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Cooper shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m off today, and I’d be really grateful for help with my car. I can’t pay you, but I’ll find some way to return the favor somehow.”
“You don’t have to, Siena. It’s not a quid pro quo thing. Really, it’s the code.”
“The code?”
“Bikers. We help where we can.”
His voice was sincere, his expression serious, and Siena clamped down on the urge to laugh. “I’ve known a few bikers. They weren’t helpful.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, there are assholes in every culture. But the Bulls follow the code.”
She believed him. “Thank you. But I’m like Black Widow. I don’t like red in my ledger, so I’ll find a way to return the favor.”
Her MCU reference made him smile. It was a beautiful, thousand-watt smile, and she’d taken it at first meeting as a player’s grin. Now, though, she saw there was real compassion in his eyes. He really was a better man than she’d given him credit for.
Stunned at herself for the impulse, and totally shocked when she realized she meant to follow that impulse, Siena decided to tell him the truth. A truth she’d freely offered to a rare few people.
“I appreciate the offer of self-defense training, too, but I need to talk about that some. I need to tell you something.”
His head tilted like he was listening more closely. “Okay. I’m all ears.”
She could feel her hands shaking, so she laced them together and locked them tight. “When I was over here the last time, you asked me something—”
“Yeah,” he cut her off. “That was fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
His grin brightened again. “I’m not sure you accepted it.”
“Okay, fair. I do accept it. But now I want to answer it.”
“Siena, you don’t—”
“I do. I can’t half believe I’m going to, but I need you to know, before we talk about the jiu-jitsu stuff.”
“Okay ...”
God, she felt sick to her stomach. “I need to build up to my real point.” When he nodded, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m raising Geneva because when she was nine, our mom died of breast cancer.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. Siena nodded to acknowledge him and went on with her story before it truly made her sick.
“We have different dads, neither of whom are around, so it was just her and me then. But our grandma died of breast cancer, too, and two aunts. Our other aunt died of ovarian cancer. We’re a family of women, and all the women in our family have died of women’s cancer.”
“Jesus Christ! That’s ... shit, that’s rotten luck, Siena. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not luck, it’s biology. Our family has the BRCA1 mutation.”
His brow tightened. “I don’t ...”
“People call it the breast cancer gene. Women who have the mutation have a seventy percent chance of getting cancer, usually breast, ovarian, cervical, or uterine. The odds increase with a family history of cancer. There’s a fifty percent chance that a mother will pass the mutation to her daughter. I have it. Considering my family history, my odds of getting cancer were just about guaranteed.”
His complexion was normally a warm medium brown, like buffed, oiled bronze; now shock flattened and dulled his color. “Shit. Siena, I don’t ... shit.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
“Geneva?”
