning every word, she'd face whatever questioning she had to if need be. She didn't care what happened to her. Fuck it, she'd take responsibility for the fire. Jail time would be a holiday camp.

      Rider sucked air through his bared teeth. "Justice is being served, babe. Trust the Souls to see to that. You think we were raiding their club to steal piggy banks tonight? Nah. We were ending their reign once and for all.

      “Hades skipped out, though. You should know that. But we’ll catch up to him, now I have double the reason for cutting that bastard’s throat ear-to-ear and watching him bleed out. Taking girls. Taking kids … Motherfucker. We got a lot of his boys already, some are in the wind, but my tracker Grinder, that hound can sniff out shit a mile away."

      She was fascinated in how his teeth ground together like this was a personal vendetta to the MC president. His eyes flashed so darkly he had a look of the devil. “He deserves nothing short of a bloodbath ending, babe. And that's what he'll get”

      “No disrespect intended, but I don’t know you or your Souls people. Or why you'd take on that responsibility.  This is for the law to deal with.”

      Hades was still out there alive somewhere.

      What terrible news to tell a girl when she was fresh out of her un-gilded cage.

      She would have laughed once over for that irony. But not now.

      Something occurred to her that turned her blood cold.

     “He’ll come for me if he knows I lived through whatever you did to his clubhouse. He is not a man who likes to lose, ever. He’s the proverbial kid who won’t share his candy.” She shivered, unconsciously wrapping arms around her knees once more.

      “He won’t fuckin’ get near you, Icy!” His outburst was sudden. Again, he growled.

      Zara was confused at his display, not to mention hearing that nickname again after so long.

      It wrenched unfamiliar pain throughout her belly.  But then, nothing made sense to her.

      “You can stay here until we get him. We will get him.”

     “Okay.”  What did she care? If Rider and his MC had their own grudge against Hades let death find that bastard by his hands.

      She was so tired, too tired to deal with it.

      But she knew one thing; Hades had treated her like his own special project to mentally torture, it was why she reasoned he'd never sold her on like the other women or killed her.              

      She remembered how he'd laughed the day she'd slipped up and spat in his face declaring he was no president like Rider. Rider fucking Marinos? You know him do ya, sweet love? oh well, this just gets better and fucking better, you just became my favorite fucking toy, I’ll have to keep you real close.  Now get the fuck here while I show you why you don't ever fucking spit at me. You'll be calling me Sir President before I'm done with you, sweet love. Beg me, bitch, beg your fucking President to hurt you.

      She gulped back the rise of bile.

      Before she could speak, Rider rose slowly this time as if to prepare her, give her warning he was not a threat. She watched his sleek movement, he walked languidly with his hips, she noticed the way his jeans molded to his long legs and the sway of his wallet chain around a lean waist making it clang. A distraction from her vile thoughts.

      Her eyes crawled up his body, reached his chest, continued up, by the time she’d found his face he was already positioned in front of a dark wood chest of drawers, and bringing a plate over to her. Oh god. He’d brought her food. She didn’t care what it was, she wanted it now. Her belly growled like a tiny cub.

      Gimme Gimme Gimme.

     “Here, babe. You need this. Our medicine man said you were malnourished, you’re all skin and bone. Eat and I’ll bring you some more, as much as you want.” the plate snatched out of his hand, set on her lap, she was already sinking teeth down through the first huge bite of the roast beef and mayo sandwich before he’d finished talking.

     Though she ate like a savage coming off a hunger strike she was polite with it, remembering to chew with her mouth closed, though in truth she barely chewed at all.

      So good. So, so good. It tasted incredible. The best food she’d ever eaten.

      Oh, God. Food. It had been days since she'd eaten a scrap of anything. She bit off more, gulping before the food was ready to be swallowed, she didn't care. Soft chewy white bread, she tasted the salted butter, and the creamy mayo slathered on the thick slab of beef with crispy lettuce leaves. She’d been a vegetarian once for about a minute. She'd never enjoyed cow so much before.

      All went quiet. The food needed her attention. Just the sound of Zara’s hungry gulps and moans of enjoyment. A can of soda cracked open and appeared in front of her nose, she grabbed it, gulping half, before returning to the fourth and last sandwich.

      She realized she’d eaten way too fast when nausea rolled through her, but she didn’t care for her body's reaction, she was full in she didn’t know how long. The Rebels were not big on feeding their captives, even if their fat asses and beer guts were overloaded daily.                

      Assholes.

      While she was inhaling the food, she tried her best not to notice Rider. But the sheer size of the man was hard to ignore. Instead, she drifted her one good eye around the room from under her lashes. A bed. Chest of drawers. Table. Chair. Armchair. Oh. It was all the same as she remembered. This was. Ohh. She'd been brought to Rider's room.

      “It all looks the same.” she murmured.

      “Hm.” was all he said.

      Taking a firm grip on the soda can, coldness penetrating her hands as they shook a little. Full circle was here; she'd returned to the scene of her original crime. How ironic. She would have smiled had she had that in her to do.

      When she felt ready she lifted her head, found him watching her intently. Just those piercing blue eyes trained had the effect to make her belly roll, tossing the food around like a rollercoaster.

      Please don't throw up. Please don't vomit in front of this man, it would be the perfect end to a shitty existence so far. Luckily, she controlled her nausea waving through her with a few heavy inhales before she spoke.

     "What happens now? I mean. Should I leave? I won't go to the police if you don't want me to. I can go to..." Nowhere. She had nowhere. The thought of facing her parents curdled the beef sandwich, turning it greasy, heavy...threatening to make a reappearance. No, she couldn't face her family yet, not looking as she did.

     "You'll stay here, Zara. The club can provide protection until the Rebels shit is dealt with. No fucker is getting in, Hawk, my VP has this place rigged like we're the Pentagon on steroids."

      He approached her slowly, with the room's size not being much bigger than a shoebox his long stride brought him to her in two easy steps. She visibly blanched with his nearness, she smelled fresh soap and instantly was ashamed of how she looked. Who would ever look twice at you, sweet love? He crouched, looked her straight in the eye.

      It was strange she wanted badly to trust someone, anyone... him. Salvation came in many forms. Sometimes... maybe... in the shape of a six foot five badass biker?

     "Can I … I need to shower; can I take a shower?"

     His brows pinched in the middle she noticed, otherwise he didn't respond, instead.

     “Babe. How long were you there for?” The deepness of his voice brought some semblance of calm to her as though he was preparing to horse whisper to a frightened bronco.

      She smoothed the condensation from the can, looked down to break eye contact. His gaze was too piercing; she couldn't take the close proximity scrutiny.

      His presence overwhelming.

      She paused, her skin prickling, nerves rattling, she rubbed her arm, self-soothing until she felt ready to answer him.

     “Three years, give or take a few months. I don’t really know, I lost track of the calendar after a while.”

      His cold curse blistered the air.