23. Sage

Lyla breaks through my defenses.

Eight years ago, I handed that girl my soul, and she walked away with it. And ever since, I've had this hole inside me, gaping open while I wondered if I'd ever figure out how to fill it. Now, here she is—wielding the power to set me free or finish what she started back then.

Lyla climbs off my bike at the club, and I immediately miss her body heat against my back. She couldn't ride with me back then because we couldn't risk Kane reading into it, so I don't mind the excuse to feel her against me now.

Nothing has ever felt so right.

I've worked my way through so many women over the years, it's borderline sick. And not one of them filled the hole she does with one touch of her hand on my skin.

All it takes is Lyla's warmth. Her scent. Her smile.

It doesn't matter if we've barely been speaking, she puts me back together in places I wasn't aware were shattered.

I wish I could do the same for her.

Lyla's quiet as we approach the clubhouse, and I'd be curious to walk around her mind and see it through her eyes when she's been gone as long as she has. We pass the spot where we were standing the first time she kissed me, and I might as well have spent the past eight years avoiding it. I swear, I can still feel her lips on mine if I focus hard enough.

The clubhouse is in the middle of repairs. Ladders rest on each side where the roofers are fixing loose shingles. I don't come around here as often as I used to—and when I do, it's rarely daylight, so I'm only now noticing the state of disrepair this place is in.

Walking up the steps with Lyla is like taking a walk into the past. Part of me wants to tear her away before it has a chance to destroy us all over again. Right when it feels like we've crossed some kind of invisible barrier.

Instead, we forge ahead. To all the things I'd rather avoid.

Once she left the clubhouse, this place became empty walls filled with ghosts. A place that haunted me; a place where I grew up. A home to all the things that probably should have meant something, but they never did.

Smoking my first joint.

Getting my first blow job.

Cutting some random guy's finger off for information.

Things I was proud of at the time, even when all they did was punch holes through my soul.

Most of all, it reminded me of Lyla. The good times we had before it all fell apart. The bad times after.

It reminded me of my dad, sitting in his favorite recliner in the corner of the room, and laughter that's since dulled out. It was a safe haven and not the gates to Hell back then.

Bear and Zero stand at the door when we approach. Bear nods, but Zero's eyes are fixed on Lyla.

I'm not usually one to get jealous. Even when I was falling hard for Lyla when we were younger, and she'd flaunt herself around the guys at the club just to get under my skin, I knew she was mine and I was hers. But when Zero doesn't take his eyes off her, I'm tempted to burn them in their sockets because, after everything she's been through, she deserves to be looked at with a hell of a lot more respect than whatever's running through that sick fuck's mind.

It"s official. The beast I laid to rest at twenty-one is once more finding his way out again.

"Kane's in the den." Bear's gaze darts to Lyla, but he looks more scared of her than anything.

He should be. They all should. And not only because Kane is her father, but because she's not sweet and compliant like the girls that usually come around here. She isn't intimidated by bikers, and she'll speak her mind if pushed.

I look down at Lyla. "Stay close."

Her violet eyes flick up at me, and I wait for her to argue. For her to remind me she grew up here and she's not scared to cut off some guy's nuts if they try anything. But for the first time since she's been back, she seems genuinely nervous.

Her spine is stiff, and her expression is tense. She's gnawing at the inside of her cheek and wringing her hands together.

We walk up the final step to the porch, and her hand brushes mine as she drops it to her side. It might be an accident, but it takes everything in me not to grab it. This girl is the firecracker I want to wrap myself around just so she can blow my life to pieces.

Opening the door to the club, it's quiet for the weekend. A few bikers mull around the bar taking shots, some are playing darts, and a few more are playing pool. Women are scattered throughout, and I remember when this all used to be appealing. When I didn't see it as a means to an end.

One biker's sitting in my dad's favorite chair in the corner and some chick kneels in front of him, choking on his dick. Lyla doesn't miss it. And just like back then, she doesn't give them a second glance.

I don't know what it says about either of us that this is normal. But being surrounded by booze, drugs, and sex is how we were raised.

I used to tell myself that's why I held onto my virginity for so long. That I was surrounded by so much sex that I was desensitized to it. I wanted to think I had more self-control than the guys at the club. I refused to admit that holding onto my virginity had more to do with the dark-haired girl beside me than anything else. It was easier to believe I was just stronger than the rest of them.

She proved I wasn't.

One kiss and she had me on my fucking knees for her.

My heart was in my hands for her.

My soul was clawing out of my body for her.

It was all for her.

Proven by the fact that when she left, I became just as bad as the rest of them. Losing her meant losing myself. I did anything I could think of to try to recreate the good she resurrected inside me, and nothing did the trick.

Once more, I glance down at her, and I wonder how many men have seen the butterfly I inked between her legs. How many men have seen that look on her face when she comes and her lips part and her eyelashes flutter?

Because a day doesn't go by that I haven't remembered exactly how she sounds and feels when she's coming apart. When she's trusting me fully.

How many men can say the same?

And why does it have me itching with rage?

I'm slipping.

With every step, I know there's no going back. Even if Kane says my debt will be settled once I'm done with this, there's no walking away from her when her hand brushes the back of mine again.

She's always been the only good I've known, and I want to fucking chase it. To the ends of the earth. To my resting place.

I guide Lyla past the den, to the hallway, planting my hand on her lower back when someone barrels around the corner too fast and almost runs into her. And she curls against my body to get out of the way. She hugs me like she trusts me with her safety when I'm not the guy she remembers.

The first life I took was for her, but it wasn't the last. And putting a few bullets in a man's chest isn't the worst I've done.

I should feel bad about it, and it's not a good sign that I don't, but there's just holes where guilt used to live.

Looking over at Lyla, she's a contradiction. Her yellow No Doubt T-shirt is bright and cheery, while her dark hair and magnetic eyes beg for me to make a bad decision.

She chews the inside of her cheek again, but her puffy lips part when she catches me staring. "You're watching me."

"Mm-hmm. You all right?" For someone who doesn't stop talking half the time, she's unnervingly quiet.

"It's just strange being back." Her fingers lace in front of her.

"I can imagine."

She pushes her dark hair off her face. "Do you still come here a lot?"

"Not anymore."

She nods her head, holding my gaze as she thinks something over.

"Why do you ask?" Clearly, something's working in her mind.

"You did come here a lot though, right?" She glances up at me. "At least, back then? To party or get laid or whatever."

She's edging me again. Trying to push me away. And it's fucking irritating.

Pausing in the hallway, I spin her until I have her caged against the wall. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

She blinks up at me, chewing her bottom lip. Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of red, and I fucking hate it because if she was off-limits back then, this is worse.

I'm no good for her.

So when she nods, I close my eyes and take a breath and wonder if maybe it's for the best.

The worse she thinks of me, the easier it'll be for her to walk away. God knows I won't be able to do it.

Leaning in, I get a hit of the incense she was burning in the apartment this morning—the smell of smoke lingers like our fate hanging in the balance.

She tips her chin up to look at me with those eyes that make me lose all common sense.

Kane increased security after what happened to Lyla and Ellie, so he probably has cameras in this hallway, but I can't help gripping her chin and drowning in how her whole face softens at my touch.

It takes everything in me not to grab her jaw and plant my mouth over hers just to see if she tastes as wicked as I remember.

"After you left, I became everything you hated about bikers." I clench my jaw. "Maybe even worse."

Her hands flatten on the wall behind her when she should be guarding herself from me.

"Does that bother you, Lyla?"

"No." She surprises me with her answer.

"Why?"

"Because, Sage…" She takes a step closer to me; we're almost chest to chest and she has to crane her neck back. "It doesn't matter what you did to try to escape. We were both running from something, and I understand that. I know who you really are."

Reaching for the leather choker around her throat, I tuck my finger under the band and pull her closer. "I'm not good like I was back then."

"Neither am I." She narrows her eyes.

Fuck, this girl is temptation. Dangerous. Everything I've ever wanted and should never be allowed to have. And it takes all my power to release her and pull back, even if I'm frozen for a moment.

"I think you're not that different after all," Lyla says, looking me over.

"I guess we'll see."

Once more, I start down the hallway, not looking back as I feel her following. It's too big of a risk to stare into her eyes and face the man she makes me when I forgot how to be him. Every time I try to put distance between us, she finds her way closer, just like she did back then.

A couple of prospects are cleaning up the living room, and when we walk in, Kane looks up from his phone and lifts off the couch.

"Clear the room."

Both prospects leave without question, and it reminds me of when I was one of them.

"Sage." He nods, walking over to us.

He's not a warm person or a welcoming father. He barely acknowledges Lyla beside me, and I wonder if it bothers her as much as it bothers me.

He walks over to the bar and pours a shot of whiskey.

"Come, have a drink." He looks at me, being an asshole, when he's the one who made Lyla come here.

I look down at Lyla who rolls her eyes.

"It's fine." She drops into a chair, and I make my way over to the bar, where he's pouring me a drink as well.

He lifts his up, and I take mine, clinking the glass against his but only drinking half the shot because I'm not sure how long we're going to be here and I'm not driving around wasted with his daughter on the back of my bike.

"What do you want?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

"To check in." Kane pushes both our glasses aside. "Any trouble?"

"She's your daughter, what do you think?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, that's better news than I've got, unfortunately."

"What?"

"Blaze can't get a fucking clue off Tank. And we think it's because the threat is internal."

"You think one of your own guys turned on you again?"

He nods, his teeth gritting. And I'm sure he's remembering, like I am, how that turned out the last time.

"That narrows it down then, right?" I try to be hopeful. "Whoever was here back then and is still around has to be in on it."

"It's shit news either way. But until I know she's safe, she's going to have to continue staying with you."

"I'm aware."

His expression changes. "I'm not losing another daughter."

Kane doesn't show weakness. It's dangerous for the club's president to hint at concern, so it's rare he lets anyone see he's affected. But in his eyes now, I sense his worry.

"I need to talk to her alone." Kane glances over my shoulder to where she's sitting on the couch. "But I got you some company while you wait."

He pulls out his phone, and almost as soon as he hits send on a text, a door to an adjoining room opens. Out steps a redhead with her tits spilling out the top of her tank top and itty-bitty shorts that show off half her ass.

"Brandi, keep Sage company for me while I talk to my daughter."

Kane leans in close, planting a hand on my shoulder and pulling me in so Lyla can't hear. "Do yourself a favor and take me up on this courtesy. Work out some tension, and don't forget my daughter is off-limits. I saw you in the hallway. Too. Fucking. Close."

He walks away, leading Lyla toward the kitchen. But her eyes find me before he closes the door.

Disappointment.

Pity.

More emotions swirl in her gaze than I've felt in years.

The door shuts and Brandi stands in front of me looking like she wants me to take her up on it.

I should. I haven't touched another woman since Lyla came back. I'm wound up and pissed off, and sticking my dick in some patch bunny would prove to Lyla I'm not the man she remembers.

But one look at Brandi, and I know there's no point. I've always belonged to one girl, and now that she's back, I'm not fucking it up again.