Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Trudy
“You’re being ridiculous, Nana,” Pati said from the passenger seat, adjusting the cake box on her lap for the third time. “Grace invited you. She wants you there.”
The drive to the clubhouse wasn’t long enough for me to work through all the crap in my head about seeing Grace. I hadn’t seen her since the kidnapping. She never left the clubhouse, and I’d been too afraid to walk through the doors.
Too afraid to face what I’d let happen.
The sound of the glass breaking, the sound of Grace’s scream, the men storming into the shop and dragging them both out. Johnny and Indigo lying on the floor, blood seeping from their bodies.
And me. Hiding behind the counter like a coward.
“Grace is being polite,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “She doesn’t need me at her baby shower.”
“She specifically asked for you when she called to order the cake.”
“Because she’s a sweet girl who doesn’t know how to be mean.”
Pati sighed. “And yet you think she’ll be mean to you if she sees you? Maybe it’s time to let it go.”
Let it go.
As if I could just forget the nightmares.
The ones where I relived it over and over.
Grace being dragged out the door, screaming and fighting, begging for help.
And me, frozen. Useless. A sixty-eight-year-old woman who couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
Watching as he hit her, the way her body dropped to the floor.
“Nana, seriously,” Tyler piped up from the backseat. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep stressing.”
“Mind your business, young man.”
“Just saying.” He went back to his phone, and I caught Pati’s knowing look in my peripheral vision.
She didn’t understand. None of them did.
Grace had been taken from the bakery. Ripped away while I cowered behind a counter. And now I was supposed to show up at her baby shower with a smile and a cake like nothing had happened?
Like I hadn’t failed her in the worst possible way?
The clubhouse came into view, a sprawling brick building with motorcycles lined up out front like soldiers at attention. My stomach twisted into knots so tight I thought I might be sick.
“This is a mistake,” I said.
“Too late now.” Pati was already opening her door. “Come on. Help me with this cake before I drop it.”
I killed the engine and climbed out, my knees protesting the movement. Getting old was a bitch. Tyler bounded out of the backseat, eyes wide as he took in the motorcycles. “Whoa. These are sick.”
“Don’t touch anything,” I warned.
“I’m not five, Nana.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Pati carefully lifted the cake box, and I grabbed the bags of cookies and pastries from the trunk. My contribution. My apology in sugar and butter.
As if baked goods could make up for what happened. As if chocolate chip cookies could erase the memory of her terror.
The front door swung open before we reached it, and King stood there with a smile on his face.
“It’s good to see you, Trudy,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
“Hello, King,” I managed, though my throat felt tight.
His eyes softened. “Grace is real happy you came. She’s been talking about it all week.”
Guilt. More guilt. Piling on top of the guilt I already carry like a second skin.
“Where should we put this?” Pati asked, nodding at the cake.
“Kitchen’s through here. Follow me.”
We stepped inside, and I was immediately struck by how...
normal it looked. In the almost seven years since the club had moved to Diamond Creek, I had never been to the clubhouse.
I’d expected something dark and dangerous; all leather and chrome and cigarette smoke.
Instead, it was clean and well-lit, with comfortable furniture and pictures on the walls.
“Trudy!”
I turned, and there he was.
Stephen.
He was standing near the bar, helping Jack string up decorations, and the grin that spread across his face when he saw me made my traitorous heart skip.
No. Absolutely not.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, crossing the room in long strides.
“I’m here for Grace,” I said firmly. “Not you.”
“Sure you are, darlin’.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he stopped directly in front of me, too close, invading my space like he had every right to be there. “You look beautiful.”
I’d worn a simple blue dress, nothing fancy, but the way he looked at me made me feel like I’d shown up in diamonds and silk.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“Start what?” His hand came up, fingers brushing against my arm in a touch that was far too casual, far too deliberate. My skin burned where he touched me.
“You know what.”
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woodsy and masculine that made my knees weak. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Can’t help it if I’m happy to see you.”
“Stephen—”
“Wanna feel just how happy?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows.
My gasp was louder than I intended, and I could feel the heat flooding my cheeks. “You?—”
“Nana, where do you want these?” Tyler appeared at my elbow, holding the bags of pastries, and I seized the distraction like a lifeline.
“Kitchen. With your mom.”
Tyler looked between me and Stephen, his expression far too knowing for an eleven-year-old. “Right. Kitchen. Got it.”
He disappeared, and I was left alone with Stephen and his insufferable grin.
“You’re making this hard,” I said, then closed my eyes when I realized what I’d said.
Stephen leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re making me hard.”
“Stephen—” My voice came out strangled.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” His hand settled on the small of my back, possessive and warm. “You look a little flustered.”
“I’m not—” I tried to step back, but his hand held me in place. Not forcefully. Just... there. A reminder that he could touch me whenever he wanted. That I’d let him.
“You sure about that?” His thumb traced a slow circle against my spine, and I felt the touch all the way down to my toes. “Because your pulse is racing. I can see it right here.” His other hand came up, fingers brushing against the side of my neck where my pulse hammered.
I swatted his hand away. “Stop that.”
“Stop what? Telling the truth?” His grin widened. “You want me to lie to you, Trudy? Pretend I don’t notice the way you look at me? The way you react when I touch you?”
“I don’t?—”
“You do.” His voice dropped lower, intimate. “And I fucking love it.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re gorgeous when you’re mad.” His hand was still on my back, fingers splayed wide. “Especially in this dress. Blue’s your color.”
“It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not just anything when you’re wearing it.” His eyes traveled down my body and back up, slow and deliberate, and I struggled not to react. Struggled to keep the tremor inside. “Makes me want to?—”
“Trudy!”
I turned so fast I nearly stumbled, and Stephen’s hand tightened on my back, steadying me.
Grace.
She was standing in the doorway, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly, her face lit up with a smile that made my chest ache.
Eight months. It had been eight months since I’d seen her. Since those men had taken her.
Since I failed her.
All the air left my lungs.
She looked so happy. So alive. So here.
And all I could see was the terror in her eyes as they dragged her out the door.
“Grace,” I managed, my voice cracking. “You look... you look wonderful.”
And she did. Glowing. Happy. Alive.
No thanks to me.
She crossed the room and pulled me into a hug before I could protest, her belly pressing against mine. Stephen’s hand fell away from my back, and I felt the loss of his warmth immediately.
“I’m so glad you came,” Grace said, squeezing me tight. “I’m so sorry I haven’t come to see you.”
“I—” The words stuck in my throat. “Grace, no. I’m sorry?—”
“Stop.” She pulled back, her hands on my shoulders, her eyes fierce. “Trudy, no. Don’t do that.”
“But—”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? It wasn’t your fault.”
“They took you from the bakery—” My voice broke. “I was right there. I should have?—”
“Should have what?” Grace’s grip tightened. “Gotten yourself killed? Is that what you think you should have done?”
“I should have done something?—”
“You did. You survived. You kept yourself safe. That’s what mattered.” Grace’s eyes were wet now, and she blinked rapidly. “Trudy, I don’t blame you. I never blamed you. Not for one second.”
The guilt was a living thing inside me, clawing at my ribs, suffocating me. “I hid behind the counter like a coward?—”
“You were smart,” Grace interrupted. “You stayed alive. Do you know what would have happened if you’d tried to stop them? They would have hurt you. Maybe killed you. And I would’ve had to live with that for the rest of my life.”
“Grace—”
“No. Listen to me.” Her hands moved to cup my face, forcing me to look at her.
“What happened to me wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with you.
They would have taken me from anywhere—the grocery store, the street, my own damn house.
It didn’t matter where I was. They were coming for me no matter what. ”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “I keep seeing it. Over and over. The way you looked at me?—”
“I looked at you because I was scared. Because I was afraid for you,” Grace said softly. “Not because I blamed you. Never because I blamed you.” She pulled me into another hug, and this time I let myself hold on. “Please. I need you to believe that. I need you to let this go.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to.
But the guilt was so heavy. So crushing.
“Okay,” I whispered against her shoulder, though I wasn’t sure I meant it. “Okay.”
Grace pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “Good. Because I’ve missed you. And I need you here. Today. For this.”
Behind her, I saw Stephen watching us, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something soft and understanding that made my chest tighten.
“Now come on,” Grace said, linking her arm through mine. As she led me deeper into the clubhouse, I felt Stephen’s gaze follow me. Felt the weight of his attention like a physical touch.
And despite everything, the guilt, the fear, the overwhelming emotion of seeing Grace again, I felt something else too.
Something dangerous.
Something I wasn’t ready to name.
Maggie Winslow arrived with her ten-year-old brother in tow. Maggie lived in Sydney with her two younger sisters and her younger brother.
Tank sauntered over. “Hey, kid. You ready?”
Nox’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”
“What are you doing?” Maggie asked, crossing her arms. “I don’t want you corrupting him.”
“Too late,” Rhoda murmured beside Maggie.
“We’ve got shit to do,” Tank answered. Tank looked at Tyler, who was hovering nearby. “You coming too?”
Tyler nodded eagerly.
“Let’s go.”
“Tank, I swear to God?—”
“Relax, Maggie. I’ll keep ’em alive.” He winked at her, then herded the boys toward the back of the clubhouse.
Maggie shook her head. “He’s a terrible influence.”
“Tank?” I asked, thinking about the stories I’d heard of him watching cartoons with the little girls.
“Nox comes back from the clubhouse a completely different person,” Maggie answered as she watched the big man disappear down the hall. There was something in the way her eyes followed him. Something I understood all too well.