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“Have I hurt you?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow at her.
“I guess not.” She looks surprised at her own answer.
“Then you ain't the exception,” I point out blankly.
She looks sheepish, almost disappointed as she takes her last mouthful and places down her fork.
“Can you think of any people you're involved with that you shouldn’t be?” It pisses me off that I’m stooping low enough to ask her these questions. I shouldn’t fuckin’ care. She’s a job. I’ve killed many men for the club without asking what they’ve done to deserve it.
She shakes her head, and a hunch that I seem to have acquired over the years senses her honesty.
“You ever heard of the Dirty Souls?” I ask cautiously, it’s a stupid idea to bring up the club, especially as I’m not sure how this is gonna finish. But I’m curious.
“The bikers?” She looks back at me confused. “I’ve heard of them.” Suddenly her confusion morphs into panic. “Fuck, has this got something to do with them?”
“You watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours, those lips are far too pretty to be cursing,” I warn, wanting to smash my hand into my own face for saying that out loud.
“Brax, are the Dirty Souls after me?” She ignores my comment, her voice wobbly.
“Darlin’, the Dirty Souls already got ya.” I watch her confidence fade into hopelessness.
“No,” she whispers, her head shaking slowly, as she slides back on the chair she’s on. “Bikers ride motorcycles and wear leather jackets.”
“It's called a cut.” I reach into my duffel bag and slam mine onto the table in front of her.
Why am I doing this, why am I telling her too much?
I tell myself it’s because she needs to know the danger she’s in so she’ll open up to me. But is it because I want her to know who I really am?
Her eyes flick between me and the cut in front of her. “So you really are a bad guy,” she whispers before biting down on that fucking lip again. This time it’s most definitely outta fear, and don’t it just make me wanna do all the things I shouldn’t to her.
“That’s a matter of opinion.” Standing up, I take both plates and dump them in the sink.
“Brax?” She speaks my name cautiously as she takes my cut in her hands and traces her fingers over the patch that reads NOMAD.
“What would people like you want with someone like me?” she asks, and I can sense how she fears the answer.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out… Then maybe I might be able to help you.” I'm furious at myself for admitting that last part out loud. Not just because it shows fucking weakness, but because I shouldn’t be giving her false hope.
“Do you really expect me to trust you?” she questions me.
“No. But right now, I’m the only hope you got of getting out the shit you’re in.” Taking the cuffs back out my pocket, I snap one onto her wrist and pull her up to her feet. She doesn't struggle or fight, and willingly allows me to lead her through the back door on to the porch.
I force her to sit on one of the steps that hasn't rotted, and cuff the other half of the handcuffs to one of the rails.
“What are you doing?” she asks, watching me as I rest a ladder up against the house.
“I can’t sit around doing nothing. I’m gonna try patching up that roof.” I nod up to the hole that’s right above the room she’s sleeping in. “Unless you want to sleep in a damp room again tonight?” I light up a smoke and take a long drag before slinging the tool belt I found yesterday over my shoulder. She doesn’t respond, just watches me as I climb up the ladder and get to work.
I feel those pretty green eyes on me for the rest of the day. When I’ve finished patching up the roof, I find a ball in the long unkempt grass and throw it for Duke. She giggles when he refuses to give it up for me to throw again, and I have to pry his slobbery jaws open with my hand. And I don’t even get mad at her for it. How can I, when the sound of her laughter is one of the nicest things I’ve ever fucking heard?
It’s also a reminder of how lethal she could be to a man like me.
I haven’t figured out how she’s doing it yet, but she seems capable of blanking out her situation. Forgetting the danger that she’s in. The same danger that I can slowly feel myself being drawn deeper and deeper into protecting her from.
Getting fresh air is just what I needed today, especially after the bomb that's just exploded around me. I had no idea that Brax was a Dirty Soul, a member of the motorcycle club that runs the town of Manitou Springs. I don’t know that much about them, no one really does, other than the fact that they're dangerous and no one fucks with them.
Brax is confusing. I’ve seen how cruel he can be, I’ve felt it. And yes, he’s managed to scare me more times than I’m prepared to admit in the short time we’ve spent together.
