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We climbed into the truck, Yarder making sure I was buckled in securely before he started the engine. As we pulled away from the apartment, leaving behind the wreckage of my life, I felt a surge of fear wash over me.
I had no idea what was going to happen next, but I had to hope that I was out of the storm and headed to the sunshine. Maybe.
Chapter Five
Yarder
The ride back to the clubhouse was quiet, the tension palpable in the air. I glanced over at Poppy, noticing the haunted look in her eyes as she stared out the window. She was probably reeling from seeing her apartment torn apart. I hadn’t expected her place to be luxurious, not in that part of Mt. Pleasant, but I had assumed it would be better than what I saw. Sure, it was trashed by whoever had been looking for her, but even beneath all that mess, it was clear her living conditions were far from ideal. Poppy’s financial struggles weren’t news to me, but I hadn’t realized they were that dire. I hadn’t dared to peek into her fridge, but I could imagine it was probably bare.
“Uh, I should have brought my blanket with me,” Poppy spoke up, her voice hesitant.
I glanced at her, puzzled. “Why?” I asked, wondering if there was some sentimental value attached to it.
“So I have a place to sleep,” she explained softly, her eyes downcast.
I pulled into the parking lot of the clubhouse, the familiar sight of motorcycles lining the spaces. As I parked the truck, I turned in my seat to face Poppy. “Do you really think I’m going to shove you on the floor with no blanket to sleep on?” I asked incredulously.
Poppy’s gaze flickered to the floor, her expression pained. “I don’t want to be a bother, Yarder. I’ve already messed things up so much and—”
“Stop,” I interrupted sharply, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “Stop right there if you think that little of me, that I’m going to punish you for what happened and make you sleep on the floor like some wild animal.” It infuriated me that Poppy saw me as some sort of villain, as if I would stoop so low as to mistreat her for something that wasn’t her fault. Gibbs and Boone would have found another way to get to the club even if they hadn’t approached Poppy. None of this was her fault. “You and I need to get something clear here and now,” I continued, my voice softer but no less firm.
Poppy looked up at me, fear reflecting in her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I do not blame you for what happened,” I asserted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “It wasn’t some random occurrence. The club has some real bad guys coming after us right now, and I know you are not one of them.”
“I’m not,” Poppy vowed, her voice steady with determination.
I nodded, acknowledging her words. “And I need you to know I’m not some villain who’s going to make you sleep on the floor, cowering in the corner in fear.” I took a deep breath, trying to convey the sincerity of my words. “I can’t go into everything the club is dealing with, but I need you to know that the safest place for you to be until all of this blows over is right here.” I pointed to the front door of the clubhouse. “You’re safe in there. You’ll have a bed to sleep in, a TV to watch whenever you want, people to talk to, and three meals a day.” I paused, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Kind of sounds like a prison when I put it that way.”
Poppy laughed softly, her tears glistening in the dim light of the truck. “It actually sounds like heaven to me.”
It would. I wasn’t offering her some kind of paradise. I was offering her basic human decency, and yet she saw it as heaven.
Damn it, if this woman didn’t tug at all the strings of my heart, making me want to save and protect her, no matter the cost.
“It’s not heaven, babe,” I replied softly, my voice tinged with emotion. “It’s just what I call home.”
Poppy
They were so nice. Every last one of them.
Walking into the clubhouse, I couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that gripped me. Yarder had assured me that he didn’t blame me for the explosion, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of the club felt the same way. After all, Olive’s friend was missing, and that could very well be because of the explosion.
As soon as we entered the clubhouse, everyone seemed to descend upon us. Yarder stayed by my side, helping to field the barrage of questions and concerns that were fired at us.
“Are you hungry?” Dove’s voice broke through the chaos, snapping me out of my stupor.
“Oh, uh, well, I guess I could eat,” I replied, my stomach rumbling in agreement.
“She’s hungry,” Yarder interjected, taking charge. “Order pizza or something,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“You order the pizza, and I’ll see what snacks we have in the kitchen,” Sloane called from the bar. “I told Aero we needed to get to the store this morning, but we never got around to it. I’m sure we’ve got something I can scrounge up.”
“Do it,” Yarder commanded, his voice brooking no opposition.
Sloane saluted him playfully. “Yes, sir, biker man.”
Yarder grabbed my bag from me. “I’ll show you to your room, babe.”
