CHAPTER 6
ADDYSON
I can’t say I’ve thought much about how the lamb felt being led to slaughter before, but it’s all I can think about right now.
Oh, I don’t believe for a moment Mayhem gave up that easily when I told him I didn’t want to take his room.
His little hum was his attempt at a bandage on the conversation, but a plain one.
If he wanted to distract me, he should have gone for one with some color, at least, but sparkles would be better.
Fuck. Now I’m babbling in my head. I suppose it’s better than babbling out loud. That would have been embarrassing.
It’s not my fault. Being alone with him has my entire body buzzing and it’s difficult to focus on anything other than the heat of him, the sureness of his hand in mine, and the confidence in every step he takes.
This is a man accustomed to power and he wears it well.
Why wouldn’t he? He’s earned his place and the respect of those around him.
You don’t have to be a genius to see it.
Should I be more concerned that I’ve taken his hand and followed him blindly? It doesn’t feel like he’s leading me deeper into the lion’s den, but what the fuck do I really know? The last place I expected to be was in a biker clubhouse.
I never imagined Tallulah would get with a biker either, but at least she has a connection with her brother, Apostle, being an enforcer for the New Orleans chapter.
Until Tallulah had to make the hard decision to shut down her parents’ record shop, the one she had taken over after their deaths, he hadn’t been back to Magnolia Point in years.
I’m glad my best friend has gotten to mend the relationship with her brother. They’re neighbors and their lives are entwined now.
She had to leave Magnolia Point to find the life she was always meant to live. My chest aches because I want to snuggle my niece. Honestly, I want what Tallulah has for myself.
For some strange reason my gaze flits toward Mayhem as he comes to a stop in front of a door. He’s too damn handsome and the strength he exudes is tantalizing.
Then there’s the way he rumbles my name. And his nickname for me?
Stop it. My panties are fucking ruined.
“Oh,” I blurt as Mayhem swings open the door, “I have an overnight bag in my car.” His crystal blue eyes take me in, and I can see the questions there.
I don’t need him to give them voice; which is a little strange.
“I didn’t know how long the interview process would take, and some of the roads getting back home are two lanes.
I prefer not to drive them at night,” I explain and try not to sound too defensive.
“That’s smart, Addy,” he purrs his praise.
When I shudder, he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Then he’s tugging me through the door before holding out a hand to me. “I’ll get someone to grab it from your car. I’d like it checked over for trackers as well.”
“He didn’t know I was in there,” I point out.
Mayhem doesn’t budge, his hand hanging between us like he has all the time in the world to wait me out. With a huff, I pull my fob out of my jean pocket and plop it down in his hand.
“I hope this doesn’t turn out like my phone did,” I mumble more to myself than him even though he chuckles softly while pulling his phone out and shooting off a text.
That’s when I turn and take in the room. The room which is definitely not a guest room. How do I know? Call it a woman’s intuition if you must; I don’t really give a fuck. I know I’m right. This is Mayhem’s room.
It smells like him—amber and motor oil with a hint of something that’s a little extra and all Mayhem. I turn toward him quickly, but he’s opening his door and handing my key fob out of the crack. He says something, but I can’t hear it.
I don’t really care.
When he turns toward me, he leans back against the door and crosses his arms. He studies me, but it feels curious instead of creepy. Something starts to crumble inside of me.
But I can’t let it. I can’t.
“Is this your room?” My question is pure challenge and he knows it. But all he does is arch an eyebrow. It’s infuriating. “I told you that I’m not going to put you out of your room, Mayhem.”
He tilts his head slightly, his mouth curling into a grin that’s all sin and destruction. It’s fitting. And sexy as fuck.
“Who said you’re putting me out?” My eyes widen and my lips part as my brain scrambles to find something, anything, to say. I don’t get the chance before he’s clarifying, “I’ll be right next to you in bed, my Tempest. I’ll hold you close and keep you safe.”
It’s too much.
Too much care.
Too much concern.
For the first time in two days, I feel safe. I don’t feel like I have to keep moving or I’ll be found. And I’m so tired.
The adrenaline I’ve been running on since I heard the voice of Kendra’s murderer only feet away from me is gone now. The fact that I made it here is a marvel of primal instincts.
My chest starts to heave, and I realize the panting breaths filling my ears are coming from me. Mayhem takes a step closer to him, his hands in front of him as if he’s approaching a wild animal. I feel like I am.
“Tempest,” the way he rumbles the nickname he’s been calling me since we met has me shuddering while tears well up in my eyes.
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t let them fall. Not yet.
“Yes, you can.”
My eyes snap open not only because Mayhem must be a mind reader, but because he’s so much closer. His hands hover over my shoulders like he’s prepared to use will alone to hold me together. I can only hope it’s enough.
“Why do you call me that?” I force the question past my lips; one I’ve been curious about since the first time. Now is my chance to voice it and I’m not going to miss it.
One side of his mouth kicks up in a way that feels like midnight under a cloudless sky filled with stars. “You blew in here without warning, Addyson, and changed everything,” his voice is an octave lower as his hands land on my shoulders.
Grounding.
Sheltering.
Keeping.
“Tell me all the things you didn’t say,” there’s a plea in his voice that almost makes me believe he wants to share the burden.
Even if he doesn’t really know what he’s asking for, it’s just enough safety to be real. The first tear falls, and then they’re unstoppable.
I stare up into his blue eyes and the fear pierces through everything I’ve used to hold myself together. “I listened to her die. Kendra took her last breaths, and the only people to witness it was her killer and me. A stranger.”
“But you were there,” he says the words like they’re an assurance. “Sometimes the only thing you can do is bear witness.”
I nod slowly and swallow. “I know I was too far away to do anything. It was over so fast. She was alive and calling about a lost package. Then she was fighting for her life.”
My hands reach toward him, my fingers barely touching the soft fabric of the t-shirt he’s wearing, the one that is stretched deliciously across his shoulders.
“I never knew what fighting sounded like,” the words tumble from me, a confession of shame and guilt dripping from my lips.
“But I heard it and it was like I was with her and fighting with her. That feeling of helplessness?”
When our eyes lock, can he see the pleading in my eyes? I want this to stop. I want it to be over.
“You’re safe, Tempest,” I feel the words more than hear them even though I watch his lips form every syllable.
I fall apart.
As my body is wracked with sobs, he’s there. His strong arms wrap around me, and he cocoons me in his warmth and his strength. As I cry, words slipping from my lips that I’m not even aware of, he does something I didn’t think was possible—he holds me together.
“I was so scared tonight,” I gasp out the words.
His arms tighten around me as if his hold will be enough to keep away the demons. They’ll still come for me; I don’t believe I’ll ever escape them at this point.
“I heard his voice and,” my breath hitches, “I knew. It was him.”
“What did he say?” Mayhem’s words rumble through his chest.
“He walked up and started talking to the cop behind the desk like he wasn’t a murderer,” anger seeps into my voice. “Can you believe it?” I’m seething now. “The audacity to pretend and play the widow because they were still married. She wanted a divorce though. She told me.”
I have a feeling that’s not what Mayhem meant. He meant that day. The day he killed Kendra.
Those words are the last thing I want to think about. But they’re there. Right there. They always are.
This is what you deserve, bitch.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, wrenching it in my hold. If I hold on tighter, can I keep the shadows from clawing at me? I doubt it, but I can take a ragged breath. It’s better than nothing.
“I don’t,” I gasp and shake my head, wanting his words to stop haunting me.
Watching you die gives me pleasure.
“Give it to me,” he growls, the demand in his tone clear.
“I don’t want to say it,” I whisper the truth of my fear. “I don’t want to hear them again, even from my lips. It was too much. Too cruel and heartless. Now to find out it was the man she married? They shared vows and he killed her.”
“You have to say it,” Mayhem demands.
“No, Mayhem,” I breathe out.
His fingers tighten before one of his hands releases me, his hold just as steady. When he wraps his fingers around my neck and tilts my head up, I’m not scared. Our eyes connect and a future I never even thought to dream of is laid out before me.
Just moments of possibility. Of laughter and love. Of family and friends. Of children and chaos. I want it all.
“Addy, to you I’m Briggs.”
His words land like a bomb between us. I search his eyes looking for the truth. I’m very much aware what it means for a biker to make such a demand. It’s serious. It’s real. It’s meaningful.
I have no idea what to say.
He cups my face with his large hands, his thumbs sweeping across my cheeks. His touch feels like reverence, and I desperately want to melt into him.
Would he hold me up? He’s done a damn good job while I’ve been falling apart. Maybe he can carry what haunts me as well.
“When she asked why?” He nods and my voice shakes as I repeat his words, “This is what you deserve, bitch.” Mayhem’s jaw tenses, but his touch remains gentle where he’s holding my face in his hands.
Why do I trust this man? “When she pleaded for her life?” He nods again and my voice breaks on his words, “Watching you die gives me pleasure.”
“Tempest,” his voice is thick and I can see that he’s struggling, “you’re so fucking strong.”
“No,” I try to shake my head, but it’s not really possible with the way he’s touching me, “I’m not strong. I should have done more. Duckie was right. I should have followed up. I should have pushed.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything other than Wagner getting your name sooner and coming after you without you identifying him first,” he insists. “Now you’re here. Not only are we going to make sure Wagner pays for what he did, but you’re going to be safe.”
I’m not sure I completely agree, but I’m not really in the mood to argue about it either. Maybe later. Or never. You know, whatever.
“I keep hearing his voice,” I admit. “I can’t sleep.”
“In my arms, nightmares won’t be able to touch you.”
His words are ridiculous and completely illogical. But I believe him.
At least I want to. Desperately.
“But what about during the day? What do I do when my nightmares find me when I’m not sleeping?”
I hate how weak I feel. Tears well up in my eyes again and I can’t stop them from falling.
“How do I stop the memories?” The question comes out high and tight. “It’s not just his cruel words I can’t forget. It’s the way she fought and her last breaths. I hear them,” I whisper the words.
His eyes race between mine. I don’t know what he sees there. But I’m afraid if he sees me, really sees me, he won’t keep looking at me like I’m everything he was afraid to want.