Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,24
“Ye couldn’t have said that name.” The denial can’t be missed, but I know the truth. I’m O’Roarke’s property. Cohen will burn down this city to find me, and he won’t find me out of love.
I’m a possession and that’s all I’ll ever be. “I’ve been with him for a few years now.” I wipe the tears off my cheek with my palms. “He’s a horrible man. I haven’t been able to get away. He’s dangerous. You have to believe me.” I snag Reaper’s wrist, and my fingers don’t even meet around it. My lashes bead with liquid, and every time I blink, a few more droplets fall from my eyes.
“I see the proof. There’s no need to have to beg me, Dawn.”
Skirt stands and runs his fingers through his hair, then he scrubs them over his face. He gives me his back, the muscles tight with stress as he lifts his arms up and over his head. Skirt lays his hand on the wall and exhales a long breath. His head hangs between his massive shoulders, then he spreads his arms out to his sides, showing the impressive wingspan.
“Skirt, why does that name sound familiar?”
“Because, Prez, that’s the man who killed my brother all those years ago.” Skirt turns around, and when I see his eyes, I see the bright burning blue orbs, scalding like the hottest part of a flame. He’s furious. “I’ve been fighting all my life to get ready for the day I take that man down once and for all.”
My fingers wrap around the armrest of the chair as Skirt’s words sink into me. The world can’t be this small. How can I go from one pissed-off fighter to the next? Cohen killed Skirt’s brother? This is all too much. My son is with a killer. “Oh God.” I press my palms against my forehead and start to rock to try to calm myself down, but the more I move, the more emotional I become. “This can’t be happening. I’m so sorry, Skirt. I had no idea. I—Aidan. I need to get to Aidan!” I want to vomit again, but I’ll just dry heave if I do. I haven’t eaten anything.
Skirt blocks the doorway and stretches each arm out to stop me from going anywhere. “Ye can’t go,” his Adam’s apple bobs. “I can’t let you go back to that monster.”
“That monster has my son!” I shove Skirt’s chest with all the might I have, but he barely moves. “Get out of my way, Skirt.”
“No, Lips. I can’t. I have to protect ye, and I can’t do that while yer fighting a man who’s never lost a fight in his life.”
“I’ve always wondered why you fight,” Reaper chimes in as he leans against the desk and crosses each ankle over the other. “Makes sense. You’re damn good at it too. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me all these years.”
“I only fight to get better at throwing punches. Once I hit the man I need to, I’ll hang up my gloves.”
“You mean, you’re brass knuckles.” Reaper lights a cigarette and blows out the thick cloud of smoke. “Don’t tell Sarah about this, Skirt, she thinks I quit. If she finds out, I’ll scar a heart in your chest forever.”
“Yes, Prez,” Skirt says automatically as if he has said it a hundred times, but he never takes his eyes off me. The icy irises have me shivering, teeth chattering, as if it’s winter, and I’m standing in the middle of a snowstorm.
Torment meets torment, and I find myself falling into the shattered pieces of his heart. Instead of bleeding from the sharp shards, a piece of my own jigsaw soul fits perfectly against his. If I spend any more time with Skirt, somehow, someway, our fucked-up parts will meld a mechanical heart that will learn to beat again—together.
And that scares me because for all I know, only my side will pump the blood needed to sustain us, while his is dead set on revenge.
“Skirt, please.” Another tear falls and I lay my palms against his chest. “I need to get Aidan. He’s the only thing good I have in this world. He’s four. He doesn’t understand how bad Cohen is yet.”
“We will get your son, Dawn. You don’t have to worry about that. Do you know where Cohen is staying? Can you give us details?”
“I’m going to go get the kid,” Skirt says, grinding his teeth together.