that I’d never be ashamed of, one that was shaped like Dagger’s favorite blade. When I turned around once more, I shot Axe and Flame a look. “Yours I can’t reveal in public.”
Flame’s eyes ignited at my words, but he calmed things down by snickering. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“Thought you might be,” I teased, my grin widening as I saw that for him, Axe, and Dagger, things were as right as I’d left them.
Why they’d let me go was something I’d be angry about later on. Why they hadn’t fought for me was something I’d nail them in the balls for at some point in the future. Now? I had other fish to fry.
“You marked yourself,” Wolfe rasped.
“Five times,” I agreed.
“Why?”
There was pain in his eyes, pain in his voice. Wolfe might be a cunt, but that was because he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had to be a bastard to cover that shit up.
In this world, any and all weaknesses were exploited, and that meant usually the biggest bastards were the softest pussies on the inside.
“Because I’m yours,” I told him simply, and before any of them could say another word, I left them with my bags, and Amaryllis and I moved toward the clubhouse.
Toward home.
It hadn’t changed.
Not really.
Sure, the paint on the siding was different. It was an off-white instead of the dark beige it had been the last time I was here. The doors and the window covers were all a bright green, making the place look close to respectable. A notion that made me want to snort, because now that I’d crossed through the gates, I was in Hell.
Respectability and the Devil’s abode didn’t exactly go hand in hand, but my dad had always been weirdly house-proud. I thought it had something to do with snubbing the supposedly good people of Rutherford. He liked to rupture their expectations, and this was one passive aggressive way of doing so.
It was hard to think a one-percenter would give a fuck about siding, but to make a point? There was nothing these fuckers wouldn’t do to ram something home.
As my stomach fluttered with nerves while I climbed the few steps to the entrance, I pressed a kiss to Amaryllis’s head and murmured, “You know you were naughty, don’t you?”
“He was being mean to you,” came the stubborn retort. My lips curved, but I buried my smile in her silky blonde hair that always reminded me of Wolfe. He’d had hair this color until he turned sixteen or seventeen. It was like puberty had darkened it.
“I know he was, but he was also…” How did I even begin to explain this?
Amaryllis was having anger issues after Ryan’s death, and I couldn’t blame her. I was fucking furious too.
Who died at twenty-seven?
Who?
My husband, that’s who.
He died and left Amaryllis and me alone.
I was here, trying to pick myself up and make things better for her, all when I wasn’t sure which way was up and which way was down.
I pressed my nose into her hair and sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t hit people just because you’re angry, Amaryllis.” It was weird parroting that when I’d done it myself. I was a hypocrite, but I was trying to make my daughter less messed up than I was.
“But it feels good.”
That made me wince. Why? Because it was something I knew I’d said to my momma a long time ago.
Of course, she hadn’t been able to answer back. She wasn’t around, but I had to talk to someone.
Hey, I listen.
I winced at Ryan’s voice, which popped into my head as a reminder that I was also going fucking insane.
Dead people did. Not. Speak.
I ignored Ryan and headed up the two steps toward the entryway. The door pushed open and the immediate racket was both jarring and a relief.
I’d been raised in this mayhem. After my mom left, though we’d had a house in town, my dad hadn’t been able to stand the place.
Most people thought bikers were evil shits, and yeah, they were, but they also loved like no one else. It was amusing really. My dad had killed only God knew how many people, had gained his road name for a reason, and yet where my mom was concerned? He’d been a goner.
Each day without her had been an extended death.
I wasn’t saying that all biker marriages were made in heaven.
Fuck that.
Take Wolfe and Kim. Bleugh. I’d always hated that slut. Why the fuck he’d married a clubwhore I’d