Beneath A Rogue Moon: The Brotherhood of Ruin, page 8
But it was the raw, red handprint on her face that pushed him over the edge.
He pulled back his fist, ready to crush Pierce’s skull with one blow.
“No!”
Ryce froze, shifting his gaze to Kayla. Her eyes were wide with horror, her hands covering her mouth, and he couldn’t understand why she was asking for mercy for the bastard who’d attacked her.
Then it occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t Pierce she was trying to save.
At that moment, Kayla’s sister and brother-in-law came tearing around the corner of the building, shouting her name. Lexi’s fuzzy pink slippers flapped against the asphalt, her husband hot on her heels in pajamas printed with flamingos and palm trees. In the building behind them, people were peering out their windows and coming out onto their landings to see the source of the commotion.
Ryce let his fist drop, his hands hanging uselessly in the air. Pierce crawled away as fast as he could, blubbering about demons. Tony rushed to help him up while Lexi rounded on Kayla with murder in her eyes.
“What the hell did you do?” Lexi hissed.
“Me?” Kayla seemed genuinely mystified. “I didn’t do anything. Ryce—“
“Then why is my dress ruined? That doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
“But I—you’ve got it wrong, Lexi. Pierce was the one who—“
“Shut your fucking mouth for once, Kayla!” Tony shouted, his arm around a trembling, snot-covered Pierce. “That lunatic could have killed him!”
“You need to apologize right now,” Lexi said, jabbing a finger in Kayla’s face. “And you—“ She aimed her finger at Ryce with a look of pure hatred.
That was when Kayla snapped. She dove in front of Ryce as if shielding him from her sister’s venom.
“Don’t you dare yell at Ryce. He saved me. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be—oh, God, I don’t even want to think about it.” She shivered in disgust. “Look what Pierce did to me, Lexi! Look at my face! That handprint? It’s way too small to be Ryce’s.”
“Don’t be disgusting,” Lexi retorted. “Cover yourself. You look like a whore.”
Pierce had collected himself enough to project wounded dignity. “That man is a demon. I saw it with my own eyes. He had claws and fangs. He was trying to kill me!”
Kayla laughed bitterly. “Claws and fangs? Really, Pierce? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“I swear it,” Pierce continued, ignoring her. “He was sent by Satan. And your sister’s his consort.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Kayla snapped. “Are you seriously going to listen to that?”
“I know what I saw with my own eyes,” Lexi retorted. “Acting like a harlot and then lying about it? You’ve really done it this time. I’m calling Dad.”
To Ryce’s surprise, Kayla only rolled her eyes. “Oh no! But then who’s going to set me up on dates with rapists?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Tony told Pierce while furiously signaling for Lexi to get Kayla out of there.
But Pierce shoved him away. “You should have warned me! I was a perfect gentleman tonight, and that bitch—“
Tony started dabbing at the dirt on Ryce’s sportscoat. “Lexi will deal with her—I promise you that. And I’m going to call the cops on this thug. Why don’t you come inside and have a drink? I’ve got some twelve-year-old scotch—“
“I don’t want your damn scotch,” Tony said contemptuously. “Or your cheap apartment or your whore of a sister-in-law. I never should have hired you, much less taken you to my church. And you can kiss that promotion goodbye. You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot.”
No one said anything as Pierce limped to his car, gingerly got in, and tore out of the lot.
“Look what you’ve done!” Tony bellowed at Kayla. “You’ve ruined everything!”
Ryce had seen enough. He stepped in front of Kayla, shielding her from Lexi and Tony, and took up a rigid stance.
“You’re idiots,” he muttered. “You can’t even see the treasure right in front of you.”
“What—you mean Kayla?” Tony seemed baffled. “Well, you won’t have to worry about her anymore because she’s leaving.”
“You’re almost right,” Ryce said. “She is leaving—with me.
Kayla looked startled but didn’t protest as he took her hand and led her to his motorcycle. He lifted her onto the seat, helped her put on a helmet, and told her to hang on. He felt her wrap her arms tentatively around his waist as he gunned the engine.
As Ryce pulled out of the parking lot, the wind in his face helped scour away the taint of the three worthless humans they were leaving behind. But he couldn’t shake the image of the tears that streaked Lexi’s face.
Chapter
Twelve
KAYLA
Riding on the back of Ryce’s bike went a long way toward distracting me from the fact that my life was falling apart.
I’d always had a wild side, even if I rarely got to express it. I loved carnival rides and sitting in the back of the school bus so my butt left the seat when we drove over bumps. I used to climb up so high up in the maple tree in our backyard that I made myself dizzy. In the summer, I’d sneak out to the lake with the other kids and head straight for the rope swing. Sailing out over the water, I’d let go at the highest point, and for a moment, it really felt like I was flying before gravity pulled me into the water with a splash.
But this—riding on Ryce’s beautiful, sleek black Ducati that was every bit as stunning and powerful as he was—was more thrilling than all those old memories put together.
My hair whipped around my neck, the heat of the engine licked my ankles, the seat vibrated between my legs. I dared to rest my cheek against Ryce’s broad, strong back and felt like I was being pulled back from the edge of despair.
He slowed as we passed through town, drawing envious looks from the students still out partying at the local watering holes, then sped up again when we passed the town limit sign. By the time he pulled to a gravel-spitting stop outside the Red Apple Roadhouse, the wind had dried all traces of my tears. But once Ryce helped me off the bike, and my feet were on the ground again, reality returned on a wave of hopelessness.
By now, Lexi would be on the phone with Dad. Any hope that my sister would cut me a break had vanished when Pierce stormed off, taking the promise of their bright future with him. There would be no sweet-talking my way out of this one. The reckless defiance I felt in the moment faded in the harsh light of the truth that my own sister cared more about her husband’s promotion than about protecting me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad hit the road as soon as he got off the phone with Lexi. Even if he waited until morning, I’d be on my way back to Blunt before dinner tomorrow. And this time, I’d be staying. There’d be no more talk of school or jobs or future plans. All I could look forward to would be staying home and taking care of Dad.
The thought brought a fresh wave of tears. I wanted to wipe them away before Ryce noticed, but I needed both hands to hold my ripped dress together.
Ryce took one look at me and pulled off his own T-shirt. “Here,” he said, holding it out to me. “You can wear this until we can find something better.”
I tried not to gawk at the sight of his bare chest, murmuring my thanks as I shrugged the shirt over the ruined dress. The whole time I was thinking how strange it was that a man who considered himself unfit for company was the only one who had shown me any kindness or respect that night.
Ryce led me around the side of the old wood-sided building and knocked on the back door. It took two tries before a stoned-looking dishwasher opened it. Confronted by the sight of an angry, bare-chested Ryce standing there, the pimple-faced kid stumbled back a step.
“I need to talk to Jessie,” Ryce growled, and the guy hastily backed away. Jessie appeared within minutes, wiping her hands on a bar towel, her confused expression morphing to horror when she saw us.
“For the love of God,” she said, taking in my disheveled hair, the bruise on my face, and the soiled and wrinkled skirt of my dress beneath Ryce’s shirt. “What the hell happened? And why didn’t you stop it?” she added, rounding on Ryce.
“I did stop it,” he said. “That’s why she’s here.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I said hurriedly when Jessie continued to glare at him. “He came as soon as—“
I stopped, trying to remember the sequence of events. Ryce had showed up seconds after Pierce slapped me—but how had he known? The back of the parking lot had been deserted, curtains drawn over apartment windows, at least until the commotion got people’s attention. Ryce was on the second floor of the next building over, which meant—what the hell did it mean?
“I was on a date,” I tried again. “The guy wouldn’t let me out of the car, and when I wouldn’t let him, um, you know…”
“It was that asshole again, wasn’t it?” Jessie touched my cheek so gently I could barely feel it. “The one who came after me in my car. He hit you?”
An angry rumble emanated from Ryce, who was standing rigidly to the side with his fists clenched.
“Oh, jeez, tell me you didn’t kill him, Ryce,” Jessie gasped.
“He didn’t,” I assured her.
“I would have,” he said through gritted teeth. “Listen, you got something Kayla could wear, Jess?”
Jessie blinked. “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to... Follow me.”
We trooped through the kitchen to a cramped breakroom, where Jessie got a pink shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans from a row of lockers along the wall. “I keep a spare outfit in case of spills,” she said, handing them to me. “I hope it fits okay.”
Then she led Ryce out and closed the door so I could change in privacy. The shirt was snug, with a sweetheart neckline that showed a hint of cleavage, and the jeans were tight. Not uncomfortable, just…a lot more attention-getting than anything I owned.
I handed Ryce his shirt as soon as I came out into the hallway. “Thanks, Jessie.”
“No sweat, sugar. Listen, Rhonda’s on her own out there, so I’m going to get back on the floor, but I’ll come check on you as soon as it slows down.”
We followed Jessie out into the large, open room and took the only open barstools. The tall, broad-shouldered bartender flashed us a smile from halfway down the bar where she was pulling beers. “The usual?” she called.
“Yeah, two of ‘em. Thanks, Rhonda.”
“What’s the usual?” I asked.
“Bourbon and soda. You tried it the other night. Back when you were trying to tell me you don’t drink.”
“I don’t—oh.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw the faintest hint of amusement in Ryce’s expression.
I could have insisted. I’m sure Jessie would have spotted me a club soda since I’d left my purse back in Pierce’s car…but then again, it was my last night of freedom, so what was the harm? There was no telling when—or if—I’d get another chance.
When the drinks came, Ryce rose from his barstool and grunted for me to follow him. He led me to the table where I’d joined him the other night, which was occupied by a boisterous group of drunk guys who’d undoubtedly brandished fake IDs to get in. Ryce stood next to the table in silence as, one by one, the guys registered his presence and fell silent. Then, having come to a group decision without saying a word, they slunk away.
Ryce pulled out a chair for me.
“Nice trick,” I said. “Must come in handy when you can’t get a dinner reservation.”
He looked at me blankly. So much for my attempt at humor. A strained silence fell between us.
“Thanks for saving me tonight,” I finally said.
The corner of Ryce’s mouth twitched. “What the hell were you doing out with bastard again?”
I flinched at the fury in his voice—but almost immediately, I felt a spike of annoyance. Why should I have to apologize for other people’s actions?
“That’s none of your damned business,” I snapped.
Surprise flickered in Ryce’s dark gold eyes, giving way to something darker. “It became my business the second I pulled your date off you.”
“And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t get to tell me to keep my distance from you one minute and then demand answers from me the next.”
Ryce’s jaw hardened, and I readied myself for another show of temper. But after a few tense seconds, he only nodded. “You’re right.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. I wasn’t used to people conceding arguments to me. “I am?”
“I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away, but all I succeeded in doing was making you feel like you had nowhere to turn for help.”
Holy crap. I was not expecting that.
“But you were there when I needed you,” I pointed out.
“Nothing could have stopped me.”
He held my gaze for a long moment. I decided I believed him.
“It wasn’t my choice to go out with Pierce,” I told him. “I had to. I know how that sounds, but—“ Shame reared its ugly head, and I felt like ducking under the table. Ryce must think I was a masochist or else incredibly stupid. Maybe it really was my fault. Maybe someone more clever, braver—
“Tell me why. Explain it to me.”
There was no judgement in Ryce’s tone, only curiosity and the lingering shadow of his rage. So I told him. How my family had made all my decisions since I was a child, how I’d finally got this one chance to break away from them, how they’d found a way to ruin even my most modest dreams.
When I was finished, I could barely meet Ryce’s gaze. When I did, there was nothing but understanding in his eyes.
“I get it,” he said quietly. “My family’s the same way.”
I knew he was lying—how could anyone control someone as powerful and intimidating as Ryce? Still, it was such a novel feeling to have someone try to make me feel better that I went along with it.
“What do you mean?” I prompted cautiously.
Ryce shrugged. “Just that I left a bad situation back home, too. And I thought I got away from my family for good, but…let’s just say I recently found out that wasn’t the case. And now—well, now I’ve got hard decisions of my own to make.”
That was the longest speech I’d ever heard from the man, and it left me with more questions than answers.
“But you got out,” I said. “I wish—I mean, I can’t even manage that. I didn’t last a month. I’ve got no means of supporting herself, and I’ll be back in Blunt tomorrow. Probably forever.”
Ryce was polite enough to ignore the catch in my voice. “That might be for the best,” he said cryptically. “Dark times are on the horizon for this town. Things might get out of control for a while.”
I stared at him, wondering what the heck he was talking about. “Dark times? You mean like the second coming or something?”
Ryce’s laugh was so devoid of humor that it sent a shiver along my spine. “Something like that.” Seeing my expression, he visibly shifted gear, straightening up in his chair and forcing what I think was meant to be a smile. “Tell you what, Kayla, seeing as tonight might be your last taste of freedom for a while, what would you like to do?”
I looked at him sharply to see if he was serious, and there was nothing in his eyes to suggest otherwise.
“There is something, actually,” I said, my heart picking up the pace. “But you’ll think it’s ridiculous. And after everything that’s happened tonight, I don’t think I can handle you laughing at me.”
“I’d never laugh at you,” Ryce said gravely. “But who cares if I did? Like you said, after tomorrow, you won’t be seeing any of us ever again.”
Before I could change my mind, I tossed down the rest of my drink, closed my eyes, and blurted, “I’ve always wanted to dance with a cute guy.”
In the stunned silence that followed, I opened one eye and saw that Ryce was keeping his promise, but only with effort—I could tell he was forcing himself not to laugh. Catching my look of dismay, he held up his hands.
“Sorry—it’s just that no one has ever described me as ‘cute’ before. And I’m also kind of surprised that all you want is…” He made a vague, slightly embarrassed gesture. “…just to dance.”
“I’ve seen it in movies,” I said quickly, “and it looks so romantic, you know? Two people in the middle of a crowded dance floor, and all they see is each other. Swaying to the music like there’s nothing else in the world but them.”
I couldn’t believe I’d said all that. I sounded like a lovestruck twelve-year-old to my own ears, but Ryce only nodded.
“You’re right. That does sound romantic. Tell you what, give me a minute…”
I watched Ryce walk to the jukebox, ignoring the stares that followed him. Soon the opening bars of a classic love song filled the bar. I caught my breath as Ryce walked back toward me and held out his hand.
I couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, but I tried to ignore all the eyes on us and placed my hand in his large, callused warm one. He led me to the only open area in the room, between the pool tables and the bar, and put one hand on my waist while he clasped the other to his chest. Over his shoulder, I could see Jessie watching us with what looked like delight, and Ryce’s lips quirked in his version of a smile—and we danced.
I’d dreamed of this moment for so long, yet it was nothing like I expected. In high school, I sometimes danced around my room with a big stuffed bear, mimicking the scene from Beauty and the Beast because while I would never admit it to anyone, it was my favorite dance scene of all time. In that scene, it was like Belle floated on air while the Beast was both graceful and also so big and strong…like he could protect her from anything.
Tears stung my eyes even as Ryce and I moved together to the music, my feet faltering only a little, my hand resting naturally on his shoulder as if we’d done this a hundred times. He was a surprisingly good dancer—good enough to make up for my obvious inexperience. It was everything I’d dreamed of. I was glad for the dimness that concealed my unshed tears, and I laid my cheek against his chest, thrilling to the slow, steady beat of his heart.
