Page 29 of Wild Ride

“He does indeed,” she murmurs.

“So you know about the girls?” I ask. “Does that mean you were one?”

Silence.

Again.

I’m okay with the silence. In fact, right now, I welcome it while she processes what the fuck I just asked. She sucks in an audible breath, then lets it out slowly before she speaks.

“I was,” she whispers, almost as if saying it quietly will make it less true.

Whatever the fuck she needs, she can take. Because I have no doubt that just thinking about that part of her life retraumatized her. I’m no psychologist or anything, far from it, but I can’t imagine the trauma she suffered.

Pinching my eyes closed, I dip my chin before I let out a grunt. “I’m sorry to hear that, babe.”

“Don’t be. I got the hell out of there, and I’m grateful because most did not.”

“You safe where you’re at right now?” I ask.

“What aren’t you telling me, Bullet?” she asks.

I’m not sure what I’m not telling her because it’s just a sensation. At the same time, I don’t know what I’m feeling or even what I’m saying, but I have a feeling that this is bigger than we imagined. So much goddamn bigger, it’s nestled deep in my gut. Something is going on here, and we’re on the threshold of uncovering it. I’m just not sure what the fuck it is.

“I’m not sure,” I confess. “But a group of us are coming to Oregon and Willamette Haven. We’re on a mission to get some questions answered. Can we talk with you about it when we get there?”

Silence again, and I realize that’s just how she processes things. I don’t push her. I have the time to wait for her to sort shit out inside of her head. I have all the fucking time she needs. It’s not like she has much of a choice, really. I’m giving her the words to choose, but I’m showing up to see her and ask questions no matter what she says.

Then I hear her clear her throat before she speaks. “What kind of group are you?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, and if I had to guess, I would assume she’s been crying.

“A kind of group that’s mostly not good, except when we hear about something happening to women and children, but especially children.”

“You’re going to save them,” she states. It’s not a question, but I answer her anyway.

“We’re going to sure as fuck try, babe.”

“Then I’ll meet with you and tell you anything and everything you want to know.”

It’s my turn to be silent for a moment. There is movement at the front office, and I watch as a brother pulls up on his bike. It’s Lightning, and I know what he’s about to go and do, which is the front desk girl.

“Sounds good, Briana. I’ll let you know when we’ll be arriving. But know that this is going to get messy.”

“Good,” she states. “I think that is what it needs to be before anything will change.” Then she ends the call

My lips curve up into a grin. Turning around, I make my way back into the hotel room, and after I lock the door behind me, I move a chair up against the door and shove the top beneath the knob. I push my jeans down my legs and step out of them, then place the phone on the nightstand before I crawl back into bed.

Dakota sighs and rolls over to face me, hitching her leg over my thigh, and that is how I fall asleep, willingly, for the first time ever, with a woman.

The only other times I’ve slept with a woman in the same bed, I passed out drunk, high, or both with a clubwhore. But believe it or fucking not, I am stone-cold sober right now.

And even if I’m only admitting it to myself—I like it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

DAKOTA

Sucking in a breath,I stretch my body, noticing how sore I am. I have never had so much sex in such a short amount of time…

It feels almost surreal and achy.

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