“We spent years looking for evidence that the cops might have overlooked, proof that the Rusted Scythes killed them. It’s what escalated our rivalry. There’d always been animosity between us, but once they were murdered, it reached a new level, evidence or not. We were all convinced they had to be behind it,” Ace explains.
“Because Dad was a spy who reported back to you? Didn’t you realize the danger that put him in?”
Cash shakes his head. “He was never a spy.”
My head snaps to him. “What?”
“Your dad left the Road Renegades because he fell in love with your mom. That’s all there was to it. He knew that if the Rusted Scythes ever found out, they’d never allow the relationship. So he gave up being a member of our club and joined one he hated until he was finally allowed to walk away and focus on his family, the only thing that mattered to him,” Cash pauses and his gaze meets my eyes. “Mac would never have risked his wife and children’s safety by spying us, even if we asked, but we never did. We respected his decision and never told a soul that he was a member. We even destroyed the pictures of him with us, just in case.”
Finally, the floodgates open, and I can’t hold back the tears that fall. If Chopper was here, I’d kill him. I’d kill him for his stupidity and hatefulness when my father’s only crime was falling in love with someone society told him he shouldn’t.
My men move around me, enveloping me in their love, and I know I will never let them go. I also know that wherever they are, my parents are proud and wouldn’t judge our love. They know that love and happiness are the most precious things in this life.
Chapter 27
Naomi
Two Weeks Later
Iwas discharged from the hospital a week and a half ago. Eli isn’t getting out for a couple more days. It turned out his injuries were more severe than they initially seemed, but he’s going to make a full recovery. I’m lucky, in a way, that Chopper opted for more psychological torture on me. At least I’m physically healed now. Though I know the mental wounds are going to take far longer to heal. I’ve been going to a therapist who specializes in PTSD and treating trauma survivors. Even though I felt mostly okay about what happened, the doctors told me that rather than try and carry on life like normal, it’s best to talk through everything while it’s still fresh.
In this latest session, I confessed to the therapist that I’m scared of taking showers. After the waterboarding, just the thought of standing under a stream of water, of having it on my face, sends shivers down my spine and floods me with panic.
Ace watches me in the rearview mirror of the truck as we drive, his brow knotted with worry. Every so often, Cash turns to check on me. Gage sits beside me, holding my hand. They all know that I’m extra fragile after my therapy sessions. It’s fantastic to have their support, but I also feel like I want to shout at them to quit worrying. I just want things to go back to the way they were between us before. I’m terrified that they’re going to see me as damaged goods somehow. I don’t want Chopper to have any more control over my life or to impact our future.
It feels odd to be in a car and not on our bikes, but the guys insisted it’s too soon for me to ride yet—another symptom of their overprotectiveness. For now, I’m happy to accept it. I lean back in the seat, feeling safe with my men surrounding me as the motion of the vehicle lulls me to sleep.
“We’re home,” Ace says, waking me from my slumber.Home. I guess this is how I’m starting to think of the guys’ house. No longer hiding, if I wanted to, I could leave. Go anywhere.
But there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
That evening, I’m curled up on the sofa, lost in my thoughts. Since getting out of the hospital my men have been so caring, so kind. But there’s been no sex. At first it didn’t bother me—I was too exhausted after everything that happened. But then the doubts started. It’s clear that they’re fond of me. But now I’m worried that they see me as a fragile doll and not their lover.
“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Cash asks.
I’ve been reluctant to tell the guys too much about what happened, partly because I don’t want them to see me as a victim. I did mention the water torture, though. I had to. When I was discharged from the hospital, Ace started to run me a shower, and I had a panic attack. Since then it’s been sponge baths. “Maybe have a long, hot bath?” I suggest. The therapist talked about how a bath might be an easy introduction for me, since I’ll be in control and no water will touch my face.
“On it,” Gage says from behind us, going into the only bathroom with a bathtub out in the hall.
The sound of groaning pipes followed by the flow of running water into the tub comes moments later. Ace scoops meup in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, then gently sets me down. When he starts unbuttoning my shirt I brush his hand away, fed up with being treated like a helpless thing. “I can do it myself, you know.”
Ace chuckles softly. “I know, but where would the fun be in that?” He pulls my top over my head and kisses me gently on my shoulder before walking around behind me and undoing my bra. Goosebumps mottle my skin, and I yearn for more. I turn to face him, standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He kisses me back, but when my kiss grows more urgent, more needy, he pulls away. Disappointment stabs in my gut.
“Your bath’s probably ready, you don’t want to let it get cold,” he says gently, kissing me on the forehead. He moves to grab a robe for me, helping me into it and securely tying the waist.
Am I some sort of unattractive, sexless thing to them now?
“Almost ready,” Gage calls cheerily from the bathroom. I get up and join him. He’s hunched over the tub, trailing his hands in it to check the temperature.
The room smells of lavender from the bubble bath. Steam clouds the mirror from the heat. Gage has thoughtfully lit a couple of candles and put on some relaxing music, the ambient sounds of chanting and nature, designed to take me away from this place.
Cash appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Do you want any company?” he asks with a small smile. “Wouldn’t want you getting lonely in that big bath.”
Is this them suggesting that they still see me as their woman?
“If you want to be alone, we understand,” Ace starts.
“No, no, I don’t want that,” I say, shaking my head—anything but that.
