Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

Laughter sounds down the hallway, getting nearer, then Ruby busts in, all smiles. With a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt covering the other, her caramel brown hair is shoved up in a messy bun, and flour covers her black tank top and dark blue jeans. Pulling myself up on my elbows, I give her my best smile. It isn’t much after the day I had yesterday and the awful sleep I had last night.

“Today’s kind of a big day, baby. But first, we have waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast.” She rattles off something about burnt waffles and a flour fight between the boys, but I hear almost none of it after she says Ryan’s name. My smile falls immediately, and my eyes narrow. Catching wind of my changing mood, she bounces in place before sliding into the room and shutting the door behind her.

“We got a problem here?” she asks. I shrug and look to Tegan, who’s stretched out beside me, snoring. I’m just glad she’s facing the other way. She’s got some of the worst breath I’ve ever smelled.

“It’s stupid,” I say.

“It’s never stupid if it makes you sad,” she says. I roll my eyes and blow out a heavy breath. I know her well enough by now to know that she’s never going to let it go if I don’t just tell her.

“Your step-son is an asshole,” I say with as much venom as I feel. The level of honesty I’m willing to exhibit in this moment surprises me a little. Ruby, Nic, the club, they’re all rubbing off on me, apparently.

“Yeah, he is,” she admits. “I tried to steer him into non-asshole territory, but his genes prevailed. That one is just like his father.” She snickers and smiles sadly. I force myself to gift her a small laugh before I pull myself up into a full sitting position. Tegan finally wakes beside me, yawns, and scampers over to Ruby, where she sits at her feet.

“How do you deal with it?” It’s something I’ve wondered since our second day in the van. Surrounded by so many men all of the time, being one of the only women in their world—still not totally inside their world. Ruby somehow manages to bring a feminine touch to the club that is at-once comforting and off-putting. If I think about it too much, I’ll worry about her now that I know how awful Jim can be.

“You just gotta know your place, baby. Jim gets to yelling, and I wait for him to finish. He gets to acting stupid, and I just wait for him to stop. But you better believe that when he shuts up, it’s me who has his ear. I let him be an asshole because it’s who he is. Lord knows that man has cared for me and mine in more ways than I’ve had any right to ever ask of him.”

The music is abruptly cut off in the other room, and a moment later there’s two sharp knocks on my bedroom door that jar both Ruby and me out of our bonding moment. She moves away from the door and opens it. Towering over her shoulder, Jim looks between us. Flour stains his chest, and he wears a blank expression.

“Speaking of you and yours,” he says, his eyes cutting to Ruby. I blush at the fact that he heard at least part of our conversation. These damn walls are paper thin. “It’s time we got this over with.” Ruby’s shoulders sink, and she shakes her head. “Now,” he says, in that baritone command I’m beginning to hate.

“Time for breakfast and a family meeting,” Ruby says, her relaxed demeanor totally gone now. The last impromptu family meeting ended so well, I just can’t wait for this one. I just wish that when Jim said family meeting, I could pretend he was going to gripe about the way the toilet paper roll was put on the holder wrong. Taking a moment to compose myself from the impending fear that he knows what happened between Ryan and me last night, I crawl out of bed, only to remember that I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“Oh, yuck,” I mutter. “Can I at least shower first?” Ruby’s face relaxes as she says yes, but it’s Jim’s retreating voice from down the hall that once again says ‘now’ that I listen to. A painful reminder of last night aches between my legs, and my back is stiff in a way it’s never been before. Even my hip, where Ryan had gripped me so tightly, aches. So this is what it feels like to be used up and hung out to dry.

Making my way down the hall, followed by Ruby and PJ, I spot Ian and Ryan on the loveseat in the living room, neither looking my way. My steps falter before I suck up the courage to keep moving.

I’m going to fuck you out of my system.

And I suppose he did. The dirt and grim I feel on my skin and in the fabric of my clothes is one thing. I can handle feeling a little dirty. It’s the disgust and shame you can’t see that makes me want to pistol whip Ryan—maybe Jim, too. Ruby places her hand on my back and gently guides me into the living room, all thoughts of waffles and bacon forgotten. Ryan’s eyes snap to mine, then dip down to my clothes. Same jeans, same top that I was wearing when I did the walk of shame out of his bedroom last night. The moment of recognition hits and, very slowly, his eyes travel back up to mine. I can’t get a good read on him, but this is neither his angry face nor his sad face. Not that it matters.