"Because we both want it to."His answer was straightforward, without the complications or manipulations I'd grown to expect from men."Because we'll both work at it.That's all it takes."
"Maybe this could work," I whispered, not quite a question, not quite a statement.A possibility I was finally allowing myself to consider.
Razor's response was simple but firm: "It will."
I settled back against his chest, my body completely relaxed for the first time in longer than I could remember.The vigilance that had become second nature—the constant scanning for threats, the tension in my muscles ready to flee or fight—had temporarily receded, replaced by a bone-deep contentment I'd forgotten was possible.
Beyond our window, Las Vegas was awakening.Car horns punctuated the growing murmur of traffic.Somewhere, a jackhammer started up, its rhythmic pounding a reminder of the city's constant reinvention.Soon, the blazing sun would reclaim the Strip from the neon that had dominated the night.
But in our bed, in this moment suspended between night and day, past and future, I found myself drifting toward sleep without fear.Razor's arm curled protectively around me, his breathing syncing with mine, creating a small island of peace in a world I knew was still dangerous.
Tyler was still out there.My parents were still searching.Nothing had really changed in the world beyond our room.
But everything had changed within it.Within me.
As sleep claimed me, my last coherent thought was that for the first time in years, I wasn't just surviving.I was beginning to live again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ophelia
I stood frozen in the doorway, one hand clutching Dante's small fingers while the other gripped the strap of my purse like it might anchor me to reality.The house before me looked nothing like what I'd imagined a biker's home would be—no beer cans littering the lawn, no motorcycles parts scattered across the driveway.Just a modest ranch-style house with neatly trimmed hedges and a freshly swept walkway.This was it.Our new home.The place where Dante and I would either rebuild our lives or discover we'd made another terrible mistake.
"You can go in," Razor said from behind me, his voice gentle as he balanced our bags."It's yours now too."
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight, and stepped across the threshold.The interior surprised me even more than the exterior.No dirty dishes piled in sinks, no lingering smell of stale beer and cigarettes.Instead, hardwood floors gleamed beneath my feet, and the furniture, while clearly chosen for function over style, looked solid and well-maintained.A large leather couch faced a decent-sized television, with a coffee table between them that bore only a remote control and a motorcycle magazine, neatly centered.
"You...clean," I said, immediately regretting how stupid it sounded.
Razor's mouth quirked in what might have been amusement."Expecting a pigsty?"
"Maybe," I admitted, watching as Dante broke free of my grip to investigate a bookshelf across the room."I just thought—"
"That all bikers live in filth?"He set our bags down by the couch."I like order.Helps me think."
I felt my cheeks warm."Sorry.I didn't mean—"
"It's fine."He shrugged, those massive shoulders rising and falling beneath his leather cut."Come on.I'll show you around."
The tour was brief but revealing.Kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a surprisingly well-stocked pantry.Small dining area with a solid wood table and four chairs.A hallway leading to what Razor called his office—a room with a desk, computer, filing cabinets, and a large safe I pretended not to notice.
"And this," he said, pushing open a door near the end of the hallway, "is our room."
Our room.The words sent a flutter through my stomach as I stepped inside.A king-sized bed dominated the space, its dark blue comforter military-precise in its placement.Nightstands on either side, a dresser against one wall, and a door that presumably led to the bathroom.Nothing frilly or decorative.Nothing that hinted a woman had ever spent time here.I wondered how many others had been in this room before me, then quickly pushed the thought aside.It didn't matter.We were here now.
"Bathroom's through there," Razor confirmed, nodding toward the door."Got a new toothbrush for you.Towels in the cabinet."
Such simple things—a toothbrush, towels—but they represented a consideration I wasn't used to.Tyler had never once thought about what I might need.Had expected me to manage everything while he took what he wanted.
"Thank you," I said, meaning it.
He nodded, then his expression changed, a spark of excitement flickering across his features."Got one more room to show you.Best one in the house."
He led us back down the hallway to a closed door, then paused, looking down at Dante who'd been trailing us silently, taking everything in with those observant eyes that missed nothing.
"This one's for you, little man," Razor said, pushing the door open with a flourish.
I gasped.The room was nothing like I'd expected.Where the rest of the house was practical and sparse, this space had been transformed with a child's needs in mind.A race car bed with a blue comforter.A bookshelf filled with children's books.A wooden chest overflowing with toys.Walls painted a soft blue that matched Dante's favorite color perfectly.Even a small desk with crayons and paper neatly arranged on top.
