Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) (6 page)

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Shh.” He cradled her head. “I’ll take care of it.”

She blinked as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You’ll…take care of it? As in…”

“Bury the son-of-a-bitch. Now here’s what I want you to do. Go to the bathroom and wash your hands well. Twice if you have to. Then come back here.”

“For what?”

“We’ll wait until the club falls asleep then I’ll carry him out to the van and take care of it.”

She threw a look at the dead man and back to Connall. Her warm hazel eyes swam. “You’d…do that for me?”

He pushed out a breath. “I don’t see a choice.”

“Wait.” She pivoted from him, arms folded, chin held high. It was easy to envision her going into a dark warehouse and stealing a duffle crammed with money. When he’d heard the story, he’d wanted to hit somebody. It still bothered him, knowing she’d asked to go on that mission. What stakes had she had in it? He’d already probed deep enough to learn that Jamison had her back the whole time. She’d been a princess walking into a dark fortress with armed guards she couldn’t see. Jamison had upheld his creed to never put women in danger, at least. Still, she’d insisted she was taking the risk. Why? He was going to get to the bottom of that just as soon as he handled this crap.

“I can’t let you do this for me. I-I’m not thinking clearly.” Her gaze skimmed O’Dovey’s body. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

“I’m sure you haven’t, Sweetheart. Now let me take care of you. And this.” He waved at the blood pooled on the hardwood. “Look, you scrub your hands and go into the kitchen for a garbage bag. Hide it under your top if you need to.”

She nodded but judging by the glazed expression in her eyes, he wondered if she heard him. “Sarah…” He snapped his fingers before her face.

Her gaze cleared, but she was far from okay. “Go wash your hands and get the bag.” When the shock wore off, he had no idea how she’d react. The idea scared the fuck out of him. Lorraine had gone so far off the deep end.

She stood there, looking lost and dazed. With each passing moment, more bruises appeared on her tender white skin. Fury pounded his system. If O’Dovey weren’t already dead, Connall would wring his goddamn neck.

Dammit.
Suddenly he pulled her into his arms and buried his nose in her hair.

She lifted a hand to his shirt front and twisted the cloth. Long seconds passed as he battled to keep from taking her away and leaving the whole damn mess.

Out in the club, raucous laughed sounded. Sarah nearly crawled out of her skin, but he held her tight. “Sweetheart, I’m going to let you go now. Walk across the hall to the bathroom and wash your hands. Splash your face with water too. Then grab that garbage bag.”

There was no way the big man would fit in a trash bag, but it would have to do.

She pulled free, and he patted her behind, sending her on her way. The instant she closed the doors, he scrubbed a hand over his face and issued a groan. Less than a month in the club and he was hiding the body of one of their own.

Fortunately, he had the shovel and dim headlights to do the job.

Nearly twenty-four hours had passed, and still she couldn’t seem to snap out of her shock. Someone touched Sarah’s sleeve and she spun, feeling her face flush and hot tears well up. But when she set eyes on Ever, she felt like a total idiot. She’d never be able to keep this secret—never be able to act her way through this—though she knew Connall would take it to his grave.

He’d been so good that night—the perfect mix of business and bedside manner. Between shoveling dirt, he’d comforted Sarah with his strong arms. She’d finally been able to see that tattooed white banner above the red rose.
First do no harm.

Well, he hadn’t done harm. She had the market cornered.

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” Ever asked. “You jumped half a foot when I touched you.”

“Sorry. I was just lost in thought and you startled me.”

“It must have been a good thought. About O’Dovey maybe?” She raised her feathery brows, inviting Sarah to a session of girl talk.

Fighting to keep her composure, Sarah returned to wiping down counters. She had fresh muffins in the oven for breakfast and the smell of dark, earthy coffee filled the kitchen. But her stomach was cramped and she felt so sick inside, she could barely function.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Did you have a fight?”

“You could say that.” She’d worn a red plaid shirt today and turned up the collar to cover the dark hickey on her neck. Her long sleeves covered the purple half-moons the dead man’s fingers had left behind.

A shiver ran through her, and Ever leaned close again with concern written over her pretty features. “Are you all right? You’re so pale.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well. Have you seen Connall?”

Small lines appeared between Ever’s brows. “No, but good idea. He could write you a prescription for sleeping pills.”

The last thing Sarah wanted to do right now was sleep. If she drifted off, she feared O’Dovey would fill her dreams with blood and violence and the wild determination in his eyes. She curled her fingers, still feeling the knife blade. It was no longer in her boot because Connall had removed it from O’Dovey’s back, busted off the blade, and tossed it into the river last night.

“Maybe that would help,” she said to appease Ever. She just wanted to be alone. Yet she didn’t. She really wanted Connall.

From the faint light of the van headlights, she’d watched him work. He’d removed his shirt and each muscle of his bare torso had been pure beauty in the face of an evil situation. His tattoos had given her something to stare at besides the body being lowered into a shallow grave.

Dark, inky lines that revealed his strong love for the club. The double sleeves ended at his elbows, though. Any professional shirt or scrubs would conceal them. Then he’d turned and she’d seen his back was plastered in tattoos. A huge Hell’s Sons logo right in the center with a lot of traditional tattoos—an eagle, a cross. A heart with a dagger through it drew her attention as he tossed dirt on top of the lifeless face.

What kind of man was Connall that he could go save lives and bury one with seemingly no weight on his soul?

She shivered again, and Ever said, “Maybe you have a fever. Let me finish cleaning the kitchen. Why don’t you go lie down?”

“No,” she burst out. The last thing she wanted was to be in her bedroom. Once a place of solace and refuge, it was now a grim reminder of what she’d done. Though Connall had insisted he alone would scrub the hardwood, she still saw the pool of blood there, irregular in shape. A stain on her soul.

A tear started to fall, and she caught it with her fingertip. With her face averted from her best friend, she nodded. “Maybe I’ll go sit in the sun for a while.”

“Yes, do that.” Gently, Ever removed the dishcloth from Sarah’s hand.

When Sarah didn’t move, Ever pointed at the back door. Very helpful, considering Sarah’s mind had totally blanked. A white haze of pain and shock kept overpowering her, and several times in the hours since Connall had left to get cleaned up for the hospital, she found herself just staring, immobile.

The back of the club was set up like most family back yards—spot of grass, a shade tree. A swing-set for the club kids. She’d been one, but back then they’d only had a tire swing everyone fought over.

She sank to a picnic table and tilted her face up to the sun. If she were only so lucky that the heat and light could burn away all the bad inside her.

Her phone vibrated, and for a mind-numbing minute, she feared it was O’Dovey. Horrific images flipped through her brain before she fumbled in her back pocket and saw a text from Connall.

The last thing he’d done before leaving her this morning was take her phone and program his info into it. Two vertical lines were cut into his forehead, extending from his brows. And his mouth was drawn in the lean lines of his face. His jaw was spattered with light brown hair and if none of this had happened, she would want to kiss him very badly.

How r u?

She blinked at the screen then took stock of herself. Physically, okay. Emotionally, a mess. But her soul was shattered. Too much to relate in a text.

OK

U shouldn’t B alone. Find someone to hang with.

She had a feeling these were doctor’s orders.

I want 2 B alone.

Oh.

Those two little letters seemed to stab her heart. She thought about how this whole thing had affected Connall. He’d betrayed his brothers—for her.

Can I C U?
she texted.

B done in 1 hr, Sweetheart.

Her chest expanded, and tears rushed to the surface once more. She stared at the spot of dappled shade on the lawn. The outlines of leaves and branches had always been pretty to her, but right now, she hated everything about the club.

But on the flip side, leaving it would break her.

I need to get out of here. Pick me up?

Yup, when I’m done.

Relief filtered through her system, tingling in her fingertips. She slid off the bench and walked jerkily to the shade tree. Before she knew her own intentions, soft grass was under her hands and knees. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the branches. Each line of the bark was important—part of the tree.

Just like the club. O’Dovey was a part, and she’d cut off that chunk of bark.
Better him than me
, a deep part of her mind said. If he’d raped her, she would have been a broken limb.

But she’d hurt her club too—the only family she had.

»»•««

When Connall saw Sarah’s drawn face and slumped shoulders, his heart turned over. She was so sad and so lovely at the same time. Like Lorraine toward the end.

She stood with folded arms, but her whole body seemed to be moving. As a doctor, he knew all the jargon that meant her mental state was transmitting to her physical body. In layman’s terms, her nerves were shot and she couldn’t hold still.

He swung his leg off his bike. She watched him come, biting her lip, her long hair fluttering in the hot breeze. As he approached her, it was impossible not to notice the dip of her waist beneath her fitted plaid top. And her breasts pushing against the buttons dragged up a deep ache inside him.

His body came alive with each step he took. He’d been with enough women to know this attraction between him and Sarah was huge. He’d felt her tremble when he’d touched her last night, had seen how hot and bright her eyes were, right before O’Dovey had dragged her off.

There was no fight in him today, and he gave in to his need.

He closed his hands on her waist, his cock hardening instantly. The softness beneath his hands… Fuck, he wanted to touch her all over, but she didn’t need that right now.

He racked his brain for some way to draw her back from the ledge Lorraine had skirted—and finally fallen off.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

She nodded. It took a lot for him to release her waist, especially when his body screamed at him to walk her back against the wall of the clubhouse and claim her sweet rosebud of a mouth.

He stared at her lips for five full heartbeats, battling raging need.

When he dragged his gaze up to her eyes, icy water dumped on him. She’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and the green starbursts in the centers were more vivid than a field of grass.

He clutched her wrist gently and tugged. “C’mon.”

When she was seated on the back of his bike with his spare helmet in place and her warm arms around him, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the private smile in his heart. Despite all the shit with O’Dovey, having Sarah with him felt good.

Taking care of her felt right.

That’s how it started with Lorraine.

He kick-started his bike and rolled out. As he passed a diner, he wondered when she’d last eaten. He suspected the last food to pass her lips had been before O’Dovey had carried her off.

Swinging wide, he turned into the parking lot. Sarah took the curve perfectly, leaning just right. Once they stopped, he said, “You hungry?” She didn’t speak, and he glanced at her over his shoulder.

“I’m not very hungry, to be honest.”

“Me either. Let’s try anyway.”

“Okay.”

Walking into the mom and pop joint with the most beautiful woman in Heller’s Gap made the smile in his heart spread. He placed a hand on her back and led her to a booth in the rear. Then he took care to position his back to the wall.

As soon as they were seated, a waitress approached with a pot of coffee. Sarah turned over her cup and accepted the steaming liquid, but Connall asked for iced tea.

Once she was gone, he pushed a menu toward Sarah. She opened the sticky paper folds and he studied her, elbows on the table and his fist against his mouth.

She glanced up and flushed. The color spread over her cheeks down the column of her throat. “What?”

A hint of her sass undercut the question, but he’d been watching her, and she was far from her normal self. Not that he knew a lot, but he was trained to observe.

“You look tired.”

“No wonder. I didn’t sleep. Neither did you.”

“I’m used to it.”

She eyed him from beneath long lashes a shade darker than her hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but the waitress returned. Connall ordered a club sandwich and Sarah got French toast. Once the waitress moved off, he waited for Sarah to speak but she remained silent, hands in her lap.

“What were you going to say?” he prompted.

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Was it possible she was going through the motions and truly was surprised to find herself seated across from him? Shock did that to a person. “I-I don’t remember.”

He had to ease her mind off the situation. “Tell me how you got into the club.”

She blinked at him for a long minute. Finally, she compressed her lips. “I’m a club kid. I grew up in it.”

“No shit?”

“My dad’s a lifer. Mom took off when he went to prison, and the club sort of raised me and my sister.”