Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe
I got lost in the simple tasks associated with making lunch, kneading the bread for a crusty wheat loaf, chopping the vegetables for beef and lentil stew. Normally it was too warm for stew but here in the mountains with the lake just outside it was colder than normal, and it just felt right.
It felt right when it shouldn’t. It should’ve felt wrong. Should’ve left me off kilter.
It should’ve felt unsettling.
I was stuck in a cabin, literally in a very nice cabin prison with a man who hated me.
Okay, he didn’t hate me, not anymore. Still, it all should’ve felt wrong, but it didn’t, which made it feel wrong.
It had been two weeks since we started sleeping together, two blissful weeks—minus the ever present fear of the Ghost Riders, that is.
Why was I like that? The first bit of happiness in my life and rather than enjoy it I was trying to overanalyze everything.
The food was good. The peace was even better.
But the happiness? That lightness in my chest?
It shouldn’t be there. Not when I was hiding out to save my life. To save my daughter’s life.
The front door opened and shut, and Pike’s boots were heavy on the hard wood floors as he came into the living room where Gemma played. “Mr. Pike,” she called out and then seconds later she gasped. “Oh no! Sorry, Mr. Pike, I’m sorry.”
My hands were too caked in flour to see what was happening, but I didn’t have to worry because seconds later all I heard was Gemma’s laugh.
Pike’s footsteps were slower and when I stepped into the living room, he was stumbling backwards dramatically with one hand to his chest. “Oh… no… not… the water. How will we recover?”
Gemma kept laughing at his theatrics and my heart squeezed, warmth flooded my veins and something as close to pure joy as I ever felt slithered up my spine, wrapping itself around each vertebra along the way.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not with him.
This was the life I’d dreamed of, minus the part where I was running for my life.
Having a man at my side, who wasn’t just a provider but also a partner.
Someone who was interested in helping Gemma learn to write her name, tie her shoes, or attend school events.
I wanted that so badly that I’d stayed with Marcus when he showed glimpses of it over time.
It had been those glimpses that kept me with him long after I should’ve already left him.
It wasn’t supposed to be Pike.
Life on the run, hiding out, just shouldn’t feel like this.
But the nights with him? God the nights with him had healed me in ways I never thought was possible.
The way he made me melt, the way he pulled out the confident, sensual part of myself that I hadn’t even known existed.
During those nights I was someone other than Chloe, the boring wife and mother.
During those nights I was a desired woman who gave and received pleasure. I was just me.
We hadn’t talked about what we were doing or what any of it meant, we just dove into pleasure without expectations.
Without hope of the future. During the nights we just lived in the moment, we shook off labels and promises, and gave ourselves over to the fire that burned between us.
I wasn’t a mom, I was just hands and mouths and desperate, hungry need.
He wasn’t a biker or a grieving brother, he was just a man who craved me like I was his last meal.
We were fire and gasoline during those nights, hot and combustible, threatening to burn out of control if not for the threat of daylight and responsibilities.
And that was goddamn intoxicating.
It was too good. I liked it too much.
Pike wasn’t what I thought he would be and now that I knew him, he was even more than I ever gave him credit for.
He was a genuinely nice guy who was just really rough around the edges, but he wasn’t cruel or mean.
But I couldn’t help but pick up on his moods.
Sometimes he seemed distant. Deep down inside I knew he was probably worried about the whole situation, but the damaged part of me—that part that Marcus had beaten into submission—couldn’t stop worrying that it was because I wasn’t good enough.
That I was a burden.
Back in the kitchen I told myself I was overthinking everything, because that’s what I did. If overthinking was an Olympic sport, I’d be the decades-long reigning champion. It was one of the few things I was really good at, which was why I needed to focus on something else.
Anything else.
Self-defense was the perfect place to settle my focus.
Pike said that practicing regularly would help me improve and I felt it.
My balance was better now, my instincts were already getting sharper and thanks to daily calisthenics I was getting stronger and faster.
Each day I felt more capable and more confident in my ability to take care of myself.
The nightmares didn’t go away, and I wasn’t sure they ever would, or the panic attacks, but as Faith always used to say, healing was a process. Maybe with more confidence the nightmares would come less often, and the anxiety would lessen.
Fingers crossed.
I was getting better, I was healing and more importantly so was Gemma.
She laughed easier. Each laugh came a little harder and she talked so much more now.
Hell, she was damn near glowing under the careful attention of Pike.
How starved for healthy male attention my little girl must’ve been for her to open up to the Steel Demons the way she had.
If only I could be so resilient.
Lunch passed in a blur, and I managed to eat half the stew and all of the bread before Pike and Gemma both pushed away from the table and cleared it without a word from me. “Hey, thanks you two.”
Pike flashed a half-smile, his gaze a question. “No worries. You cooked, the least we could do was clear the table, right, kiddo?”
“That’s right!” she handed him one last cup and rushed from the kitchen.
“So much for teamwork,” he grumbled playfully. “Are you doing okay?”
I shrugged and stood, rinsing my plate. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost in thought, I guess.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“I’m not sure, but if I do, I promise to ask.”
His brows shot up as my words surprised him. “I hope so.”
I opened my mouth to say more but my phone rang and vibrated on the counter, and Pike reached for it with a frown before I could. His expression turned worried and when I glimpsed the screen, I understood why. It was my sister. Faith didn’t usually call without texting first.
“Faith. What’s up?” my heart pounded, and I dug my feet into the floor and braced myself for bad news.
This was the life I remembered. The constant worry that something bad was going to happen.
“How are you guys doing?” she asked after a long hesitant pause.
“We’re fine. Gemma is doing surprisingly well, she’s speaking more and laughing easier with every passing day.” My gaze met Pike’s when I said the words, hoping he knew how instrumental he was in that happening. “I’m good. Pike is teaching me self-defense.”
Even though my sister said nothing, the pause was filled with surprise. “That’s really good, Chloe. I’m glad to hear it.”
Pike gestured towards the door letting me know he was heading outside to give me some privacy. As he walked off, once again I thought about how different he was from Marcus. He might be a biker, but he was a good man.
My attention went back to my sister and her reason for calling. “So, what’s up for real?”
I knew my sister well and small talk wasn’t her strong suit.
“The Ghost Riders are escalating, and things around here are… tense.” she paused again and I held my breath.
“They are getting more violent. They’ve been setting shit on fire.
There was an attempted robbery at Demon Head Guns,” she paused for a moment, and I heard the scraping of a chair as she got comfortable.
Then she continued, “I mean, who in the hell tries to rob a gun shop?”
“Someone really desperate?”
“Exactly,” she sighed. “There’s been property damage and a few prospects got beaten up, which pissed the guys off, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
I swallowed the lump of sawdust in my throat and nodded again. “Okay, why then?”
“Because they are straight up asking about Gemma. Loudly.” Faith sighed heavily. “And they killed Angel last night, ran him off the road while he was heading back to the clubhouse.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “God, no!” My heart squeezed and I closed my eyes and added Angel to the list of people whose lives I was responsible for taking. I didn’t know Angel well, but he had always been nice to me when I stayed at the clubhouse. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t on you, Chloe.” Faith’s words, so matter of fact they were almost rote, didn’t feel sincere. How could they when I would never believe them.
“It is,” I whispered. Tears burned my eyes, and they fell down my cheeks before I could stop them. “I have to tell Pike,” I said.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yeah, I have to. I owe it to him.” And since it was my fault, I should be the one to suffer his wrath.
“Chloe, I meant what I said, this isn’t your fault. Stop thinking that shit, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “That’s all I can do.”
“Fine. I’ll call you again later and we can catch up. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Someone has to do it and you’re all I got, babe.” I tried to lighten the mood, but it fell flat.
“You have a lot more than me and Gemma,” she said. “Gotta go. Love you. Kiss Gemma for me.”
“Will do.” The call ended and I stood in the kitchen with a heavy heart, preparing myself for whatever happened next.
“Gemma, where are you?”
“I’m reading,” she called out.
“Don’t leave the house,” I called back.
“I won’t, I promise.”
I slipped out the back door just to let the mountain air dry my tears. To beg the universe for a forgiveness I wasn’t sure I deserved but desperately wanted. Several deep breaths later and I was as ready as I would ever be to face Pike and tell him the bad news.
“What’s wrong?” His deep voice startled me.
I spun around to face him before I took a step back. Distance was what I needed to get the words out. “There’s something I need to tell you.” The words left my lips just above a whisper.
Pike’s body tensed immediately. He stood a little taller, which drew my attention to the way the navy blue t-shirt stretched across his chest and hugged his biceps. “What’s wrong?”
I raked one hand through my hair and then the other, gripping the roots a little harder than necessary.
“The Ghost Riders are getting bolder. Angier and more violent too.” I couldn’t look at him, so I turned my gaze to the sky.
“Last night Angel was heading back to the clubhouse when he was hit by a car. Th- They killed him. I’m so sorry.
” More tears fell but I ignored them because this wasn’t about me, it was about him and his loss.
Another person close to him was dead because of me.
His gaze narrowed but otherwise he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He stared at me as if I said the words in a foreign language.
I wasn’t sure what to do so I stood there, just out of reach, and waited for the words to filter in.
Eventually he raised his hands and slammed them down on the wooden banister hard enough to make the whole deck shake. “Fuck! Damn it to hell!”
I gasped and jumped back instinctively. Not because I thought he would hit me but because it was instinct to get the hell out of the way of danger.
Pike froze and turned to me and I flinched. He reached out and took my wrist. “I’m not mad at you,” he growled, his voice was low and gruff. “Don’t ever think that. God, Chloe, never.” He shook his head. “I’m just mad at the whole fucking world right now.”
“I’m sorry. I hate that this is happening, that you’ve lost someone else because of me.”
“Don’t,” he snapped, blue eyes flashing with anger. “It’s not your fault, it’s just fucking sucks.” His voice cracked with emotion, and I wrapped my arms around him, comforting him as best as I could. When he pulled back, there was something dark and unreadable in his eyes.
It terrified me but it also gave me clarity, or dumb courage.
“Would it help,” I asked and then hesitated.
“Would it help fix things if I just gave myself up?” It was something I’d been thinking about for months now.
The thought of me and Gemma always hiding.
My little girl deserved a better life than that, even if I couldn’t be a part of it.
“Don’t you dare,” he demanded.
“But if I— ” I began but he cut me off.
Pike shook his head violently. “How could you even think about leaving that little girl motherless? Not fucking happening. You think they’d stop with you?
You think this move would save Gemma? Because it won’t.
” he gripped me tighter and real fear slithered over my skin at the cold and low voice he aimed my way.
“It’s just an idea.”
“A terrible fucking idea,” he answered, pulling back to answer his ringing phone. “I should get this, it’s Diesel.”
I nodded and loosened my grip, sliding away from him and headed back to the cabin.