Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sutton
They came for me. They really came for me.
My heart had started racing the moment I heard Tombstone’s voice. I didn’t think it would be him coming. Not after him ending things the way, he did. When Hog held the gun to my head as he stood in front of Tombstone, I wanted that bullet more than anything.
I didn’t want anyone to see me as I was now.
Dirty.
Everything had seemed to blur as my life was nearly taken, and I’m pulled into Tombstone’s arms, to him putting me on his bike with his shirt on.
The ride home seems to take forever—it didn’t help I was in my own head replaying the last God knows how many hours events. By the time we'd pulled up and I got a look at the clubhouse, terror started seeping in once again.
I know these men would never hurt me. But seeing the clubhouse is just too much. Not after everything I had experienced at the hands of the Triple Spirits MC at theirs. The vile things they’d said while I was taped to that beam scream in my head, sending me into a full-blown panic attack.
Gripping Tombstone tighter, I bury my head in his back in an attempt to block out any and everything around me. It’s bad enough that these men have already seen me this way and that I’ve had to ride behind this man soiled and filthy.
The bike jerks forward, and I realize we’re moving again. Tombstone flies down the road, weaving down the curvy roads taking us somewhere. I’m not sure where. Throughout the entire ride, I keep my face pressed into his shoulder, and my eyes closed tight.
By the time he comes to a stop, I’m afraid of what I might find.
“Come on, Bambina,” he coos, rubbing my arms gently and prying them from about his waist. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”
I flinch at the gentle tone in his voice. What’s going on here?
Tombstone climbs off the back of his bike first, only to help me next. My legs are weak, and I’m exhausted after the past few days. I’m not sure what I want, but I know before I do anything, I’m going to shower. I need to be clean again.
Clean of the dirt and grime.
Clean of the degrading words.
Clean of the touch of those men who touched me.
Reaching out, Tombstone scoops me into his arms and holds me close to his chest. A gasp slips past my lips as I wrap my hands around his neck in fear of him dropping me.
I know it’s a stupid thought, because this man is built like a tank and is all muscle.
I’ve seen him working out and know firsthand what those pecs feel like.
I’ve run my hands along them plenty of times.
Blinking, I glance up in the direction he’s carrying me and take in the ranch-style brick home.
It’s nothing special. Bushes line the walkway in front of the house with what looks like a cobblestone path leading to the front porch.
Carrying us through the garage, I notice another bike sitting inside of to the side along with a vibrant-red classic Mustang that looks like it's being restored.
Damn, I didn’t know he had something like this.
Then again, I’ve never been to Tombstone’s house, let alone knew much more about him than how good he is in bed.
He’s never let me in. I’d never seen his place in the time we spent together.
Anytime we did, he came to my place, or Ivy’s after I moved in there.
Being here now seems all too confusing, but I’m not about to say anything. I don’t know what I would say.
Without letting me go, Tombstone opens the door. He steps inside, lets it close behind us, and hits the alarm to turn it off. He carries me over to the couch in his living room, sits with me in his lap, and presses a kiss to my temple.
“You’re safe now, Bambina. No one else can hurt you. I promise you that.”
If only he knew. I mentally scoff.
My life is about nothing else but being hurt. Everyone hurts me. Hell, I’ve hurt myself.
At the thought, I allow the first tears to fall.
Tombstone brings me close, and the flood gates open.
Tears I’d been holding in—all the fear I’ve felt in the past two days while trying to stay strong.
I’m nothing but a weakling who doesn’t deserve to be held by this man.
Even so, he holds me close and speaks soothing words to ease my mind.
He wants to make promises, but that can’t happen. Not when I’m me.
I’m filth.
My breath hitches as I try to regain control of my tears and sit up to meet Tombstone’s eyes.
“Can I take a shower?” I murmur my question, needing to put space between us. He’s held me for long enough. I don’t want to tarnish him any more than I already have with my filth and grime.
“Yeah, baby, you can take a shower. While you do that, I’ll make you something to eat. Does that sound good?”
God, why me? Why now? After everything, why is he being so gentle with me? Wait, I know. Because I’m in this predicament, and he thinks I’m going to break.
I’m past the breaking point. He just doesn’t know it.
Tombstone helps me off his lap and follows as he stands. Taking my hand, he guides me to a room—I can only assume is his and to the bathroom. “Take as much time as you need, Sutton.”
I nod, unable to meet his gaze anymore.
Leaning in Tombstone presses a kiss to my temple and gives my arm a squeeze.
Finally, leaving me alone, I step over to the door, closing it.
I also flip the latch to lock it. I walk to the counter and lift my gaze to the mirror—eyeing the woman staring back at me.
I’m nothing but a shell of a person. Some would say I resemble a mangy mutt who should be put out of its misery.
Blinking back the tears that want to resume, I glance down to see all of Tombstone’s personal products—a toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, Q-tips. Even that wonderful aftershave he uses that drives me crazy. His razor.
With trembling fingers, I pick up the razor and run my fingertips along the tiny blades.
I suck in a breath and step over to the large shower stall with the thing in my hand.
I open the door, and with heavy feet, I place one foot before the other inside, start the water, not even phased by the cold chill of it.
I slide to the floor, letting the shower rain down on me.
Breaking the plastic around the small little blades, I pick one up and bring it to my left wrist. Closing my eyes, I slice into the one spot I know will help end all the pain and torment.
With that one done, I move to the other wrist and do the same.
Dropping the razor, I lean my head against the tile and wait. It’s time to finally find my peace, even if it’ll hurt those I love and care about most. I’m sure in time they’ll all understand.