“I heard his voice and,” my breath hitches, “I knew. It was him.”
“What did he say?” Mayhem’s words rumble through his chest.
“He walked up and started talking to the cop behind the desk like he wasn’t a murderer,” anger seeps into my voice. “Can you believe it?” I’m seething now. “The audacity to pretend and play the widow because they were still married. She wanted a divorce though. She told me.”
I have a feeling that’s not what Mayhem meant. He meant that day. The day he killed Kendra.
Those words are the last thing I want to think about. But they’re there. Right there. They always are.
This is what you deserve, bitch.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, wrenching it in my hold. If I hold on tighter, can I keep the shadows from clawing at me? I doubt it, but I can take a ragged breath. It’s better than nothing.
“I don’t,” I gasp and shake my head, wanting his words to stop haunting me.
Watching you die gives me pleasure.
“Give it to me,” he growls, the demand in his tone clear.
“I don’t want to say it,” I whisper the truth of my fear. “I don’t want to hear them again, even from my lips. It was too much. Too cruel and heartless. Now to find out it was the man she married? They shared vows and he killed her.”
“You have to say it,” Mayhem demands.
“No, Mayhem,” I breathe out.
His fingers tighten before one of his hands releases me, his hold just as steady. When he wraps his fingers around my neck and tilts my head up, I’m not scared. Our eyes connect and a future I never even thought to dream of is laid out before me.
Just moments of possibility. Of laughter and love. Of family and friends. Of children and chaos. I want it all.
“Addy, to you I’m Briggs.”
His words land like a bomb between us. I search his eyes looking for the truth. I’m very much aware what it means for a biker to make such a demand. It’s serious. It’s real. It’s meaningful.
I have no idea what to say.
He cups my face with his large hands, his thumbs sweeping across my cheeks. His touch feels like reverence, and I desperately want to melt into him.
Would he hold me up? He’s done a damn good job while I’ve been falling apart. Maybe he can carry what haunts me as well.
“When she asked why?” He nods and my voice shakes as I repeathiswords, “This is what you deserve, bitch.” Mayhem’s jaw tenses, but his touch remains gentle where he’s holding my face in his hands. Why do I trust this man? “When she pleaded for her life?” He nods again and my voice breaks onhiswords, “Watching you die gives me pleasure.”
“Tempest,” his voice is thick and I can see that he’s struggling, “you’re so fucking strong.”
“No,” I try to shake my head, but it’s not really possible with the way he’s touching me, “I’m not strong. I should have done more. Duckie was right. I should have followed up. I should have pushed.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything other than Wagner getting your name sooner and coming after you without you identifying him first,” he insists. “Now you’re here. Not only arewe going to make sure Wagner pays for what he did, but you’re going to be safe.”
I’m not sure I completely agree, but I’m not really in the mood to argue about it either. Maybe later. Or never. You know, whatever.
“I keep hearing his voice,” I admit. “I can’t sleep.”
“In my arms, nightmares won’t be able to touch you.”
His words are ridiculous and completely illogical. But I believe him.
At least I want to. Desperately.
“But what about during the day? What do I do when my nightmares find me when I’m not sleeping?”
