face. My life was lived among violence, but enough people knew I belonged to Ranger, belonged to the club, they weren’t near stupid enough to do anything that required me to punch them in the face.
But times had changed. I was the one who had to defend myself now. Sure it hurt, but all I was was pain these days. And I liked it.
This time, I didn’t feel it when I came home. Didn’t get the same feeling that had me going for the gun and almost shooting one of my closest friends.
Maybe I was distracted, still pissed off from the interaction with Edmond. Overwhelmed with what my life was now. Distracted by the knowledge that Kace would notice the swelling of my knuckles and the purplish bruising already blooming on my upper arm. As much as I’d love to have a front row seat to his visit with Edmond, I didn’t need the drama. And I had the feeling that Kace going after him would only make things worse. Edmond would run with his tail between his legs, for a while to be sure. But this was a man used to getting everything he wanted. Used to the world bending to him. He definitely hadn’t ever been punched in the face by a woman.
So he’d try something. I couldn’t guess what, but it would be something sly, something shady. It wouldn’t really hurt the club. Or maybe it would. I couldn’t tell how fucked up this guy was. But I wasn’t about to risk the club for my honor. That was long gone.
I’d showered, trying to get the echo of Edmond’s hands off me.
No way had I led a sheltered life since Ranger patched in. I’d seen some of the worst humanity had to offer, losing one of my good friends in the most brutal of ways. My husband too. But I’d never been hurt physically before. Never had a man touched me without my permission. Edmond’s casual violence, the possession in his touch, unnerved me. Left me more shaken than it should’ve.
Hence the shower. With all of the fancy, and I guessed very expensive bath and body products, thanks to Amy and Gwen. My plan was to put on my most expensive, sexiest lingerie—of which I had a lot, I loved it and Ranger appreciated the hell out of it—put on a badass outfit and make myself feel like the strong, confident woman I was pretending to be.
That plan went to shit when I opened my underwear drawer. There was no lace. Just cold, slithering, writhing snakes.
The blood curdling scream I let out kind of shot the strong, confident woman thing straight to hell.
“That’s the last of them,” Lucky declared, shivering. “Fucking hate snakes.”
He looked even paler than I was. Then again, I’d been sitting in the living room with a bottle of tequila and Evie and Ashley by my side whereas Lucky, Gage and Kace had been in charge of getting rid of the snakes that were residing in my underwear drawer, and looking for places where others might’ve been.
Luckily for all of us, there weren’t any another cold-blooded creature of hell in my home. Nothing in the kid’s bedrooms, which I’d made them check twice.
Kace had been stone faced since he’d arrived minutes after I’d called him. I was pretty proud of the fact I hadn’t been as hysterical as I’d felt. Which was pretty fucking hysterical. I’d calmly told him about the situation, and he’d yelled at me to get out of the house and lock myself in the car until he got there.
He was likely afraid that whoever put the snakes in my underwear drawer was still in the house. But I wasn’t exactly worried about that, since if someone had been in there waiting to kill me, they would’ve done it while I was in the shower. No one was more vulnerable than when they were naked.
So I didn’t lock myself in the car. Didn’t let whatever this was shut me out of my own home. My children’s home. I’d poured myself a drink, sat on my couch—after I’d checked it for snakes with a broomstick—and waited. Granted, I didn’t have to wait long for Kace to arrive, then half the club.
He’d been most unhappy to find me sitting on the sofa instead of locked up in the car like he’d told me to be.
“What the fuck, Lizzie?” he hissed, rushing toward me, eyes raking over my body, looking for signs of mortal