“You rescued a marriage that had lost its way,” she said, almost too low to hear. “You did something that made sure two people weren’t walking around bleeding without a half of themselves for the rest of their lives. You made sure I still had this wonderful life that I let others pollute and taint.”
I blinked away the tears at the corner of my eyes. Not many people knew about the darkest days of Lizzie’s and Ranger’s lives. They were two of the cornerstones of this club. Never in the spotlight, but always there. Throughout all the drama and death, they remained constant support. Like Steg and Evie, or Goldie and Kurt, they were the couple that made you not give up on the magic.
For a moment, the magic gave up on them. They had to fight harder for anyone else in this club for a love that blew Romeo and Juliet out of the water.
No one knew.
Because that wasn’t my story to tell.
“You’ve fought for us all. And each and every one of us knows you’d fight to the bitter, or hopefully happy, end,” Lizzie continued. “But you need to start fighting for yourself. The one person you’ve neglected all these years. You have been God knows where doing God knows what. I don’t want to know because I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough to handle what one of the most precious people in my life has struggled through. I don’t need to know because it’s written all over your face. It’s changed you. And I know you went through that because you were helping someone. Know you would’ve plunged into horror that would even make Gage blush if it meant you were helping someone. Fighting for someone. But you’re home now. You’ve done it. Saved everyone who needed saving. Now it’s time to do it for yourself. Save yourself, babe.”
I looked at her, my eyes blurry once more, barely able to hold in the emotion she’d roused within me. “I can’t do that,” I choked, hating the weakness in my voice. “Admitting I need saving is admitting I’m….”
“Human?” Lizzie finished for me. “I’ll tell you a secret. We all are. Even these idiotic macho men who think they can crush cars during bicep curls,” she joked, eyes moving to her macho-man husband for a second. “It’s okay to be human, you know. It’s painful, immensely so, but the rewards are worth it. But it’s not easy. Not like the movies. True love doesn’t fall into place. It isn’t as easy as breathing. It’s a struggle. Takes work. Every day. You’ve got to fight for it, but it’s only the most beautiful of things that are worth fighting for.”
I sucked in a ragged breath, my eyes finding Luke. His had been on me for what looked like a long time.
“Fuck yeah it is,” I whispered.
Lizzie was hauled away by her husband not long after her heart-to-heart. But not before he kissed my cheek and smiled at me, his wrinkled eyes sparkling. “Happy for you, girl. You deserve this.”
Then he left. No long speeches, no drama, just saying what he meant in as few words as possible.
That was Ranger.
The space beside me wasn’t empty for long. My eyes were focused on Luke chatting with Brock in what actually looked like a pleasant conversation, so I hadn’t realized Evie had sat down until she spoke.
“Sure know how to shake things up, babe,” she commented, her eyes following mine.
I grinned. “Don’t I always?”
She lit a smoke. “True, but you shake things up in what people think are some of the most dangerous ways, but until now, they were the safest.”
I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
Evie was still focused on Luke. “You’ve spent a lifetime being strong, babe.” She drew in her cigarette. “Not just for you, but a whole club full of men who are only really as strong as the women they love and the women who love them.” She blew the smoke out. “You saw that shit, what it did. So you kept being strong and made sure you didn’t wear the particular brand of love that made you weak. That dangerous kind.” She eyed me shrewdly. “Don’t doubt your courage, girl. You’ve got more of it than any man in here.” Her gaze went around the party, focusing on Steg for just a moment, her hard eyes softening at the corners. “But the bravest thing you’ll ever do in your life is let someone love you, and love them back.” Her eyes went to me, squeezing my hand in a rare gesture of tenderness. “Don’t turn into a coward now when it means the most.”
I looked at her, at the woman who was more of a mother than my own mother ever could’ve been. “I won’t,” I promised.
“Ah, impressed you stayed away for this long,” Evie remarked, eyes no longer on me.
I focused on Luke, who’d obviously made his way over to us during Evie’s version of a heart-to-heart.
He grinned, sitting beside me. “Stayed away for long enough already, ma’am. Not looking to do it much in the future.”
She nodded, face mild. “You call me ma’am again, we’ll have problems.”
I swallowed a giggle.
Luke’s eyes twinkled. “So noted.”
Evie got up, brushing ash off her jeans. She focused on Luke, that mild look still on her face. “Her will and courage are stronger than that of anyone I’ve ever met. Unbreakable, like a fucking diamond. Her heart, though, it’s as fragile as glass. You’d do well to remember that, if you’re fond of breathing.” It wasn’t a threat exactly, but there was a violent undertone.
Luke nodded again, and then Evie was gone, in the direction of Steg.
Luke’s arm went around me and I immediately sank into him. He kissed my head.
“You’re not considering running away yet?” I asked, half joking.
He pulled back, eyes serious. “Never fucking running away from you, babe. And I won’t let you do it either.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I don’t think I physically could.”
He kissed me hard on the mouth. “That’s the way it should be.”
It seemed that the day I’d thought everyone in my family would disown me—the day I brought Luke home—was the day that everyone told me what an idiot I was.
But in a more delicate way.
Not one single person had shown any hostility toward Luke or me.
But there was one noticeable person who hadn’t said anything.
He was sitting at the bar, on his own; Evie had taken Belle and Kingston home so Gwen and Cade could have a night together.
“You gonna be okay here if I go talk to Steg?” I asked Luke.
He squeezed me, then let me go, eyes following mine as I stood. “’Course, babe.”
We were on the sofa inside, shooting the shit with Bex, Lucky, and Gage.
Gage clapped his large hand on Luke’s back. “Sure, he’ll be fine. I’ll take care of him,” he promised.
I gave him a look, then turned to Lucky. “You do not let him do any fucked-up shit to my boyfriend,” I ordered.
Lucky shrugged. “Hey, he might like it.”
I shook my head and went to sit beside Steg. He silently poured me a drink. I sipped it, letting the silence simmer, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.
“You’re not disappointed in me?” I asked hesitantly.
I had to ask, but fuck, I didn’t want the answer. This man was rough, dangerous, cold and sometimes downright cruel. But never to me. Never. He taught me everything he knew about being an outlaw, and I taught him how to be a father. It wasn’t his choice or his calling, but he took to it, went all in, doing the absolute best he could.
And I loved him. Felt safe with him. Protected.
So he did his job.
He looked to me. “Disappointed?” he parroted. Then he looked to Luke, who had somehow gotten Gage laughing. “Fuck no, girl. Not even surprised.”
I blinked.
“You’re a rebel in a world of rebel. Rule breaker in a world where there are no rules. It’s only logical that you’d search for somethin’ to be the ultimate rebellion. ’Spect that might’ve been part of it, at least at the start maybe.” He regarded me. “More likely you saw a good man thinking he had to go down a path that’s famed to be paved with good intentions. Differ
ent road to the one some of the brothers have walked, but same destination, though. And like you’ve done with many of those brothers, this one included, you took him off that path. You being you, you probably convinced yourself that was a bad thing. You were a bad thing. ’Cause that’s you. Thinking with your heart, forsaking it for others. But he’s here and there’s light in your eyes, so I’m guessin’ he convinced you that you’re far from a bad thing. And he looks at you like you tether him to this earth. Plus, you got the biggest unbribeable lawmaker off our asses.” He chuckled. “Disappointed? No, my girl, I am not. I’m happy. Finally happy my family is there.”
“Where?” I asked in a small voice.
“There. The place where they’re meant to be. With who they’re meant to be with.” He narrowed his eyes. “Though there hasn’t been near enough drama for it to be the end of this.”
“There’s been drama,” I countered. “More than enough of it. Maybe we’re done.”
He laughed. Actually threw his head back and cackled. “No, my girl, done is something we aren’t, nor will we ever be,” he said once he’d finished. “Especially you. You aren’t one to live quiet, my girl. Not one to love quiet. It’s comin’. Just make sure the causalities are other fuckers who ain’t you,” he ordered.
I smiled. “Of course. You taught me well.”
He grinned back, full of melancholy that I’d never glimpsed on Steg’s face. Every funeral, every injury, every battle, Steg was dry-eyed and determined. He was the face of the Sons of Templar, after all, and emotions meant weakness.
The Sons of Templar weren’t weak.
But now, in the corner of the room, I was watching. Not weakness, but some other kind of strength.
“It’s in your blood,” he said. “Your daddy did the real work, raisin’ a little girl who could outshoot me before she finished elementary school, instilling loyalty in you that almost made you throw away your own happiness for the club that your father taught you to die for. I just picked up where he left off. And even at seven, the job of raisin’ you was done. Only thing I had to do was give you enough space, enough freedom to be, but enough direction not to get yourself killed.” He squeezed my hand. “You’re a good woman, Rosie. You’re the heart of this club, just remember that. So making decisions to fill that heart up is never going to break the club.”
His eyes went to Luke once more, whose eyes were on me, dancing with a playfulness that I didn’t think would’ve been possible today.
Maybe wishes did come true.
For a time, at least.
Chapter Nineteen
Two Months Later
“Motherfucker is dead,” I said as soon as I opened the door.
Just because it had been two months of what I could only call peace, that didn’t mean I wasn’t prepared for chaos.
I had expected it to be my own. I was okay with that. I was ready for that. Partly because I was used to it. Mostly because I had Luke at my side and felt all corny and cliché that with him, with us finally together, we could do anything.
It wasn’t perfect. Life never was.
But it was something close to it.
We fought. A lot.
We also made up. A lot.
We were basically living together. Most of our time was spent at his place because it was bigger, closer to all my favorite restaurants and had more exciting surfaces to have sex on.
He had tried to get me to move in with him almost immediately after we’d gotten home from Amber. I’d said no. Not because of the normal reasons about it being too fast or that I needed to keep my independence or whatever bullshit women spouted when they were too afraid to make a dangerous decision.
Because no matter how much I liked the space and location of Luke’s or the coziness and residency of my shoe collection, neither of them were home.
Now that I’d decided to jump in with both my Manolo-clad feet, I was going all in, in Rosie style. So we were looking for a home.
Together.
But I was not about to rush into where that new home would be. Like Cher said in Clueless, “You know how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.” That was my attitude about our home. And also my shoes.
Luke was patient. “If this is going to be your home, your real one, your first real one, then take ten months to choose, babe. Take ten years. I’ve found my home. I’m holding it in my arms. So I’ll wait for the perfect four walls and roof. As long as I fall asleep and wake up with you, the rest is just details.”
Of course he just had to go all romantic. And I looked like an asshole for caring about the four walls and a roof. I loved him. A lot. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want the perfect house.
It was busy, house hunting, working together, hanging out with the family I’d missed greatly, and having all the sex. So busy that there wasn’t time for too much drama. Or at least stuff that was out of the ordinary. Being in love with a man who you also worked with bounty hunting and such could be perceived as drama.
I perceived it as just another Tuesday.
But now drama was at my door. In the form of Polly.
With an eye so bruised and swollen that she likely couldn’t see out of it.
“He did this?” I seethed, gently bringing her into my arms.
She didn’t say anything, just sank into my embrace and sobbed soundlessly.
“Fucking Craig,” I hissed.
I held her for a while, my anger growing. It mingled with my hurt, my immense pain at seeing another innocent girl battered at the hands of an asshole man. It would’ve hurt with any one of my sisters, friends or strangers. But Polly was different. She was the last of them. The last of my girls who didn’t let the ugliness of the world tarnish the beautiful way she saw it. That didn’t mean she didn’t know sorrow, but she had this way of enduring it, not letting it make her hard.
Like Laurie.
Laurie had been broken and battered and murdered in the end.
Again, that sore spot that never quite healed and never quite would throbbed with that pain.
Because now it was Polly. I prayed it was the first time. That it wasn’t any worse than it looked. And it already looked pretty fucking bad.
It didn’t matter if it was one punch or five. First time or tenth. The mere act of taking someone who loved and lived so gently and then treating them so brutally was the ultimate sin.
And deserved the ultimate punishment.
I pushed Polly backward so I could gently frame her face and inspect the purplish red bruise steadily growing.
It was fresh.
Hours old.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, using all my effort to keep my voice gentle. Looking at Polly, she needed gentle. She needed gentle hours before, but I couldn’t change or control someone else’s actions in the past. I could only control my actions in the present.
And my actions against them in the future.
She hiccupped. “No,” she said shakily.
I nodded. “He didn’t… do anything else?” I asked, praying to whoever was left to take care of this ugly world that the answer would be no.
She blinked, confused.
In her confusion, I found my relief. Because she didn’t know what I was talking about, for a second at least. If it had happened, the worst, she would’ve known. Her body and mind would’ve been reminding her of it, not allowing her the momentary luxury of confusion.
“No,” she realized finally, not knowing she’d already answered my question. “No, God, no. He just hit me,” she whispered.
I grabbed her hand. “There’s no just,” I said firmly. “There’s no spectrum of just a little bit of bad. Hitting a woman once or a thousand times is the same sin. I’m so sorry it happened to you, my Pol.”
Again, she sank into my arms, sobbing loudly that time.
I really wanted to cry too. But I stayed strong.
For my friend. For my sister.
And for the coming revenge I would make sure I per
sonally delivered.
“Thanks,” Polly whispered, taking the mug of tea I offered her.
I hadn’t even realized I had herbal tea. I found it stashed in the back of the cupboard, a remnant of Polly’s temporary habitation.
“You sure you don’t want wine?” I asked, sitting next to her. “Or tequila?”
She shook her head.
The quiet with Polly was almost as bad as the ever-worsening bruise covering almost half of her face.
Polly wasn’t quiet.
She was never quiet.
She might’ve lived her life gently, but she did it loud.
And he took that from her.
I clenched my fist.
“You can’t tell anyone,” Polly whispered.
I snapped my head to her. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m telling people. Namely the crew I’ll be assembling to make Craig a eunuch before we bury him in a shallow grave.”
I wondered whether we could track down Heath. I knew he’d be the first in line to deal the killing blow.
His and Polly’s relationship was complicated when I’d expected it to be simple. The girl lived for love. And even though I didn’t believe in that shit, the way Heath looked at her, it was love.
I was certain there would’ve been a rushed wedding after seeing that look. I was right about the wedding, wrong about the groom.
And Polly, the girl who usually told Lucy and me everything about her current beau, down to his preferred brand of toothpaste, refused to utter a word about Heath and the looks.
He’d disappeared before the wedding.
Who could blame him?
“No, you can’t,” Polly said, roughly setting her mug down so the steaming liquid sloshed onto the coffee table. She snatched my hands. “Please.”