2. Aimee
Aimee
Three Weeks Later
My arms and thighs burn as I arch my back and tiptoe until my spine won’t bend any farther. Blood rushes to my head, and my mind empties of anything but the sun hanging high in the sky.
A slight breeze caresses my skin and rustles my hair.
Strands fall from my failed attempt at a ponytail, poking me in the eyes when I arch a little more.
One of the downsides of chopping off my long hair a few months ago is that it’s harder to tie it off my face now.
But something about taking scissors to those strands was like severing a tie I’d spent over a decade holding on to.
Reclaiming who I am before I came back to this awful city.
A city filled to the brim with memories and ghosts.
My bridge crumbles at the thought. My hands slip, and I land hard on my yoga mat. The sting radiates through my back as I stare up at the Las Vegas sky .
Nothing but sunshine, even in early November.
After a decade of trying to forget this city, I’m still adjusting to the harsh reality of being back here. The moment I stepped off the bus, I was reminded why I’ve avoided Vegas. The grumble of a motorcycle at a distance froze me in place.
No matter how long it’s been or how far I’ve gone, one sound is all it takes to bring me back to being an eighteen-year-old girl locked in a room in chains.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and rest my hand on my stomach, waiting for it to settle. For the thoughts to dissipate until I’m grounded here.
Spine to earth.
Open sky overhead and fresh air in my lungs.
A deep inhale.
A clear exhale.
I’m not that girl anymore. This time, I’ll fight with teeth and nails to make sure I never end up back there again.
My eyes flutter open, and I stare up at the clear sky.
Kimberly and Bryn moved out of the safe house yesterday, and I should probably be doing the same. If for no other reason than to put some distance between myself and the Twisted Kings. They might not be as outwardly evil as the Iron Sinners, but they’re far from innocent.
Unfortunately, I have nowhere else to go, and I can’t leave town until I figure out a way to rescue my father from the Iron Sinners and take Titan down once and for all.
Which means, for the time being, I’m stuck .
At least Reagan is a breath of fresh air, visiting almost every day and giving me someone to talk to now that the other girls are gone. We aren’t friends necessarily, but mutual trauma has a way of bonding people. And even if she’s married to a biker, something about her is trustworthy.
I push myself to sit and try to refocus.
The point of coming outside to practice yoga was to clear my head, but all it’s done is muddle my thoughts.
I’d take another shot at the punching bag in the garage, but after I nearly broke my hand on it last week, I opted for the less violent means of emptying my head today.
“Knock, knock.” Reagan’s cheery voice breezes from the patio, and I curse myself for being so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the back door slide open.
If it were someone else, I would have been vulnerable, and I can’t risk that right now.
“Sorry I’m late.” She smiles, walking over. “Bea’s school had a family breakfast this morning, and Jesse knows my weakness for pancakes. Especially with this little one already being so demanding.”
Reagan plants her hand on her stomach. She’s not showing yet, but the habit of cradling her belly is already kicking in. Everything from her cheeks to her eyes glows, and I force a smile, trying to be happy for her because I am happy for her.
It’s not her fault that pregnancy makes everything inside me recoil.
“Did Jesse come with you?”
Reagan nods, sending a loose tendril of blonde hair cascading over her cheek. “He’s unloading some groceries in the kitchen.”
“He didn’t have to do that.”
“He doesn’t mind.”
I frown. “There’s a store around the block. I can get my own food.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.” She sinks into one of the loungers and shrugs.
No matter how many times I tell Reagan that I don’t need her looking out for me, she refuses to listen.
At first, it irritated me because I assumed it was pity from the fact that I’m still here.
Or I thought it could have been curiosity after my less-than-pleasant run-in with Levi a few weeks ago.
Or maybe she needed information for her husband’s club, so she was playing nice to figure out my motives.
It’s rare that people actually care.
But after the first time Reagan visited with Bea, I realized Reagan wasn’t playing games or digging for information. She’s caring, and she can’t help it. She’s genuine in a world where so few people are anymore.
I’d appreciate it if I didn’t also hate being someone’s project.
“I didn’t know you practiced yoga.” Reagan glances at the mat.
“It’s been a while since I’ve tried, so I’m a bit rusty.” I climb to my feet and slip my shirt over my sports bra when Reagan’s gaze lands on the large scar that cuts across my stomach. “I thought maybe it would help me find my center, but no such luck.”
“How very Zen of you.”
I force a smile. Zen is the last thing I feel when I do anything, even yoga. I don’t see peace; I see a target. A mission. Blood I’m going to spill as soon as I get the chance.
Not that I admit any of that to Reagan. “Yoga gives me something to do.”
“Well, if you’re bored, you could take me up on my offer to come to the compound and use the gym there. Tempe, Luna, and I practice self-defense at least once a week. We’d love for you to join us.”
I’m sure Reagan is exaggerating about Tempe and Luna’s mutual excitement over me crashing their sessions when I barely know the other girls, but I appreciate her attempt at bringing me into her circle of friends. The few times I’ve met them, they’ve been as welcoming as Reagan.
Tempe is Steel’s old lady, and her younger brother goes to school with Bea. Luna is Ghost’s old lady, and she’s been around a few times when he’s dropped by to adjust surveillance cameras.
They’re friendly and they don’t ask too many questions. If I were planning to stick around long enough to make friends, they’d be a good fit for the role. At least, if they hadn’t tied their lives to bikers and everything I’m hell-bent on getting away from.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not going to the compound. ”
Reagan frowns. “The Twisted Kings compound is nothing like the Iron Sinners compound, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not.”
At least, not exactly. I understand they are different clubs, but all bikers are cut from the same cloth. They’re ruthless, selfish. And even if it’s not intentional, their world drags anyone associated with them down.
Something I know a little about, considering my past with Levi Colson. A man I hoped I’d never see here because that would mean he actually left this world behind him.
No such luck.
As I faced him at the bottom of the staircase, embodying everything he once swore he never would, my heart sank to my stomach. The military did nothing but drive him back to the club that’s always meant more than anything to him.
I should have expected it since life does nothing but bring disappointment. But nothing dulled the sting of seeing him in a cut. A representation of everything that went wrong between us. I could barely look at him wearing that thing. Which is why I quickly turned and walked away.
I really wish a naive, childish part of me didn’t wish he had chased after me that day.
Instead, he left for LA with the Vice President of his club, and he’s been gone ever since. Avoiding me just like I’m avoiding him.
What did I expect ?
I disappeared, and he didn’t bother to look for me. Why would he chase me down now?
“I think it’s better if I keep my space from the club for the time being. I’ll be gone as soon as I take care of a few things.”
“And you’re still not going to tell me what those things are?” Reagan hitches an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Her frown tells me that won’t happen. But the less Reagan knows, the better. If she realizes I’m planning to go head-to-head with the Iron Sinners, she’ll try to talk me out of it. Or worse, she’ll tell her husband and let the club ruin my plans.
“I’m here if you change your mind.” Reagan reaches for me.
It takes me a moment to remember I should probably squeeze her hand back. Or that I should probably fake a smile. I should offer something reassuring or, at the very least, friendly. I’ve forgotten what it means to act like someone’s friend after a decade of constant movement.
Finally, I squeeze her hand, and her shoulders relax.
It’s not Reagan’s fault I’m broken, even if she married into the life that put me in chains.
Reagan’s expression warms. “I mean it.”
“And I appreciate it.” The words shouldn’t feel like a lie, but I wish she’d stop caring.
That the club would stop coming by to check on me. That everyone would go back to forgetting I exist. I don’t need anyone to worry about me but myself .
“Dropping off groceries isn’t the only reason I’m here.” Reagan’s nose scrunches. “Havoc is back from LA today and said he was going to stop by, so I thought I should be the one to warn you.”
“Consider me warned.” I try my best to sound like I don’t care.
Because I don’t.
Screw Levi Colson. Or better yet, screw Havoc . The man I always knew he’d become, whether he once promised me he wouldn’t or not.
“Okay, I just thought I’d keep you in the loop. I know you’re used to seeing Jesse around here now, but with Havoc back, he’ll be taking over again with checking in on the safe house.”
“You can tell him not to bother. Things are fine here. I don’t need handling .” I roll my eyes.
“Some things never change.” Levi’s voice coming from behind me has my blood running hot.
I glance over my shoulder and hate that my eyes immediately snag his. I hate that I can’t look away once I’ve caught sight of him.