Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,14

just like Cohen does.

There is a plus to being here; the linens are so soft.

The blankets are soft under my hands, and I bring the cotton to my cheek and rub my face against it. Cohen only lets me sleep with scratchy wool blankets. And the bed is soft. I haven’t slept on a bed in years. Cohen makes me sleep on the floor.

I lay the blanket over my lap and continue to study my surroundings. There’s medical equipment, but there are bookshelves stacked with books, and between each bed is a rocking chair with a cute patterned rug beneath it. My eyes follow each bed, and every single one is empty except the bed at the end.

That was the man who had the seizure, if I remember correctly. Or was that a dream? Everything is so hazy. I wonder what happened to him. Seizures aren’t easy. Aidan has them and every time he has one, my heart breaks, and I feel so helpless. It’s emotionally and mentally debilitating for me, but it wreaks havoc on Aidan. He will sleep for hours after one. He’s only four. His little body crumples in my arms with every jerk and spasm the seizure causes. Aidan cries because he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him and why. Aidan knows it’s something he has to deal with, and now he is in the hands of Cohen, that monster.

He thinks Aidan is a freak and I know that man won’t help him. I need to get to him. Aidan won’t survive long in the hands of a beast like Cohen.

The floorboards above me creak and groan as someone walks above me. Boom. Boom. Boom. The boots pulverize the hardwood like a meat hammer. Whoever is walking up there, I bet they can smush me like an ant.

“I need to get out of here,” I say, my voice echoing back to me in the lonely room. I press my thumb against the needle of my arm and take a deep breath as I pull it out. I toss it on the ground and throw the warm, cozy blankets off me.

Okay, maybe I’ll take one blanket. They don’t need them, right? I take the soft blue cotton off the top, take the ends and fold it together, then tuck it under my arm. Aidan will love a blanket that is soft, as long as Cohen doesn’t steal it.

I hate that man with every breath I take. I met Cohen O’Roarke in Vegas five years ago after he moved here from Ireland. He’s a beast in the cage. No one has been able to beat him. I watched him fight, and when we locked eyes through the hexagon shapes of the fence, I thought I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. He made me swoon. Cohen was a gentleman, always made me laugh, cared about me when we had sex, and was handsome? Whew. The man was so good looking with his bright blond hair and blue eyes. I even loved to hear his Irish accent when he spoke.

Now, I hate everything about him.

Something changed.

Like all relationships, passion was lost, and we fell into a routine. He turned hateful. His accent was like toxin, and it made my body shiver with repulsion every time I heard it. Cohen started yelling, mentally and verbally abusing me.

Then, that wasn’t enough.

He kicked me, punched, and shoved me. He thrived off hurting me just like he hurts opponents in the ring. Every time he saw a bruise on me, it was his own personal victory.

All of that happened within months of meeting him, and then we broke up. I thought that was the end of it.

Until I found out I was pregnant.

And Cohen was not the father.

We got back together soon after that. I know. I’m an idiot, but at the time, Cohen was all I had.

No one knows about Aidan not being Cohen’s. It will be my secret until the day I die. If Cohen ever finds out that he’s raising a kid that isn’t his, he’ll kill Aidan. I’ll protect my son until my last breath, and if lying is what I have to do to save us, then I’ll die a liar.

Fast forward until now, my beautiful Aidan is four and the only father he has ever known hates him. Cohen is a mean, hateful drunk and with every fight in the cage, I pray to whatever god that his