end of the bed before collecting my boots and some socks, which is just as well as the flip flops fell off when he tossed me on the bed. I watch as Priest gets to his knees and slips the socks on my feet before helping me into my boots, all without saying a word.
If the villain of our tale weren’t currently calling the shots, this would feel like the biker version of a Cinderella story. But fairytales are for dreamers. I’d trade glass slippers for motorcycle boots, princes for kings, and kingdoms for the Carnage clubhouse every damn time. If this whole nightmare has taught me anything, it’s that there is no such thing as good and bad people. How can we divide things into such stark contrasts of black and white when even the creators of heaven and hell blur the lines at times?
Priest slips his hands under my arms and pulls me up before lifting the T-shirt over my head, pausing for a moment when my braless breasts bounce. He moves to the drawer and grabs a purple lacey bra and a black tank top before walking back over to me and helping me get dressed. There is something strangely intimate about having him dress me, even more so than when he’s stripping me out of my clothes.
Moving over to the other set of drawers that contain a bunch of the guys’ things, he pulls out a huge black hoody before walking back to me and sliding it over my head. Immediately it feels like I’m being hugged as his scent envelops me.
“There now, let’s get moving.” He grabs the backpack he tossed earlier before snagging my hand and tugging me out the door, all without me saying a word. I feel if I speak now, the spell might get broken, and he will revert to the drunken asshole he was moments ago. I let him pull me along, giving into the numbness taking over.
He doesn’t engage the partygoers, even as a few of them spill into the hallway. We make our way outside and over to an idling truck in the corner of the lot. I’m surprised to see all three of the guys’ bikes in the back when we approach.
Saint is behind the wheel and Bates is waiting in the passenger seat, so when Priest opens the back door for me, I climb in and shuffle over to make space for him.
“I thought you guys would want to ride,” I say quietly, as Priest removes his cut before climbing in, placing it on the seat in the middle. I notice then that Bates and Saint have hung their cuts on the back of their seats.
“Why do you take them off when you ride in a car? I noticed Bates did it that first day he moved my car into the compound.” I ask, trying to focus on something other than Travis.
“We’re riding with you because we thought you might need us,” Saint answers before nodding to Bates’s cut. “As for the cuts, it’s against the bylaws to wear your cut in a cage. You’ll get fined for doing that shit.”
“Cage?” I question when Priest slams the door closed and Saint wastes no time pulling away.
“Car.” Priest is the one to answer this time. “After riding a bike for so long, being in a car is like being in a cage.”
I nod. It makes sense, I guess. He tugs me closer to him so I go without protest, pressing my head against his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around me. I close my eyes as they talk quietly to each other, allowing the hum of the engine to lull me to sleep, where all of this is a dream and when I wake up, Travis will be okay. He has to be.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Saint
“So, do you want to tell us what the hell that was about earlier with Reign?” Bates asks, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t disturb Reign, even though she usually sleeps like the dead.
“She caught me off guard,” Priest answers vaguely.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bates barks.
“Shit, I didn’t want to say anything until I had checked it out, but now with all this... Fuck!”
I watch in the rearview mirror as Priest swipes his hand over his face.
“Kitty told me tonight that Lexi is pregnant,” he finally answers quietly.
“Fuck, and she says it’s yours?” I question, but as soon as the words come out, I know that’s not it at all.