I pull into my driveway a few minutes later. Killing the engine, I sit in my truck for a few minutes before getting out.
Quietly, I walk through the house and into the bedroom. Penny is still in bed, looking like she hasn’t moved at all.
As I take in her sleeping form, something feels different. I feel different. Less burdened, less angry toward her. Now that Thomas is dead, in a way that gave me closure. I blamed her for so long when, in reality, it was his fault. Now he paid for it. The debt is settled.
The only question is, where does that leave us? What’s going to happen between Penny and me? Can I go on letting her think she owes me, just to keep her here?
Stripping out of my clothes, I climb into the bed beside her. She stirs, and her eyes fly open, looking around, alarmed. She pushes herself off the bed, but then she sees me, and her panic retreats. Her head falls back onto the pillow.
I lie down, turning onto my side, so I can see her. Even in the dim light, I can make out the bruises covering her face, reminding me I did the right thing tonight.
“Tommy is dead,” I say before I can stop myself.
I hear her sharp intake of breath, and for a split second, I’m worried. Worried that she is going to mourn him, that she is going to cry for him, but when I study her face, there is nothing but relief.
She doesn’t ask how it happened. Maybe she doesn’t care, or maybe deep down, she knows the answer. Either way, she closes her eyes a few minutes later, her features turning peaceful, almost angelic. Her breathing evens out, letting me know she went back to sleep.
Even though I’m satisfied with the outcome tonight, I can’t seem to sleep. I stay up watching her for a long time, wondering what the fuck I am going to do with her. She doesn’t owe me, maybe she never really did, but I don’t think I can let her go regardless.
Chapter 17
Penny
The next few days,Ryder leaves me alone, not asking anything of me while I’m recovering. The times he is at home, he barely says a word and hardly ever looks at me. I don’t know if it’s because he is mad or because he finds me so repulsive this way. Every time I look in the mirror, I assume it’s the latter. The swelling has mostly gone away now, but the purple and black bruises have now turned to an ugly yellow-brown color.
Then there is what Ryder told me that night in his bed.Tommy is dead.I didn’t need to ask him if it was true. I knew as soon as he told me it was. I felt it—an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders.
I want to ask him how it happened, but I’m too scared of the answer. I’m positive Ryder had something to do with it. He probably sent one of his guys to do it. I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for Tommy after everything he did to me. He deserved it.
Maybe that makes me a terrible person. Being glad that someone is dead seems like a horrible thing to do. I can’t help it though, instead of remorse, I only feel… free.
Even with Ryder acting weird like this, I’m more than thankful for him letting me stay here. After I left Tommy and went to the women’s shelter, I could never get a good night’s sleep and could never relax or feel safe. Even surrounded by other people, I was always scared of him finding and killing me. I’m not scared here, not with Ryder and Mojo in the house. Ryder might not be prince charming, but at least he won’t hurt me or let anyone else hurt me, and that’s more than I’m used to.
I take Advil during the day, but every night Ryder gives me one of those magic pills that makes everything go away and lets me sleep peacefully.
My ribs feel a lot better, too, letting me move around much more easily. So, I decide to get up and cook while Ryder is out for the day.
Just when I’m done frying the pork chops and baking the potatoes, the back door opens, and Ryder walks in. He looks at me, standing in the kitchen, while Mojo greets him at the door.
“Feeling better, I see,” he murmurs, taking a seat at the table. “You finally able to keep paying off your debt?”
I swallow hard before answering, “Yes…” A tiny bit of fear swirls around my stomach, but it’s quickly overwritten by excitement. I guess he does still want me.
Putting his food on a plate, I grab a beer from the fridge and bring him both. Setting it in front of him, I watch as he takes a sip of the beer before returning to the kitchen and preparing my plate.
When I sit down with my food in front of me, Ryder continues, “That’s good because I have a job for you. I need you to come to the club with me tonight.”
At his words, I suck in a sharp breath. The fork in my hand slips from my fingers and lands against the plate with aclang. “But-but you said…”
“Not to fuck someone else,” he clarifies. “I need that big brain of yours to do some quick math for me, and I need you to do it quietly, with no one else noticing. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I answer confidently. That’s one thing I actually can do.
“You are going to sit in on a meeting. I want you to run all the numbers that are being said through your head and make sure they add up. If they don’t, you gonna ask me for a drink.”
“Okay.” I don’t ask any more questions, mostly because I know he won’t answer anyway.
We finish dinner in silence, and when I get up to clean the dishes, Ryder stops me.
