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“Like fuck you can.” Digger positions himself before the officer, urging Rae behind his shoulder. “We all know your track record with helpin’ women in need, and it ain’t pretty.”
The reference to our late sister strikes a hot iron into my heart. Clarissa visited the station no less than three times before she died, begging for help to get her old man off the road when our laws didn’t work. Motherfucker looked her square in the eye and effectively sealed her fate, telling her a woman’s place was at home with the children. That perhaps if she didn’t whore herself out to murderers and thieves, then she wouldn’t find herself in the situation she did.
The Molotov cocktails that tore through half of Barker’s personal residence the night she died were no coincidence.
Still think the asshole got off light.
“We done here?” I gesture for Kane to fuck off indoors and then reach for Rae.
Connor does the same.
To his credit, Barker moves quicker than a man of his wily years should and hauls the kingpin’s son off the gate, Connor’s fingertips slipping over the bare skin of Rae’s forearm.
She rears back, curling her back to my front, hand going to cover the flesh as though burned.
One arm wrapped around her shoulders and across her collarbones, I pin her to me, the other extended toward the cocky son-of-a-bitch wrestling free of the cop’s hold.
"Rae steps foot off this compound," I growl, “she’s under our protection. You won't find her alone, anywhere, so if either you or your delusional old man think you can get the jump on her while she shops for fuckin’ apples, you best rethink that shit.”
“I know that,” Connor drawls with no shortage of sass. He inches forward, a lazy smirk painted across his mouth as he fixates on the object of his affection again and whispers, “Doesn’t mean we won’t try.”
“Come on,” the deputy barks. “We’re done here.” He gestures for Connor to head for his truck.
The spoilt brat screws his face up, head swiveling between the retreating cop and Rae, bundled against me, shoulder to hip. “What do you mean, we’re done?”
“The girl’s fine,” Barker hollers back from his position near the parked cruiser. “Don’t go anywhere just yet, Tyke,” he adds while opening his door. “Got a few questions for you about something we found in a warehouse off fifty-nine.”
I glance toward Digger, noting the tight knot of his jaw. There’s no doubt Barker references the woman Digger saw bound and tortured. Seems she became a corpse not long after.
“Lookin’ forward to the call,” I holler back.
Rae stays staunch throughout it all, focus square on Connor as he reverses after the cop with a squeal of rubber on the tarmac to then speed away. The rumble of his truck fades, as does her bravado, Rae sagging the farther away the threat gets.
I wrap my arms tighter around her before she drops, giving her the support she needs. Digger casts his eye over the two of us, walking over to place a kiss to the top of her head. “You did good, baby girl. You did real good.”
I glance over top of her as she silently shakes out a breath against my chest and catch my brother’s eye.You want to take this?He gives a tight shake of his head, gaze dropping to Rae briefly again before he walks on by, heading after Maddie and Kane toward the clubhouse.
I shift my attention down to the woman in my arms, who’s shouldered more shit in her short life than any good woman should, and crush her even tighter. “Got you, baby girl. Don’t care how long he tries or what he does, we got your back.”
Her only answer is the slight twist as she moves her front to mine, arms sliding around my middle, hands struggling to reach my spine at the back. I relish the feel of her small hands pressedagainst the dip just above my waist, the deflating sigh she makes as her body eases against mine, and wish once more that I was an artistic asshole.
Maybe then I could capture this perfection. Frame it or honor it in a way that no matter what day, how deep the shit, I’d always have that reminder of what it’s like to know Heaven.
Heaven in the arms of a heathen-loving woman.
Don’t matter how big we get, how tough, or how independent—every motherfucker needs a goddamn hug every now and again. The biggest and baddest, most of all.
43
DIGGER
“You haven’t saida thing all fuckin’ day.” I slide onto a stool beside Maddie at the bar, holding my hand up when the prospect manning the space offers me a drink.
“Neither have you.” Her gaze slips over my shoulder to where Rae sits with Tyke, discussing next week’s ride.
I get it. She fell into his arms yesterday when Connor left, looking for comfort. Comfort that I wanted to be the one to provide. Comfort that Ishouldhave been the one to provide since the whole giddy-up is she’smywoman. Not his.
And then, when he offered the role my way, I refused for no other reason than my bruised ego.Fool.
