I nodded. “Okay. Well, do you mind if we get out of this sunshine?” I hugged myself uncomfortably, trying to shield my arms from the glare.
He frowned but nodded. Cocking his head at his bike, he ordered, “Get on. I’ll take you somewhere cool.”
Chapter Seven
Riding was precious to me. The wind, the open roads, the knowledge I could go where I wanted and never return. It was the exact opposite of the cage I’d lived in for the past few years of my life.
I’d had not only freedom stolen but hope, kindness, and decency.
I no longer knew who I’d been.
I no longer wanted to know.
My past was dead and I fucking refused to dig up the horrors I’d endured.
It was just too damn excruciating.
—Kill
“You coming?”
Kill swung his leg off his bike and buckled his helmet to the handlebars of his huge Triumph. I looked around the undercover parking lot. It had low ceilings and lots of exposed pipes. “You’ve brought me to a plaza?”
He turned around, keeping his right arm wedged against his side. “Told you I’d get you some clothes. Plus, I’m starving.”
“Probably because your body is busy trying to heal while you’re gallivanting around town.”
“Gallivanting?” he chuckled. “Interesting word.” Stalking forward, he grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the entrance of the mall. “For someone who can’t remember, you have a good dictionary inside your broken brain.”
My fingers locked with his, tingling hotly. The sensation of him touching me resonated right in my core.
I tottered beside him, feeling too many things at once. My free hand went to my waist, wishing the drawstring on the baggy board shorts tied tighter. I had a feeling I’d lose them and have my pantyless behind exposed.
As we entered the mall, the sounds of eager shoppers, the smells of different cuisines, and the feel of blissful air-conditioning settled around us.
It reminded me of another time and place.
“You need a completely new wardrobe. You can’t go overseas to learn how to cut up innocent puppies and be dressed in a sack.”
I shook my head. “What happens if I like this ‘sack’?” What if it reminds me of the past that I’m walking away from?
“Don’t. Don’t hurt yourself any more than you need to.” Taking my arm, he added, “No more arguing—”
The flashback snuffed out like a butterfly’s life span, leaving me wanting.
The crowd parted hesitantly as Kill and I entered the flow, moving with the tide toward the food court.
Kill didn’t pay any attention, striding powerfully with his head high and jaw locked. It wasn’t the weird wardrobe I wore bringing people’s attention, or even the height and physique of the man prowling beside me. It was the leather jacket slung over his shoulders. It was the motto engraved, PURE IN THOUGHTS AND VENGEANCE. CORRUPT IN ALL THINGS THAT MATTER., and the symbolism of what he stood for.
Biker.
Criminal.
Unpredictable.
Tugging on his hand, I whispered, “They’re staring. Are you sure we should be in here?”
Kill looked around. “Fuck ’em. I’m proud to wear this patch; they’re just ignorant of our world.” His lips twitched. “Probably thinking I kidnapped you.”
A small laugh escaped. “They’d be right.”
He slowed, a pensive look flickering beneath his scowl. “So much happens beneath our noses. Even if they suspected the truth, no one would call it in. Know why?”
I sucked in a breath, sensing the importance of what he was saying—how close it was to everything I needed to understand. “No.”
“Because it’s more convenient to believe what they’re told, rather than form their own opinions.” His eyes clouded as his fingers tightened painfully around mine. “Innocence doesn’t matter when ignorance is what people prefer.”
There, in the crowded shopping mall holding the hand of a biker president, I glimpsed something I wasn’t supposed to see.
Kill carried a weight inside. A betrayal so deep he lived, breathed, almost died with it, all while it rotted away at his happiness.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, breaking his trance, slamming him back to me.
His lips tightened and he glowered, striding faster toward the small restaurants, cafes, and well-known fast-food chains.
He didn’t acknowledge me or ask what my apology was for. He knew. He just didn’t want to admit that I’d seen through his lies.
Silently, he carted me inside a Wild Wild West–looking establishment, complete with horse heads, spurs, and muskets mounted on the walls. “Sit,” he snapped, throwing me into a black vinyl booth.
Turning, he headed to the bar. He ordered quickly, then slid into the booth opposite me without so much as looking into my eyes.
We sat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at each other.
The décor was a good distraction but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from bouncing back to Kill with every heartbeat. Last night I’d been so sure I knew him. So blind in my conviction that I’d allowed him to keep me and entered a world where I had no money, no guarantee of safety, and no promise of ever remembering who I truly was.
All for the slim chance that my gut was right.
I have no idea what I’m doing.
I still don’t know what I look like.
Who lived like this? Who drifted through life completely blank and didn’t tear the world apart trying to find their purpose?