Текст книги "Affliction"

Автор книги: River Savage

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“I didn’t mean it like that,” I choke as my chest tightens and my head aches. Frustration that I can’t find the words that I need burns me. “It matters to me, Sy. I live with this daily.” I stare back at him as the first tear crawls down my face.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve lived with it every day while I’ve been kept in the dark.” He storms past me leaving me standing there, alone and breaking and surrounded by our friends.

“Honey,” Kadence whispers after a few moments in uncomfortable silence. The panic that I had been battling wins out, suffocating me in its grasp. The ache in my heart slowly starts to seep out for the world to see. I haven’t felt like this in such a long time that the sensation frightens me. I need to get away before I break in front of everyone. Turning on my heel, I race the rest of the way to the door as my skin prickles with the awareness of what’s to come.

“Holly,” someone calls for me, but my mind has checked out, my escape my only concern. Making my way out into the parking lot, I rush to my car and throw myself in before the panic completely takes over. I lock the doors as my body heaves in silent sobs and my perfectly constructed armor comes crashing down. I want to turn it all off, shut everyone out and hide my shame.

“Open the door, Holly.” Someone bangs on the window, but all I can see is my tunnel vision and I’m spiraling into it at full speed.

“Holly, open the door or I'll break the window.” I hear another voice, this time deeper, but I can’t control my actions. My main worry is not letting the darkness take me. A large smash pulls me back, then my front door opens and I’m pulled from the driver's seat by strong arms. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to get out. I know I’m not capable of driving, not capable of even talking. I just needed to get away from here.

“She can’t drive in this state,” I hear Kadence say behind me. My mind doesn’t fight the intrusion and my body sighs at the strength.

“I’ll take her to my room,” Sy’s voice rumbles from his chest.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I hear someone argue, maybe Jesse? But the heaviness of my heart makes it too hard to speak.

“I’ve got her,” he says, still moving forward.

“You need to take it easy on her,” another voice orders but I don’t hear his reply. My body gives up the fight and my eyes become heavy. The only comfort I feel is two strong arms holding me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sy

I pull up at the dark, empty parking lot and cut my bike’s engine. I haven’t been out here in the last few months, but no matter how long it’s been, it never gets easier. In the beginning, I used to come out here every other weekend. It was my way of feeling connected to her. I would sit under the stars and try to picture every part of her face, and I'd talk to her. Tell her about my day and ask how she was doing. Some nights I would fall asleep under these stars, and wake on the dew-covered grass feeling like my world shattered all over again when I realized I wasn’t dreaming, but living the nightmare.

“Hey, baby girl,” I greet her as I place her favorite daisies down. “Sorry I haven’t been back in a while,” I tell her, brushing stray leaves off the marble headstone. Fall is here reminding me of another Christmas I have to get through without her. After cleaning up the area, I sit back on the cool grass in front of her. I wasn't sure coming here tonight when I was hurting so much would be wise, but now I'm here, I know I made the right decision.

“I miss you, Keira,” I say, looking up at the same stars that have always been here. I sit in silence, running over everything that happened back at the clubhouse earlier tonight. I want to rewind the whole fucking night, go back to earlier in the evening when I was making love to Holly, not tearing her apart.

“I hope you're doing good up there, baby.” I close my eyes and breathe in what I imagine her reply would be. Something about how she is having a wonderful time and how much she misses me.

She always had this upbeat attitude, always finding the good in everything. When she lost her hair with the aggressive chemotherapy, she still found a positive to it. Telling her mom and me that now all the pretty hairbands she loved to wear wouldn’t get lost under her thick dark curls. She wore those headbands with pride, not caring that her bald head represented a sickness that was going to kill her. Instead, she showed the world that even though her body was failing her, she was still going to do everything a seven-year-old girl wanted to do.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” I roar up at the sky in anger, reliving those memories. I’m not expecting an answer to my question, no one ever replies. I learnt a long time ago that grief never goes away. I’ll always live in two worlds: the world that was with Keira and the world today. And the only way to survive is to find a balance between both. I thought I had been balancing the two well, but now—now I don't even know where my head is.

I just know tonight I want to live in Keira’s world, the one that holds no answers or happy endings; just memories of my daughter, some beautiful, some heartbreaking. I know I’ll find it hard to come back. I always do. Only now, it's made harder with both worlds filled with loss. Resting back into the cold dew of the late night grass, I let the grief of the past and the grief of the present wash over me. I know I need to go to Holly, see if she’s okay, but I can’t. Right now isn't about Holly; it's about me. So I lie at the foot of my daughter's grave and mourn the loss of two children. I let the years of pent-up tears fall. I let the anger running through my veins out and punch the soil that houses my child. Hating that this is my life, and knowing that there is nothing I can do about it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Holly

Guilt and grief are my only friends. One weighs heavy on my heart while the other mocks me from afar.

“Holly, are you okay?” Doctor Elliot asks, pulling me from my inner thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I readjust my hands, looking back up. That's the second time in the last thirty minutes I’ve drifted off into my head—drifted off remembering Sy’s words.

“Want to try that again?” She smiles, seeing past my bullshit.

“I’m getting there,” I admit, and it’s the truth. Finally having the truth out there isn’t as daunting as what I thought it would be.

“So, as I was asking, have you heard from him?” she repeats the dreaded question.

“Not since that night. I’m giving him some time.” She gives a simple nod, no compassion in her eyes. It’s been a week since that night at the clubhouse. After Sy smashed my window to get me out of the car, he carried me back to his room. The panic attack that hit was one of the worst ones I’ve experienced. I wouldn’t have driven off since I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. It was as if my body was shutting down because the whole situation was just too much. He didn't say anything as he held me through the uncontrollable sobs that racked through my body knowing that my secret was out. I wanted to talk, wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but the words wouldn't come. I could sense his anger as he held me from behind on his bed, and I didn't blame him for it, but I didn't understand why he was holding me with tenderness when I knew he didn't want to. He didn't want to hold me in that moment, but he did. He held me until I fell asleep and then I woke up alone in his bed the next day. I didn't know where he was or if he was coming back, so I left, wanting to gather myself together properly before I saw him again.

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“No,” I answer, wishing I could talk to him. Each day gets harder not hearing from him.

“Why is that?” she asks, not giving up.

“I don’t know. Maybe from fear of rejection?” I shrug, unsure I understand my concerns. I think it's fear, fear of what he will say. Fear he might dismiss what we’ve lost.

“Fear?” she asks, looking up, her interest piqued.

“Fear of his anger.”

“Do you think Sy is angry?” She asks the question that’s been weighing me down from the moment I served up the hidden truth.

“I know he is.” Of course, he is angry. I kept something from him. Something huge. Even if he held me and let me mourn our child, he is angry.

“Why would he be angry?”

“Why do you ask all these questions?” I deflect, but she expects it, so she waits patiently for me to answer. “Fine. He’s angry because I couldn’t trust him with the truth when I should have. He’s mad because I hid it, pushed him away.” She nods, writing more shit down in her stupid book.

“So, are you going to talk to him, Holly?”

I don’t reply, unsure of the answer to her question. Can I go to him, open and willing to accept whatever wrath he delivers my way? And then could I walk away if he delivers a blow I'm not ready for, knowing this is my fault?

“Okay, I want you to do some homework this week,” she says, letting my non-response slide. “I want you to write yourself a letter giving you permission to let go of your guilt.”

“Do I deserve that?” I retort, not feeling very deserving after the shit I’ve put Sy through this last week.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re a human being, Holly; you make mistakes, and you did what was best for you. Yes, you should have told him, but despite the circumstances, I understand why you didn’t, and I’m willing to bet Sy understands that.” Her words give me a little glimmer of hope. I want to believe this is the case, that Sy’s anger and rage was a reflex of the hard man I know he can be, and that maybe now, after a few days to calm down he realizes why I kept it from him.

“I want to see you in three weeks this time.” She changes the time frame in between appointments and for once, I don’t have the feeling of panic that she just pushed our appointments further apart. “Keep journaling and write that letter,” she reminds me as her final demand. I stand, agreeing to her orders, and when I leave her office, I smile because I feel like, just maybe, it’s all going to be okay. I just hope Sy is willing to let me talk.

***

I drive into the compound around eight o’clock that night. I know I should have called instead, but the thought of him hanging up on me made me drive all the way here to make sure he couldn't do just that. The lights are low, and a few bikes line the courtyard. Shutting off my car, I suck in a deep breath and pray I get through this. Yes, you will. Just walk in there and sort this out. I talk myself into it.

The short walk to the clubhouse feels like a mile, each step bringing me closer to the man I miss so much.

“He’s not here,” a voice stops me as I get closer to the door. I spin and see Jesse resting up against the brick wall, taking in the dark sky.

“He’s not?” I stammer, losing control of my breathing after being frightened.

“No, he’s out,” he tells me, not taking his eyes off the stars.

“How is he?” I bravely ask. I know he’s a guy and a biker at that, but Jesse is Jesse. He wouldn’t be Jesse if he didn’t know everything about his brothers.

“Been better,” he divulges and I feel defeated. “But still better than what he was before you came along. How are you?”

“Same, been better,” I use his words back at him, and he nods but doesn’t respond. “Will he be back tonight?” I need to see him.

“No, he’s out for the night.”

“Okay, thanks, Jesse.” I turn and walk away, conflicted that I’m going home without speaking to him but feeling somewhat relieved I’m getting out of it.

“I’ll tell him you came by,” he calls out, and I almost tell him not to, but then I remember I want him to know that I’m stepping up, and letting him in.

“Thanks, Jesse, I appreciate it.” I give him a soft smile and head back to my car.

“Don’t fuck him over, Holly,” he replies, and I know no response is needed; he’s not looking for a discussion, but giving me a warning. If I didn’t understand this brotherhood code that they live by, I would have been offended. Instead, I smile, knowing Sy and I might just make it through this, together.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sy

Jesse: Holly just showed up looking for you.

I look down at the text Jesse just sent me, and I feel something settle in me. Relief? If we weren’t in the middle of trying to get a young woman out of Redwick, I’d be on the back of my bike riding to her place and knocking her door down. It’s been a fucked up week to say the least. After losing my shit and watching her fall apart, I couldn’t walk away. I watched her from my bike when she followed me out to the forecourt. I thought she was chasing after me, but when I heard Kadence and Nix call out to her as she climbed into her car, I realized I had unleashed my fury on her in the middle of a panic attack. She’d had the same look in her eyes as she struggled to breathe back at the hospital five months ago. I should have known then when I saw her panic she was hiding something deeper. But that knowledge didn’t stop me, didn’t stop the anger I imparted on her while she stood in the hall trying to fight the darkness from taking her. After Katie, I never thought that I’d feel enmity like that again, but right before my eyes, that feeling came back full force.

When she got in the car, I couldn’t ride off. I was already feeling like an ass for letting that all play out in public, in front of our friends. I wasn't going to let her break like that in front of them. When I walked to her car, smashed the window and took her in my arms, I felt the fight leave her. I knew I had fucked up and pushed her too far, so I held her in silence, unsure where to begin or how we would move past it. I knew she would have struggled with her decision to not tell me, but as the hours ticked by and I held her in my arms, that anger I was feeling turned into sadness, which turned into relief, which then ended with grief. It was a cycle, and every emotion pushed me to a new frame of mind.

So I left her in the middle of the night, driving the two hours to visit Keira. A part of me wishes I hadn’t left, hadn’t walked away, but I just couldn’t face her when I had no idea how I was feeling. Anger, grief, relief?

I never thought I’d become a dad again. After Keira’s death, I vowed that I wouldn’t allow myself to open my heart up like that again, to endure that love like no other with the risk of it being taken away. But now I don’t know how I feel. Having had a week to work through the emotions of Holly’s revelation, the thought that I was so close to having that again makes me want to snatch that vow back.

“You wanna get off your fucking phone and watch what you’re doing?” Beau grumbles beside me as we sit and wait for a phone call. We're about to move into our second recovery for this month. Jesse was meant to ride along with Beau tonight, but I agreed, needing to get out of the clubhouse.

“Fuck, Beau. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” I tease him and even I’m shocked for a moment.

“Fuck me, that text was from her?” he guesses, considering my reaction to his moody comment.

“It wasn’t.”

“Bullshit. One minute you’re sulking, the next you’re fucking teasing.”

“Whatever, asshole. It was Jesse.”

“Yeah? What did he want?” he asks, and I pause, not sure what to say; the bastard has me.

“I fucking knew it,” he sighs. “First Nix and now you.”

“Me what?”

“You, you’re fucking pussy whipped, lost in your head over some bitch.”

“Watch it,” I warn, not liking him call Holly a bitch, no matter what she has done.

“See,” he accuses, and he’s right. I’m a fucking goner.

“Whatever,” I shrug, hoping he lets it go. I don't want to talk about anything with him regarding Holly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmurs. Only his whatever comes across as disappointment. We sit in silence for a few more minutes both lost in our thoughts. I wonder why she came now? Tonight? The desperate need to know eats away at me. Until the phone vibrates on the dash.

“Yep?” Beau answers softly into the phone. “Okay, be there in five,” he hangs up and starts the truck. “You ready?” he asks, looking concerned.

“By the look on your face, no,” I say as we pull out of the parking lot. I need to prepare myself for what I see tonight; this is my third ride along and each time it gets worse. Seeing these women so beaten and scared fucks with me. I know this is Beau's thing, his passion, and I know what we are doing is the right thing. I just find it hard to stay calm when I witness what happens here.

“You know my sister died at the hands of men like this?” Beau breaks the silence a few minutes later as we head to the first safe house.

“Yeah,” I reply, unsure how to respond. Fuck, what do you say to that? I only found out about Beau’s sister last year. Jesse was talking about it one night and I had no fucking idea that’s what happened.

“Could have killed the fucker, too. Could have taken him out with my bare hands.” His voice becomes harsher with each word he speaks.

“Why didn’t you?” I know if I had a sister and her husband killed her with his fists, I wouldn't hesitate to fucking kill him.

“Because I wanted justice for my sister. The fucker would have gotten off easy.”

I nod, agreeing to some extent, but in my quest of redemption and letting go, I haven’t got to that point yet. “This is why you do this?” I ask, wondering why we slowly seem to be getting in deeper.

“Yeah, these women, if they don’t get out, they’re dead. I wish my sister had that option, a place to go.”

I don’t say anything, what is there to say? I wish he didn’t have to live with that. Wish we all didn’t have to live with some of the ugly shit from our pasts.

After a few more silent minutes, we pull up to an old dirt road and turn down it.

“We need in and out on this one; she’s been patched up, but she needs medical attention, fast,” he tells me as we come to a stop out the front of an old barn.

“Where are we gonna get that, Beau?” I ask, feeling uneasy again. Fuck, this is going to get out of hand. We’ve never had a pickup that needed medical attention before.

“Let's just see how bad she is. We need to get her out first.” He reverses the old truck we use for pick-ups, and slowly brings it closer to the entrance.

Leaving the engine running, we exit the truck and Beau heads to the back door, knocking while I make sure no one comes down the drive. The light outside the porch illuminates the inky night and then the back door opens.

“She’s not good,” a woman’s voice says and the fear in it puts me on edge.

“Okay,” Beau replies, walking past her into the house. I wait outside making sure we can get out without being seen.

“Door, Sy,” Beau whispers, coming into view while carrying a small unmoving woman in his arms. I don't stop to look, just open the back doors for him, and step back as he climbs in and positions her on his lap.

“I’m gonna stay back here with her. You drive,” he orders, his stare tense and I know not to argue.

Closing the back doors, I make my way around the front and pray the trip to the Knights’ safe house is smooth. Fuck, a woman messed up in the back of the truck would never be classified as a night gone smoothly.

***

“She can’t be moved. That arm needs to be reset and I suspect a few of her ribs are broken,” the doc we called up an hour ago tells us as he packs away his medical bag. Once we got her to the safe house, we realized things were about to get tricky. The poor woman was so fucked up we had to call in a marker to get him up here, something the club does not like to do.

“We need to get her out to the next drop off,” Beau says from his chair next to the woman’s bed.

“She’s not going anywhere. Not until that arm is reset and cast,” the doc firmly replies.

“And how do we do that?” I ask, concerned this woman's chance of getting away is becoming slim.

“I’m going to have to go back to the clinic and get more supplies,” he explains, removing his gloves.

“Is she going to be okay?” Beau asks, coming to stand with us.

“I think the main concern here is who that woman is. That’s what I would be worried about, fellas,” he replies, looking over at her, “and how you’re going to keep her hidden.”

“Who is she?” Beau asks, just as confused as I am.

“That woman there is Mackenzie Morre,” he informs us.

“Fuck, Mayor Morre’s daughter-in-law? Jesus, I didn’t see that one coming,” Beau says, looking back over at her.

“Yes. Her husband, Chad Morre, is known for his temper, and this isn’t her first beating either.” He leans in closer so only we can hear. “His father smoothed out the last indiscretion without too much media attention, but this is beyond that.” He lets us in on that valuable information while looking concerned.

“Fuck,” Beau curses, realizing just how much shit we are in if we don’t get her out, and fast.

“Do you know this asshole?” I ask, wondering what's so special about him.

“Yeah, fucker is some punk-ass attorney. Thinks his shit don’t stink. But it's his father we have to be worried about. The mayor has more power. You need to get your stuff up here straight away so we can get on the road.” Beau turns back to the doc.

“Even if we get it set, she still might need surgery. Her arm is bad. Without x-rays, I won't know the extent of her injuries,” the doc delivers the bad news. Shit, we need to get out of here.

“We can’t take her to the hospital, especially with her husband's connections,” Beau bellows back.

“You might not, but I can,” the doctor says, writing something on a piece of paper.

“Call this number and ask to speak to a Sydney Patrick. You need to quote this when you get through and tell her we have a code three coming in and we will need two rooms,” he fires off his instructions. “Use your burner cell. We can’t have it traced.”

“How are we going to get her into the hospital? Can this person be trusted?” Beau questions, not looking confident with the plan.

“I need to collect some more supplies. Once we stabilize her, we’ll discuss this. Until then, I suggest you settle in for a stay, boys.” He walks to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if anything changes,” he adds, leaving us alone with a woman who will more than likely have her husband out looking for her as soon as he realizes she’s missing. Fuck.

“You might want to call Nix,” I tell Beau as I head to the chair ready to sit it out. “Things just got a whole lot more fuckin’ complicated.”

“You fucking think?” he growls, walking next to her bed.

This is the last thing I needed tonight, especially with Holly coming to me, but I can’t leave Beau. Settling in for the night, I try not to let my mind wander to Holly and what she wanted. I’ll only worry. All I can do is hope when I get back, we can sit down and sort this out, ‘cause I love her. I might be angry she kept her pregnancy from me, but I love her all the same. And knowing what we both lost breaks my heart.

***

“How bad is it?” Nix asks down the cell when we’re about to head out. Beau made the call an hour ago but couldn’t get through, leaving me to deal with a pissed-off Prez. We should have been heading back into town, not spending another night out.

“She’s pretty messed up. Doc says surgery, but we got bigger problems.”

“How so?”

“Mayor Morre.”

“Please tell me that fucker is not connected with this.”

“Daughter-in-law,” I tell him what he doesn’t want to know.

“Fuck me! We are fucked if this shit comes out,” he sighs, clearly knowing who this asshole is. “When can you get the fuck out of there?”

“We’re about to take her in, but depending on what she needs, we might be another day,” I tell him and fucking hate it. This is the last place I want to be, but helping this woman is our priority. We can’t just leave her.

“Get your asses home as soon as possible. The fucker has bigger connections than anyone in that town. You keep your eyes open. Last thing we need is that fucker onto us.”

“Yep, on it,” I tell him before hanging up and walking back inside.

“You get on to him?” Beau looks up as I walk back into the room. Mackenzie is awake, sitting propped up by a few pillows.

“Yeah, all good. Says to get back as soon as possible.” He nods, looking over to the messed-up woman.

“You need anything?” he asks her. She shakes her head no, her face looking worse as the night moves forward.

“How long until we can move?” she croaks out, her breath choppy as the movement sends pain to her face.

“The doc’s on his way back. Should be getting here in about thirty,” Beau answers her.

“He’s going to find me.” Her panic is not unwarranted. The asshole has instilled fear into her, but we will do everything in our power to make sure that won’t happen.

“No one is going to find you. This wasn’t in the plan, but we’re gonna work with what we have,” Beau assures her.

“You don’t know him like I do. He will find me. He did this because he knew I was leaving. I don’t know how he knew, but he knew,” she whispers.

“Listen, Mackenzie. We will do everything we need to do to get you out of here safely, but we have to get this arm set. It’s too badly damaged to move you to the next drop off. We have the connections here. I promise you he won’t get to you.” I don’t like the feeling that settles in me at hearing Beau call her Mackenzie, or his absolute promise that her husband won’t find her. I know we will do everything in our power to get her out, but that’s not to say we won’t run into some problems. We need to prepare ourselves that her husband might find her.

A car pulling up into the gravel drive has me on alert.

“Did the doc call?” Beau asks, standing as I move through the cabin to get the guns.

“No, he said he would call five-minutes out,” I tell him as I retrieve my Beretta 92FS.

“Whatever you do, don’t make a sound,” he whispers to a petrified-looking Mackenzie as I pass him his weapon.

“Get her to the back room,” he instructs, moving to the front window.

“It’s him. I know it is,” she cries, not listening to Beau’s command.

“Woman, be quiet,” I growl, moving back through the cabin. She nods, silent tears falling down her face.

“I need to move you. It’s gonna fucking hurt, but you can’t make a sound, you hear me?” I ask, leaning down into her space. She nods, my stare telling her we are not fucking around. We don’t know who is coming up the drive, but the doc has been on plenty of call outs to know not to show up unannounced. “Bite down on this.” I hand her a clean towel. “Okay. One, two, three,” I count and pick her up over my shoulder, careful not to move her arm. I can’t help the ribs and I know she must be in some fucked-up pain but she holds in her screams as she bites and moans into the towel. “Good girl,” I tell her, placing her down on the bed in the back room. “Hang on,” I instruct, moving to the free standing closet and pushing the heavy fucker aside.

“What’s going on?” she asks removing the towel from her mouth.

“Whoever is out there is not meant to be here. We have to hide you ‘cause if it’s the police, they’re here for you,” I tell her, flicking the lock on the secret door hidden in the wall.

“I can’t go in there,” she shakes, looking at the dark space.

“It’s either in there or back to your husband. What do you want?” I ask, losing my patience, my nerves on edge. I need to get back to Beau. She nods, understanding it’s our only way.

“Okay,” she agrees, standing shakily from the bed and walks forward slowly, with every step the pain is evident on her face.

“Please don’t leave me in here long,” she pleads as I go to pull the door closed.

“As soon as we get rid of whoever is out there, we’ll be back,” I promise, closing the door. Pulling the closet back into place, I flick the switch off and walk back out to the front room.

“We’ve got two sheriff’s cars pull up,” Beau says, keeping eyes out the window. “Both about to approach. She secured?” he asks, placing his gun in the back of his jeans.

“Yep.” I take a drink from the fridge and pull up a chair around the small kitchen table. The knock comes next, and with a nod of our heads, we know shit is about to go down, and can only pray that they don’t find her.

“Sheriff, what brings you out tonight?” Beau asks, opening the door to three officers. I don’t know how I feel about this visit. Mackenzie has been out of her husband’s clutches for not even three hours and he has the whole county’s sheriff’s department looking for her. The fucker is dirty or the mayor has something on him.

“Evening, Sir. We have our men out searching for a missing woman, Mackenzie Morre,” he says, looking past Beau’s shoulder into the cabin. “You haven’t seen her around have you?” he asks and I can’t get a hold on if he suspects she’s here or if he’s just doing a routine door-to-door check.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone. We’re just dropping in for a rest before heading back to Rushford,” Beau plays it cool, letting him know we aren’t planning to stay.

“Knights Rebels I see.” He nods down at Beau’s cut.

“Yep. Just had an out-of-town engagement. Gonna head out of here soon. If we see your woman, we’ll let you know.”

“You don’t mind if we have a look around do you?” he asks. It’s not like we can say no without looking like we’re hiding something.

“Sure,” Beau steps aside, letting the three officers in.

“Evening.” The sheriff nods, walking into the kitchen and removing his hat. “Just a routine check,” he informs me, looking around the small space.

“No problem,” I reply, playing it cool. He stands in the entry as his officers clear the cabin.

“All clear,” they say, coming out of the room that Mackenzie is hiding in. Internally, I let out a sigh of relief. Thank fuck.

“Okay, well, thank you for your cooperation. You be sure to let us know if you see or hear anything.” He nods, replacing his hat and walking back through the door.

“Of course,” Beau replies, letting them out.

After a few moments of silence and making sure they have gone, Beau races to the back room to let Mackenzie out.

“She’s scared of the dark,” I tell him when we find a hysterical woman cowering in the dark.

“Fuck,” he curses, helping her out of the small space. Her screams fill the room as he moves her to the bed.

“Go get the meds the doc left,” he orders, placing her down on the bed and climbing in behind her. I don’t know what’s happening, but this shit is not normal. I’ve never seen Beau so protective of a woman before. Moving back through the cabin, I pick up the pain meds and pray whatever is happening here is just Beau comforting a broken woman and nothing more, ‘cause if it’s more, the club is about to enter a whole new world of trouble. With the likes of this Morre family, I doubt they’re going to stop until the woman is found, and knowing Beau, he won’t give up until this woman is safe.