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“What did they do?” I ask, unsure if I want to know.
“Does it matter?”
“Do they deserve it?” His eyes search mine before he nods, his forehead slick against mine.
“We had a rat in The Brotherhood. We think he wants to buy my VP’s seven-year-old daughter.” My heart stops and I jerk away from him.
“What the fuck?” His face darkens, and any amount of softness he just had disappears. “What exactly are you involved in?”
“We’re not involved in anything,” he grits out. “We’re trying to save girls that are being trafficked.”
“Is this why The Berserkers are helping you?” His throat bobs before he nods.
“There’s a lot to explain,” he mutters. “But we’re the good guys here. We’re trying to help them.” My stomach twists.
I don’t know why I thought things could be different. I can’t let The Brotherhood or The Berserkers get close to Ian if this is the shit they’re involved in. When my dad was a Berserker, he just dealt with rivalries and ran drugs. They never got involved with girls or trafficking. Never.
And if that’s what Kiwi’s club is into, I can’t let him around Ian. His enemies might be hunting him. They might follow him here and see Ian. They might take him away from me, and my son’s safety has to come first.
“We’re trying to save them,” he says again, his voice harder. “You didn’t know any of this?”
“I’m not a part of the club,” I say. “I–I know some things from hearing the guys talk, but not the full extent…is that why Spence went to L.A.?” He nods, his eyes carefully tracking me.
“He’s helping Taz find where the girls are being held before they’re sent somewhere else.” I feel like I’m going to be sick. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I breathe.
“Like you’re scared of me. Like I’m a monster.”
“I know you’re not,” I murmur. “But—”
“But.” He pulls away from me, standing at his full height. “I don’t need to hear whatever else you’re going to say.Butsays it all for you.” He yanks the shower curtain back and stares at me. “Get out.” I blink at him, my heart racing.
“What?”
“Get out. I had you on your knees. You made me come. I don’t need anything else from you. Out.”
Tears fill my eyes and my chin wobbles. “You’re a bastard,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, but it comes out broken. “You’re such a fucking bastard, Kiwi. You get out.” I shove his chest, making him slip and land heavily against the wall. “This is my fucking house. You get out and never come back. I never want to see you again. Get out!” I bang my fists against his chest, then rear my hand back to slap him. He catches my wrist before it connects and glares at me.
“Don’t do that.”
“Or what?” I shout. “What the fuck will you do?” His hand tightens around my wrist until pain shoots up my arm.
“You don’t want to test me right now, Kennedy.”
“Fuck you, you psycho fucking freak.” His hand tightens more, and it feels like my bones are grinding together.
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” he says darkly.
“Freak,” I spit the word at him. His jaw works to either side as his chest heaves. “Fuck. You.”
Suddenly, he shoves me back and my feet slip on the water. He barely catches me before I fall, but he doesn’t help me stand. Instead, he just drops me. I land on my ass and stare up at him, shocked.
“Fuck you, too.” He rips the curtain back and steps out. “I came here because you were the only person I wanted after tonight.” He grabs his bloody jeans and slides them up his legs, not bothering to dry off. “I was stupid enough to think I fucking loved you. Even though I didn’t know you, I thought you were mine.” He roughly buttons and zips them up, laughing humorlessly as he shakes his head. “I thought you were something special. But I was wrong.” I stare at him, the water spraying the side of my face. “You’re just another fucking bitch, huh? Just fucking here to taunt me, remind me of what I’ll never have, what I’ll never be. Yeah,” he turns toward me, his chest heaving as he bangs his fist against it, “I know I’m a fucking freak, Kennedy. You don’t need to remind me. I know.”
“Ez—”
“Don’t,” he snarls. “Don’t say my name. Don’t ever say my name again.” We stare at each other, the tension filling the space between us. “When I walk out that door,” he points at it, “you’ll never see me again.” It’s silent except for the running water and our harsh breathing. But I steel my spine as I glare at him.
