I put the phone to my ear.
“Rosie.”
That was all he said but I heard the tone, I saw the look inhis eyes.
The tone was guttural.
The look was suffering.
He had to be kidding me.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
His features softened in that way they did when he thought Iwas being cute or when he wanted to have sex or when I put his favorite meal infront of him or when he wanted me to forgive him for acting like a dick or athousand other times when I reminded him why he’d made me his old lady or hegot himself in trouble with me.
This was not in trouble with me.
As phenomenal as a soft look from Gerard “Throttle” Beckcould be, we were far beyond that ever working again on me.
“Rosie—”
“Keep them away from me.From Mom and from me.”
“Why did you—?”
I leaned toward the glass and interrupted him.“Too latenow, Beck.Too late to ask questions.”
“Web said—” he began, I knew to explain.
Web.Spiderweb.Bounty’s president.
What I also knew was there was no explanation.Not one Iwould understand.
The brothers, okay, they were in an outlaw motorcycle club,I knew the risks I was taking.
Him?My man?
There was no explanation.
“Webdidn’t tell you to choke me.He didn’t tell you to hit me.”
His face started to get hard.“Baby, you ratted out theclub.”
“You did your thing.Now keep them away from Mom and fromme.”
“You shouldn’t have reported it to the cops, Rosie.”
That was what I was afraid of.
“What’d you think I’d do?”I asked.
“My deal with them was they’d leave you alive.Thought you’dlearn to keep your mouth shut,” he told me.
“Well, thanks, Beck.So good to know you were looking outfor me.”
He leaned into the glass.“Baby, Rosie, Christ.Youratted out the club.”
“I slept at your side,” I whispered.
