He nodded. “This isn’t a club hit you’re after, Chance. Barrett Silvermane has got nothing to do with the Kings of Mayhem. This is a personal matter, son, and you know we don’t do club hits for personal affairs.”
“He’s a piece of scum rapist who doesn’t deserve to live.”
“I don’t disagree. But if you put a hit out on everyone who hurt someone good and decent, then you’d be putting a hit on a lot of fucking people.”
“She’s not just anyone—”
“What is it with this girl?”
His question surprised me. “I’m trying to protect her.”
“No, it’s more than that. And whatever it is, you’re letting her cloud your judgment.”
“This guy is bad news, Bull. Look at how much he’s been able to get away with. He’s fucking untouchable.” My fist collided with the table, and it rattled. “With his parents’ protection he’s been able to keep torturing her.”
“We’re not fucking taking out a politician’s son. Not the club. Not you. I mean it, Chance. Don’t get any stupid ideas about taking matters into your own hands. You murder Barrett Silvermane and the feds will be all over you—and this club—like fucking ants at a picnic. So you stay away from him, got it?”
I left the clubhouse frustrated as all fuck. I couldn’t go against the wishes of my president. My only option was to leave it in the hands of fate.
If Barrett came after Cassidy, I would be waiting, ready, and only too happy to put a bullet in his smug face.
CASSIDY
It hurt to wake up and see he was gone.
It hurt when he was gone all day.
But nothing hurt like offering myself to him and him backing away.
Again.
Being knocked back once was bad enough, but offering my nearly naked and horny body to him on a silver platter and being rejected was mortifying.
Throughout the day I bounced from embarrassed to hurt, confused to frustrated.
Reject me once, stupid you.
Reject me twice, stupid me.
I had feelings for him. For the first time in my life, I had feelings for a man, and it gutted me that they were one-sided.
I had dated a little in college, but it had never amounted to much. It was more about finding a way to enjoy sex. Because I refused to let Barrett take that away from me.
I met Logan one New Year’s Eve at a college bar. We spent one night together, and he showed me what it was like to make love to someone. Showed me how a real man pleasured a woman. Taught me how good it felt to be touched and kissed and licked. He gave me multiple delicious orgasms—orgasms I asked for—with his magnificent body. I didn’t know his last name. Didn’t know anything about him. Only that he took a scarred, young woman and showed her what the other side could look like, in that little motel room under a neon sign that blinked VACANCY.
Not long after him, I met Travis, a six-foot wall of muscle who played hockey for our college. We dated for six weeks and shared a lot of naked time before he accepted an overseas placement, and we broke up. He gave me sex on tap, and with every encounter I felt myself move further and further away from the shadows of my past.
The next was a cowboy in Texas, who was as gentle and giving as he was tall and broad. We spent three days together before Missy and I hit the road again. And in those three days, a little more of me healed beneath his tender caresses and whispered words of lust.
But I had never had any deep feelings for them. Not like the ones I felt for Chance.
Old habits came to the surface, and my instinct to run was hot in my veins. I wanted to pack my shit and flee, but my angry little heart wanted to confront him first. To know why. To hear him say it.
Reject me because of me. Not because of what he did to me.
I unfolded my fist to look at the scar on my palm.
Yeah, I was done with running. Oh, I was leaving alright. But I would walk out that door, not run.
Before that, though, I needed to stay and talk to him.
Despite being mortified by his rejection, I felt better for telling Chance about Barrett and the things he did to me. It felt liberating. Just as it had when I’d vented it all to a psychiatrist back in my college years. For three years I’d maintained a weekly appointment with an amazing doctor named Michelle, who helped me work through my past.
Thanks to Doctor-patient confidentiality, I knew my secrets were safe with her. And if anything happened to me, at least someone other than me knew the truth.
Of course, Michelle tried getting me to go to the authorities, just like Chance did. And just as I had explained to him, I had told her that Kerry Silvermane’s reach was too far and too wide for me to ever be able to do that safely. There was some push and pull, but once we got over that and she stopped trying, she focused on helping me through the trauma.