Chapter 4
CLAIRE
Aurora’s had her first decent meal in a while. I didn’t have to water down the powder, and she loved every bit of it.
I have to imagine being in an air-conditioned room with a comfortable crib—not to mention a full belly—is going to give her one of the best nights of sleep of her life. I’m in the bathroom washing my hands and cleaning the baby food off the towel Aurora used as a bib when I hear a knock.
As I rush to open the door, I look at Aurora. She’s still sound asleep, her little mouth open as she dreams. I take a breath and open the door just a crack to Savage. He’s holding a large plastic bag in his arms, and he narrows his eyes as he looks past me.
“Oh shit,” he whispers. “Did I wake her? I’m so sorry. I should have texted you to let you know I was headed back. I didn’t think.”
I stare at him for a second, not sure what’s more shocking. That he apologized. That he noticed Aurora was asleep. Or that he would bother to text me to let me know he was heading back. I don’t know how to process any of this. I stare at him, unblinking.
“What should I do here?” he asks, looking so genuinely confused that I have to smile.
It’s then that I notice how unbelievably handsome Savage is.
His dark brown eyes are on the small side, but they show a warmth of light and sincerity as he stares at me.
He has dark brown hair that curls slightly at the ends.
He’s not wearing his sunglasses so I can see his whole face, and it’s a gorgeous face, the face of a man who has sharp edges but softness underneath.
He has a square jaw, bristled from a day or two of not shaving.
His nose is large, but in a good way. He looks like the hero in an action movie—not perfect in a forgettable, symmetrical way.
He swallows, and I see his Adam’s apple move in his throat. “Claire,” he says, his voice a thick whisper. “Should I leave your dinner? Do you want to have one of the girls stay with the baby so you can eat somewhere other than your room?”
I can’t believe he’s giving me a choice. I want so badly to say something. I want to invite him in, but it’s like my brain and my body are in a war. I think about what Anthony would have said or done, and it’s like I go on autopilot.
“Whatever you want, babe,” I say, looking down at the floor.
I realize what I said as soon as the words leave my mouth. My eyes fly to Savage’s, and I duck my chin, not sure if he’s going to scream or worse. To my continued surprise, he laughs.
“Babe?” He lifts a brow. “Better than asshole, I guess.” He nods toward the baby. “You want to eat alone, or you want some company? I can join you or give you space. This is not my call, Claire. You’re the boss in this room.”
I swallow back a hurricane of emotions—fear, confusion, and, most of all, gratitude. “Come in?” I say quietly. “I think she’s in a food coma.”
Savage practically tiptoes into the room, and he sets the plastic bag on the coffee table so quietly that I almost laugh out loud.
“Savage,” I tell him. “We lived with bikers. Way worse noises than what you all have here. She could probably sleep through a tornado.”
He nods thoughtfully, like he’s paying attention and actually learning a little something about babies. “That’s a real useful skill to have in a compound full of loudmouth idiots.” He smiles at me. “I can’t promise I won’t be one of them, but I will try to keep my voice down.”
He starts setting up the food on the table, handing me the straw that goes along with my soda.
“If that’s watered down too much, I’ll have Stella bring you another one.
She’s the one who went to the store for the diapers.
She works for us, so you need anything—food, drinks—just let her know, and she’ll add it to the list. Don’t feel bad asking. We pay her for her work around here.”
I’m slowly starting to develop a picture of this club. The guys who live here, the women in their lives. I’m not sure how I ended up in this place and how I’ll ever find my way to independence, but I’m relaxing just enough to feel more than fear, stress, and resentment.
Savage unpacks a smaller bag from within the big bag.
“This,” he tells me, “is a burger that you’re going to dream about.
And the sweet potato fries have salt flakes.
” He shakes his head as if this is a true culinary wonder.
“Now, I know you asked for regular fries, but I got both. I hope you don’t mind sharing, because I’m telling you…
the salt flakes add something special, Claire. ”
He rolls his eyes back in his head and makes a kissing sound.
I think my mouth falls open a little. I’m surprised, yeah, but not at this biker’s enthusiasm for fries.
I’m honestly shocked that he’s so relaxed.
He isn’t angry about anything—not that I can tell.
He just spent a shit-ton of money on food, and yet, an undercurrent of peace spreads in the room.
He lifts his chin toward the bag. “Dig in.” He unwraps a round black plastic container, peels back the clear lid, and flicks a look at me. “Do I have to watch my language around the baby when she’s asleep?”
I shake my head. “She can’t talk yet. I don’t think she knows the difference between fuck and frog.
You have a few months, I think, before she starts copying what she hears.
” What I don’t say is there is no way we’ll still be here in a few months.
By the time his language could be a problem, we’ll be long gone.
God, at least I hope we will, even if I have no idea how that’s going to happen.
When he opens the container, the most delicious fragrance fills the room. It’s like home-cooked heaven.
He unwraps some plastic cutlery and spears a piece of meat, a bunch of carrots, and a few potatoes soaked in gravy with a fork, and he puts it all on the lid of the carryout container like it’s a spare plate. Then he extends the entire thing my way.
“You’ve got to try this,” he says. “I’ll trade you for some of those fries.”
I take a long sip of the soda, and the carbonation makes my eyes water in the best way. I blot a tear from the corner of my good eye—the one that isn’t swollen and bruised—and sigh. “Oh my God, Savage. That tastes good.”
He quirks a brow at me. “That’s sugar water, Claire. You think that’s good, you have to try the food.”
I take the fork and pick up a small bite of beef and a piece of carrot. I sniff it, close my eyes, and pop the entire thing into my mouth. “Holy crap,” I mumble. “What is that?”
“Beef stew,” he says. “Definitely not hot weather food, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s my favorite. It’s fucking delicious.” He looks at the coffee table as if he’s just noticed something’s missing. “I need a beer,” he says, getting up.
I let myself look down his long legs in very dark denim jeans as he stands. He’s muscular, like never been an ounce overweight in his life muscular. He’s shed his leather vest and put on a plain white T-shirt that looks immaculately clean and which reveals heavily tattooed arms.
He points at me as he pulls open the door. “You want anything? Cold beer? Fresh soda?”
I shake my head, and he turns to go, but then he cocks his head and looks back at me. “I told you this is your room,” he says, a sly grin on his face, “but if you lock me out just so you can eat my stew…”
I laugh for real then, and a smile covers my face. “I’ll slide a sweet potato fry under the door for you.”
He gives me an exaggerated scowl and fake growls, then grins at me. “I can’t say I’d blame you if you did.”
He leaves me alone then, the door closing quietly behind him. I honestly can’t understand this man. He just spent money to buy my freedom. He bought baby food and diapers. There was even a little T-shirt and a pair of pajamas in the bag for Aurora. Why?
He seems sweet and gentle, caring, even. All wrapped up in a bad-ass package.
I take another bite of the stew and even try some of my burger and fries while he’s gone.
It’s all so delicious. And no one is angry, yelling, complaining.
This is too easy. Too good. Whether I deserve it or not, for as long as it lasts, I’m going to hold on to it.
Get strong and plan my escape. Because no matter how sweet and easy everyone is right now, I know it’s only a matter of time, and nothing good lasts for very long.
I don’t know if it’s the soft bed or the cool room, the peace and quiet, or the lack of swearing and pounding outside my door, but I get the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.
It’s not until Aurora starts cooing loudly that I open my eyes. I immediately remember where I am and how we got here.
Last night after we ate, Savage cleaned up all the mess we made, took my leftovers to the kitchen, and made me promise that I’d drink water and take the meds to help with the swelling.
The room is comfortable and silent.
No one is bothering us.
I can hardly believe this is real.
I mix up formula for Aurora after changing her diaper and putting her in the little T-shirt with the same pajama pants from last night. After she finishes her bottle, I take a fast shower, luxuriating in the hot water and sweet-smelling toiletries.
We’re safe.
At least for now, and that’s everything.
When I get out of the shower, the phone that Savage bought me is lit up with a message. I tighten the towel around myself and read it.
Savage: Poppy’s at work, so Stella’s gonna take you shopping for clothes. She’s got the money. Get what you need. I’ll see you tonight.
I have two other messages.
Unknown: Hi, Claire!! It’s Poppy. I’m working today, but I wanted you to have my number. Check in if you need anything. I’ve got Phantom on the hunt for a baby bathtub for Aurora. If you need anything today, let the girls at the compound know, and they’ll take care of you. Talk soon.
I’m trying to read the next text when there is a light knock at the door. “Claire, it’s Stella. I have coffee.”