15. Rae
15
RAE
“What you doin’ there, honey?”
Fingers brushing the knot of steel on the wall, I snap my head around and find Sweetie leaning on the doorframe. I shouldn't be in here—I know it. Nobody has explicitly told me to stay out of the gun room, but nobody has told me it's off-limits, either.
It’s just… known.
“Will you tell them?” I unhitch the truck keys from the lines of hooks mounted between two racks of rifles.
"It depends on why you want to keep it a secret." Sweetie's a pretty woman despite the signs of a long and hard life creeping in around her eyes and mouth. With a head full of wavy blonde hair, she reminds me of my mother.
Until she opens her mouth.
Then she’s better.
“I need ten minutes. Fifteen,” I plead. “Just some room to breathe.”
"Why?" Her brow furrows, arms folded over the pale blue T-shirt that drapes on her buxom frame. Strips of black leather hang on either side where her vest sits open over the top.
I glance down at the keyring in my palm and sigh. Fuck it. How do I explain that everywhere I look, I'm smacked in the face with the sum of all my fuck ups? I can't turn a corner without being reminded of where I am, why I am, and, worst of all, what I am.
“Those two upset you, huh?” She edges into the room. “Or was it the visitor we got today?”
“You saw him, huh?”
“Honey,” she coos with gentle admonishment. “You invite the son of our main pain in the ass over for coffee and cake, and we’re gonna take note.” She stops before me, head and shoulders taller than I am, especially when I slump against the cabinet behind me. “Why’s he here?”
“Figure he can help us find Maddie.”
She makes a gentle grunt in the back of her throat. “That so? He’s never been amicable to us before. You the reason why that’s different?”
I huff a laugh. "Not that I can understand why. He'll do nearly anything for me, and yet he fucking held me captive and tortured me.”
"What'd he do?" Her face falls, her chin a little higher, as she waits for my explanation.
"Bound me. Starved me. Drip-fed me water. Kept me away from sunlight so that I couldn't track time. Kept asking me the same damn questions even though I told him the same fucking answers over and over."
“He lay hands on you?”
“Grabbed me by the hair and jerked me around. Pushed me over.” I shrug. “That kind of stuff.”
“But he didn’t use his knives?” Sweetie frowns. “No fists. Didn’t cut you, shoot you…” She swallows. “Rape you.”
I lift my head and meet her eye. “No.”
Lips flattening, she exhales. “Honey. He didn’t torture you. That was a man keeping you safe.”
“What?” The skin between my eyes hurts with how hard I screw up my face.
"Connor's notorious for using those knives , especially to get information." She perks up as though excited at a breakthrough. "If you ever want to know how, visit McLeary down at the gas station on Fourth. Ask him what happened before he decided to go straight. He might even show you the scars."
“You think because Connor didn’t cut me, he was keeping me safe?”
“I know he was.” She sighs out her nose again, lifting her hands a little before slapping them against the outside of her thighs. “I don’t expect you to understand it, honey, but living on this side of the thin blue line, things aren’t as straightforward as they are in the civ world. People do things that seem backward in going forward. They do things that seem one way when they’re another. You ever ask Connor why he took you in like that?”
“He said he did it so his father wouldn’t.”
She snaps her fingers. “Right there. He admitted it.”
My lips twitch, yet I don’t say anything as I study Sweetie. Is she right? After what Connor said about keeping Ronan off my back, did he take me in to save me worse at the hands of his father? Fuck. If I thought my goddamn thoughts were soup before, they’re a running puddle now.
"You okay?" Sweetie ducks her head, leveling our gaze.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Things are… complicated. Even before all of this.”
“How so?”
I search the darker flecks of her blue eyes, hunting for a clue that I can trust her. That she cares enough to know. To hear me out. "It doesn't matter." I've trusted people before, and it's blown up in my face. Today isn't the day to divulge my every goddamn weakness. "So, will you tell them?" I jingle the keys between us.
She draws a deep breath, arms folding over her chest once more. "Not if you take me." Sweetie turns, opening a cupboard door to the right of the gun racks. "And this." She reaches inside and pulls out a handgun, checking the magazine before slotting it inside.
"You don't need to come," I say, eyeing the weapon in her hand. Could I use that if I had to? I've never fired a gun. Never wanted to. "I'll only be fifteen, tops."
“And it takes two to snatch you.” She jams the gun in the back of her waistband and motions for the keys. “Tyke will have my hide for this, but I’ve been in your shoes before.” I don’t get a chance to ask what she means before she continues. “You’ve got an hour before I need to be back to prep lunch, so let’s get moving.”
She turns, heading for the door, the patch on her back coming into full view. I note the distinct rockers stating, “Property of” and then the club. But no member’s name. No man on her back.
Only the faded outline of where it once was.
The leather hanging over my shoulders itches again. The weight of the responsibility. The status.
The image.
“Where were you thinkin’ of goin’?” Sweetie asks as we cross through the living area to the exit outside.
I note the closed door of Tyke's office and the absence of either man outside of it. Connor's truck is still parked in the yard. Him over me. My fingers find the edge of the vest, pads rolling the stitching as I skip a step to catch up with Sweetie’s long strides. “I hadn’t thought much about it, really. Just need somewhere quiet to get my thoughts straight.”
She nods. “Fair enough.”
We pile into the old truck, and Sweetie starts the engine, gaze flitting across to me in intervals as she waits for the engine to warm.
“You know,” I say with a slight chuckle when she finally sets off. “We don’t have any bags if we’re going shopping.”
She smirks. “Good thing the store does, then, huh?”
I smile, turning my head to look out the window as we idle past the clubhouse and through the open gate. Tyke will be mad, Digger disappointed. But I need this—the separation, the time to get my head right. I let them guide me back here when I asked for help, and I willingly fell under their spell, happy to feel safe and protected when it felt like the whole world was against me.
But they proved, just now, how fickle that protection is. Mere weeks ago, I was a girl on the run from the ex who threatened my life, and in the blink of an eye, I’m now the pawn they trade back in hopes of securing their queen.
I need to figure out what’s best for me. How the fuck I move forward from this, and if it indeed involves my heart. Because that motherfucker sings for those men, reaches for the comfort of their safety. It’s my brain that knows better.
That knows, when it all comes down to it, we’re all out to help ourselves first and foremost. Love be damned.
"You know," Sweetie starts as she turns us down a side road I've never traveled until today. "This is the first time I've seen you with the patch on your back."
The urge to strip it off and throw it out the window to avoid the questions and scrutiny burns.
"Figured now is as good a time as any to start wearing it."
“Huh.” She rolls her jaw, gaze fixed on the road.
“What?” I curl toward the door, arms across myself.
“Whole thing’s kinda quick, is all.”
Fuck’s sake. This whole thing is wrong. Too fast. Too easy. “You realize it’s just a ruse, right?” The words feel even worse falling from my lips. “They just want people to think this is why I’m with the club, so nobody asks the truth.” I finger the supple material again.
Sweetie runs her eye down me and then refocuses on the road. “What is the truth?”
She doesn’t know. How many in the club have no idea why I crashed into their home and claimed their men? "What have you been told?" I hedge. "About why I'm here.”
Her mouth opens, a soft sigh falling free. “You need protection.” She shrugs. “Is all.”
“Not what from. Or who?”
“You told me just before.” She catches my eye, one eyebrow raised. “Bad deal with the ex, right?”
"Right." I stare at the passing scenery and jostle in the seat as we turn onto a dirt road. "Where are we going?"
"Oh, just somewhere I know. Close by so we won't be gone too long, but not somewhere many people know about so you can get your peace and quiet." She smiles, reaching across to set her hand on my knee and give it a little wiggle. "Don't worry, honey. You'll be back where you belong before you know it."