Where Souls Spoil (24 page)

“Keep hitting me,” I say as loud as I can, but it comes out as a mumble. My jaw isn’t quite working right. I’m slurring words, and my tongue keeps getting in the way. “I won’t hurt them.”

Michael’s smooth hands wrap around my neck, squeezing so hard I lose sense of place and time. “Tell me where they are!” he screams into my face.

But then a second later, they’re gone, and he’s gone. A loud crash sounds across the room. A figure kneels in front of me, and a sharp blade closes in on my skin. Shouting ensues with so many voices going at once, I can’t even make out who’s who or how many of them there are. Internally, I panic at the very real possibility of being sliced up just like Tegan. Only, the blade yanks and pulls at my rope binding, and suddenly I’m free. My body slumps into the one crouching in front of me. Strong arms reach out, holding me. And it only takes a moment to know from his scent and his touch, that it’s Ryan.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers in my ear.

“My brother,” I cry out.

Holding me close, he says, “He’s alive.”

It’s not much, but it’s something—the best I can hope for. I have no right to ask them not to kill him, even if I want to. With one arm beneath my knees and one supporting my back, he scoops me up. Moving into a standing position, he walks us out of the room, though to where, I can’t tell. As he walks us to safety, he whispers his apologies in a strangled voice. “I’m so sorry, baby. Please be okay. Please be okay.”

But they’re not the words I want to hear, so I tell him. Or I try to. Through the steady thumping of my heartbeat in my ears, I can’t make out much else besides his voice. With a raspy voice, I mumble, “Are you done fighting it?”

“I’m done, Cub,” he says without hesitation. “Let’s not make a big deal of it, but I love you, too.” It feels good to hear it even if I knew it already. It’s just a little confirmation that he’s willing to go to the mat for me—for us. And once I’m healed up and I can think clearly, we’ll get this mess sorted out with the club. Once everything settles down, I’m going to dig into his commitment issues. Because I’m determined to make this work with him.

As we slide into the back of a SUV, someone else crawls in to our right. Panic swells in my chest at the arrival of another person until I hear the deep, familiar voice. “It’s just me, Princess,” Duke says. Ian slides in to our left, also confirming his presence. The SUV fills with men I can’t identify.

“You’re okay, kid,” Jim says, his voice breaking in-between words. Ryan’s hand reaches out for mine and he slips his pinky around mine. And for the first time, despite the mild confusion and inexplicable pain, I do feel like I’m okay. More than okay, I feel protected, and whole.

“It’s just a scratch,” I say in a slur. The men around me laugh, all except for Ryan. He remains perfectly still and solid beneath me. I let myself drift off despite Ryan’s attempts to keep me awake. Lost in thought, I think back to all the ways my life has changed these last few months. I’m not that same girl I was back in Brooklyn. I’m braver, stronger, and maybe even a little less co-dependent. But more importantly, I belong somewhere—to someone.

They came in leather and jeans, whisking me away from everything I knew—everything that was about to get me killed—all of the Armani, and bullets, and death. They made me one of them, a part of a family in a way I never had been before. Beyond gratitude and obligation, I chose them. I chose them because they love me, because they accept me, and maybe because they’re wild and rowdy. Maybe because they brought me to my mother. And I still choose them.

They brought me to him, and for that, they’ll always have my loyalty. Because he was my salvation.

Epilogue

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

Winston Churchill

SNUGGLED DEEP INTO the covers with Ryan at my back, I let out a heavy yawn. He pulls himself up and peers over me, moving my hair out of my face.

“You okay?” he asks, for what I swear is like the hundredth time today. I bite my bottom lip to keep from telling him that he’s being annoying with all of his questions. I may pout or even give him a dirty look when he does it, but deep down, I live for these moments when he’s all paranoid. I just wish he didn’t have reason to be paranoid.

“I’m okay,” I say and give him a soft smile. He’s got almost a week’s worth of stubble on his chin, as he hasn’t shaved since the morning of the day I was taken. I had a bath yesterday, and that was interesting—he insisted on crawling in there with me. I’m not sure how clean I am, as my skin’s a little filmy, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him he did a poor job.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not, Nic can go fuck herself,” he says. His eyebrows pull together as he looks me over.

“I’m fine,” I say a little stronger this time and pull myself up into a sitting position as best I can. Ryan’s hovering makes it difficult, and I have to elbow him in the stomach to finish the task. “And I asked Duke to bring her by. He says she’s been worried, and apparently it’s a big deal for her to come to the house, and she’s willing to do it to see me. So yes, I’m sure.”

“Don’t like it,” he mutters and crosses his arms over his chest. In the days since the club found me in that warehouse, so much has changed. Jim’s been nothing but kind, my mom’s finally stopped crying, and now she just walks around with a big, stupid smile on her face when I can see her, but I have it on good authority she’s worried about Michael. Despite everything, so am I. He’s my brother, and even if he was a serious asshole and I’d like to return the favor one day, he’s my brother. For the longest time, before I had the club and Ryan, and Nic—before I knew my mother—and before I found out Ian’s my brother as well, all I really had was Michael and Gloria. I have no idea what’s going on with Gloria, and the club’s got Michael locked in a safe house somewhere nearby. I’m just not allowed to see him.

“You don’t have to like it,” I say for about the tenth time today. The moment I told Ryan that I wanted to hang out with Nic—alone—he practically blew a gasket. I had to hold his face and kiss him for five minutes straight before he calmed down enough to be spoken to in a rational and calm tone. “You’ve been great, you really have. But I need a little girl time. I have a lot to talk about that I can’t say with you playing helicopter.”

“I’m not a fucking helicopter, and if you’re sick of me, Cub, just say so. You don’t need to play these fucking games like you need girl time or whatever bull shit you’re coming up with. Just tell me if I’m being annoying,” he says in a rush of words that are half mumbled. Throwing the covers off himself, he crawls out of bed on the other side and stomps around the room in his boxers.

“You’re being annoying,” I say plainly while trying to keep a straight face. It’s not so much that he’s cute when he’s like this as it is that he’s starting to drive me crazy. If I don’t choose to think it’s funny, I’ll have to ask my mom come to in and paddle the attitude right out of him. Because damn.

“Thanks,” he snaps and bends down, picking up his jeans and sliding them on. “I’m just trying to help, you know. You’re all clingy and shit, but whatever. It’s fine.” He plops down at the foot of the bed and starts shoving his feet into his boots. Very slowly, I lean over, ignoring the pang of discomfort in my ribs. Doctor James said it would be a couple weeks before I was back to normal, but I’m impatient. I’m not a cripple, but I might as well be with how little Ryan lets me move. Even when we make love, he demands that I don’t do much of anything. He’s totally turning me into a pillow princess, but if he’s willing to live with the consequences of his actions, I think I can live with being pampered.

Crawling up behind him, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Don’t be mad,” I say and give his neck a kiss.

“Get your ass back in bed,” he mutters and pulls away from me. I sit on my legs and pout at him. A dull ache gets stronger in my side, and, without thinking, I rub it softly to numb the pang.

“Now you’re hurting yourself,” he says and shakes his head. His eyes are narrowed and his pitch black hair is falling in his face. He pulls the covers back and points at my spot in bed and says, “Now.”

“You are so damn bossy,” I say and move too quickly. A sharp pain explodes in my knee and travels up to my hip.

“And you’re a horrible fucking patient. If you can promise me you’re not going to get up and start moving around like you just did, I’ll promise to leave you and Nic alone for the entire fucking hour you put the request in for,” he says. Carefully, I climb back into my spot and watch as Ryan pulls the covers up over me.

“And you just have horrible patience,” I say and fold my arms over my chest. He’s just grouchy because when I mentioned the idea of spending time alone with Nic he shot it down, telling me no way in hell was he leaving his room. Which is another thing. Since I’m not ready to move out and he’s not ready to leave me alone—and to be honest, I’m not ready to be left alone, either—he’s taking over my room. After he fixed up the mess my father’s men had made when they grabbed me out of bed, he then told me the room wasn’t working for him. The next day when I was sleeping, he took down my photographs of the pretty flowers that are out by the barn and replaced them with two posters of half-naked women draped over Harleys. I had to stare at those stupid bimbos for four days before I was able to yank them down, rip them up, and throw them in the trash. I can’t say he was happy when he found them, but I wasn’t exactly happy when he took my photographs down, either. As of right now, we’re at a decorating stalemate.

He just glares at me as he walks over to my—our—closet and pulls out a clean black tee shirt that my mom hung up there this morning. He’s grumbled a few times about being back in his parents’ house, but with all the attention he’s getting, I think he secretly loves it. When he’s not in here with me, he’s in the kitchen with my mom, and when he’s not in there—his words, not mine—he’s “taking a shit.”

“Come here,” I say as kindly as I can, but his expression doesn’t change.

“Why? So you can tell me how much I suck up close and personal?”

“Shut up and get over here,” I snap. I should know by now that being sweet doesn’t work as well as being bitchy does. For some strange, twisted reason, he responds to bitchy. He walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, scowling down at me.

I give him my best smile, bat my eyes, and say, “Say it again.”

“Uh uh,” he says, shaking his head. He moves to stand, but I put a hand over my ribs and let out a soft moan. His eyes dart down to my hand, and he covers it with his own. His eyes are pained as he looks to make sure there’s no additional bruising and the swelling’s gone down. “What’s wrong?”

“You pain me,” I say with a pout. It’s really unfair to pretend to be hurt to get my way, but if he’s going to act like a child, so am I. I tried being the mature one in this relationship and all it got me was bimbos on my wall.

“That’s really not fucking funny,” he gripes and pulls back. I catch his face in my hands and pull him down to me, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Come on, baby. Please,” I whisper. His body drops to the bed, and I know I’ve won.

“Scoot over,” he says, and I do. I move over another foot so he can stretch out beside me. I wiggle down the bed and turn to face him. He huffs and then purses his lips. When he’s done fighting it, he smiles down at me and cups my face with one hand and pulls me flush against him with another. With his breath washing over my face and his arms around me, I almost rethink asking Nic to come over. Maybe Ryan’s right and I don’t want to spend an hour away from him. But I need girl time, I remind myself. I want to keep Nic as a friend, and that means letting her in—especially since word around the house is that Duke’s been sleeping in her bed almost every night—and O.M.G.— that’s something I have to talk to her about.

“I love you,” he says and kisses the ridge of my brow. “I love you,” and this time it’s a kiss to my closed left eye. “I love you,” and it’s a kiss to my cheek. More kisses follow all with more “I love you’s,” and I melt into him. I don’t let him see me wince when his lips trail over one of the bruises that hasn’t healed yet. My stomach flutters, and I lose my breath for a single second. It never lasts as long as I’d like for it to, but it’s worth all the begging and pleading I have to do in order to get my way. Because there’s nothing on this planet like hearing Ryan say he loves me. There’s nothing that comes close to him showing me that he loves me with every annoying question and every moment he spends hovering over me. When he’s done, there’s a smile on his face that tells me that he enjoys that almost as much as I do.

“I love you,” I say and place a kiss on his lips that slowly turns to something more carnal than I had intended for it to. I don’t hear my bedroom door as it opens, but I do hear the throat clearing that makes me pull back from the kiss. Ryan’s head shoots to the door, and he glares at Nic, who’s standing there in front of Duke. Her nose is turned up, and she’s shaking her head.

“Ew,” she says. “I thought you said you were nobody’s girl.” The comment is intended for me, but she’s glaring and shaking her head at Ryan. Behind Nic, Duke lets out a heavy sigh and shoves her into the room, stepping in behind her.

“Right back at’cha,” I say. My eyes dart between the two. They look good together, even if she won’t admit it. Her eyes finally land on me, and while I’m smirking at her, thinking nothing of the fact that she hasn’t seen me since before everything that went down, I’ve totally forgotten about the bruises on my face. Her face falls, and she scowls. She crosses the room at a quick pace and crawls onto the bed on the other side of me. I turn her direction and, with Ryan’s help, I pull myself up.

“I knew you were hurt, I just didn’t know how hurt,” she says quietly as she gets comfortable with her legs crossed in front of her.

“I’m okay,” I say and look back at Ryan. Reaching out, I give his hand a squeeze. “Really, everything’s okay.” Ryan hops out of bed and greets Duke at the doorway.

“Sixty minutes,” he says with his eyes trained on Nic. She rolls her eyes, but smiles at him.

“Gosh, you really do love her, don’t you?” she says. His playful smile disappears, and he huffs as he leaves the room.

“Yeah,” I say. “He really does love me.”

The End