“I was fifteen when I left. I could have done something. Instead, I pretended it wasn’t happening. Just like I pretended Viper didn’t hurt me or that I was fine after what he did. I pretended there was nothing wrong with Maurice and me and that I was happy living a life where I was empty inside.”
She dropped her gaze, stared at his bike, not recognizing her reflection in chrome. “And then I met you,” she continued. “And you were so real. Bad things happened and you dealt with them. Everything about you is up front and honest. And when we were in there, and I knew you were hurting, and they weren’t understanding, I suddenly got tired of pretending. That situation wasn’t right, and for once in my life, I wanted to do something about it.”
“It was the wrong fucking thing to do.” His face darkened. “You almost got yourself killed. How can I protect you if you’re gonna do crazy shit like that? That’s not who you are. That’s not what you do.”
“Well, obviously, I didn’t get killed,” she huffed, kicking at the rocks on the road. “And it was the right thing to do because we’re both still alive, which was iffy from the moment you pulled your gun on Jagger. And it is who I am and what I do because I just did it.” Her voice rose in pitch, and she glared. Who was he to tell her who she was, when she didn’t even know herself?
“Christ.” He scraped his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t a fucking game. I lost control of that situation because of you. People could have been hurt. You don’t belong in this world anymore, Naiya. You don’t understand the rules. You don’t have the experience to survive.”
A ball of disappointment lodged in her throat. Ever since she met Holt, she’d done things that scared her, things that took her out of her controlled, comfortable world and thrust her back into the biker craziness she’d been running from for the last seven years. She’d started living life instead of reading about it. She’d let her inner wild child out, and it had been fun and reckless and scary and exciting. And at the Sinners’ clubhouse, she’d stepped out of the shadows and taken control of a situation that she knew was wrong. She’d felt confident and brave. For once, she’d felt like she mattered, like there was something she could do aside from tagging along with Holt on his quest for revenge. But he’d just ripped that all away, and now she felt stupid and foolish for thinking she could be part of his world.
She opened her mouth to retort, to tell him the Naiya he met in the dungeon wasn’t the Naiya who stood with him now, and closed it again. Why bother? She’d been wrong about Holt. She thought he’d seen her as she truly was, but clearly he hadn’t seen her at all.
“Fine. Take me back to the hotel.” She didn’t need him and his stupid quest for revenge that was going to get him killed, especially now that he’d alienated his club. And she’d never wanted to be involved with bikers. She had a career to establish, rent to pay, car payments to make, and student loans to pay off. She wasn’t going to do that riding around on the back of Holt’s bike on the run from Viper and the ATF. Holt didn’t need her, and she clearly wasn’t cut out for this life. What the hell had she been thinking when she pulled that gun on Arianne? Holt was right. That wasn’t her. She abhorred violence, followed the law. Hell, she didn’t even know how to use a gun. Time to get back on track and make a plan to move forward; she’d been living without one too long.
He gave a satisfied grunt. “You stay there until you get the all-clear either from me or the Sinners.”
Stay? No way was she sticking around. She had an interview in Florida next week. Might as well head down there early, get some sun, and forget about the hot biker with an over-protective streak who didn’t think women could look after themselves.
“You go do your thing, and I’ll do mine.” She was giving him what he wanted—a chance to go after Viper, unfettered and unencumbered by her or the need to protect her. And she was doing what she wanted—pursuing a normal life, away from bikers and everything they represented.
So why did it feel so wrong?
*
Six hours later, Naiya sat in front of the computer in the hotel’s business center, with a prepaid cell phone pressed to her ear, listening to Ally talk about the police visit to their house and how easily Doug put them off. Although the room looked out over the street, the brown-and-green decor gave it a dark, dreary appearance, fitting with her mood. She’d already filled Ally in on everything that had happened from the time they parted ways at the cabin to Holt’s abrupt departure a few hours ago.