Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“The way things are going, it’s darker than I ever thought we would go. I’m in deep. Even if I wanted to get out, I couldn’t. Not now. And I don’t want to. That’s not the right thing to say as a husband and a father—” his voice broke and he sucked in a sharp inhale. “But fuck, it’s the only thing I have to say. I hate myself. But the club is me. It’s my blood. And those men are my brothers. It’s not inside me to walk away... even if I could. I do love you. More than anything. And I don’t want you hurt. But I also don’t want to find you broken and half dead on the side of the road.”
Laurie. He was talking about my beautiful friend, raped, tortured and abandoned like garbage just because she’d loved a man who wore a Sons of Templar cut.
That’s all it had taken... a little bit of love pointed in the wrong direction. It became a death sentence. Not just for Laurie, who I’d known almost all my life, but for Bull. He was gone now. Just an empty shell wearing a cut, breathing, not existing.
That would be Ranger. That’s what this was. A glimpse of what he’d look like if the club got me killed.
“I don’t forgive you,” I said. “I understand why you’re doing this. Why you did what you did. I wish I didn’t. Wish I could blindly hate you for what you’ve done, throw you out of this house, giving you what you want. But I can’t. I won’t. So I’ll hate you with my eyes open. For as long as it takes for me to resolve you. I’ll stay right here, by your side, because I’ll always love you more than I could ever hate you.”
I stepped back. “But you’re sleeping in the guest room. Tonight for sure. Maybe when I’ve slept on it, I’ll figure out how to share a bed with this stranger you’ve turned yourself into.” I ran my eyes over the man that looked exactly like my husband.
Then my gaze went to our living room cloaked in shadow, always warm, full of love, laughter and safety.
It was cold and dangerous now.
“Maybe I’ll need a few nights, but I’m not leaving,” I said, voice soft. “I’m not raising our son without you teaching him how to be a man. Even though you’re not acting like one now, I know you have him inside.”
My voice cracked a little and I angrily swiped a tear from my cheek.
“I’m going to stay so you can show your daughter how all women should be treated. I hope what you’ve done haunts you with the thought of how she’d feel if some cowardly asshole did this to her. I’m staying for our kids. For you. Remember that.”
I turned on my heel and walked calmly to our bedroom, closing the door gently behind me. Didn’t slam it. Then I leaned my back against it, sank down until my butt hit the floor. And I sobbed. Soundlessly.
I didn’t want to stay.
I wanted to be strong enough—or was it weak enough—to pack up the kids, drain our savings and leave. Disappear into the night and start a new life. Tell my parents, of course, but not where.
It was so intoxicating, the thought of escaping from this dark and scary point in my life. In our marriage.
But I couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
I’d made a vow.
‘Til death do us part.
I intended to keep that vow.
So did Ranger. I knew that. He wouldn’t leave me until the reaper took him.
And I found myself wondering how long that would be.
Five Years Later
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I whispered, watching Ranger strap on his holster, checking the clip of his gun before sliding it in.
He turned to me. “Yeah, babe. You should have a bad feeling about this. It’s gonna be bad. Gonna be bloody.”
I scowled at him. “Way to make me feel better,” I snapped.
He shrugged his cut on and made his way over to me. As pissed as I was at my husband—and I was—there was no way I couldn’t appreciate him sauntering over to me in his cut. Even after all these years, after kids, losses, fights, cracks in our marriage, deaths... I still had the same reaction to him that I’d had when I was a teenager.
We’d worked hard on it. On this feeling. This love. After that horrible, terrible night when his lips had touched someone else’s, we’d worked harder than ever.
He treated us all with reverence. With adoration. Still carried his guilt around, but we’d worked through it. Worked through that and all the other obstacles we came across.
And I loved him more and more every day.
His hands clutched my neck, then he pulled me in so our foreheads touched. “I’m not gonna be able to make you feel better this time,” he said. “I’ve been married to you long enough to know that no matter what I say, it’s not going to stop you worrying anyway. Though you’ll hide it well in front of the rest of the women because that’s who you are. You don’t want them to worry, wanna take care of them. The kids. You’ll take it all on so nobody else has to.” He stroked my cheek. “One of the many things that infuriates me about you. I hate thinking of you in pain, clutched by that much worry. But I also love you for your damn heart. Soul.” His eyes searched mine. ”We both know that there is no way around this. No way outta this or around it. There’s only through. And, baby, we’ve been through a lot before. We’ll get through this too.”