Chapter 17
Kayla
Deputy Colton stands at the side of my bed, his notebook open, pen poised like a weapon ready to strike.
His expression doesn’t betray much, but I can see what lurks in his eyes.
He doesn’t believe me. Or at least, he doesn’t believe all of it.
This is our third interview since Kit released me, and I’m tired of repeating myself, tired of seeing the flicker of skepticism in his eyes each time my story remains unchanged.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” he says, tapping his pen against the paper, “let’s go through this one more time.”
I shift slightly, wincing at the uncomfortable bed and the scratchy feeling of the hospital gown against my skin. Apparently, I’m in remarkably good shape for having been kidnapped and held hostage for more than a week. At least that’s what the doctors keep telling me.
“I’ve told you everything that happened,” I say, not bothering to hide my exhaustion. “Three times now.”
“Humor me.” He clicks his pen, an oddly aggressive sound in the quiet room. “One more time. Your car broke down on County Road 16, and then what happened?”
I close my eyes, pushing down the flare of irritation.
“I called a tow truck, but they couldn’t come right away.
I called Roman, but he didn’t answer. I called the clubhouse too, but nobody would come help me.
” I open my eyes to find Colton watching me, his expression unchanged.
“I was waiting in my car when a truck pulled up behind me. Someone got up. I called 911, but they smashed my passenger window. Before I could react, the door was yanked open, and I was pulled out of the car.”
“And you didn’t see who it was?” Colton interrupts, the same question he’s asked multiple times before.
“No. It was dark. He was wearing a mask.” Another careful omission. I had seen Kit’s face eventually, of course, but I’ve decided that particular detail isn’t making it into my official statement. I don’t know why I’m protecting him. Maybe because he let me go when he didn’t have to.
Collins makes a note, his mouth now pressed into a thin line. “And then?”
“He tied my hands, blindfolded and gagged me. Put me in a vehicle. Felt like the back of a pickup truck. We drove for what felt like hours, but I couldn’t keep track of time.
” The words come mechanically now. “When we stopped, I was taken inside somewhere. A building that felt large and empty. Concrete floors. Echoing. Maybe a warehouse.”
“And there was just the one man? The one who took you from your car?”
I hesitate. This is where my story gets tricky. I could tell him about Wrath, about Moose, about Tank and Scorpion, about all the others. But I don’t. I don’t want to.
“I only saw one clearly,” I say carefully. “He called himself Kit. But I heard other voices sometimes. I was kept in a small room most of the time.” Not entirely a lie.
“And this Kit, did he say what he wanted? Why he took you?”
I roll the edge of my hospital gown between my finger and thumb. “He seemed to have some grudge against Roman. Against the Devil‘s Rejects. But whenever I asked about it, he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”
“Did he hurt you?” Colton asks, his eyes flicking to the bruise on my cheek, the scrapes on my arms.
“No, not really. These are from when I tried to escape.” I shift again, wincing as the IV tugs at my vein. “I managed to get out of the building once, but I didn’t make it far. The warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, just woods all around. They caught me and brought me back.”
Colton’s eyebrows lift slightly at the plural. “They?”
I curse silently. “Kit and… whoever else was there. I didn‘t see faces.” I rush past the slip. “After that, they kept a closer watch on me.”
“And then what? After all this, he just… let you go?” The skepticism in Colton’s voice is thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Not exactly,” I say. “A few days later, there was a lot of activity. People moving things, packing up. Kit said they had to move locations. That’s when I was tied up and blindfolded again, put in another vehicle.”
“And you have no idea where you were taken?”
“No. After they put me in a truck and we drove for a long time. Then they walked me through some woods, and Kit whispered something in my ear.” I pause, remembering the warmth of his breath, the strange intimacy of that moment.
“He said, ‘Tell him I did it for Amara. Don’t disappoint me. I stood there for a minute and then removed the blindfold. Kit was gone. I could see lights from the highway through the trees, so I walked toward them. That’s how I found the gas station.
” I meet his eyes steadily, daring him to challenge this part of the story. It’s the absolute truth, after all.
“Amara?” Colton repeats, writing the name down. “Do you know who that is?”
“No, Roman has never mentioned anyone by that name before.”
The deputy taps his pen against his notepad, clearly unsatisfied. “Mrs. Sullivan, I have to tell you that your story has some… inconsistencies.”
“Does it?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he means.
“Like why this Kit person would go to all the trouble of kidnapping you, keeping you for days, and then just letting you go. Like how you managed to get away unharmed from what you describe as a building full of dangerous men. Like why, if this was a grudge against your husband or his MC, they didn’t make any ransom demands or use you as leverage. ”
I’ve been asking myself the same questions, of course. I still don’t understand why Kit let me go. The message about Amara is the only clue I have, and I can’t even begin to understand what it means.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t understand it either.”
Colton sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Mrs. Sullivan, I have to consider the possibility that you’re not being entirely truthful with me.”
“Meaning what?” I snap, the frustration finally getting the better of me. “You think I’m making this up? That I gave myself these bruises and scrapes, destroyed my own car, and have been hiding out somewhere for days just for the fun of it?”
“I think there might be more to the story than you’re telling me,” he says evenly. “Perhaps something to do with your husband’s… activities.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about Roman’s club business. He never involved me in any of that.”
“Never?” Colton presses. “Your husband is the Vice President of a motorcycle club with a reputation for involvement in various illegal activities, and you expect me to believe he never brought any of that home?”
“That’s right,” I say firmly. “Roman kept that part of his life separate from me. I didn’t go to the clubhouse; the other members made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
I didn’t socialize with the members’ wives or girlfriends.
I didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer information.
” I swallow hard, remembering the security footage I saw in Kit’s warehouse.
“The only time I ever called the clubhouse was that night when my car broke down.”
“And what did they say when you called?” Colton asks.
“That Roman was busy. That they’d give him the message.” I look down at my hands. “They didn‘t.”
Colton watches me for a long moment, then sighs again. “Alright, Mrs. Sullivan. I think we’re done for now.” He closes his notebook and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “The doctors say you’re being released today. Do you have somewhere to go?”
The question catches me off guard. “I… yes. I think so.”
“Good. Here’s my card.” He places it on the bedside table. “Call me if you remember anything else. Or if you’re ready to tell me the whole story.”
I don’t respond to that, just watch as he stands and adjusts his jacket.
“One more thing,” Colton says, pausing at the door. “Your husband has been quite… insistent about seeing you. Hospital security has had to remove him twice. You might want to prepare yourself for when you leave.”
The door closes behind him before I can respond. Roman. Even the thought of seeing him makes my stomach clench. The Roman I thought I knew wouldn’t have left me alone and vulnerable on a dark road. Wouldn‘t have brushed aside my calls for help. Wouldn’t have put Naomi’s safety above mine.
But that’s exactly what he did. And I saw it with my own eyes, thanks to Kit’s “entertainment.”
The door opens again, and I tense, expecting Colton with more questions. But it’s Morgan. Her face is red from the cold outside, and her arms are full of shopping bags.
“Guess who’s back?” she says, her voice the most welcome sound I’ve heard in days. “I come bearing gifts. Real clothes that don’t show your ass when you walk.”
Despite everything, I grin. “You’re an angel.”
“More like a badass fairy godmother,” Morgan corrects, dumping the bags on the foot of my bed. “The doctor says you can be released today if you remember. So I thought I’d grab a few things while you were dealing with Deputy Douche.”
“Thank God. I can’t wait to get out of here.” I reach for the first bag, pulling out a pair of soft leggings and an oversized sweater. “Did you have any trouble at the house?”
Morgan just smirks. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Your husband was there, pacing like a caged animal. He’s not taking the ‘no visitors’ thing well at all.”
“That’s just too bad,” I say, surprised by the coldness in my own voice. “He can be as upset as he wants.”
Morgan perches on the edge of my bed. “You know you can tell me what happened? I know you’ve been doing the whole official statement thing with the cops, but what really went down, Kayla?”
I look down at my hands, at the fading marks on my wrists where the ropes cut into my skin. “I was kidnapped by someone who wanted to hurt Roman. And in the process, I learned some things about my husband that I can’t unknow.”
“What kind of things?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it yet.” Maybe not ever.
Morgan nods, accepting this without question. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about her; she doesn’t push when I pull back. “So, what’s next? You said you don’t want to go back to your place.”
“I don’t,” I confirm. “But I don’t know where to go.
It’s not like I can afford a hotel room for more than a night or two.
” I bite my lip, hating how helpless I feel.
“And my job is seasonal. I don’t have work for another two months.
” It’s a painful reminder of how dependent I’ve been on Roman.
His tattoo shop provides most of our income during the winter months when my landscaping work dries up.
“Stay with me,” Morgan says immediately. “My spare room is a disaster zone right now, but I can clear it out.”
“I can’t ask you to do that—”
“You didn’t ask; I offered,” Morgan interrupts. “And it’s not like you have a lot of options right now.”
She’s right, and we both know it. “Just until I figure things out,” I agree. “I’ll look for a job. Something to tide me over until spring.”
“The coffee shop near my place is hiring,” Morgan suggests. “Pay’s shit, but it’s something.”
I nod, mind already planning the steps I need to take. Get a job. Find a place of my own. Figure out what to do about my marriage.
“Actually,” I say slowly, “there’s one more thing I need help with.”
Morgan raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“I need a divorce lawyer.”
Morgan looks surprised. “Whoa. Are you sure? I mean, I know you’re pissed at Roman right now, and you have every right to be, but divorce?”
“I’m sure,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “Whatever Roman and I had, it’s gone. It was probably never there to begin with.”
It’s true. The Roman I thought I married doesn’t exist. Maybe he never did.
Roman has been showing me who he really is our entire marriage, and I’ve been ignoring it, creating a fantasy and ignoring the red flags he’s been waving right in front of my face.
The man who left me on the side of the road in the dark?
Who swore to Naomi that nothing was more important than her safety?
That is the man I married. It’s who Roman’s been all along.
“Okay,” Morgan says simply. “If you’re sure, I’ll help you find an attorney.”
“I’m sure,” I say, turning back to her. “It’s time to start over.”
What I don’t say is that I’m not just leaving Roman.
I’m leaving behind the woman I was with him; the quiet, unquestioning wife who accepted less than she deserved.
Kit may have kidnapped me, may have tried to break me, but he also forced me to see the truth about my marriage.
And now that I’ve seen it, I can’t go back to pretending.
The only question is where I go from here.