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“That’s all I know.” Jigsaw holds up his hands.
“Why you asking?” Rooster directs the question at me, then glances at Z. “Shadow’s…long gone.”
“Grinder knows,” Z says. “We told him.”
Rooster nods. Can’t get a read on his thoughts on the matter.
“Serena never went to the cops,” Wrath says in a low voice.
“Serena? Why are you…oh fuck,” Jigsaw mutters.
Ignoring him, Wrath focuses on me. “Did she? Shadow put her in the hospital. Someone must’ve asked her questions. She never pointed anyone in the club’s direction.”
I can’t tell if he’s stating thoughts as they pop in his head or if he’s asking me for answers.
“What the fuck?” Jiggy explodes. His wide eyes turn on Rooster. “Why wouldn’t she have said something to us?”
Rooster’s gaze drops to Jigsaw’s cut and he lifts an eyebrow.
“No. Z made it clear that night. We backed him up.” Jigsaw shakes his head. “I would’ve helped her. Fuck.”
“You two have a thing?” I ask calmly.
“What?” Jigsaw scowls at me. “Bro, she’s too young for me.”
That they’re actually around the same age seems to occur to him and he shakes his head. “Sorry. I just like my ladies…aged a tad longer. Like fine scotch. Or wine.”
“Christ,” Rooster mutters, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
“As entertaining as we all find your circus act,” Rock says, “can we focus?” He turns toward Wrath. “Where were you going with that?”
Wrath drills each of us with an intense stare before opening his mouth. “It sounds like she’s shown the club more loyalty than we deserve. And we owe her a debt.”
Chapter Forty-One
Serena
Grayson emerges from the war room and jerks his head toward the stairs.
I jump off the couch and rush over. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, Rock’s calling everyone to the table. But I got a few minutes. Wanna talk to you.”
Fear swirls in my belly but I follow him up the stairs. “Gray? You’re not all going to discuss what I shared with the entire club, are you?”
Enough people look down on me here. I don’t need the whole club to know I couldn’t protect my own baby.
He opens the door to his room and ushers me inside before answering.
“No. The details won’t go any further than the four of us.”
I’m not sure I quite believe him. The club always comes first to the brothers. But the club’s secrets also run deep. “Okay.”
He touches my shoulder lightly. “Come here.”
Stiff and uncertain, I allow him to pull me into his arms. He leads me to the overstuffed chair by the window, sits, and draws me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me securely.
After a few seconds, I relax against him, resting my cheek against his chest. He kisses the top of my head and pulls my legs up over his.
The steady, reassuring thump of his heart slowly chases the ugly shadows away. “I’m so sorry, Serena.”
“For?”
“That you got hurt because of me tonight. That someone in my club hurt you before. And that I put you in a position to share all of that in front of my brothers without any warning.”
Pain encircles my throat, forcing my words down. My cheek slides over his soft shirt as I nod to acknowledge his apologies.
“I need to ask you something, okay?”
Haven’t I bled enough of my soul tonight?
Cautious, I pick up my head and stare at him. “What?”
The firm set of his mouth and the crinkle between his eyes warns that I won’t like what’s coming.
“Did you ever go to the cops?” He swallows hard but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “When you were in the hospital, did you tell anyone who…”
“No!” I push away from him but he bands his arms around me tighter. “I would never do that.”
“Okay, okay. I’m not asking for club reasons. Well, not the reason you’re thinking.”
“Then why?”
“His wife. He…hurt her too. But she said the cops wouldn’t help or do anything.”
“Big surprise.” I roll my eyes toward the ceiling.
“That why you didn’t go? You thought the cops were on the club’s payroll and wouldn’t help?”
I blink. “Actually, no. That never occurred to me. I saw the cops hassle the club over stupid stuff a bunch of times down there. They even dragged me in for questioning once. Just to be dicks.”
He raises an eyebrow, silently waiting for me to come up with an explanation.
Fine, I’ll give it to him.
“Running to the cops never did me any good in my life.” I can’t hide the bitterness in my tone. “Going to the cops about my stepfather got me ridiculed and scolded for ‘tempting’ him. Because, you know, it’s the fourteen-year-old girl’s fault a grown man can’t keep his hands to himself.”
His jaw tightens but he doesn’t say anything.
“What would I have done? Gotten a restraining order? So they could give him my address and enrage him even more? Give him time to beat me to death, while waiting on hold with 911? No thanks. Cops never helped my mother either. Learned that lesson early. They’re the last place I would’ve sought help.”
