Chapter Twenty

C orbin walked into the house without knocking. Rachel picked up her plate from the scarred wooden table and entered the kitchen. Since she'd returned to the house with Shady, men had come and gone throughout the day and night.

"Sis, bring me the shoe box," shouted Shady.

She picked up the box and carried it into the other room. Plopping it down on the couch, she turned and headed to the hallway. She wasn't going to stand around and watch her brother sell drugs or whatever else he could get his sticky hands on.

Every day was the same. For her brother, it was a wild scramble to make a few bucks.

The house was old. It was paid for. It might not be much, but it was the only home she'd ever known.

She only wished it was safe.

Each night, she barred her bedroom door, afraid her brother's enemies would barge in the house and kidnap her again.

Shady was no protector. He used the darkness to roam the town with the guys he hung around. She was lucky if he came back before daylight. Then, he slept all morning until the late afternoon.

She rubbed the back of her neck. Her brother would be leaving soon.

Opening her dresser drawers, she couldn't find what she needed. She went to her closet. The black garbage sack that held her clothes from Ruger's cottage sat on the floor in front of the closet door, keeping it from closing.

She pulled out a black hoodie and a pair of boyfriend-cut jeans that were always too big for her but would hide her body. She quickly changed her clothes and looked in the mirror.

There was nothing appealing about her. She appeared straight as a stick. It was perfect. She found her black Converse and slipped them on her feet.

Bang. Bang.

She froze at the knock on the bedroom. "Yeah?"

"I'm going out."

Not wanting Shady to see her, she yelled, "Whatever."

"Get out here for a sec."

"No."

"Damnit." The door shook. "I'll break the door—"

She opened the door. "Knock it off. You can't come back and start ruling the house like the last five years didn't exist. Can't you just chill and be happy you're not in prison?"

"This isn't about me. I'm trying to put food on the table." Shady looked over her head and scanned the room. "What are you doing in there?"

Her brother wasn't worried about her safety. He wanted to know if she had anything worth selling.

Years ago, her dad had a rule that her bedroom was off-limits. Shady and his friends couldn't set foot in her private area. Her clothes and costume jewelry belonged to her.

She raised her arms to his chest and pushed, knocking him back into the hallway. "Go. Leave me alone."

Shady shooed her away. "Don't let anyone in the house tonight."

She snarled at his back. He was already calling Corbin and heading toward the door. She waited until she heard them leave and then ran out into the front room, turning the deadbolt and pushing the overstuffed chair in front of the door.

She felt better even though she knew the lock wouldn't keep someone out if they were determined to get inside.

Tucking her hair into the hood of her hoodie, she ran her fingers under her eyes. She needed money. Returning to her room, she picked up the black garbage bag and spilled the clothes on the floor. Finding the jeans where she hid the money Ruger gave her, she took the cash and shoved it in her front pocket.

It would be enough money to get an Uber to drive her to Ruger's cottage. If he weren't home, she'd sit on his front porch and wait for him. She'd be safer there, even outside his house, than inside her house with her brother gone.

She checked the time on her phone and then searched for a driver. The second to the last one took cash, too. With her ride on the way, she slid the cell into her pocket and moved the chair out from in front of the door. If she left now, she'd get to Seaglass Cove before dark.

An hour later, she stood in Ruger's driveway and watched the Uber driver drive away. As soon as she arrived, she knew Ruger wasn't home. His Harley was gone. He never parked in the garage unless he worked on the motorcycle.

There were no lights on. The curtains in the living room window were closed.

She walked the stone pathway and sat on the front step in front of the door. Hugging her knees, she tried to keep the nerves at bay.

More than anything, excitement filled her. She'd missed Ruger every day since going back home.

When she first left Ruger's cottage, she was angry—so angry at him. He let her go without saying anything and without looking at her.

She hadn't understood how he could act as if he enjoyed being with her for the entire time she stayed with him to the coldness he'd given her when Shady showed up.

It took her a week to realize not all her anger was aimed at Ruger. She carried a lot of anger toward her brother. It was because of him that she was kidnapped. That she had gone through the worst pain in her life. That the beatings Ruger had subjected himself to, to protect her, was because of Shady.

It was because of her dad.

She wasn't asked to be born into a crime family.

Her anger came from her frustration that she could not leave her life behind. Everything she wanted and needed was on the outside.

She wanted to escape.

And the only place, the only person, the only thing she wanted was Ruger.

She sighed, impatient to see him. Whatever attitude he threw at her for showing up at his cottage, she'd wait for him until he understood how much he meant to her.

A car honked in the distance. She raised her head and squinted, scanning the front yard. The sun had quickly gone down.

She shivered. It was dark.

Scooting backward, she pressed her back against the door. He was probably at the clubhouse. He'd have a drink, see his daughter, and then ride home. Maybe instead of a drink, he'd eat something if he'd gone on a ride today.

The wind picked up in intensity. She buried her face in her upturned knees. The smell of fish was always in the air when the weather shifted, and the high tide came. Having lived on the Oregon coast her whole life, she used to wonder how far inland the briny air traveled before it became pure and undetectable, but she never had the chance to travel to find out.

At one time, she believed that the moment she turned eighteen years old, she'd move away from everything she knew. But by the time she graduated school, she understood that going out on her own would be impossible.

It was the first time she understood why her father, and her brother had chosen the life they lived. A regular, honest job without education wouldn't be enough to leave.

Shady kept running the streets, hoping to hit it big. Maybe he wanted to run away. Maybe he wanted more things to call his own. Maybe none of that was the goal. Sometimes, she believed he enjoyed the danger. That's why he let himself get into debt with others.

A lone headlight headed toward the cottage. She squeezed her knees to her chest.

She stayed in the dark, suddenly nervous. What if he told her to leave without talking to her?

Ruger stopped, turned off the motorcycle, and swung his leg over the seat. Dressed all in black, he was more a silhouette in the night. Something she dreamed about when she closed her eyes.

As soon as he stepped onto the pathway to the front door, he stopped. "Unless you're ready to die, you better get the fuck off my property."

"Don't shoot me." She scrambled to her feet. "It's me. Rachel."

"Jesus Christ, woman." He approached her. "You don't sit in the dark. It's a good way to lose your life."

He reached around her, unlocked the door, and walked inside the cottage. She hesitated. He'd left the door open but hadn't invited her inside. She swallowed repeatedly when he walked into the kitchen and out of sight. What was she supposed to do?

She looked over her shoulder. The thought of walking away not only struck fear in her, but she also grew angry. Why was it always Ruger who made all the decisions? Why was she following him around, trying to keep in contact with him?

If he felt anything for her, why wasn't he fighting for her?

He'd saved her life—she wasn't downplaying all he'd gone through. He'd done things no other person had ever done for her—or even thought to do for her.

She stepped over the threshold, feeling braver.

"Ruger." She walked into the kitchen.

He stood, bent over, and gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. His back was to her, and his head dropped below his arms.

She stopped. Never once had she witnessed him distraught, weakened, or unsure of what he was doing. His body position had her questioning her reasons for coming over here.

"Get out," he whispered hoarsely. "Go home."

The pain and roughness in his voice paralyzed her. Ruger had always made her feel safe and secure. His rejection wounded her.

"What did I do wrong?" she whispered back.

He pushed off the counter and whirled around. She stepped back at the fire in his eyes.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" He growled.

At that moment, she was petrified of losing the Ruger she knew and loved.

Yes, she loved him. They'd gone through too much for her to question her feelings.

The man in front of her was a stranger. He'd never turned her away before. She couldn't even read his thoughts through his eyes. He'd closed himself off.

"I am." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "You are scaring me."

"Bullshit." He strode across the kitchen. "You need to get out of here."

"Why?"

He stared into her eyes, tormented and fighting something she had no knowledge of. "You're doing my head in."

The anguished confession unglued her from the spot. She stepped forward and put her hand on his whiskered cheek. His brows lowered. Her touch broke the barrier he'd erected around him.

"Fuck this." He grabbed her face, pulling her against his body.

His mouth slammed down on hers and he slipped his tongue past her lips. She whimpered, melting into him. She grabbed the front of Ruger's vest, trying to hold on to him and her sanity.

She pushed against his broad chest and ripped her lips away from his. "We need to talk."

"Fuck it." He lowered his head to kiss her again. "I want you."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, but she had questions and doubts.

"Why now and not a couple weeks ago when you kicked me out of your house." She fisted the leather of his vest in her hands, not wanting to scare him away with her need for answers.

"Didn't kick you out." His gaze locked on hers. "Your brother came for you."

"I didn't want to go."

"Doesn't matter now. You're not going back." He cupped the back of her head. "Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like life is shit without you, Rach. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." She tilted her face and kissed his lips gently. "I want to stay."

"I don't know why you would," he said against her lips. "I'm not someone to be proud of."

She gasped. "You are, too."

"I'm gonna disappoint you." His hold on her tightened. "I'll hurt you."

She shook her head. The man who stood between her and evil men, took the beatings intended for her, and killed men to save her life would never hurt her. She'd swear on her life.

His beard tickled her cheek. A thrill swept through her at getting a response from him, knowing she wasn't going crazy imagining the love growing between them.

A mix of excitement and nervousness pulsed through her bloodstream. He couldn't change her mind about him. She'd seen everything she needed to see.

He was her hero.

Despite the roughness, the stubbornness, and all the growls and grunts, he'd put her needs first when he could've walked away. That spoke a lot about the man.

Ruger curled his fingers around her wrist and shoved her hand down his body, putting her palm on the hard ridge of his cock. She sucked in her breath as he let out a deep groan.

She put her other hand inside his vest, found the hem of his T-shirt, and worked her fingers underneath the material. She loved his bigness—tall, broad, strong. He was solid, dependable, and protective.

She even liked how others viewed him as dangerous—she'd seen how the Havlin members walked around him and avoided confrontation.

He picked her up, pulling her legs around his waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

His breathy growl vibrated her lips. She swallowed the sound.

He moved, walking out of the kitchen. She threaded her fingers through his hair, content wrapped around his body until he physically lowered her, and her pussy came into contact with the hardness she'd rubbed earlier through his jeans.

In the bedroom, he lowered her until her feet hit the floor. Ruger pulled off her shirt. She shivered. His touch seared her skin.

She moved back to him, reaching for his buckle. He set his pistol on the dresser and then helped her strip him of his vest and shirt and unzip his jeans.

She rubbed against him, pressure building in her belly.

"You're so damn beautiful." He slid his hands down her back and gripped her ass, squeezing the plumpness until she was on her tiptoes.

An orgasm ripped through her body, rocking her against him. She panted, riding out the pleasure pulsating through her, on and on.

As she gained a breath, she gazed up at him. "I don't know what's the matter with me."

Ruger chuckled. "Let's see if you have another one in there."

She stepped out of her jeans and panties with shaking legs. Barely able to stand, she wasn't sure there was any pleasure left in her.

But that all changed when Ruger shoved his hand in the front of his opened jeans, fisted his cock and brought it out, setting it free.

The sight of his engorged cock stole all the air out of her lungs. Her pussy throbbed, reminding her that she was wrong. She had more in her.

"Grab a condom from the drawer, Rach."

She walked like a drunk person across the room and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. Her skin tingled. She knew he was looking at her.

He made her feel beautiful, even though she was still too skinny from her kidnapping and the aftermath she lived through.

She returned to him. He lazily stroked his cock and dipped his chin, letting her know to put the condom on him.

She let the wrapper fall to the floor and rolled the protection over him. He slid his hand into her hair, pulling her forward, taking her mouth.

He controlled the kiss, stroking his tongue in her mouth. Unaware that he'd moved her across the room until the coolness of the wall hit her bare back, she gasped. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the wall.

He walked her backward. The back of her legs met the mattress. Off balance, she plopped on the edge of the bed, eye level with his cock. She hooked his thighs, bringing him closer and wished she hadn't put the condom on him.

Ruger leaned down. She leaned back.

He separated her thighs and pushed her knees up, lowering his head between her legs. There was nothing slow and tender about him that time. He acted as if he was starving and hadn't eaten all day.

He swiped his tongue along her wetness and ended up zeroing in on her clit. She bucked awkwardly in his hands against his face. Every nerve was overly sensitive from her orgasm.

Ruger lifted his head, wiped his lower face on his shoulder, and let go of her legs. He crawled up her body. His hard cock dug into her hip. She reached between them, gripped his dick in her hand, and placed the tip at her pussy.

A hard exhale of need escaped her. Her arousal heightened again at the size of him on her.

Ruger grabbed her hair, pinning her to the bed and forcing her to look in his face. And then, he plunged deep inside of her with such ownership, she swallowed her moan and panted through the shock of him filling every inch of her and pushing her body to its limit.

"If you want me, you'll have to understand I can't hold back with you. I won't hold back," he rasped.

To her, the threat was a promise. She loved the way he consumed her.

His power. His control. His dominance put her in a place where she could let go of the bitterness, the anger, the sadness of her life.

His gaze battled her, waiting for her to argue or push him away. She stared him in his gorgeous eyes, firm in her belief.

"I trust you." Her hips lifted into him.

He growled, pulling out enough to thrust back in. Her eyes rolled back, and she arched her neck. Her body adapted and welcomed each movement. Secure in his hands, he fucked her the way he needed—which was how she needed him.

She blinked, focusing on his face. His upper lip curled, showing the two white points of his eye teeth. Unable to get her legs up and give him more room, she moaned.

Reading her mind, Ruger hooked his hand under her knee and lifted her leg. Her chin chattered. His cock stretched her wide. The feeling was phenomenal.

He lowered his head and captured her sounds in a bruising kiss.

His hips move back and forth between her thighs.

The position put more pressure on her clit. Ruger thrust and ground against her, suspending her in pleasure.

She scratched his shoulders, needing the orgasm hovering out of touch.

He pounded harder. She gasped, thrown into her release.

Above her, Ruger let go of her hair, adjusted himself and kneeled between her legs. He grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him. She struggled to catch her breath as he chased his climax.

She caught the moment he lost control. His jaw loosened and his eyelids grew heavy. It was the calmest she'd ever seen him. Grabbing his hands, she entwined her fingers with his and let her legs fall to the sides.

She wanted to bottle the moment. To put the memory in a jar and seal it.