Pursuit: Blood Bandits MC (5 page)

Once I’d finished my tea, I stood. Sleep was a very real, very growing concern. I felt chatty, too, which told me the pill had started to take effect. Sure enough, when I raised my arms there was almost no pain.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mom said, helping me into my room. The sun was starting its slow climb outside the window, telling me there wasn’t much time before Emma had to get up. I moved as quietly as I could, slipping my uniform over my head and pulling on a set of sweats while Mom got Emma’s clothes together for the day.

Before going to bed, I went to Emma’s room and watched my little girl sleep. I’d managed to find a set of bunk beds for really cheap at a garage sale—she thought it was so cool, sleeping on the top bunk. Anything to add a little magic to her life.

She was still deep under, the way only kids can sleep. I wondered how she managed it. A bomb could go off and she’d let out another snore before rolling over.

She was on her back, head turned toward me. Dark curls like my own. I brushed one back from her forehead. As always, I counted the freckles on her nose. Seven. Same as before.

“I’ll never let him take you away,” I whispered. “I’ll protect you no matter what.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss Emma’s smooth forehead, then slid into the bottom bunk without thinking about it. By the time my head hit the pillow, I was already dreaming about knights on motorcycles. Knights who could kiss a woman until her knees turned to water and she wished she had done so many things differently.

Dom

It was pointless, trying to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, or the way it had felt when we kissed. She hadn’t even wanted me to. Still, there was no missing the way she’d reacted. She’d wanted it. She’d needed it, even. I couldn’t imagine the asshole she used to be married to was the most affectionate. He probably didn’t care if she came when they had sex. As long as he did, he was okay.

My hands gripped the sides of my mug so hard, the heat from the coffee burned them a little. I welcomed the pain. It reminded me of who I was, how much I could tolerate. I could get through anything. Hadn’t I proven it to myself? I shook my head at the random thoughts floating through my consciousness, blaming it on a night spent tossing and turning while thinking about a frustrating woman with deep blue eyes.

“You doing okay?” One of the club’s girls, standing behind the bar. She had made the coffee for me after I spent the night in our clubhouse.

“Just fine, darlin’. A little distracted is all.” Carly was a nice girl. I had even slept with her once or twice after that last night with Lauren. She cared about me, I could tell, but then again I had never had trouble finding women to care about me. It didn’t help that Carly knew my whole sick, twisted backstory. She wanted to fix me, the way women always did when the wrong man came into their lives.

“You seemed upset.” She wiped down the bar, humming to herself.

“How old are you?” I asked. “I can’t believe I don’t already know the answer to that.”

“Twenty-three. I’m getting pretty old.” I rolled my eyes, and she smiled.

“I guess thirty’s ancient, then. Better get me a cane and a discount card.”

“Why do you ask?” She stopped what she was doing, leaning toward me over the bar. Most times, the sight of her tits pushing together over the top of her tank would’ve been enough to set my imagination off. I wasn’t in the mood for that.

“I wondered—this is gonna sound so stupid—I wondered if you ever knew a girl who dated an abusive guy. Like, why do they do it?”

Her eyes went wide, and she looked like she seriously considered the question. I hoped like hell that I hadn’t hurt her or triggered her or whatever. I didn’t know her history outside of the time she spent with the club. I didn’t know what she did otherwise, if she had any kind of life outside the clubhouse doors.

When she spoke, she spoke slowly. “I knew a girl once, in high school. Scarlett. She was so sweet, and really smart. Smarter than any of my other friends. She was from a family like mine. You know, no dad, her mom was never around. Her older sister raised her. Anyway, she tried hard in school. She wanted to get a scholarship to college. Then she started dating this guy Mike.”

Carly shivered, rubbing her arms like she had goosebumps. “He was bad news. I knew it right away. We all did. He never wanted her to hang out with any of us. Know what I mean? She stopped coming around. She stopping doing her club stuff, too, which was weird. She used to be in the choir and the drama club, but she dropped out of them. And I mean, this was all in like two months. She met him, and all this happened.” She shook her head. “We all knew it was him, but she swore up and down that he didn’t have anything to do with it. She needed to help out more at home, she told us. Now that I could believe, since she had two brothers younger than her. It just seemed funny, though. Like, totally obvious that she changed after she met Mike.”

“What happened to her?” I asked with a sick feeling in my stomach.

“She started wearing turtlenecks when it was warm outside.” Carly smiled sadly. “You see where I’m going.”

“Yeah, I do.” My blood boiled just thinking about it, and I didn’t know the girl.

“She broke up with him, finally. We were so happy. Then she left town and didn’t say why. She never told anybody she was going. Not even her sister.” Carly’s wide eyes stared into mine. I knew what she was trying to say, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. Who would?

“Jesus,” I muttered. “Why do you think girls stay with guys like that? I mean, you said she was smart. It sounds like she had a lot going for her. Why do that, then?”

“I used to ask her all the time, honestly.” Carly lit a cigarette, and I noticed the way her hands shook a little. I hated myself for bringing it all back up for her. “And you know what she said? I swear to God, it was the saddest damn thing I never heard. She looked at me, plain as anything, and said, ‘If I break up with him, I’ll never find another boyfriend. If I do, he won’t love me like Mike does.’ Can you believe it?”

“So, what, you think he tricked her into thinking that?”

“I do. I think he made her believe it. Because seriously, she was beautiful. Any guy would have gone out with her. He did it to her.” Carly’s voice shook with her hands.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. “She taught me a lesson, anyway. A man ever lays his hands on me, he’ll find out why I took a year’s worth of self-defense classes.”

I had to laugh, and I asked her to show me her moves some time before going to Chase’s office. I needed a little alone time, and I knew he wouldn’t care—he wasn’t there, and wasn’t he the one always telling me I would take over for him one day?

I stretched out on the sofa against one wall, closing my eyes. My whole body screamed for sleep, but my brain wouldn’t stop bugging me with memories of the night before. Holding that asshole by the throat, wishing I could put just a little more pressure to it. Just enough to make him stop breathing. The way Kara had looked when he shook her. The way she looked when I “saved” her, and she told me she didn’t need it. The kiss. The fucking kiss. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Had he done the same things to her as Scarlett’s boyfriend did? Had he broken her down, made her think she wasn’t worth any better? Anybody could look at Kara and know she could have any man she wanted. She was gorgeous, with those eyes and that dark, curly hair. I wondered what it felt like to bury my hands in it. All I had touched was her waist when we kissed. She hadn’t given me enough time to explore her. My cock ached painfully when I remembered how it felt to touch my tongue to hers, the way she sounded when she moaned.

You’re all wrong for her.
I knew it even before the voice in my head told me so. I was wrong for any woman I ever touched, so why should a random diner waitress be any different? And there I was, thinking I could be a hero, trying to save her from the shithead she used to be married to. I had no right acting that way, because I wasn’t a good guy. I wasn’t a hero. I was the sort of man women tried to get away from. Just because I had never hit a woman didn’t make me any better.

It had been the same way with Lauren. I had never felt good enough for her, and it wasn’t in my imagination. I really wasn’t good enough. She was the golden girl, the one everybody expected big things from. She’d been near the top of our class in high school—before I’d dropped out in senior year, anyway. That was when I’d joined the club full-time. There wasn’t enough time in the day to go to school, study and work with the club. I’d made my choice, and I’d never regretted it.

Still, she’d wanted to be with me. It was the biggest surprise of my life the first time I’d asked her out, back when we were both still students, and she’d said yes. I remembered thinking it was a joke, like all the smart, preppy kids would come out from whatever corner they were hiding behind to laugh at me. The kid from the wrong side of the tracks, asking out the valedictorian track star. She had meant it, though, and she’d even stayed by me when I dropped out.

I remembered the look on her face when I told her. Her beautiful face. The big, green eyes. Like emeralds. She had been so disappointed, but she’d known enough about me to respect my decision. There was no way I would change my mind.

Meanwhile, she’d gone on to college. Then to medical school. All the time, she stayed with me. She loved me. She used to tell me she’d loved me ever since the first day of junior year, when I’d ridden up to school on the back of my first bike. She had fallen in love.

“You fell in love with an image,” I used to say. “Not with me. You don’t know the real me.”

She would take my face in her hands whenever I said it. “I know who you are. I know what you do. I would have to be stupid not to know. But I know your heart, too. I know the person inside. I know you have a beautiful soul, even if you don’t want the guys to know. I’ll keep your secret for you.” And she had, until the day she died.

I would never forget it as long as I lived. Two years ago, in front of the clubhouse. It pained me every time I walked past the spot where I held her. The blood was gone, washed away. It was always there in my head, though. I didn’t need to see it to remember the way it had looked, watching Lauren’s life spread out under her in a red pool.

My heart ached when I thought about it, but I couldn’t stop once I got started. I knew enough after two years not to bother trying to change my thoughts. It was no good. Once I started thinking about Lauren, I had to see the story through to the end.

It had been late at night. She’d worked a double at the hospital, still in scrubs when she climbed out of her car in front of the clubhouse. I’d met her outside. She’d smiled, starting to walk toward me.

Then, headlights. Coming from every direction. I’d screamed at her to get down, to go back to the car, something, anything to get her out of there. She was too far away from the clubhouse doors to make it. She’d been a sitting duck.

I’d screamed for help, screamed for my guys to come out and back me up. There was a gun fight. Lauren fell to the ground, but I didn’t know if it was to take cover or because she had been hit. By that time, a dozen Blood Bandits had come out shooting, so I took the chance to Army crawl across the parking lot until I reached her.

She was already bleeding out. Hit once in the shoulder, once in the midsection, both from behind. The bullets had gone through both times. I turned her over, and she was already coughing up blood. I couldn’t stop it. There had been no way to stop it. I remembered asking her what to do—she was the doctor, not me. She couldn’t speak except in whispers, and all she’d said was, “I love you.”

I squeezed my eyes even more tightly when I remembered the panic, the fury, the helplessness. There was nothing I could do but hold her while she bled to death in my arms. It had only taken a minute or two by the time I reached her.

I killed her. I might as well have. If she hadn’t been there that night, she would have lived. She would be a respected doctor. She might have a family, kids, a husband. A happy life. A life, anyway. If it weren’t for me.

I threw an arm over my eyes, willing myself to calm down and stop thinking over it again. How many times had I replayed that night? Hundreds? Thousands? A few times a day? All to remind me of one thing: I was no good for anyone. I had pushed everyone and everything I ever cared for out of my life after that night. I was close with my guys, but not too close. I slept with women, but never more than once or twice and never two nights in a row. I lived alone. I never went out except with the club, and usually only when we had a run to go on. Otherwise, it was just me. By myself. I liked it that way. That way, I wasn’t accountable for anybody but myself. And I wouldn’t get anybody else killed just because they loved me.