Chapter 15
DELILAH
I’m so nervous. Since our conversation in the diner, it’s all I can think about.
Whores. I am one. I have no right to judge.
Why does Blade even want to be with me? Perhaps that’s why.
It’s what he’s used to. No strings attached, no fucks to give.
This is my place in life. To be a man’s toy.
First Gideon’s, then Angela’s, and now—no, Blade is different. He is nothing like them.
As we ride, I wish I remembered where I came from.
My real name, even. My history. It’s in there somewhere, little glimpses on occasion.
A memory of loving pancakes, of eating in a diner, a fancy restaurant once or twice.
The image of Gideon approaching me when I left the shower revealed that we lived in a mansion.
I kind of understand I had everything money could buy at some point in my life.
But how did that change? How did I arrive at Rockwell? It doesn’t make any sense.
It’s hard to lose something many take for granted.
Identity. It’s as if I must start again, and I’m hoping that the first thing to leave me is the name Delilah Grimes.
Perhaps I should run a competition to rename me at The Rubicon, as Blade calls home.
The point of no return. How do I know the meaning of the words?
We stop once more for the restroom, and as I stare at my reflection in the dirty mirror, a stranger looks back at me. I’m empty inside my head with only my recent memories to dwell upon. There is only one man in my head right now, and he is waiting patiently for me outside.
Then there’s Gideon Fox. The man of my nightmares. How come I married him? Were we happy once upon a time, and if so, what happened to change it?
Is he looking for me, searching the world to bring me back to him? I already know that answer because I was a slave to one of his workers. Did he send me to Angela? If so, why?
Blade is leaning on the wall, waiting, and as I leave the restroom, he nods. “All done.”
“Yes.”
I force a bright smile onto my face, and he studies me carefully. “What?”
“It’s nothing.”
He raises his eyes.
“Okay, I was just wondering that if Angela worked for Gideon, he must have known where I was. If he did and left me, it must have been because he put me there.”
“That’s a valid point.”
Blade rubs his chin in deep thought.
“We should have some answers by the time we reach the compound. Ryder will welcome you personally and fill in any gaps.”
“Ryder will?”
I’m kind of scared of this man already, despite the fact I met him back at the hospital and he seemed kind of nice.
“Don’t be afraid of anyone at the Rubicon, darlin’. You have nothing to fear from them.”
We head to the bike, and as he steadies it and I climb on, I reach for my helmet and take a deep breath because our next stop may well be where I face my demons, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
* * *
It’s almost dark by the time we pull off the road onto a trail.
It’s as if nothing could be at the end of this.
Civilization ceases to exist as we pass woodlands and scrubland.
Then we head through a clearing, which opens up to a steel-clad building.
A huge parking lot is in front and my heart stills.
Motorcycles are everywhere. Probably close on fifty of the things, and as we come to a stop, the floodlights illuminate our arrival. However, we are the only signs of life in the lot, which is intimidating as hell.
Blade cuts the engine and half-turns, removing his helmet and holding out his giant hand for mine.
As I pull it off, I blink against the light, and his husky whisper reassures as it was probably meant to.
“Welcome home, darlin’. Keep an open mind and fear nothing inside.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
I swallow my fear and turn my attention to the huge steel doors where a sign hangs overhead.
Abandon hope, all who enter here.
A shiver passes through me as I realize I’m going nowhere but straight through those doors into God knows what kind of hell.
Blade walks beside me, and I physically ache to hold his hand. To hide behind him so nobody can see me. To be invisible, if you like.
We reach the huge door, and he enters a code into the entry system, causing it to open into a dark passage.
As the door swings shut behind me, the gentle click of the lock causes my heart to race. I have passed the point of no return, and nobody is more aware of that than me.
We are silent as we make our way down the corridor, several doors set off at angles. Blade passes a set of double doors and says in a low voice, “It may be best not to go in there without me, or one of the women.”
“Why?”
I’m nervous, and he shrugs. “It’s the bar. The men relax there at the end of a hard day, and you may be shocked at what their idea of relaxing is.”
“I see.”
My heart is racing as I imagine Blade in that room, a woman on his lap and a beer in his hand while he trades insults with his brothers, as he calls them.
Perhaps I should stay in my room. It would probably be for the best, and as we pass the door, I strain for any sounds emanating from inside.
It’s as quiet as a graveyard, and yet the number of bikes outside tells me we are definitely not alone.
Blade stops at a door at the end of the corridor and fixes me with a reassuring smile before knocking loudly.
“The door is open.”
A deep voice replies, and as he pushes the door, I note an office where the man from the hospital is sitting behind a desk. He is not alone.
There is a fearsome man sitting across from him, holding a bottle of beer that he deposits on the desk in front of him.
As he uncurls his body from the chair, I swallow hard because this man is seriously dangerous.
His head is shaven, and he has a tattoo of a cobra down one arm, ending up at his neck.
His eyes are twinkling, which puts me at ease, but I’m still terrified of these men.
Ryder King stands, and I almost pass out because three men such as these all together in one office doesn’t leave much room for anyone else. It’s stifling and I struggle to breathe. Ryder smiles, a soft one designed to reassure, and it’s almost successful—almost.
“Take a seat, darlin’ and welcome to The Rubicon.”
I smile politely at them and perch on the edge of the seat beside the man with the snake arm. Blade moves to a low-slung couch behind me, and I wish I could join him on that. Ryder King drops back behind his desk and states, “You must be thirsty. We have beer, or I could call for something else.”
“I’m, um, beer will be lovely, thank you.”
I sense their amusement, and quite frankly, I don’t blame them because it sounds as if I’m asking for tea from the queen. It confuses me a little because I am craving a nice cup of English breakfast tea, and I wonder about that. It’s as if it’s my automatic choice, but why?
As the beer heads my way across the desk, a memory returns of sitting across a desk in a much grander office than this. The man opposite me is not Gideon, not Ryder King; it’s somebody else entirely. My father.