In the turmoil between what was past and what was to come, the uncertainty of his convictions and the heavy weight of each choice he’d made, Dash found solace in the fact that nothing could take the road from him. And with Rennie pressed tight against him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her scent drowning him, he could pretend that he wasn’t doing the very thing he’d sworn he’d never do.

Loyalty was more than lip-service within Lucifer’s Legion. It was sacred, not just expected but demanded. The club existed on a higher plane, one few could identify, let alone understand. As though the organization itself was a living thing.

Though part of him remained in turmoil, the rest of him, surprisingly, was at peace with his decision. Everything that had occurred up until now had been a test, he knew. The phone call from Gunner had confirmed it, and though it upset everything Dash had valued in this world, it cleared the path of doubt.

A part of him had known all the while. Yes, Gunner had ordered others to carry out unpleasant business, and Dash had done nothing to stop, or even necessarily disagreed. Butch, Pete, and Jax were Gunner’s most trusted confidants, along with Dash, and likewise, their dedication showed in the lengths they were willing to go for the sake of Lucifer’s Legion. Dash had never been asked to take a life. That was one of the seductive things about Gunner—he respected one’s personal boundaries. Matters of life and death were approached much like everything else—as propositions that would either help or hinder the club. Clinical and bloodless, even when matters were personal. Within the justification of his oath, Dash could see the rationalization behind every decision. He understood. He had even thought he agreed.

But Rennie changed everything, because that decision hadn’t been clinical or bloodless. He knew now without a doubt that he’d been wrong, and Gunner had known exactly what he was doing. He’d manipulated the pieces together and pulled the trigger. Or rather, assumed the trigger was pulled, as he wasn’t a man who asked for something twice. Furthermore, Dash had never given him reason to doubt his loyalty. Not once.

Not until now.

Not much had passed between them since leaving the clubhouse. Dash had quickly thrown together a duffel bag of toiletries, though they’d need more soon. He’d also dug out a worn leather jacket that Pete had outgrown the year before—too much red meat—as well as a pair of jeans untold sizes too large for her. She hadn’t balked as he might have expected. Instead, she seemed to understand the getup was necessary, if not only to conceal her identity, then to keep her warm when they took to the road. Her skirt, sexy as it was, wasn’t practical.

Dash wasn’t certain if Rennie kept herself from asking questions by force of will or her own distraction. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to lose control when he had, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. Being inside her, feeling her cunt hug his cock, tasting her kisses, was the best realization of every fantasy he’d ever entertained. He hoped the pink cloud of acceptance didn’t fade before he had the chance to explore her as he really wanted—with her spread out beneath him. Or over him. Or on her hands and knees. Or just her knees. He wanted it all with her, always had. He’d been inside her, but he hadn’t gotten to taste her, play with her, make her body sing the way he knew he could. And he knew it might never happen, because she was too damn good for him, and what they’d already shared was typically the most a good girl liked to slum. At least, a good girl entangled with a bad boy like him.

But god, he hoped she stayed. Rennie had been the one saving grace in his life before. If anyone could lead him out of the darkness, it was her.

Dash’s original intentions had been to get as far from Joplin as possible, but with distance and time on his side, he found his urgency waning. They rode for an hour, maybe ninety minutes, before he decided to turn off the highway and get a room for the night. The road ahead remained cast in shadows, and there was a lot to discuss.

Though he didn’t know if he’d be able to get to the talking part before throwing her on the bed.

Rennie went through the motions with him, even pasting on a weak smile for the benefit of the motel clerk. She followed him to their room and didn’t say anything as he fumbled with the lock. Damn key-cards never seemed to work properly. After a few tension-filled moments, Rennie took pity on him and commandeered the key-card, flipped it, and unlocked the door without issue.

Dash’s cheeks burned, possibly in the first blush he’d endured since high school. “Thanks.”

Rennie grinned at him, one of her enigmatic sexy-as-hell grins, and at once he was at a loss for words. She was so goddamned beautiful, and she was with him.

For the moment. Because he’d kidnapped her. Because she didn’t have a choice.

Dash cleared his throat and motioned for her to precede him inside. She did, and once the door was closed and they were truly alone again, he forced himself to abandon the train of thought his mind had been so desperate to take. The bed lurked in his peripheral vision, and his cock, still humming with the memory of her pussy tight and wet and perfect around him, stirred.

But those thoughts would have to wait, possibly forever.

“Did you know you were a suspect?”

That did it. The light, however minute, in Rennie’s eyes was instantly extinguished. “In what?”

“Wilcox and Luanne.”

She blinked. “A suspect? Like, a murder suspect?”

He nodded, though he didn’t need an answer. Her reaction spoke volumes.

“I can’t be. That’s…” Rennie looked away, her perfect mouth working into a frown, her eyes wide and searching. “They asked me questions. In the beginning, they had me go through it a few times, but they never indicated I was anything other than a witness. Not even a person of interest, I don’t think.” She paused, then raised her gaze to him. “I can’t be a suspect. That’s insane.”

“I know.” Dash swallowed. “The murder weapon was found in your car, Rennie.”

“What?”

“The gun that killed Wilcox and Luanne. Gunner’s pistol.” He released a deep breath and flexed his hands, trying hard to ward off the surge of temper that had threatened to consume him earlier. “That’s why Gunner told me to ram your car. He knew it’d be searched.”

“But…this is impossible.” Rennie shook her head. “Who on earth would believe that?”

“It’s not a matter of belief. It’s a matter of evidence. And in Gunner’s case, reasonable doubt.”

“But he’s a madman!”

“A madman with deep pockets.” Funny how one little phone call could change everything. At the start of the day, Dash would have bodily threatened anyone who dared speak against Gunner. Even now, voicing the words proved difficult. But there were certain truths a man didn’t fuck with, and the only one Dash had upheld at all in the years since Dalton’s death was the purity of Serenity Jones.

It wasn’t feasible that Rennie would understand the depth of his betrayal, just how deep he’d gone for her in the span between her waking in the garage and now. Despite everything, the chasm between their worlds remained very much intact. She didn’t know how he’d changed, nor did he know how she had. He saw enough to understand the parts of her he’d loved were still there, but the little girl’s dreams were gone in place of the woman.

A woman he very much wanted to know.

Yet, if anyone could understand what he was saying—what he was not saying—it was Rennie. She wet her lips. “Deep pockets. You mean he’s paid someone.”

“Yes.”

Dash held his breath as he watched her work through it, assess the information and compile the evidence, and arrive at the conclusion.

“It was Ellison, wasn’t it? That motherfucker paid off the prosecutor.”

“And the judge,” he added unhelpfully. “And hell, maybe all of Jasper County. It was all a show. Something flashy for when election season rolls around, but Gunner’s clean because of you, and reasonable fucking doubt.” He laughed, as though any of this could be funny. “Why did you ever come home, Rennie?”

“For you,” she said, though the second the words were out, he knew she hadn’t meant to say them. He also saw they were true for the flash in her eyes, and the wind knocked out of his chest. However, before he could fully latch on to this new, golden revelation, she was talking again. “Why did you not kill me?”

“Because I don’t kill people.”

“Not even for Gunner Black or your precious gang?” Rennie crossed her arms. “Not for Lucifer’s Legion?”

“No. That was never my role. I made deliveries. I harassed vendors. I hurt people sometimes, but not…not like that. I collected money owed. I looked intimidating. I was the fucking muscle.” Dash looked away. “I wasn’t—I’m not—a good person, but I was never that bad. He couldn’t make me be that bad.”

“Even if he could make you believe you owed him your life?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” she demanded, throwing her arms out. “How the fuck is it different? The man didn’t kill you, Dash. That’s not saving your life. That’s creating a victim. That’s…you see it all the time in battered women’s shelters. Women who stayed with their abusive asshole of a husband because they deserved it. He made you a victim.”

“I am not a fucking battered woman.”

“And you’re not indebted to Gunner!” Rennie was screaming now, her eyes blazing. He thought about reminding her that the walls were thin, but knew she wouldn’t hear. He thought about slapping a hand over her mouth, but knew she’d bat him away. He thought about throwing her on the bed and fucking her until they passed out, but sex would only confuse things even more than they were already.

“I had nothing,” Dash said. “He gave me a reason to go on. Lucifer’s Legion… It was fucked up, a lot of it. It still is. But it was my whole world. It was the only thing that gave me purpose. So yes, Rennie, he saved my life. And I swore I’d do anything to protect that life. I made that promise to him.”

A long, tense beat ticked between them. “So why didn’t you kill me?”

Dash stared at her, his chest heaving. He didn’t know what to say, how to say it. How to tell her without unmasking himself. How to make sense of something he wasn’t even sure he understood. Yet he wanted to try. He owed it to her. “Because I made you a promise, too,” he said.

“What?”

“I loved you. Then. God, I probably still do, fucked as this all is.” He laughed, the sound hollow and strained. “That’s a promise from me. To put you first. I was never gonna hurt you. It kills me that I even…” He eyed her shoulder, the one so recently popped back into place, the one he knew had to be killing her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “I don’t like it that you got hurt at all. But I knew I’d never do it, and I think Gunner did, too. I think he was trying to test me. He wanted you dead and he knew me doing it would be what made it hurt.”

“Dash…”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “I owed him my life. I didn’t owe him yours. And now I don’t owe him shit.” He drew a ragged breath and waved behind him. “I gotta get clean now. I’ll understand if you’re gone when I get out.” He hadn’t planned that—giving her an out, but it was the right thing to do. No matter that he didn’t know where she’d go, he wouldn’t blame her if she took off. She might have come back for him, but she hadn’t asked for any of this. And even if she couldn’t go back because of Lucifer’s Legion and the planted evidence and all the other shit he’d brought into her life, that didn’t mean she had to stay here and work out her next move. Rennie owed him precisely nothing.

Dash didn’t bother glancing at her before he stomped toward the bathroom. He was certain whatever he’d see in her eyes would break him, and a man could only take so much in one day. So instead, he left her to silence and closed the door between them to give her the space she’d need to decide.