Chapter Thirteen
Anastasia
Blinking my eyes open, I see that once again the trees are whizzing by.
Great. Once again, I’m in a vehicle with no fucking clue where I’m going or what the hell is happening.
I lay there, my body still heavy and out of sorts, trying to remember anything since the day after I injured my leg and hand.
Working to ball my hand into a fist, I let out a hiss as the wound pulls slightly but relax when I don’t find it anymore swollen.
I lay still, hoping that the people in the vehicle don’t realize I’m awake.
The vehicle slows, turning onto what sounds like gravel, and the trees close in tighter around us.
I let out a breath because it seems they’ve decided what to do with me.
The gravel road is smooth beneath the tires as we crunch along.
I close my eyes, giving in to the thoughts of what could have been, what should have been, and what I’ll never have.
I pray Raider and the others did what I needed them to do and protected Rusher, keeping him safe from Shea.
The vehicle finally comes to a stop, and to my complete surprise, only one door opens.
The back hatch pops open. “I know you're awake, Amar.”
I squint one eye open, seeing the bigger guy standing there looking younger and even more relaxed than before.
Still not moving because I will be damned before I make them getting rid of me that fucking easy.
I hear his feet shuffling before the back of the SUV squats down.
Squinting one eye open, I see that the bigger man of my two guards is leaning back onto the SUV looking out over the open field.
I slowly sit up, scooting back from the door to add space between us.
The man looks back at me grinning. “It’s good to see you up and moving.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I whisper, my voice horse.
He laughs, but it sounds hollow and broken. “It seems even though you are the boss’s sister, that bitch has no love for you. She decided you were too sick, too damaged with the gash on your leg, and we needed to do away with you. So, that’s what I’m here to do.”
He says it as if we’re just talking about the weather.
Instead of answering him or saying anything, I start to stretch and work the kinks out of my sore joints and muscles.
The man glances back at me before nodding and standing, going to the back seat of the SUV, pulling out a small bag.
When he comes back to the trunk area, he tosses the bag inside.
“I thought you might want to put on some actual clothes,” he shrugs, walking away as his phone rings.
He answers it speaking rapped fire Spanish.
Not one to shoot myself in the foot to spite someone, I dig in the bag and am shocked to find jeans, underwear, a sports bra, a long-sleeve Henley, a jean jacket, socks, and boots all with the tags still on them.
I look back at the man, confused as fuck about what the hell is going on.
His words make it sound as if he is going to kill me, but can I hope maybe that’s not what’s about to happen?
The sound of his voice rises, and the Spanish comes out faster, causing my anxiety to climb.
Rushing while he is distracted, I pull off the old bloodied clothes and start pulling on the new ones.
I’ve just pulled on the first sock when he ends his call, coming back around the SUV. He looks me up and down before nodding and turning to sit back in his spot. I decide that trying to get some answers about what happens next is the smart thing to do.
“Thank you for the clothes, but I don’t understand. If you’re supposed to be taking care of me, why would you do this?” My voice is still a whisper.
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” he waves to my fully clothed self. “Taking care of you?”
Annoyed, I give him my best mom look. “We both know this is not what Shea and Jose meant by take care of me.”
He turns, holding his hand to his chest, gasping in mock horror. “They didn’t? Are you sure about that?”
“Pretty damned positive,” I grumble, not liking his mocking tone.
“Well, I guess when they say words are important and context matters, this is an example of what they mean,” he says flatly with an eyebrow cocked.
I finish sliding my boots onto my feet, sliding to hang my legs over the back of the SUV. “So then what’s your plan? You didn’t bring me all the way out here just to have a chat, did you?”
Taking in my surroundings, it hits me we’re sitting in the parking lot of Tender Touch Butcher it’ll take more than that to heal what has been broken, but for the first time since Shea shattered my heart, I believe it can be healed.
I don’t have words, so I just shake my head. Raider’s right hand slides down my cheek into the hair at the base of my head, gripping it tight and tilting my head back so I have no choice but to look him in the eye.
“Words, Tasia. You know I always need your words,” he demands.
“I cannot promise you anything about what happens next,” I start.
“No,” he growls.
I rub my thumb back and forth along the back of his neck.
“I promise to stand by your side and fight. No more running, Tasia.”
I watch as some of the fear and anxiety slides out of his eyes, leaving him open and vulnerable.
He blinks once before tilting my head and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
When he pulls away, the hard man I met the first time I saw him again is firmly back in place.
Raider lets me go, stepping back and turning to the man standing at the rear of the SUV.
Looking around, I’m shocked to see a wall of leather surrounding us.
“Pope,” Raider calls, and the man I always knew as Clark comes to stand by us. “Take her back to my bike and stay with her. This shouldn’t take long.”
I look at the man I always knew to be my best friend—open and happy—and find it shocking to see him so closed off and hard.
It seems there is a lot that’s happened in the last fifteen years that I’ve not got a damn clue about.
Raider places another kiss on my forehead before stepping away from me.
Pope wraps his arm around my shoulder, urging me in the direction of the motorcycles.
I go to take a step, hissing when pain shoots up my leg.
Nearly every man within earshot looks at me, their faces going impossibly more violent and angry before looking in the direction of my savior.
Pope looks down at my leg, up to my face, and then to Raider. “Prez, I need to carry her. I don’t think she’ll make it.”
Raider’s eyes go hard. “Do what you need to do, but I’m making it known now and forever she is mine and will be my Ol’ Lady. Treat her as such.”
Pope cracks the first smile I’ve seen tonight, and the boy I once knew shines through. “Fucking about time, brother.”
Raider just gives him a nod before turning and making his way across the lot to the SUV.
Pope swings me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style to Raider’s motorcycle sits me on it before turning so he can see the showdown going on just twenty feet away but still able to keep an eye out for anyone that might come up the long driveway.