Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“She was worried you might have succumbed to alcohol poisoning, her words not mine.” He grinned slightly. “So she told me why you decided to disappear into a vodka bottle,” his voice lost all amusement. “Soon as I found out, I knew I’d be making sure that fucker didn’t breathe free for long, not after what he did. Told the boys, they were happy to assist.” He searched my face. “Fate has a fuckin’ warped sense of humor, babe.”
I furrowed my brows, not understanding.
“Stephen Ross was a patched member of the Sons of Templar, New Mexico charter, just over fourteen years ago,” he told me.
My entire body froze. “No,” I whispered.
“Yeah babe, he was a member. That was until he tried to get himself rich while he double crossed the club. Betrayed his brothers.” H is voice was sharp. “I wasn’t a member then, babe, but Grim and Levi were. So they remember the blow that was. Blow they couldn’t return when he found himself incarcerated for murdering a couple in their own home.” He watched my face as the blood drained from it. “Grim’s been waiting for the fucker to get out of prison, to exact revenge with his own two hands,” he carried on. “When he got word the fucker got paroled, he reached out, pretended that the past was buried. Of course, just before Ross rolled into the club, we learned his connection to you. What he did. That knowledge had Ross’s fate become infinitely darker. A lot more bloody.”
I gaped at him. “This is too freaky to believe,” I said finally.
Hansen’s arms tightened. “Yeah babe, the universe works in fucked up ways sometimes. In the end, Ross got what he deserved. Club got the revenge it craved, even if it was at the hands of a pixie-haired half pint who radiated light and goodness,” he said softly.
One month later
I stared at the screen. I’d been staring at it for five hours straight and my eyes hurt. My back ached. But my mind was busy. That was good. Necessary. My mind needed to be occupied, it could never be empty. With emptiness came memories.
The past month I’d battled against them. Against the dreams that jerked me awake at night. The flashbacks that had me lose my breakfast. It was hard. I’d killed a man. Yes, he was evil, the worst kind, but it didn’t change what I’d done. And what I’d done had changed me. I tried to keep my optimism, my happy outlook, my smile. I buried myself in work, baked up a freaking storm in Hansen’s kitchen, went out with Arianne when Hansen had to be at the club. Though, I never had more than a couple of drinks, mindful of the demons that Hansen had buried. Of the mother he was yet to talk about. That might be because he was too busy watching me with an eagle eye, waiting for me to have my inevitable breakdown.
The first time I went to the club was the hardest. Saw the spot where I’d done it. The spot which had obviously been scrubbed clean, losing any evidence that it was the location of a murder. I had expected the men to be mad, furious at the fact that I had endangered the club, put them all at risk, made them dispose of a body for me. I’d been beyond surprised at the nods of respect, at the gentle squeezes they gave me, devoid of any form of anger. The biggest surprise was Hammer. He had approached me after Jagger had kissed my cheek with a sad glint to his vibrant emerald eyes. Hansen turned to stone beside me, mindful of the fact Hammer didn’t exactly love women. Hammer ignored him.
“Took guts… what you did. Was stupid as fuck, don’t get me wrong, and had you done anything to make the club go down for it, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now,” he started roughly.
Hansen made a sound in his throat and stepped forward, I pulled on his hand, stopping him.
“But, club’s good. So that’s a non-issue. Get the need for revenge, for justice, didn’t think a bitch like you would have the stomach to carry it out,” he continued as if Hansen hadn’t almost just charged him. He didn’t say anything else, merely nodded to me and walked off.
I’d been utterly shocked at that speech. One that hinted there was more to Hammer than an apparent resentment of women and temper problems. Something that caused those eyes to turn dark and empty.
That was the last the guys spoke of it. Everyone treated me as normal, apart from Jagger, who was a bit softer with me than usual, like he was expecting me to fall apart. Hansen was the same, he had spent every spare second with me. He tried to act normal, but every now and then I saw concern seep into his features.
He was the only reason I made it through. I couldn’t tell Arianne. Obviously, I couldn’t tell anyone apart from the handful of men who already witnessed it. So Hansen was the one who gave me strength, who held me tight when nightmares jerked me awake. Who made love to me like I was still his everything, despite my actions. I was slowly coming back to myself, with the support of my family, my man, my club. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have a long way to go.
I tried my best to keep to my routine, including visiting Grandma, which didn’t do much for my state of mind. Robert and I had weekly coffee dates after our respective visits. I found it refreshing, talking to someone completely removed from my lifestyle. Someone who didn’t know I was a murderer.
“Babe?” Hansen’s voice jerked me out of the past and into the present.
I moved my head from the computer screen to fasten my eyes to his. They were brimming with concern. “How long you been sitting in front of that thing?” he asked tightly.