Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) (15 page)

“Your neighbors are shooting off fireworks,” she murmured.

With every bone of self-hatred in his body, he knew he should take her back to the club. Or at least sleep on the couch. But she opened her arms and he couldn’t do it—he climbed onto the mattress and tucked her close to his side.

Her soft hair caught on his unshaven jaw, but he didn’t brush the strands away. When he looked down, he expected to see wavier hair and angular cheekbones. Slanted eyes of dark blue, but Sarah was nothing like Lorraine in looks. Only her sweet disposition was the same.

When a firework went off, she snuggled closer. He wrapped her against him from shoulder to toes. Brushing his lips over the shell of her ear, he considered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

She traced the lines of his tattoos over and over. The patterns she drew made his throat tighten.

“Are you happy?” she asked out of the blue.

Fuck, how to answer such a loaded question? He’d rather face gunfire. He walked through life with his head down. Not that he didn’t face problems with a glare and the middle finger, but when it came to analyzing deeper stuff, he avoided it like the shadows of a truck stop.

He kissed the top of her head. “Are you?”

She took a long time to answer. For a while, he didn’t think she could organize her feelings any better than he could. “I thought I was. But now I know I wasn’t. Not for a long time.”

“Why not?” He circled the lines of her tattoo, even though he couldn’t see them.

Goosebumps rippled down her spine, and she burrowed closer against his chest. “When you hold me so tight, I don’t feel frightened or…
oppressed.
”

He nodded understanding. He’d watched O’Dovey twine around her like a boa constrictor around its prey. “How long did it go on?”

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “A couple years. At first…”

Long seconds ticked by. “Go on,” he prompted.

A rough sigh left her, warming the skin of his chest. “At first I liked the attention. I liked
him.
” Tears sounded in her voice.

“Oh Sweetheart. It’s natural. He didn’t scare you then.”

“No, that happened a lot later.”

He had to ask. “Did you have a…sexual relationship with him?”

She shook her head then stopped abruptly. “Well, at first. I liked him, so I let him. But later, I did everything I could to avoid him.”

Without thought, he nuzzled the line of her hair across her forehead. She smelled like air and freshly-clipped flowers. And him.

“I thought I was happy. But no.” She propped herself up to stare at him.

“Can you be again?”

Her eyes went from intense to flat. Dead and far, far away from him. Panic spiked in his chest, and he forced himself not to tie her to his bed and never let her up. Anything was better than the downward spiral of depression ending in the worst way possible.

Gripping her wrist, he removed her hand from his chest. Then he rolled her onto the mattress and hitched her against him. His need to get up and run was strong, but that’s not what she needed or deserved.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Connall. I wish I did. Right now, I keep thinking about that night. About what would have happened if I’d just…let him take me.”

“No.” The force in his tone startled even him. Sarah jumped. “Don’t ever think that. You’re worth so much more than to be a cum-rag for any man. You deserve to be cherished and loved.”

She fell still, and he curled his hand around her throat, deliberately feeling her tripping pulse. He counted the beats mindlessly but was aware her heart rate was high.

When he looked into her eyes, the depths were bright. “I want to be happy, but I’m not sure I deserve it.”

His throat constricted. Hell, he knew exactly how she felt. His whole life was ruled by these feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to speak but nodded, rubbing his lips against her temple. As bottle rockets popped outside his house, he listened to all Sarah didn’t say. How deep in despair was she?

He couldn’t fail to raise her from the darkness. No, he couldn’t fail this time.

She was alone in the club, which never happened. As long as she could remember, somebody had occupied the space with her. Even if they hadn’t spoken to each other or the other person was asleep, Sarah hadn’t been truly alone.

Now she was.

She could see the lure of solitude. Some people thrived on it, but she’d never been good at being with only herself.

With time to think, she found she didn’t want to. With time to dream, she had nothing to dream about. Besides, last night Connall had given her so many things to fantasize about, she didn’t need help.

She turned in a circle, surveying the room. A few chairs were pushed out and a beer bottle had been left on one surface. She drifted through the room, righting chairs and grabbing the longneck. The warm glass under her hand sent a shock of memory to her mind. That night O’Dovey had been drinking. He’d tasted like beer and his hands smelled like it.

Too late she squelched the thought. But now that O’Dovey had been let out of his hidden, secret crypt, the man’s presence seemed to flood in. A chill ran over her arms.

She found herself drifting to her bedroom. The horror of blood rushing over her hands and the stink of death permeated her mind. At the door, she stared at the place where it’d happened. The bite of O’Dovey’s hands. Her fear of being raped. His body dropping to the floor.

Tears clouded her vision, and she swiped them angrily.

A noise came from the club, a soft
clunk
that drew her around. As if in a trance, she moved toward the bedroom door. Maybe Ace was behind the bar, ready to give her one of his big, engulfing hugs. Her only minutes alone in forever had been piddled away on O’Dovey, but she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

When she stepped into the room, a wiry little back facing her. Rocket’s mussed hair was unmistakable. She opened her mouth to get his attention but stopped short as she saw what he was doing.

Rifling the medicine cabinet where Ace kept some stock.

He pulled aside his cut and stuffed several bottles inside. Shock ripped through her. He was…stealing from the club?

He held up a bottle to the light and shook it before pocketing it as well. Very quietly Sarah placed her foot behind her and backed from the room. She didn’t want to the one to catch a Son stealing.

There was nowhere to go but into her bedroom. Swallowing the bile that rushed up her throat, she closed her door but didn’t let it latch. Her mind spun. Rocket…she’d never believe it if she hadn’t witnessed it for herself. The man was a full member, patched, and as loyal as they came.

There was no way he was strung out on drugs either. He was still his happy, fun self, telling yo momma jokes and blaring Led Zeppelin from the jukebox. No personality changes to indicate drug abuse, so…why?

Straining to hear what he was doing but not actually wanting to know, she fought to figure out his motive. Maybe Ace had sent him to retrieve several items from the stash.

No, Ace never did that. Nobody touched that secret door but Ace.

“Damn,” she murmured under her breath. She didn’t want this knowledge. Rocket hadn’t seen her, but if anybody asked, she would have no choice but to step forward and confess.

Rat him out.
She was close to Rocket. He was her friend. Whether he knew it or not, he’d saved her by distracting O’Dovey a few times so she could slip off. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. No, she couldn’t do it. She’d have to go to Rocket herself and ask why he needed the drugs. If it was money, there had to be another way. Perhaps she could persuade him to put the drugs back. Hell, she’d do it for him.

Voices in the front room. She pressed her ear to the crack in the door but couldn’t make out the words. A second later, she caught one word—a name.

O’Dovey.

She left her room and went out. She was a ghost to the guys, a person who cleaned up and fed them. They wouldn’t think twice about speaking in front of her.

“I broke into his parents’ house and woke them up,” Harris was saying.

“Jesus, I bet they almost had heart attacks.” Jamison was as cool as always. Not much riled him—even missing brothers.

“They weren’t amused, for sure,” Harris drawled with a crooked smile. “But they weren’t answering the door and I didn’t have a choice.”

“Well, have they seen him?

“Nope.” Harris popped the P sound. “Last person to see him was Sarah here.” He pivoted and fixed her in his gaze.

Panic flooded her system. Her bowels turned to water and heat scorched her face. Fuck. They knew. Or they had to suspect.

Jamison eyed her with affection. “Sarah probably misses him more than any of us. Let’s just find the guy, okay?”

For five pounding heartbeats, she couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. Then understanding rushed in. Jamison only believed she was distraught because O’Dovey was missing.

She released an uneven breath and grabbed a couple paper towels from the bar top. As the guys talked, she tried to look busy dusting tables. She didn’t look up until Rocket’s voice entered the conversation.

She peeked at him from around the curtain of her hair. His throat was a little red, but his face gave nothing away. Then it happened—Harris grabbed Rocket from behind. With one arm around his throat and the other pinned to Rocket’s middle, he said, “Here you go, boss.”

Jamison’s face was a mask as he approached the brother.

Rocket’s eyes darted. “What is this, man? Are you playin’ with me?”

“I saw him close the stash door when I came in, Prez,” Harris said.

Rocket struggled. Jamison reached into Rocket’s cut and pulled out a pill bottle. He read the label. “Robert Hunt. Is that you, Rocket?”

Across the room, Sarah met Rocket’s gaze. The look he sent her sliced her chest open and her heart seemed to bulge into the opening.
No, not this way. Don’t let him go down for this.

Jamison reached into Rocket’s cut and pulled out another bottle. Rage washed over his features. He grabbed the man and shook him. “You’re stealing? From the club that feeds you? From your brothers?”

“I can explain.”

“Nothing you say can explain the fact that you walked into the club and took from us.” Harris released Rocket so abruptly that the man fell to the ground. Sarah lurched forward.

“Get out of here, Sweetheart. You don’t need to see this,” Jamison grated out.

Her breath rasped through her lungs. Rocket moved to get off the floor and Harris’s boot connected with his side. Rocket heaved as the wind was knocked from him.

“No, I won’t leave.” Sarah’s voice was strong as she moved toward the knot of angry Sons.

“Sweetheart, you have no business here,” Jamison said without removing his gaze from the thief on the floor.

“You didn’t listen to his reason for taking the drugs. Hear him out,” she argued. When she reached down to help Rocket up, Harris stopped her with a big hand. She glared at Harris. So this was what really happened to club members who made mistakes. Well, she’d committed the biggest crime against the Sons ever. Would she be beaten too? No, worse.

“I said get out, Sarah.” Jamison had never, ever used such a tone with her. He respected and loved her because of her relationship with the club and with his wife. But now she saw the president of the Hell’s Sons instead of the friend—family—she knew. He was ruthless and unforgiving.

“Wait, boss.” Harris looked right at Sarah. “She was here the whole time. She might have seen Rocket take the drugs.”

Rocket threw her a wild look as the air finally filled his lungs in harsh gasps.

Oh fuck. Could she lie and say she was in her room the whole time? Betray the club she’d already deceived, or abandon a man who must be desperate enough to steal from the hand that fed him?

Her throat closed off. She bumped into a table and realized she’d been backing away.

“Sit,” Jamison barked at her.

Harris hauled Rocket to his feet and threw him into a chair next to her. She reached across the distance separating them and gripped his hand. He gave her a pained glance and squeezed her hand until her knuckles turned white.

First they drilled her on what she’d seen. She denied seeing anything. Then they’d turned the verbal water-boarding onto Rocket. It didn’t matter that he confessed to stealing the drugs with intent to sell for money to help his daughter, who was in trouble with the law and needed legal counsel Rocket couldn’t afford.

It didn’t matter because the club would have helped him if he’d only asked. But now it was too late.

You never cross a Son.

They took Rocket away, but Sarah could hear his screams and the thuds of fists. Then Jamison came back in and sat next to Sarah.

“I know you’re lying, Sarah. And I think you need to remember who you are.”

Anger was a red haze in her mind. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jamison’s eyes were flat as he studied her. “You’re our family, Sarah.”

“So is Rocket.”

“Not anymore. Be careful who you ally yourself with.” He got off the chair and left her. Alone.

»»•««

“What the fuck happened?” Connall walked into his kitchen to find Sarah tending a badly beaten man.

She stared at her hands, eyes wide and dazed. She was seeing ghosts again.

“Sarah.”

“Thank God you came,” she said and backed away from the man.

It was a Son, but all the patches had been stripped from his cut. And his face was so swollen, he was unrecognizable.

“Rocket,” Sarah said softly as if realizing Connall struggled to name him.

Grim, Connall laid hands on the brother. “What crime?”

“Stealing from the club,” she answered, handing him a wad of gauze she’d been using on one of Rocket’s gashes.

“Who did it?” Connall looked into Rocket’s face.

“Harris,” he barely got out through swollen jaw and ruined teeth.

Connall clenched his own teeth. Fury built and he threw the gauze in the direction of the garbage can. “Goddammit!”

Sarah put a hand on his arm but before she spoke, Rocket tried to get something across. “Sssk.”