Rambler’s Snow Bunny (Bastard Saints MC: St. Louis, MO #2)

PROLOGUE

Standing outside Chief’s office with my hand raised to knock, I hesitate.

Am I really going to do this?

I drop my hand. I know it’s time, but damn it’s really freaking hard.

I blow out a breath. Shit.

My fingers drift to my throat before I can stop them. There’s not a single mark anymore. The bruises faded weeks ago, purple to yellow to nothing. But I still feel it sometimes. Still feel Killer’s fingers digging in. How I couldn’t breathe. The utter terror that he might actually kill me.

Stop thinking about it.

I shake out my hands and raise my fist again.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

“Yeah?” Chief’s voice booms through the door.

Pushing it open, I peek my head inside.

Chief’s behind his desk, paperwork spread out in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose. He looks up, and his dark eyebrows pull together in a frown.

“What?” He drops the papers in his hand onto the desk.

“I—”

He raises a hand to stop me, and my mouth snaps shut. “If this is more bullshit about shoes, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. “What?”

“Shoes.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Bambi came in here an hour ago having a complete meltdown because someone took her shoes. Do I look like a man who gives the first fuck about bitch’s fucking shoes?”

I open my mouth again, and again his hand goes up.

“I fucking ain’t, so if this is more of that bullshit, I don’t have time for it today. Or ever.”

I step fully into the office and close the door behind me. “Uh, no. I’m not here about shoes or whatever.” I wave my hand out in front of me.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he leans back in his chair. “So what the fuck can I do for you, Pinky?”

The way he says it isn’t mean, just matter-of-fact. This is just who Chief is. Direct, no bullshit.

Oh he’s scary as hell for sure when he needs to be, but he’s also fair. And I’ve always felt safe around him.

I twist my fingers together in front of me, suddenly not sure how to start. I practiced this in my head a dozen times, but now that I’m standing here, the words feel stuck.

“I, um…” I clear my throat. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Chief’s brow goes up, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits me out like he always does.

“I’m leaving the club.” The words come out in a rush, tumbling over each other. “Not like, right this second or anything. But soon. I just… I can’t stay here anymore.”

There. I said it.

The silence stretches out between us as Chief studies me, his eyes sharp behind those reading glasses. He tilts his head slightly.

“This about what happened with Killer?”

My hand moves towards my throat again, but I catch myself halfway and force it back down, curling my fingers into a fist at my side instead.

“I don’t…” I start, then stop. My tongue feels thick in my mouth. “It’s not just about that.”

It’s a lie and we both know it.

Chief’s jaw tightens. “Memphis came back. She and Killer worked their shit out. He’s been trying to make things right with you, too.”

“I know.” My voice comes out small. “I know he has.”

And he has been trying.

The gifts. The apologies. The way he can barely look at me without guilt written all over his face.

But every time I see him, my body remembers.

It doesn’t matter that my brain knows he’s sorry. I still freeze up every time he’s close to me. I can’t help it. No matter how hard I try, and trust me, I’m really trying. I don’t feel safe around him anymore.

I force myself to meet Chief’s eyes. “I just… I need to go. I need to not be a Cherry anymore.” I need to not feel dirty anymore.

“You know you don’t have to be a Cherry to stay here,” Chief says, his voice gentler now. “You can stay at the clubhouse and just be part of the family. You don’t have to fuck anyone if you don’t want to.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “I know. But I can’t… I can’t stay here anymore. I need to leave Jacksonville.”

Chief is quiet for a long moment. He removes his reading glasses and sets them on the desk, then rubs a hand over his face. When he looks at me again, there’s something in his expression that looks a helluva lot like concern.

“Where are you gonna go?”

That’s a question I’ve been asking myself over and over again, and truthfully, I haven’t the slightest clue where I might want to go.“I don’t know yet.”

“You got money saved?”

I think about the few bills I have tucked away in my sock drawer. It’s barely enough for a bus ticket and maybe a week in some shitty motel. “Not really.”

“Family?”

I shake my head. My family’s been gone for years. It’s just me.

Chief blows out a breath and leans forward, bracing his forearms on the desk. “Look, I’m not gonna stop you from leaving if that’s what you want. But you’re welcome to stay here until you figure out where you’re going. Take your time. Get your shit together. No pressure.”

That tight knot in my chest loosens, and all the tension I’ve been carrying around for the last week falls from my shoulders. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He picks up a pen and taps it against the desk. “I’ll let the brothers know you’re off-limits. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyes and I blink hard, trying to keep them from falling. “Thank you, Chief. That… that means a lot.”

“You’re a good kid, Pinky.” His eyes roam over my face. “Even if you got shit taste in hair color.”

I touch my pink hair self-consciously. “You don’t like it?”

“I prefer blondes.” He waves toward the door. “Now get the fuck out of my office. I got shit to do.”

I nod and turn to leave, my hand on the doorknob when his voice stops me.

“Pinky.”

I look back over my shoulder.

Chief’s expression is serious again. “You change your mind about leaving, or you need help with anything, you come talk to me. Understand?”

My lips turn up in a watery smile. “I understand.”

“Good. Now get the fuck gone.”

I slip out of his office and close the door behind me. The hallway seems brighter now that the weight I’ve been carrying feels a little lighter. I lean back against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

I did it. I’m leaving. I’m getting out of here.

Pushing off the wall, I head back toward the main room. The sounds of the clubhouse wash over me as I step through the doorway.

Bubbles is behind the bar, pouring drinks.

Bambi’s sitting on Dread’s lap, giggling at something he said.

Reign and two of the prospects are throwing darts.

I’m going to miss all of this.