~ Ryder ~
Cork’s panicked voice came over the line. “The fucking minute Darkness when to sleep, she made a grab for his phone.”
Ryder cursed under his breath. “Who’d she call?”
“You fucking know who,” Cork deadpanned.
Ryder scowled at the floor. “Devil?”
“You better believe it, brother.”
Behind him, Tiffany sat up, and Ryder glanced over his shoulder. She mouthed “What’s going on?” but he just shook his head and got up from the bed. Club business wasn’t her business. “What did they talk about?”
“Not much. He gave her some directions, trying to get access to our wireless system. Peb has that locked down. We disconnected the call anyways,” he said, giving Ryder a modicum of relief. “Should we go in and take the phone?”
Ryder shook his head even though the guy couldn’t see him. “It would be all t0o easy for her to pick up a signal that’s not our wireless and get a call out. Let’s see if she’s smart enough to do that, and if so, what they talk about next time.”
“Will do. I shoved the conversation to your tablet.”
“I’ll have a look at it. Buzz me if anything else goes down.”
Tossing his phone onto the nightstand, Ryder grabbed his tablet.
“Abby actually called the guy that wants Darkness dead?” Tiffany asked. Ryder should have known she would have figured it out. “I honestly didn’t think she’d do that.”
Glancing up at his exhausted love, Ryder admired how beautiful she was when she was freshly fucked. Her hair was a complete mess, her mascara was smeared at the corners, and her face was still flush from her hairline to her plump little breasts. When she pulled the sheet up over them, Ryder snapped out of his lust-induced trance.
Clearing his throat, he murmured, “You’re a good soul, babe. People with kind hearts always look for the best in others. Unfortunately, while you’re looking for the best, you’re missing all the stuff that makes them evil.”
Tiffany pulled back slightly, clearly trying to process his words. She was cute when she was confused.
He reassured her teasingly. “It’s okay, sweetness. You have a suspicious fucker like me for a husband. I’ll be sure to look out for all the nasty shit you don’t see coming.”
“We’re not married.”
“Give a man a goddamn minute, will you, doll. Besides, you’re wearing my cut. It’s the same damn thing in my world.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m just happy for the opportunity to spend time with you and share your beautiful body,” she said with a sultry smile that made him want to climb back into that bed and get inside her again. Make her scream.
But he had shit to do that required his attention.
Loading up the video, Ryder murmured, “Aww, that’s all kinds of sweet. You go ahead and catch some sleep, baby girl. I’ll be along right after I have a look at this security feed.”
Snuggling under the blanket, she sighed, and Ryder smiled to himself. He loved being with a woman who loved him for him. Most of the women he’d spent time with had their hand out, constantly wanting spending money and gifts. Tiffany not only never asked him for anything, but she’d also spent a nice chunk of change on Ace to get him some face time with the pretty redhead he’d been slowly becoming obsessed with. She was beautiful, sweet, loving, and treated his brothers with respect. A man couldn’t ask for better.
That was the information he kept clearly in mind when he reviewed the video feed of the demon responsible for spawning his club president’s little one. Watching Abby amble over and pretend to check on the baby as she slipped Darkness’ cell phone into her shirt literally made him ill. She curled back up in the recliner and pulled the blankets up around her. A person would have to be totally ignorant to think the camera wouldn’t pick up the light from the cell phone shining through the blanket. It was faint but noticeable.
Ryder shifted over to the text messages she sent and scrolled through them. There were a few things that caught his notice. She called Devil Honey Bear. How many drug mules referred to the handlers forcing them into service with endearments? He’d have to guess that there weren’t that many. The two of them were definitely a team and probably banging nasties on a full or part-time basis. Nothing else even made sense there.
Next, they identified the club’s internal network and attempted to guess the password without success. When Devil began suggesting ways for her hack the server, Peb had cut them off. Abby then carefully went back, deleted the messages, and dumped the virtual version of the trash can, making retrieving the information more complicated. They were both idiots. The Blind Jacks were much more tech savvy than most. Still, any moron should know that most cell phone companies kept call and text histories.
Shutting off the tablet, Ryder went back to bed and pulled Tiffany’s back against his chest, spooning her, and forced his body to relax. It took longer for his mind to get on board though. Something was definitely off here, and he needed to figure out what it was before his brothers started ending up dead.
~ Tiffany ~
Drifting halfway between the dream world and reality, Tiffany felt a large, warm body snuggle up behind her. One huge arm tugged her back against a wall of muscle. It was the last bit of security she needed to finally let go of her weakening grasp on the waking world.
Her mind swirled with images of her life before that fateful day Ryder Staunton came into her life. She’d grown up in a very average, middle-class family. Her father, a slight bespectacled man, made his living working for a local library. He’d taught her to love reading, and that beauty came from inside. He’d married his childhood sweetheart, and they’d stayed happily married. Her mother was more like a best friend, and the woman’s words of wisdom came back to guide her time and time again. Never judge a book by its cover. Her mother’s favorite saying had served her well in life.
Tiffany found herself sitting outside her childhood home, stroking Rupert the Magnificent. Tiffany could almost feel the tiny, soft cat hairs sifting through her fingers as he gazed up at her.
A soft smattering of rain began falling, and she shifted restlessly in her sleep. She didn’t like dreaming of rain. It reminded her of the day she met Stuart Chamberlain the Third. Her car had broken down, and he’d stopped to lend a hand. He’d been so sweet, charming, and helpful. Insisting on giving her a ride home, he’d made arrangements for her vehicle to be towed. Little did she know, all that charm was part of a carefully crafted persona, designed specifically to cover the malignant narcissist hiding beneath.
In her dream world, the rain picked up. Rupert disappeared, leaving behind only a bundle of rags. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she froze. Not daring to look at the bundle beside her, Tiffany knew what was swaddled inside. Instead, her blue eyes began carefully scanning the shadows for what she knew was near. Every movement notched up the queasy feeling churning in her gut.
Stuart’s face jumped forward out of the darkness, sneering derisively at her. “Run, run, run, little gingerbread girl. Run as fast as you can.”
Jumping back in the swing, she blinked, and he was gone again. Jerking her head from one side to the other, she tried to find him. “Leave me the hell alone. I’m not yours anymore.”
A menacing voice spat out the words to the ancient folktale, morphing them to fit their fight. His hollow, soulless voice seemed to be coming from every direction at once.
“You can run from your husband and hide out of spite. You can stray from my bed and race through the night. Beware, my little sweet gingerbread girl, Stuart will catch you and make you his again under the pale moonlight.”
Covering her ears with her hands, Tiffany tried to shut out the cruel taunting. Memories of him taking her floated through her head. She could feel his strong, sinewy body pinning her to the ground, his nasty breath on her face, and the pain of his rough thrusts into her dry body. She couldn’t do that again. She just couldn’t.
Rocking back and forth, she mumbled over and over, “I’ll run as fast as I can. You’ll never catch me. I’m the gingerbread girl.”
Huge hands landed on her shoulders. Jumping forward, Tiffany tried to jerk free. Strong arms slid around her body, pinning her arms to her sides.
A deep voice ground out words she barely understood. “Calm the fuck down, baby. It’s me, Ryder.”
Her eyes popped open, and she froze. Ryder had her down on the soft carpet, and several brothers were standing in the doorway gaping at their naked bodies. Tiffany realized her hair was stringing into her eyes, and she was sweating profusely. Feeling herself flush with embarrassment, she made an effort to obscure her body from their view.
Ryder turned her face to his, concern etched onto every square inch of his face. “Are you all right, sweetness?”
“I had a nightmare,” she croaked. Her throat was dry. She didn’t know how that could be since she just went to sleep. A few feet away, the windows were beginning to brighten, and a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told her it was a little past five in the morning.
Standing, Ryder brought her up into his arms and strolled toward his small bathroom. She heard the door to his room shut a moment before he kicked the bathroom door closed. He sat her on the counter and began a shower without a work spoken between them.
Feeling all kinds of humiliated, she stammered, “Look, I’m really sorry about embarrassing you. I hope I didn’t hit you or anything.” Ryder turned to face her, and she saw what she’d done. Swallowing thickly, she shook her head. “God, I’m so sorry.” Rubbing her temple, she whispered, “I had a nightmare about Stuart.”
Leaning over, Ryder wrapped her in his arms. “Fuck Stuart Chamberlain the Third. If he ever shows his face around here, he won’t live long enough to regret it.”
Tightening her grip on his waist, Tiffany asked, “How did you know his name? I never said.”
Pulling back slightly, he gently lifted her chin with two fingers. “I knew your name. That’s all I needed to track him down. Don’t you worry about that kind of shit anymore.”
He’d checked up on her? Tracked her ex down and everything? But, of course, he did. What had she expected from a man like Ryder who had a firm grip on every aspect of his life? And now that she was a part of that life, it only made sense that that control would extend to hers too. Still, Tiffany didn’t know how to respond.
Seeing the angry red scratches on his face from her own hands made her feel like hell all over again. “I’m sorry I clawed your neck and face up.”
She didn’t know if the look he shot her was irritation with her or himself. “Fucking hell, give me a little credit. Your pretty fingernails ain’t gonna do real damage to a badass biker like me. Now, what’s all that shit about being a gingerbread girl?”
Scrubbing her hands over her face, Tiffany tried to order her thoughts. “I was married for close to five years. I tried to leave more times than I can count. The first time was Christmas Eve, two months after we were married,” she revealed, the ugly truth pouring out of her. “It didn’t take me long to realize what a horrible mistake I’d made.
“Stuart wanted a wife that looked good on his arm in public and one he could use as a punching bag at home. I ended up going back to stay at my parents’ house. Then Stuart started sending me expensive gifts, and then a card with a gingerbread girl on the front.”
Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I know it sounds childish, but he wrote a note on the inside taunting me. He said no matter how fast or far I run, he’ll track me down and drag me back. Each time I ran, the abuse escalated when he got me back.”
Ryder’s expression was murderous. “Not anymore. You’re with me now. I know just how to handle rich assholes like the Chamberlains.”
She chose to ignore that statement. “I don’t know what triggered the dream. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”
Ryder’s eyes got glassy with what could only be tears. “It was me being on top of you the way I was tonight. I wasn’t thinking about how you might react to…to… It was a poor decision on my part.”
Jerking her face back out of his hand, she shook her head. “No, we’re not doing this. Last night was fantastic. We’re not going to change up the way we have sex because of that bastard. I don’t think it was that anyway. I think it was seeing the basement.”
“The bastard kept you in his basement?”
“Yeah, every time I ran, he played this little game with me,” she said, doing her level best to keep the darkness of her past from sucking her into its powerful grasp. “First, he’d chain me up on his back porch. If I was good, he’d lock me in the shed. Hell, that was better simply because I was out of the elements.” She remembered well those cold, wet nights spent shaking on the unforgiving, splintering old wood, keeping an ear out for any local fauna that might try to sneak up on her in the night. “I had to earn his trust back for the privilege of sleeping on the cold cement floor in the basement.”
“I can guess what you had to do to earn his trust,” he said hatefully.
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Tiffany stared at the floor. “That’s the thing—you probably can’t guess. He was into weird loyalty tests where the other person had to really degrade themselves to prove they were worthy of being in his good graces.”
“Fucker. I’ll circle back around to him the very first chance I get.”
“Babe, I hate to ask this, but I really need a favor,” Tiffany said, looking up into his eyes.
Kissing her on the top of her head, Ryder murmured, “Anything, you name it.”
“If he ever gets me, and you can’t stop him, put a bullet in my head,” she rasped, emotion clogging her throat. “I can’t do the Stuart thing again. I just can’t. It would be a mercy.”
Ryder’s features hardened and a fierce, determined light entered his eyes. “One way or another, I’ll make sure he never touches you again.”
Lifting her off the counter, her rough-and-tumble biker carried her into the shower and began gently washing her hair and body under the warm cascade of water. She soaped her hands and did the same for him.
Normally, silence hanging in the air was awkward and uncomfortable for Tiffany. This morning, neither of them needed words to know they were on the same page.