My chin was grasped in his thumb and forefinger. I met emerald eyes. “The only joy, Peaches? Now you’re just breakin’ my heart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you and gummy bears are the only two joys in my life. Without them, I’m destitute, damned.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m gonna make sure, for the rest of your life, you’re well stocked in gummy bears.”
I didn’t eat them.
But I filled up the notepad with not only my three things daily, but with ideas for the story, things I noticed.
Though I’m a prisoner here, I’m treated with respect. Well, whatever passes for respect in the underworld, which is not getting beaten, raped or starved.
Everyone carries guns. The prospects assigned to me wear them even when playing waitress to me.
There are floodlights on around the perimeter every night. And there are round the clock guards, prospects and patched members alike.
Are they expecting another attack?
The main room of the clubhouse is somehow soundproofed.
The Sons of Templar do not take kindly to those who try to cross them, but the brutality I expected is absent. Is it because of who I am? Is it because I’m a woman? Or is it still to come?
I wondered whether I would still be alive to write the story.
The answer came to me on the eighth day.
When my door unlocked late afternoon and it wasn’t a prospect, it was Liam.
A week without seeing him hadn’t made me forget he was here. Hadn’t tricked me into thinking I’d somehow hallucinated him in the midst of the trauma at seeing someone murdered in front of me then being held captive.
No, every second I knew he was here, somewhere, beyond a locked door. Wearing a cut. Wearing tattoos. A foreign face. A scar I tortured myself with at the dead of night.
A body I tortured myself with in the dead of night.
His eyes ran over me hungrily. But empty.
I was wearing jeans, loose, and a plaid shirt, nothing sexy by any means. But he made me feel exposed, naked.
Liam had a way of doing that. Stripping me down.
But it was good before. Warm. Nice. Because back then, I wasn’t afraid of what I was beneath the surface.
There was nothing good about this. Because beneath the surface, I was decaying memories, rotten experiences, and ugly truths.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
I wanted to argue, but I was tired. And I was anxious to get my fate in front of me. Instead of my past.
He led me through the common room.
It was empty, apart from a rogue club girl cleaning up some bottles. She glanced up at Liam, giving him a warm smile.
I almost gagged at the familiarity behind it.
Her eyes touched mine, she recognized me. We hadn’t spoken before but exchanged friendly smiles as the club gathered. But as she glanced between Liam and me, there was nothing friendly about her smile.
I wanted to educate her on the truth. That this was not me coming in and laying claim to some man that she obviously wanted. My claim to him had long died.
But Liam had already opened the door to ‘church’ and I was faced with another kind of truth.
I stepped inside.
The room was relatively small, taken up mostly by a long, carved wooden table.
Every seat was filled except two.
Hansen sat at the head of the table.
The mood wasn’t exactly welcoming.
I would go so far as to say the mood was hostile. Openly.
Hansen nodded to the two empty chairs to his left. One, I guessed was for Liam. “Caroline. Thanks for joining us. Please, sit.”
Liam pulled it out for me.
I ignored this and the second he let it go, I moved it as far away from his as I could. The screech of the chair against the hardwood floor echoed through the quiet room. Moving the chair had me almost brushing against Claw’s shoulder, but I didn’t care. I’d take Claw’s murderous glare over…whatever was in Liam’s eyes.
I wanted to tell myself I’d take anything over having to see Liam, but that was a lie. I was desperate to see him, even though the pain that came with his presence was overwhelming. I was addicted to it. Every glimpse was like a blade to my soul, but I continued to self-harm emotionally. I kept cutting.
I glanced around the table. All eyes were focused on me with varying degrees of contempt. I focused on Hansen. “I’m assuming everyone here is educated on who I am.”
He nodded once. “I’m open with my club. We’re a democracy. Not a dictatorship.”
I regarded him. “And has this democracy come to a vote on my fate?”
I already knew it wasn’t death, because if they’d decided to kill me, they wouldn’t have sat me down for this chat.
Something moved in his eyes. “We have.”
He waited. Likely for me to crumble, plead. Ask for mercy.