His Other Half (Patches Tarkio MC, #3) - Debra Kayn Page 0,26

that Shaw was seen meandering the building as if losing three women and covering up a murder hadn't happened.

Three hours later, Chrischris walked to his motorcycle and rode off in the opposite direction. Paco looked up at the dark sky. The moon had moved above him.

Josie would be in bed, if not asleep. He grabbed the handlebar. His instinct to go to her left tension in his body. His life wasn't fit for another person.

There wasn't a line drawn between his responsibilities toward the club and having a woman by his side. Josie had enough ugliness in her past. He needed to shelter her from his. She had a real desire to find happiness.

He'd live with the guilt of his crimes he'd committed until he took his last breath.

She wasn't the kind of woman to use. She wasn't brought up believing sex was for recreation. Despite everything she'd lived through, by some miracle, her heart remained hopeful and soft.

He almost hated her for that.

She'd survived the unimaginable, while he'd died a dozen deaths and couldn't shake off the dust left over from losing his sister.

And yet, he wanted her. He wanted what she possessed. He wanted a bite of that happiness he found just thinking about her.

He wanted the woman he'd fallen in love with through her journal.

"Fuck it." He started the Harley and shot down the street.

One more night with her. Then, maybe, he could keep his focus on Tarkio.

Chapter 13

Josie

Josie took her journal out of the dresser drawer, grabbed the pen on her nightstand, and plopped down on the bed. She flipped through the book and found the first blank page.

She sighed and started writing.

Banks let me off work two hours early tonight. I don't know what was going on, but several Tarkio members showed up, and the next thing I knew, he told me I could leave. It was a nice break, considering its Saturday. It's been busy all week, so the break was nice. I got caught up on laundry and deep cleaned the apartment by the time Cami came home, and we made a big salad and shared dinner.

Cami seems to be doing better. The last several nights, I haven't heard her struggling to sleep. I think her better mood has a lot to do with Chrischris friending her. I don't even think she realizes how much he's helping her by being around. She feels safe, and having company is nice for her. I worry about her, though. I hope being pregnant isn't making her see something in Chrischris that isn't there. He is a biker. I hope she doesn't get hurt or depend on him too much.

She tapped the pen against the journal. Maybe she was reflecting her thoughts about Paco on to Cami and Chrischris.

Chrischris wasn't like Paco. At least at work. He was dependable, never missing a day.

I need to stop thinking about Paco. That includes writing about him or my feelings toward him.

She tossed the pen on the nightstand, set her journal on the floor, and turned off the lamp. Laying on top of the blankets, she rolled onto her side and cuddled her pillow to her chest.

Two days ago, she'd decided never to write about her feelings toward her father. Tonight, she'd put Paco in her past. Over the weekend, she planned to face the rising sun and say her thanks for her life.

Since she couldn't participate in the Sun Dance with her people, she would honor the sun on her own for four days by observing the rise and fall.

A heaviness settled in her chest. She mourned for all the years she'd turned her back on her people's beliefs. For the years, she'd attended the Sun Dance festival only to hang with her friends—friends who had turned their back when she'd left the only home she'd ever known.

For how much she wanted to hate how things were done on the Rez, she longed for the familiar. For the days, her mother was alive, and she remembered the affection and acceptance.

While she couldn't go back, she would go forward by herself. She would create fulfillment on her own.

She would take the good and leave the past. Embrace the spirits and expel the demons.

A click disturbed her silence. She startled, opening her eyes.

Straining to hear, she reached out to the nightstand, where she always placed a hunting knife.

The floor creaked. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she stayed in bed, hoping it was Paco. If it was, she was going to