Chapter Thirty Two

RUSH PICKED UP A BEER bottle from the end of the counter. Katrina slid down a bottle to Dio. She'd kept herself busy throughout the day, staying away from her dad, who had closed himself in his room, and away from the parts shop where Jagger spent most of the day.

She looked at the clock. Jagger would come storming in, expecting her to be available to him, and she needed time. Time to understand what went down all those years ago that shaped everyone's life.

"That's it, boys." Katrina brushed her hands off. "You're on your own tonight."

"You're not staying?" Dio raised his drink to his lips.

"What would make you think I'd want to hang around with bikers?" She laughed. "Even I need a break."

She wouldn't allow them to see how much she hurt or how much chaos was going on in their president's life. Mama Sue taught her well.

A girlish scream pierced the room.

"Dio!" Skye, Maverick's daughter, ran through the room and collided with Dio, hiding behind him. "Don't let him find me."

"Who?" Dio widened his stance to hide the girl.

"Brett," Skye mumbled.

Dio shared a wink of amusement with Katrina and said, "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Skye." Dio growled.

The young girl crouched down behind him. "Nothing bad."

"Better confess, they're heading this way," he said.

"I didn't mean to hit him with a water balloon." Skye plastered herself on the back of Dio's legs. "I was aiming for my dad." The young girl giggled. "He walked right in front of my dad, and I got him in the face."

Katrina looked across the room and found Brett. She covered her mouth, unable to keep her amusement in check. The biker's hair hung wet around his shoulders, and his t-shirt was soaked.

She leaned over and put her hand out. Skye gave her a high five. There was nothing better than playing with bikers. It was how she was raised. Skye was blessed to be surrounded by family.

"Hop on, sweetheart." Dio squatted. "I'll protect you."

Skye jumped onto his back. Dio skirted the room, keeping Brett from seeing the girl clinging to him like a monkey. As Katrina witnessed the shenanigans, she couldn't help smiling at how Dio catered to the child.

At one time, Jagger had done the same to her. Always saving her ass or looking the other way. He was always the one she ran to, no matter how minor her problem was.

She grabbed her phone and car keys off the counter and slipped outside. Once in her car, she drove through town to Cora and Wire's house. She wanted to catch them before they headed toward the clubhouse.

Luck was on her side. As she pulled into the driveway, her aunt walked out of the house carrying a helmet. She parked to the side so Wire could get out with his motorcycle.

Cora waved, tossing the helmet to Wire, and walked to the car. "Hey, what's up? I thought you'd be at the clubhouse."

"I was." She gathered her bravery and said, "I was wondering if it was okay to crash in your van for the night?"

Cora glanced at Wire and then leaned closer. "Is everything okay?"

As the president's woman, she couldn't discuss her problems with others in the club. She swallowed hard. It was impossible to hide the emotions that were hovering below the surface.

"Are you asking as an ol' lady or my aunt?" she whispered.

Cora's hand went to her chest, and she leaned down into the opening of the car. "Your aunt."

"I'm not okay." She looked through the windshield. "I need some time alone without Jagger or my dad bothering me."

Cora reached in and placed her hand over her hand on the steering wheel. "I won't say anything about you being here, and you're free to use the van whenever you need, but I can't promise that Wire won't mention seeing you here. He's loyal to his club."

She knew that.

She respected that.

"The code for the door is five-five-zero-four-one. Wait ten seconds, and then push six, three, one."

"Six, three, one," she repeated. "Thanks. I owe you."

"We're family. You don't owe me." Cora leaned in, kissed Katrina's cheek, and hurried to Wire's side.

Her aunt climbed on the motorcycle, put her helmet on, and gave Katrina the peace sign as Wire rode away. To her surprise, having Cora's support meant more to her than she expected.

She grabbed the bag she'd packed out of the backseat and walked over to the van. After the second try, she got the code right and opened the door.

The air was stuffy inside, so she left the vehicle open. The van was left exactly like it was when she and Jagger returned from Beaverton. Even the thank you note she'd left on the counter was there.

She wasn't surprised. Cora and Wire had the house. They wouldn't use the van unless they went on vacation.

She pulled the couch into a bed, laid on her back, and held her breath. If she concentrated, she could hear the ocean. Hoping the sound would lull her into a gentler place and the stress would leave her.

Her phone vibrated. She ignored the incoming call.

If it was Jagger, he could sleep without her tonight. He had a lot of practice.

If it was her dad, he had Rachel to care for—she was young enough to keep him busy. He wouldn't even miss her.

She got up, closed and locked the door, and returned to the bed. With no ambition to change clothes, she kicked her shoes off and tried to let the quietness calm her.

Since Jagger told her why her father was sent to prison, she had the hardest time accepting the truth. She knew him better than anyone, and he wasn't the type of person to allow another to pay for a crime he committed, especially one of his MC brothers.

There had to be more to the story.

It'd taken her whole life to come to accept that the father she loved was a killer. She'd spent hundreds of hours over the years making excuses for what he'd done.

She stared up at the ceiling. Jagger had killed a man. A man who'd shot Baller. It wasn't the act that bothered her because she remembered all the times Mama Sue mourned her husband. She never loved another the way she'd loved Baller. Pictures and memories were packed into the house she was raised in, reminding her that true love existed.

Jagger had killed the man who had killed the love that lived between Mama Sue and Baller. She couldn't blame him. If she were in the same position, she would probably do the same thing.

She would've done anything to make Mama Sue happy.

She rolled over and folded her arms under her head. Now, with all the information, she understood why Jagger wasn't standing up and fighting against her dad's right to punish him for starting a relationship with her.

He felt he owed her dad.

Her phone vibrated again. She dug it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.

Jagger.

She loved him with all her heart. She accepted his position within the club. But she couldn't forgive him for handing over his life to her father—to let him punish him for their relationship.

While they could've done things differently, she went hard for him. She refused to take no for an answer every time he pushed her away. She threw herself at him by the time she was sixteen years old and never let up.

She knew what her heart wanted and needed.

She was just as guilty as him for their relationship.