Chapter 17
Sadie
I rest my head on Shadow’s strong chest, listening to his heart beat slowly.
Sex with Shadow was totally different from Trigger, but still incredible, and exactly what I needed.
I try to push away the guilt that is slowly seeping in.
I don’t owe Trigger anything. Just because he’s acting as if he owns me after one night doesn’t mean it’s true.
Yes, I like him, yes, I want to explore things with him, but I’m also scared of the intensity of his feelings.
I’m scared of mine, too. And, although Trigger might have been the first to come round here, the first I had sex with, it doesn’t change the fact that it was all four of them I was talking to, that I was having feelings for.
What a mess.
I look up at Shadow. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I need something to stop my mind from spiraling into shame. Talking to Shadow grounds me somehow.
“Of course,” he murmurs back, lazily running a finger down my spine that makes my toes curl and my pussy twinge, still hungry for his touch.
“What’s your real name?” I blush a little as I realize I should have asked him before having sex with him. “I should probably know that, right? After… you know.”
He chuckles softly. “Wyatt Granger.”
I wrinkle my nose as I look at him. “Wyatt. It suits you.” I decide.
He shrugs. “Doesn’t really feel like it belongs to me anymore. Been a long time since I’ve been anything other than Shadow. I think the guys feel the same about their names, too.”
“Which are?” I probe. “I know Trigger is Kane, which by the way, you’ll have to tell me how he got that nickname.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You can probably figure that one out for yourself.”
“As in pulling the trigger of a gun?”
“Yep, most of the time he’s the gun,” he chuckles. “Trigger’s got a short fuse.”
“I noticed,” I say dryly. “And the other two?”
“Chief is pretty self-explanatory; he’s the vice president and our unofficial leader. He also has some Native American heritage and just kinda gives off Chief vibes.”
I nod in agreement. “That’s true.”
“His real name is Rhett Callahan.”
“Yeah, Chief weirdly suits him more,” I say, wrinkling my nose and smiling.
“Dash’s real name is Nash Walker, not the biggest leap to that nickname.”
I snort. “Lemme guess, he chose it because it’s short for dashing?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, yes, but it became more of a running joke between us that it’s because he’s always dining and dashing out on the ladies.”
That prompts me to sputter in surprise, and I lightly smack his arm. “That. Is. Terrible!”
He chuckles softly, pulling me closer and nuzzling me a little in an uncharacteristically playful gesture.
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while.
Shadow closes his eyes, utterly relaxed, and I watch his handsome face for a moment, tracing the lines with my eyes.
I look at the jagged scar running along his face and wonder how he got it.
He’s so still, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath, that I think he must have fallen asleep.
So I almost jump out of my skin when he asks, eyes still closed, “What are you looking at?” The corner of his mouth quirks upward in amusement at my sharp intake of breath. He opens one eye to look at me.
“I was just looking at you… I thought you were asleep.”
“You were wondering about my scar,” he astutely guesses.
“No—”
He firmly shakes his head once. “Don’t lie. It’s normal to be curious. You can ask about it. You want to know how I got it, right?”
“I was wondering… Did it happen while you were in the Army?”
He grimaces. “If only. I wouldn’t be so ashamed of it if that was the case.” He shakes his head. “No, unfortunately, my scar came from the way you’d expect in a biker.”
“A crash?”
He studies me blankly for a second before exhaling in part-laugh, part-disbelief. “You’re less judgmental than most if that’s your first guess. No, it was in a bar fight.”
“Is this the part where you say I should see the other guy?” I say, trying to lighten the mood to show I don’t care if he’s been in a few fights.
He looks at me, somber. “Yeah. Sadie…” he sighs, looking away before forcing himself to meet my eye again. “I killed him.”
I flinch, freezing, an unconscious fight-or-flight response to hearing the words, and he notices, quickly explaining.
“It was while I was overseas on deployment. My platoon was all getting pretty drunk, having fun, and there were some local guys there, too. It was all fun until one of the guys told us he knew of a better party close by. Stupidly, we followed him.” He sighs heavily.
“When we got there, it wasn’t a party at all.
The guy and his buddies had kidnapped some local women, wives of the Taliban, or so they said.
” He meets my horrified gaze. “I’m sure you don’t need me to go into details about the shit these men were doing with these women.
The things he claimed other guys in my platoon had joined in for fun, as if these women meant nothing.
” A muscle in his jaw jumps as he fights to control his emotions, and he closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
I place my hand on his arm, and the gesture seems to calm him a little.
He opens his eyes again and looks at me.
“Me and my buddy got into a fight trying to rescue the women. The guy pulled a knife. He got me in the face, my buddy in the heart. I beat the life out of him, and when it was done, I untied the women.” He shakes his head, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear.
“They were so scared, scared of me even then, they didn’t understand I was trying to help.
They ran from me. But at least they were free, safe… though for how long, I can’t say.”
“What happened to them?”
“I don’t know about the women; I never found them again.
Though they wouldn’t have dared tell anyone what happened, they’d be killed for it by their own husbands if they knew.
Maybe that’s what happened. I like to think they got away somehow and built a new life somewhere else, away from that hellhole.
“And what about you and your friend?”
Shadow’s eyes glisten with unshed sorrows.
“He died. I was in the hospital for a while, my injuries got infected, and I was medevaced out of the combat zone. After I recovered, I requested discharge, and it was granted. My kid was dead, my wife had left me, I had no job, and my face was messed up. You can say it was a pretty dark time for me. I was drinking to forget, getting black out drunk when I met Trigger. He was beating the shit out of some guy for spiking a woman’s drink at the bar, and I stopped him before it went too far.
I guess you could say we bonded after that over our scars. ”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of your scar. It’s a sign of the kind of hero you are. A man who will put his life in danger to help a woman you don’t even know, a supposed enemy.”
He smiles softly. “Doesn’t make me any less gruesome to look at.”
“I think it’s hot, scars are sexy,” I say with a smile, kissing it softly.
“Well, that explains what you see in Trigger and me then.”
I frown slightly, confused.
“You didn’t notice that all of his tattoos cover scars?”
I think of the sheer number of tattoos—and therefore scars—that Trigger has and put my hand to my mouth. “How is that possible? From fighting?”
I feel ashamed that my first assumption is that the scars are from fighting when Shadow replies: “Some. Some are from being a dumb, reckless idiot, but most are from when he was a kid.” His eyes darken, brow twitching with displeasure.
“What do you mean?”
“Some people shouldn’t have kids,” he says softly.
I gasp. “His parents?” I ask in disbelief, wondering how anyone could hurt their child, how someone could leave scars all over their baby’s body.
He nods. “Trigger will tell you the rest if you ask, when he’s ready. But just…” he searches for the words. “Go easy on him.”
I nod, understanding it’s not his place to tell me. “Of course,” I murmur.
“He was starved of love for most of his life. The first time he thought he found that, he didn’t know how to handle it.
He loved his ex so much. Maybe too much.
He loved her more than he loved himself.
It became dangerous for him. The heartbreak when she left almost killed him,” Shadow explains gently.
My heart breaks a little for Trigger then. “Trust me, I don’t want to hurt him. To hurt anyone. That’s the last thing I want.”
“I know.” He kisses me softly, and I lean into his touch. It’s been so long since I’ve been treated with tenderness.
I look at Shadow, feeling a newfound sense of respect and understanding for this kind, complicated man. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, for being so open and honest. For what it’s worth, I think that man deserved what he got.”
“Me too,” he says softly.
***
Pale morning sunlight filters through the curtains, turning everything soft and golden. For a moment, lying there tangled in blankets, I forget about the notes, the fear, and the chaos of the last few weeks. I just feel… content, which is probably the most dangerous thing of all.
When I open my eyes, Shadow is fully dressed, holding a cup of coffee.
“Sorry to wake you, but we should probably get going. Trigger’s been blowing up my phone all morning, no doubt yours too,” he says.
I groan, glancing at my phone to see that he has indeed been messaging far too many times for comfort, the others too. “Thanks, gimme five, and I’ll be down to sort breakfast.”
“Already done,” he says with a soft smile.
I gape at him.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind if I fed Owen, it was just some porridge and fruit, nothing unhealthy,” he says, looking stricken.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t mind at all. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Thank you.”
His shoulders visibly relax. “Good.” He turns and heads back downstairs, giving me a moment of peace to get ready, one I’m absurdly grateful for.
I’m so used to mornings being chaotic, with Owen dominating my time to the point where I don’t get a second to myself.
I haven’t had a lie-in for four years. I savor my coffee while lying in bed and listening to Owen chat animatedly with Shadow.
When I finally drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, I discover Owen happily sitting at the kitchen table.
Shadow sits opposite him, a mug of coffee in hand, listening with complete seriousness as Owen explains something earnestly to him.
I pause in the doorway. Neither of them notices me yet.
Warm morning light spills in through the open curtains.
Steam rises from the mugs on the table. The smell of coffee mingles with the scent of cinnamon from Owen’s porridge.
A normal, domestic scene, so normal it feels as if Shadow has always been here.
The realization catches me off guard. There’s something so comfortable and easy about how Shadow has slipped into our routine, all of the guys really, as if this is something we do every day.
Something twists unexpectedly inside my chest. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this.
Not having someone in the house, not sex, or even companionship, but having someone actually being present.
Ethan lived here for years, but toward the end, he was barely here at all.
Even when he was sitting across from me at the dinner table, part of him always seemed somewhere else.
Checking emails, watching television, looking at his phone, waiting for conversations to end.
I can’t remember the last time he sat and listened to Owen ramble about his latest interest. I can’t remember the last time he made breakfast because he wanted to help, or noticed when I was tired, or simply existed beside us without making it feel obligatory.
Guilt immediately follows the thought. Comparing Shadow to Ethan isn’t fair. I’ve known Shadow properly for what? Days? But despite that, I find myself smiling despite everything.
Owen spots me first. “Mommy!” He launches out of his chair and wraps himself around my waist. “You were very sleepy this morning. Lazy.”
I chuckle, breathing in his scent and stroking the soft down of his hair. “Morning, baby.”
“We’re going to live with the thunderbike men!”
I laugh. “For one week.” The distinction apparently means nothing to him as he continues to chatter about how great it’s going to be.
Shadow looks up from his coffee, and our gazes meet briefly, warm and steady, with no pressure or expectations, just an understanding that somehow affects me more than Kane’s intensity or Dash’s flirting ever could.
That thought creates a completely different problem. Now my feelings are a mess. I care about Kane, I enjoy Dash, Chief fascinates me, and somehow, Shadow has quietly slipped under every defense I have.
None of this is supposed to be happening.
I should be focused on keeping Owen safe and figuring out who is stalking me.
Instead, I’m standing in my kitchen, wondering why seeing a man drink coffee at my table feels more intimate than half my marriage.
The thought is unsettling enough that I immediately turn away and make another cup of coffee.