Page 64 of Kneeling to Candy

Having had enough, I jab my finger into Butch’s cut over his chest. “Do not compare me to anyone else. After undergoing trauma counseling for a year, I have a damn good grip on my anxiety.”

My biker snarls in frustration. “Right? Like you didn’t almost lose it when being questioned about the brothel ten minutes ago? Everyone could see you were having a flashback.”

I scoff. “So I recalled a memory. Big deal. I shook it off.”

“A memory is one thing, but facing the person who gave you that memory is entirely another.”

True. It will be different facing a man who has hurt me. But I won’t be alone. My support system will have my back—Butch and the rest of the crew will be with me.

And besides, I’ll be facing Duffy—short, round, portly Duffy.

“It’s not like I’ll be facing Cú Sidhe.”

Atlas, Gauge, and Piero look questioningly between themselves, muttering, “Who is Cú Sidhe?”

“The fucking ring leader of the Three Sadistic Amigos,” Butch barks in response.

Atlas talks into the speaker. “Chase?”

“Already searching, Prez,” Chase says back through the speaker.

“Butch,” I plead with him, “I can do this. Let me face him on my own terms.”

My biker takes me by the shoulders, his face lined with a mixture of fury and concern. “This is your guilt talking. You’re trying to make up for wronging the club a year ago. That’s in the past. You can’t undo what is already done, so stop trying to clear your conscience by interfering in this case and leave it to the pros.”

A mushroom cloud goes off behind my eyes, but my words come out slow and deliberate.

“Fuck. You.”

Butch does a double-take, possibly shocked I would speak to him with such hostility. He started it first, fucked around, and now he’s about to find out.

His words were cutting, nicking me to the core of my insecurity issues. The guilt I carry with me for working with the enemy long ago still weighs on me heavily. Yes, working on this case would show I’m worthy to be part of the Mercy Ravens MC. But it’s more than alleviating my conscience of shame. It’s about helping someone other than myself while watching Duffy get what he deserves.

To have a hand in his downfall is better therapy than any amount of counseling sessions Brandon could give me.

Holding my head high, I confront Butch head-on.

“You keep referring to me as fragile, like I’m a dandelion about to burst apart if you breathe on me. Well, guess what? I’m not that delicate. Hell, I don’t have a goddamn delicate bone in my body. Years of abuse have given me the ability to tolerate pretty much anything thrown at me. I can smile while being insulted and degraded.”

I stare at him, doing my best to rein in my anger as I say, “And I can look unaffected when being put down by the one person I thought cared about me.”

Butch’s mouth falls open. “What other reason do I have to keep you off the case? I do care.”

“Save it, biker boy. I can do more than answer some questions for the investigation. What do you keep telling me when we’re alone? Hmm?”

Butch eyes me cautiously, swallowing. He knows I’m referring to taking control.

Well dammit, that’s what I’m doing.

“I can control this situation. This team needs someone to run circles around the guy who abused me. If you cared about me, you’d want me to take the power back.”

Butch’s shoulders slump, his face crestfallen. He knows I have him by the balls. “Candy…”

Ignoring the one man I thought was on my side, I give him my shoulder and face Atlas. “If you want to bring these women home, put me on the team.”

“Candy,” Atlas tries to pacify. “I know you could work on any of these trafficking cases. But I worry about this one involving one of your abusers. What would Brandon say to you if suggested being an active member on this assignment?”

I snigger, humorlessly. “Funny you should mention Brandon. I asked him that exact question before coming into this meeting. You know what he said? He told me I know what I can handle better than anyone else can.”

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