Chapter Fifteen
I let you go once. I’m not ever letting you go again.
Those words kept replaying in Em’s mind. Others did too, but those more often than the rest. Enough to say, her thoughts were drowning her. She thought about how much he’d changed, dissected every word, every action, and prayed they meant more, prayed they meant what she wanted them to mean. Though he wouldn’t let her go, though he said she was his, he never said he was hers, never said he loved her, never said he wouldn’t hurt her again. A part of her was thrilled to be his, to be the only woman in his life at the moment, to have heard him say everything he had, but another part of her was terrified he’d break her again. Em needed to give herself break. The last two days had been a whirlwind, so she had other things to think about.
When Tracker pulled into the garage’s lot, she’d been sure the news would be bad. Instead, he told her Chip had woken from his coma and wanted to see her. Doctors said it was rare, but it happened. That said, he had a long recovery ahead of him. He was lucky to be alive. Alive and still, she felt guilty for leaving him, terrified he wouldn’t come out of this okay, and nervous to see him after so long.
When she walked into his hospital room with Bryce’s strong presence behind her, she took Chip in, all of him. Sitting on the bed, his shoulder-length dark brown hair in a ponytail at his back, face pale, but those chiseled features were still beautiful: strong, square jaw, full lips, high cheekbones. His hazel eyes were warm and got warmer as they came to a stop on hers.
“Em.”
She broke down in tears. His eyes widened then softened. She felt the heat of Bryce’s hand on her hip for a brief moment before she ran to Chip, sat on the edge of his bed, and wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m so sorry…” Her sob muffled when she buried her face in his neck.
He ran his palms down the length of her back. “Nothin’ to be sorry about. Missed you like fuckin’ crazy.”
Pulling away to look into his eyes, she wiped her face. “Missed you, too.”
“Not like I missed you.” He smiled. “You know how many drinks I’ve had to get myself?”
She laughed. It was just like him to tease her, remind her of a time, however brief, when they lived together. He saved her from her father, moved her into his house, and she showed him how much she appreciated that by doing whatever she could around the house, for him and Track. She cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and she teased him constantly, too, to lighten his mood. Being president of a biker club could be stressful.
“I can imagine.” She smiled softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Could be the pain meds kickin’ in though.” He chuckled and cupped her jaw. “You look beautiful, Em.”
He always did that. It was like he knew she didn’t see herself as anything but her father’s punching bag and knew how badly she needed to feel something other than that. He always let her know how much he appreciated all the things she did around the house and also often told her she didn’t need to do all she did. Needless to say, he did everything in his power to make her feel appreciated, needed, and loved.
She shook her head. “No, I—”
“You do…” He dropped his hand, setting it on his lap. “More beautiful than I remember if it’s possible.”
Her eyes welled yet again, and effortlessly, a tear slipped out and drifted down her face. “You don’t have to do that, now. I know why you’ve always done it, but—”
“’Cause I do it for a reason doesn’t mean it’s a lie.” He wiped her cheek. “Looks to me like you’ve been in need of it the past five years.”
So true. A new wave of tears flooded her eyes. “Enough about me.”
He smiled. “Right.”
She caught sight of his chipped tooth. Somehow, that small imperfection made him more handsome.
“Tell me ‘bout her.”
“Brianna. Bree. She’s beautiful. She—”
“Looks just like you,” he finished for her. His smile widened. “Saw pictures, Em. She’s your clone. Except for those eyes.” He slid his stare behind her. No doubt to Bryce. For some reason, he then smirked. When he met her gaze again, he said, “I wanna meet her as soon as I get outta here.”
“You come to us. You can meet her,” Bryce cut in.
A relief, she’d been so sure he’d refuse considering the trouble Chained was in. She twisted to look his way and gave him a small smile. Facing Chip, she said, “She’s five now, loves dolls, dresses, and bows for her hair. Daddy’s girl all the way.”
Chip’s stare cut to Bryce for a moment then slid back to her.
“She loves to sit in the garage next to him while he’s working. She loves mac and cheese and pizza. Before bed, she needs a bedtime story and her back rubbed.”
Chip chuckled. “So to win my niece’s heart, I gotta get her dolls, dresses, and bows?”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to win her heart. She knows all about you and loves you.”
Chip’s whole face softened. “Yeah?”
Her eyes watered. She held the tears back. “Of course. She knows what you look like too. I gave her all my old photos. She keeps them in a shoe box and treasures them.”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “As soon as I can get outta here, Em, my word.”
His word was stronger than steel. She couldn’t wait for that day to come, couldn’t wait to tell Bree. She hadn’t yet but would as soon as Chip was better.
“Em?”
Startled, she turned. There, she spotted Mia looking thoughtful.
It was that special Sunday once a month when the club had a cookout, which meant the brothers, their old ladies, family, and friends were at the compound, drinking, laughing, eating, and lounging around in the backlot. Most of it was grass, except for the basketball court. Right then, several of the brothers were playing a very brutal form of the game. A grill to the left, a few picnic tables scattered throughout. And to her right, a swing set, the one Bryce bought Bree for her birthday.
“Um…yeah,” she lied.
Mia took a seat on the picnic table beside her. “I really wish you’d talk to me. I can help.”
Turning her head, her gaze gravitated to Bree in the playground sitting on the swing, Bryce behind her, pushing her. “It’s nothing.”
“I know it’s something, so just say you don’t want to talk about it.”
She swallowed. “You know what it is. It’s what it’s always been.”
“Yeah, Rip, but—”
She peered at Mia. “But you wouldn’t understand.”
Mia tilted her head as her eyebrows rose. “Try me.”
“If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t ever tell anyone.”
Mia nodded. “I promise.”
Her stomach soured. She fought the nausea and whispered, “I left because he…cheated.”
Mia’s lips parted. After a long moment, she shook her head. “No, he… No.”
“I was young and in love with him. I thought we were something we weren’t. I let myself believe…” She released a breath. “It was a long time ago.”
Mia shook her head. “That’s not possible. I remember—”
“It happened, Mia.” She dropped her head and stared down at her clasped hands. “How I wish it hadn’t, but it did, and that’s why I left.”
Shots rang out. Loud, fast, seemed like a million of them.
Bree. She snapped her head up, gaze riveted to the swing. “Bree!”
Standing, she ran toward the playground and managed four steps before an arm snaked around her waist. Then a body collided with hers. She fell to the ground. Her back took the brunt of the impact, the weight of a mass of muscle and man lying over her making it impossible to breathe.
Back aching, arm burning, lungs fighting for air. “Please! Let me up! I need—”
“Shut it, Em.” Bud lay over her, not letting her get to Bree.
“Stop! Please!”
His big hand covered her mouth.
She fought. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pushing, shoving, desperate. Then she fought harder, kicking, hitting, hysterical.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Panicked, tears leaked out of her eyes. She continued struggling even knowing if he didn’t let up she’d get nowhere, but she had to fight. Seconds, minutes, hours slid by, she didn’t know which, but the light around her began dimming as her energy waned.
She gasped. “Can’t…breathe…”
Then the world went black.
****
Ripper heard the shots, so loud they vibrated in his chest.
Bree.
His breath froze, stomach hollowed out then knotted, crippling. He didn’t let anything settle. Grabbing Bree under her arms, he yanked her from the swing and shielded her body with his as he turned his back toward the sound of the gunfire. He spared a glance behind him, a dark van, side door open, a gun held in a man’s grip. Rip ran then dove for cover behind a tree. Finally there, he settled Bree on the ground. Resting his weight on his elbows, arms around her, he laid over her, covering her body with his.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
He cringed at the sound of her terrified voice, buried his face in her neck, ran his hand through her hair, and held her a little tighter. “It’s okay, baby. It’s all right. I’m here,” he whispered and continued to whisper for minutes after the last shot rang out.
Where was Em? He saved his baby girl, but where was her mom?
Heart squeezing, dread settled in his bones. He lifted his head and skimmed the backlot. The dark van was long gone. He didn’t know if they’d return, but he made a decision. Swallowing, he drew away from Bree and scanned her for injuries.
“You’re okay.” Then he wrapped his arms around her, carried her, and sprinted toward the backdoor leading into the compound. Once inside, he set her on her feet. “I’ll be back.”
Grasping his hand and tugging, she sobbed, “No, Daddy! Don’t leave me! Please…”
His heart clenched so tight it left him breathless. “I gotta find your mom, baby. I’ll be back. I promise.”
“Go, I’ll stay here.”
He looked up, met Allie’s gaze, and nodded. Then with one final look at Bree, he walked back outside.
Chaos. Lynn crying hysterically, her old man, Wild held her close, rushing her inside. Stone, looking frantic, running around, looking for Mia no doubt. A pissed off Army, phone to his ear, yelling something Rip was too in a cloud of haze to decipher. Blaze bleeding from a nasty gash on the side of his face as he cradled his ribs. Hash, Rake, and Strike huddled close. Mellow and Trick headed toward the back fence.
Ripper scanned the lot again and again. Still, he didn’t see her. Striding toward the picnic table where she’d last been, he stopped dead. Bud, hunched over someone, looked up and met his stare.
The look on Bud’s face and that long blonde hair proved the person lying so still beneath Bud was her, his Em. It set in then, terrifying, numbing panic. Pulse racing, a deep searing ache vibrated around his frame.
He gunned for her, made it in no time, sunk to his knees, and cupped the back of her head. “Em! Wake up!”
Swallowing, he skimmed her from head to toe. Face pale, eyes closed, the sleeve of her shirt was soaked in blood. Something else too, he set her head on the ground for a split second to stare at his hand. It dripped blood… A stream of it had pooled behind her head.
He threw his head back and roared, thundered so loud his throat hurt. “Call a fucking ambulance! Call them, now!”
She didn’t wake, didn’t even stir.
Looking back to her, he put pressure on the back of her head, hoping to stop the bleeding. He cupped her cheek, lowering himself and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Em! Fuck me, Em. Wake up! Wake up, Em!” He screamed at the top of his lungs the whole time thinking if she died, he’d have no fight left and go right with her. Then Bree would be alone, an orphan.
He could barely see her anymore. His eyes, they weren’t working right. Blinking, he felt water stream down his face. “Em! Wake up! Now! Do it! Do it, or I’ll fucking… I can’t… You gotta help me. You gotta…”
Her lids fluttered.
His breath froze.
“B-Bree…” she mumbled, barely a whisper.
He blinked. Stupid, coward tears drifted down his face.
“B-Bree…”
He glided his thumb against her lips. “She’s good, and you’re gonna be good, too. Don’t go to sleep.”
“I can’t… I’m…” Her eyes drifted half-mast.
“You can’t. You gotta stay with me.”
“T-take care of our…baby.” Her lids closed.
Someone pushed him out of the way. Too consumed with a multitude of emotions, he couldn’t do anything but let them. When he came to, the paramedics had loaded her on a gurney and were pushing her away.
He turned to the first person he saw, Bud. “Strike. Need him to watch Bree.” He spun halfway around.
Bud grabbed his arm. “You should stay with Bree. I’ll go with Em.”
Bud, doing what he did best, trying to keep him away from Em. Any other day, Rip wouldn’t let Bud get his way. Right then, she needed him, so no one would keep him from her.
Fighting the anger burning his gut, he tore his arm from Bud’s grasp. “Two years I knew happiness. All my fucked life, I got two years. That was it, and it was ’cause of her. Now, I got something back. I got Bree. If I can get more, I’m fighting ’till I get it all.”
“You fuckin’ blind, brother? You had two years, but it doesn’t change the fact that she left! She destroyed you. I don’t even know who the fuck you are. Haven’t known who you are for five fucked years.”
He didn’t have time for this shit. He had to go. Shooting Bud his deadliest stare, he turned and ran to the ambulance parked just outside the chain-link fence enclosing the backlot.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
He twisted.
Bree, tears streaking her face, rushed him. “Don’t leave me, Daddy! Don’t…” A sob tore through her, her little body shaking with the strength of it.
He met her halfway and caught her as she jumped on him. Carrying her, he headed toward the ambulance, glaring his way in. No way in hell would he leave Em alone, and no way in hell would he leave Bree.
Over the muffled sounds of Bree’s crying, he heard the paramedic say, “Enroute with one GSW to a forearm, laceration to the head, possible concussion.”
His heart clenched, pain radiated out of his chest and spread leaving no part of him untouched. If he hadn’t been holding Bree close, he would’ve lost his goddamned mind. His arms instinctively tightened around her. “Gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered against her hair and hoped to God he hadn’t just lied to his baby girl.
The ride to the hospital seemed endless. The whole way, he held Bree close, whispering reassurances. His gaze on Em, so pale, so still. Then it hit him like a sock to the gut.
What happened to them all those years ago wasn’t anyone’s fault but that bitch Lilliam’s. If he was wrong, and it was Em’s fault, it was his too.
A love like he had for her, he should’ve chased her.
A love like the one he still felt after all that had happened, he should’ve fought for.
The thing that stopped him—his pride, the reason he missed out, on her, on Bree, on life.
He was done missing out. It took him long enough to realize it, but now that he had, he’d never forget. He’d make her his, fully, completely. Then he’d find a way to make her fall for him, again.
****
God, her head hurt, a lot. Em tried to pry open her eyes. Light, too bright, blinded her. She winced making the pain worse. Pressing her hand to her forehead, a sharp sting shot up her arm.
What the hell happened?
It came to her slowly. Bree swinging, Rip pushing her, laughing. She and Mia talking. Then the shots.
Her eyes slid open. A bandage covered her forearm. That explained why it hurt. She scanned the room and stopped dead when her gaze landed on him sitting at her bedside. Head slanted down, his elbows resting on his knees, hands at the back of his neck.
“B-Bree?”
Bryce lifted his head and moved. Standing, he strode closer, sat on the edge of her bed, and cupped her cheek. “She’s safe.”
She sighed. “She’s safe.”
“Yeah. She’s worried about you but safe.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Nothing big, except you.”
She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t, not before a man wearing a white coat walked into the room.
“Emelia Knight, glad to see you’re up. I’m Dr. Anderson.”
She pressed her good hand on the bed lifting herself to a sitting position. Bryce’s arm went around her back helping her up. His other hand clasped hers. Then he stood and faced the doctor.
She forced a smile. “Good to be up.”
He retrieved a small flashlight out of his pocket and neared. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts, a lot.”
“That’s normal. You have a concussion.” He checked her eyes then tucked the flashlight in his pocket. “The head injury caused it and a laceration to the back of your head. It’s not deep enough you need stitches. You were also grazed by a bullet on your forearm.”
She nodded.
“There’s one other thing.”
Shit. She knew. She hadn’t known for sure, not until she saw the look in his eyes. Then she couldn’t deny it. She also knew what had once been was no longer.
“I’m sorry to tell you, you lost the baby.”
She lost the baby, her baby, her and Bryce’s baby. God, it hurt. It hurt so much she couldn’t do anything but feel the ache ripping her insides apart.
Bryce stilled, his hand squeezing hers, the heat of his eyes burning her.
“Were you aware, Mrs. Knight?”
Missus? She let that slide. “I knew it was a possibility, but I wasn’t sure.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Sorry? Hard to believe, he said it so emotionless. Then again, she supposed he had no other choice. Being a doctor meant delivering bad news to people and their loved ones often. He had to find a way to distance himself from it.
Her chest squeezed. She nodded then looked down at her lap and ignored the tears flooding her eyes. When she heard the door open and close, she let the tears stream down her face.
“Em?”
Lifting her head, her gaze cut to his. He settled beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her. She let him. His hold gentle and tight, she buried her face in his chest.
“Talk to me.”
“I lost our baby.”
He released a breath. “We lost him.”
“No, I did. It was me who lost him.”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “We’re both missing out, babe, so we lost him. It isn’t your fault.”
“I wasn’t sure. I mean…I knew it was possible, but I didn’t know, and it…”
Cupping her face, he angled her head to his slowly and gently.
When her eyes met his, she finished, “…hurts.”
“We’ll make another one.”
Her eyes widened. “W-what?”
He smiled. “We can make another one.”
She tried to pull away, but his arm tightened around her. “It wouldn’t change the fact we lost this one. It wouldn’t make the loss of this one hurt any less.”
He nodded.
“Besides…we can’t. I mean we can, we just shouldn’t.”
“’Course, we should. We make them pretty and smart and sweet. I want another girl.”
What? She thought she was the one who hit her head. “Are you crazy?”
His brows creased. “Why?”
“Because this isn’t… You aren’t…” In love with me. Instead, she said, “We aren’t…together.”
Eyes hardening, he clenched his jaw. When he spoke, he kept the anger out of his voice. “I thought we went over this. You’re mine.”
She swallowed. No time like the present to say what she had to. “Fucking me doesn’t make me yours. Me letting you doesn’t mean you’re mine.”
His face softened as he leaned to lightly graze his lips over hers. “I’m not with anyone else. You aren’t with anyone else. That means you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Her head throbbed.
“What else do you want? Do you want a ring? Do you want to go to the courthouse? We’ll do it.”
Heart pounding too fast and hard against her ribs, she parted her lips then tried to swallow the emotion clogging her throat. A ring? The courthouse? Marriage? Shit, did he just propose? No, Bryce didn’t believe in marriage. She forced herself to point this out. “You don’t believe in marriage.”
“Never said that.”
Hard to deny, she was thinking about it, about actually considering his ridiculous proposal. No, it wasn’t a proposal. Proposals were planned and romantic, right? What did it matter? Marriage didn’t mean he loved her, didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually cheat, again.
He closed his eyes and swallowed then asked, “What do you want?”
“What do you want?” she returned, instantly.
“I want you.”
She wanted him too, more than she’d ever wanted any man, but he didn’t love her, and he’d broken her once before. Tying herself to him was much more reckless and stupid than giving herself to him.
She scanned his face for a long moment then whispered, “Like you said, I’m yours.”
His gaze trailed to her lips as he slid his thumb across them. Then he met her stare and spoke. “Yeah, but I want you in every way, Em. I want my ring on your finger. I want everyone to know you belong to me. I want it on paper, too. I want it official.”
Either he really went crazy, or she hit her head harder than anyone thought and had hallucinated.
“Bryce…” Yes. The word was on the tip of her tongue. A bad idea, bad decision.
Before she said more, the door parted, and Bree and Strike walked in.
Bryce would want a response soon, but for now, she got a reprieve and got to spend some time with her baby.