Chapter Four #3
The confession hung heavily between. He’d admitted to murder, calmly and without remorse.
I should have been afraid. Should have been looking for the quickest way off this porch, away from this man who had killed and had no remorse.
Instead, I understood. Not in the abstract way of someone sympathizing with tragedy, but in the bone-deep recognition of what it meant to protect those you loved.
“I ran away from home when I was sixteen,” I said, the words emerging from some place I usually kept locked down tight, but I thought I owed it to Marcus to give him a piece of myself.
Same as he’d just done to me. “My parents had me late in life. I was supposed to be the miracle for their son, Jace.”
“Why you?” Marcus’s question caught me off guard. In fact, this might be the most he’d ever spoken to me in one sitting.
“He needed a bone marrow transplant and no one else in the family was a match. Jace was on the national registry as needing a BMT, or whatever, but he had some rare antibodies in his blood that made it difficult to match him with a suitable donor. The only realistic chance he had was with a close relative and there simply were none.”
“So they decided to have a baby? Take a chance that child would have whatever your brother needed to survive?”
“Pretty much, I guess. Looking back, I’m not sure they really thought the whole process through.”
“Not sure why any doctor would allow something like that to take place. Seems unethical.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Marcus, I think you know I like you a lot.”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “I hope you do.”
“I do. So please understand I mean no disrespect when I comment on the irony of the guy who killed someone talking about medical ethics.”
Surprisingly, he barked out a startled laugh. “Yeah. I can see the irony.”
“And you’d be right about the whole medical-legal-ethics-whatever shit.
Obviously, I don’t actually remember the whole thing, but my parents weren’t exactly quiet about their displeasure with me.
I’ve never actually sat down and questioned them, but I’ve overheard tearful conversations with Jace and my father when Jace was twenty-three and I was nine.
I overheard Mom crying and stood outside their bedroom door.
“I don’t remember the details, but I remember vividly when they’d lamented how I hadn’t been able to help him, even though it was the sole reason they’d had me.”
“Christ,” he bit out. “That’s a hell of a thing for a kid to hear.”
“She was yelling at my father, and someone was throwing things. She said I was useless because I couldn’t save her baby. And lots of other things, but I kind of got sick to my stomach and ran to my room. After that, I stayed out of her way.”
“What about your father?”
I shrugged. “He was a busy man. He had to keep my mother in designer clothing and expensive sports cars after all.”
“And your brother?” He asked his brief questions with a measured tone, but I could tell by the way he held himself absolutely still he hung on every word I said and that he didn’t like what he heard.
“He passed away a few days later. I know she was upset and I tried my best to be where she wanted me to be, but in the background. Seen but not heard. She took every opportunity to tell her friends how disappointed she’d been when I hadn’t been able to save my brother.
It was a miserable few days for me, but I endured because it wasn’t about me.
It was about Jace. After that, they sent me to boarding school in London and I saw them maybe three or four times afterward before I took off at sixteen.
” I shrugged. “So, I left home and never looked back. Nobody looked for me,” I continued, my voice steadier than I expected.
“With the money my father had, if they’d wanted to find me they could have.
They were probably glad I disappeared. One less thing to get in the way of their lives. ”
He studied me a moment. “You were sixteen when you left?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you were nine when they sent you off to school?” I nodded again, confused. “And you saw them four times in those seven years?”
“I’d love to say I was exaggerating, but if anything, I’m overestimating the number of times I saw them.
My parents abandoned me. Sure, I had money and food and a roof over my head, but I was told not to come home because international airfare, round trip, wasn’t in the budget.
They were already spending a fortune on my education. ”
“How’d you get back to the States?”
“I saved most of the money they put in my account each month to buy a ticket. Figured Nashville was about as far from New York as I could get. Maybe not geographically, but socially it’s a world of difference.”
“How old are you, Cora?” He stroked the back of my hand with a thumb, staring at me intently.
“Twenty-two.”
“And you’ve been on your own all this time?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I have no doubt you can, honey. I just don’t like the idea of you being on your own.
Are you safe?” The longer we sat here, the more chatty he was getting.
It was kind of cute because this guy acted nothing like the hardened biker I’d pegged him for.
He was a marshmallow if I ever saw one. ‘Course, men who were true marshmallows were the ones who were super protective of those they let close. “Just don’t like not knowin’ you’re safe at night. ”
I smiled, unable to help myself. “You know, Marcus, I think you’re the first person in my life who at least said they gave a damn about me.”
“I do give a damn about you,” he grumbled. “But I also know I’m overbearing sometimes.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “Because you seem pretty quiet to me.”
He stayed silent for a while. I thought I might have pissed him off or insulted him or something, but he never let go of my hand. In fact, he kept up that slow lazy slide of his thumb over the back of my hand. “Did you graduate high school before you took off?”
I shook my head. “No. Spent three years on the streets before I got my GED. That’s all I needed to get a job. Which I did. And here I am.” I smiled up at him before gesturing to the garden below us. “Never had anything worth protecting like that.”
Again, he said nothing for several moments, processing what I’d shared.
My story represented the first personal detail I’d revealed to anyone at the compound other than in vague generalizations.
Sure, the women were all super-friendly and sweet, but I didn’t live here.
I might not know much about motorcycle clubs in general, or this club in particular, but I knew a tight-knit family when I saw one.
Mainly because I’d spent my whole life wanting that very thing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle in a way I hadn’t heard before. “Somebody should have protected you.”
Five simple words, but they cut through years of carefully constructed defenses. I blinked rapidly, fighting the sting behind my eyes. The rain had tapered to a light drizzle, sunlight breaking through in wider shafts now, creating rainbows in the mist above the garden.
“I protected myself,” I said, hearing the stubborn pride in my voice. “Still do.”
Rancor nodded, understanding in his dark eyes. “Doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”
He stood and paced away slightly, resting his shoulder on one of the wooden posts holding up the porch.
I was still in his line of sight. The weight of his gaze drew me in, and I found myself moving before I’d made a conscious decision.
I stood from my chair and stepped toward him, closing the distance between us.
He remained where he was, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t fully read. He seemed skeptical, but like he desperately wanted what I dangled in front of him. I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. His skin radiated heat even through the fabric.
“Thank you,” I whispered, “for showing me the garden. For telling me about Sarah.”
His hands came up to rest on my hips, steadying me as I leaned into him, stood on my tiptoes, and pulled him gently to meet my lips with his.
This kiss felt different, almost languid but no less intense.
It didn’t take me long to moan when he swept his tongue over the seam of my lips, asking entrance.
I tasted rain on his lips, felt the scratch of his beard against my chin.
My fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders, drawing myself closer.
When we broke apart, his eyes remained closed for a heartbeat longer, as if savoring the moment. The storm had passed completely now, leaving behind that peculiar clarity that comes after heavy rain.
“I should go,” I said reluctantly. The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but it was best if I put some physical distance between us for a bit. I needed to make sure I thought about this whole situation clearly before I did anything to get myself hurt. Physically or emotionally.
He nodded, looking almost as reluctant as I felt to end the short interlude we’d shared. “I’ll walk you out.”
We moved through his apartment in comfortable silence. At the door, he paused, seeming indecisive. Then his expression relaxed and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Wait here. One minute.”
I watched as he disappeared back onto the porch, returning moments later with something in his hands. A small terracotta pot containing a leafy green plant with delicate purple flowers sat so small against his large hands.
“Sage,” he said, offering it to me. “Sarah’s favorite. Heals the soul, she said.”
I took the pot with careful hands, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The gesture felt impossibly intimate, him sharing not just a plant, but a piece of her. Of him.
“I’ve never kept anything alive before,” I admitted, studying the small leaves.
“Water twice a week.” His voice was soft. “Morning sun. It’ll do the rest.”
He walked me back through the kitchen to my truck. “Thanks for the shelter,” I said, standing beside my vehicle, the potted sage held carefully against my chest. “And the company.”
Rancor’s hand came up, hesitated, then gently tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear. The touch sent electricity through me, different from the storm’s energy but no less powerful.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded. He got this stubborn look about him when he thought he wasn’t going to get something he wanted very much.
I had to bite back a smile as I handed it to him.
He punched in some numbers and there was a buzzing sound from his pants.
Yeah. Wasn’t touching that one. “Sent my phone a text so you have my number.” He held my gaze.
“Come back,” he said. Not a question. Not quite an order. Something in-between.
“I will.” I smiled up at him, meaning it more than I’d meant anything in a long time. “I don’t have anything scheduled, but I would love to spend some time with you.”
“Yes.” His simple reply made me smile.
I climbed into my vehicle, setting the sage on the passenger seat with care.
I started the engine and put the vehicle in gear.
As I pulled away, I caught sight of him in the rearview mirror.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for the path I was going down but found myself wanting to skip along it all the same.
And for the first time in my life, the road ahead felt like it might lead somewhere other than away.