30. Myla
CHAPTER THIRTY
“You sure you want me to leave you? Lucky said he’d sleep on the couch, and I can stay in here with you.” Tinleigh tucks me in like I’m a baby while Ryder swats at her hand, scratching her all to hell. “Ow! I hate to break it to you, but your cat is demonic.”
That makes me smile. “He’s just protective.”
She peels his claws from her hands and takes a step back, which seems to satisfy Ryder because now that she’s out of arm’s reach, he snuggles right up to my neck and purrs. God, I love this cat. My heart swells, only to sink right back down thinking of who gave me the kitten.
“You say protective, I say demonic. Last night, he sunk those murder mittens into Lucky’s balls.”
Apparently, my sister and her fiancé stayed at my place last night to kitten-sit while I was sleeping off the ketamine. Fucking ketamine! It all still feels so surreal. I didn’t think anything could make me feel more violated than being spunked on by those assholes, but being drugged out of my mind while naked and on a trip managed to top the list.
“Wait, how did Ryder get to his balls?” I ask.
She blushes, matching the baby-pink streaks in her blonde hair. “We’re newly engaged.”
“Gross, Tinny.” I sit up and fling the covers off, suddenly uncomfortable in my own bed knowing my sister and Lucky fucked on my sheets. Ryder climbs onto my lap and yawns, clearly undisturbed knowing Lucky’s balls and wiener could’ve rubbed the place where I’m sitting.
“I changed the sheets. I’m not a moron.”
That makes me feel a little better. “Still. Couldn’t you go one night without?”
“Apparently not.” She covers me back up and sits down on the edge of the bed, out of Ryder’s reach. “Want to tell me what’s going on with Judge?”
“I’m pretty tired.”
“Come on, My. Talk to me. You used to be able to tell me anything.”
“Yeah, well, things have been different lately. I’m basically a serial killer, and you’re engaged and about to start beauty school classes,” I joke to lighten the seriousness of the discussion.
“That’s not fuckin’ funny. I wasn’t going to bring the whole murder list thing up today, but now that you have. . . what the actual fuck were you thinking?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t I? Because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t sent on a tropical vacation when I was taken.” Her tone turns sharp, which pisses me off even more. How can she not see how different our experiences were? “Tell me how what happened to you was so much worse than what happened to me. I’m listening.”
“You had Lucky, okay?” I shout. “I didn’t have anyone. I was alone. This big, huge, horrible thing happened, and I had no one to talk to, no one to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. I had to deal with it on my own, so I’m sorry you don’t like the way I’m coping, but you don’t get an opinion. Not when you have someone to lean on.”
Her brows furrow, and her eyes bug out. “Are you dense?”
“What?”
“You’re either dense or so lost to this delusion that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Myla, Judge has been there for you every single fucking day,” she says exasperatedly while I shake my head in disagreement. Sure, he was around, but only to annoy me. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Jesus Christ. While you were staying on Lucky’s pull-out after the incident, who was there bringing you food, drinks, medicine, and everything else you could ever want?”
I think back. “Judge did, but that was only because Cyrus put him on my duty. He told me so.”
“He was lying. The man had a crush and wanted a reason to be close to you.” She folds her arms in an “I told you so” manner, just like when we were little. When I say nothing, she continues, “And when you didn’t want to be at Lucky’s anymore, who offered up their guest room?”
“You told me Judge was the only one with an extra room.”
“Because we knew he liked you. Riot, Satyr, and Dutch all have an extra room or an open loft.” She grins. “It’s all coming together in that pea-brain of yours, isn’t it? And let’s not stop there because he asked to watch over you. Cy never sent anyone to look after you, but Judge being Judge, he didn’t want you to be alone after such a traumatic event.”
“But he told me?—”
“He lied, Myla. He lied because he liked you and felt protective over you. So don’t give me that bullshit about being alone. He was there for you no matter how nasty you were to him. He’s like the Myla-whisperer and could see through all your insults and understand how you were feeling with each jab you took at him.”
“I didn’t know.”
Her expression softens and she rests a hand on my leg. “I know, babes, but it’s time to pull your head out of your ass. The only reason I left you alone was because I knew he was taking care of you. And if you just opened your damn eyes for two minutes, you’d see it for yourself.”
“I did.” Knowing that’s not entirely true, I correct myself. “Eventually I did because I fell in love with him.”
“Thank you, Jesus.” She dramatically raises her hands in the air, making me chuckle. A comfortable silence falls over us after that, giving me time to collect my thoughts.
“He doesn’t want me to finish the list,” I whisper.
“Please tell me you aren’t thinking about continuing with that insanity.”
“I need to. It’s the only way I can move on.”
“No, it’s not. Throw the piece of paper away, call Judge, and tell him he’s more important than any name on a list, and then live. Maybe try to bring some fun back to your life.”
I take a minute to imagine how it would feel to throw the list away and choose Judge. The only emotion I feel is regret. My eyes well with tears. “I can’t, Tinleigh. I wouldn’t be good for anyone because I’d always be thinking about those men walking around and hurting other kids and women.”
“It’s not your responsibility to rid the world of assholes. Besides, the second you take one out, another pops up. They never go away.”
“At least I can say I contributed,” I say.
She huffs. “You’re unbelievable. You have the entire world open to you and a man who would move mountains for you, and still, it’s not enough. Meanwhile, Judge is probably getting kicked out of the club as we speak because he chose you over his brothers. Not once, but twice.”
“What?” My chest tightens.
“It’s the first rule of being a biker. The club comes first.”
“We were both going to tell you our secrets just as soon as I was done.”
“Wait. What’s Judge’s secret?” Tinleigh’s head tilts, and I slap a hand over my mouth. “Tell me.”
“I can’t. It’s too personal. However much he decides to share should be his choice.”
“God, you two are quite the pair.” She stands, shaking her head. “I hope you realize how rare it is to find someone who matches you in every way before it’s too late.”
“I just need a little more time.”
“The thing is, he’s here now, and by the time you’re ready, the damage might be done, and he won’t trust you enough to fall again.” She tugs on my blanket-covered toe. “Tigger will stay in the living room indefinitely. Satyr and Dutch are working on a plan to deal with the guy you tried to take out because he’ll eventually come after you in order to keep his secrets.”
“Tell them not to bother. I got this,” I say, even though my arm and fingertips are bandaged, I’m on a concussion protocol—again—and I’m covered in scrapes and bruises. Apparently, pride and delusion are my top toxic traits.
“Let’s maybe use this time to reflect on our choices, ’mkay?”
She doesn’t give me a chance to retort before she’s out the door. I listen as Lucky says something to Tigger that I can’t quite make out but probably follows the line of, “If anything happens to Myla, I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you.” That’s my guess, anyway. Then I hear my front door closing and the beep of the lock engaging.
I’m almost relieved until Tigger pops his head in, all goofy smile and bright eyes. “Need anything? Maybe some water, or I could come hang out with you?” He lifts his chin. “I mean, if you want.”
I haven’t had a lot of interactions with the ginger prospect, but Judge often talks about what a good kid he is. He’s probably older than me, but he still has a baby face that couldn’t grow a beard if it wanted to. He’s tall and all limbs, but I can tell by the definition in his bicep that he must be doing something to build muscle. His hair is orange-red, longish on top and short on the sides, with a slight curl on the ends that keeps it out of his eyes. He has at least eight million freckles on translucent white skin. Though he’s not my type, I can tell he’s one of those guys who gets the girls because of his goofy, golden retriever personality.
“I’m good. Thank you,” I say, and his face falls, making him look like a kicked puppy. I roll my eyes and pat the other side of the bed.
“Really?” He lights up like a kid at Christmas and practically bounces over to the bed. Making himself perfectly comfortable, he crawls under the blanket and sits with his back against the headboard before reaching over and grabbing Ryder. “Your kitten kicks ass.”
Said kitten might hate my sister, but he loves Tigger, rubbing his little face on his hand to encourage more pets. I’m simultaneously comfortable with the prospect and taken aback because I assumed I’d forever be standoffish with the opposite sex. Looks like Judge was right about him.
“Here.” I toss him the remote.
“Any requests?”
“I’ll probably fall asleep, so just turn on whatever you want.”
“Say less.” He turns the TV on and needs no explanation on how to access my streaming services. “Have you been keeping up on all the drama on that reality show where they don’t see the person they’re talking to before they marry them?”
I grin at his excitement. “No, can’t say that I have. Been busy murdering awful men.”
“Ha! I heard about that.” He picks up Ryder and, in a baby voice, says, “Your mama is a badass too. Just like you.”
Shaking my head, full-on smiling now, I face forward and pull the covers up high, expecting the white noise of the TV to lull me to sleep. Except, that’s not what happens. Two hours, a bag of microwavable popcorn, and a Diet Coke later, I’m sitting up, shooting the shit with Tigger over my new TV addiction.
I gasp. “Oh my god! She didn’t!”
“If the woman I just married tried to leave me for the husband of another person on the show, I’d murk his ass, and boom. Problem solved.”
“Like you wouldn’t be suspect number one.” I toss a piece of popcorn at his head, and Ryder takes it as a threat, wiggling his little body and pouncing on the kernel.
Tigger’s gaze drops to his lap, and even though he’s smiling, it’s forced, and there’s a distinct shift in his mood. “Yeah, guess so.”
“What just happened?”
“What do you mean?” He removes the popcorn from Ryder’s claws before he can eat it.
“We were laughing and having a good time. Now you’re all contemplative and shit.”
His features are pinched when he looks over at me. “What does it feel like to kill someone?”
My eyes widen at the unexpected question. “Why do you want to know?”
“I haven’t ever done it, but at some point, I know I’ll have to. You know, to be in the club.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Tigger. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can set that boundary.”
“The Sons don’t want some kid who can’t pull the trigger when it’s necessary.”
“Then don’t patch in.”
He scratches his brow. “I want to. And it’s not like I care because they only kill when it’s necessary. It’s just that I don’t like to go into situations without having an idea of the outcome, so I thought if you told me how it felt, I’d be prepared.”
I reach over to the remote and press the mute button. “The men I killed were disgusting pieces of shit, so it wasn’t hard for me. But I think as long as you know you’re doing it for the right reasons, you’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, okay. Makes sense.” He strokes down a sleepy Ryder’s back. “Do you regret the whole revenge-plot thing?”
“No.” My answer is out before he’s finished asking the question.
“Even though this happened to you?” He motions at me.
“I’ll never regret trying to stop disgusting men from exploiting women and children. I might fail a time or two, but I can sleep at night knowing I tried.”
“That’s cool,” he says simply.
Smirking, I turn the volume of the TV back up and settle in for more of our show. “Yeah, it is cool.”