Page 129 of Dirty Salvation

"Icy. I mean it. Now what you callin' for?" Zara could feel her eyebrows inching into her hair. Oh, that man … she'd keep talk of money until the caveman was stood in front of her.

All the better to punch him.

"Iwasgoing to invite you back for dinner, but with that attitude, I don't think I want to."

Pretty-boy openly snickered showing her his teeth.

"I like that, baby. I'll bring pizza, then we'll come back for your clothes."

His voice always warmed her from the inside and she found herself smiling when she handed Pretty-boy his phone back.

She had a pizza date with her boyfriend/landlord.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“It’s lucky you don’t want me for my garlic bread baking skills, Rider. It looks like coal.” - Zara.

It began to snow that night and didn't stop for three days. On any other given point in time Zara would have revelled in the beauty of those fat flakes. But it so happened she was kept very busy under a lusty bad biker man for most the time so missed most of the seasonal weather that passed through Armado Springs.

She didn't mind a bit, not even when her inner thighs protested from overuse. That same bad biker man had appetites she was working to sate. She didn't mind that, either.

It was Thursday again. Zara felt raw inside. Seriously emotionally drained.

She wanted to sleep and forget everything for a few days.

Thursdays and Mondays were now her therapy days when she was driven into town to sit on a couch and pour her heart out to a middle-aged woman who was very nice but gave Zara the heebies with the informed way she looked at her, as if she could see all her dirt before she'd even tipped it out onto her professional floor.

It was too early to tell if it was helpingyou're taking productive steps, baby.Rider had told her and he was right, one step at a time, one therapy sessions at a time she was slowly getting better,oh, please godshe hoped she was.

She didn’t want to be perfect, who was. But functional, not afraid of her own shadow, and if she could cope with her memories…

She inhaled the cold air climbing down from Capone’s Jeep, waved her thanks as he drove off. He’d been her chaperone today; Rider had gone on a ride with his brothers. A ride meant he was up to something illegal he didn’t give her details to, just told her he’d see her tonight. As long as he came back safe she didn’t need or want to know what he was up to. Furthermore, he had a maniac like Hawk coasting at his back, who better to protect the president. In that respect, she trusted Hawk more than ever.

To be entangled with an outlaw you accept all of them, not just the good and the right. It had only taken a few weeks for Zara to know she'd take those MC boys over the majority of the populace.

And the Renegade Soulsdiddo a lot of beneficial work for the community, some of the stories had her brows rising with surprise. When she’d asked Rider about it, he’d shrugged and said:You take care of your own first, baby. It was hopeless to stop herself from falling for him when his capacity for caring went deep.

That bad outlaw had a great heart.

Of all people to walk back into her life, it had been Rider. Fate delivering her savior in the body of a six-foot badass who didn’t tolerate shit from anyone. Kind of perfect, she thought. Even if he was the juxtaposition of a white Knight. Zara preferred him in leather anyway.

Zara was smiling when she let herself into the little house. And today she didn’t instinctively turn on every light. That was progress, or so Cathy, her therapist, would say.

Little steps.

It had been session three today, the moment Zara had wished to avoid. Not because of shame, or disgust, but because Cathy wanted to delve into the only good and clean part of her life, it felt too private, something Zara wanted wholly for herself. She’d spewed everything about her capture, keeping it simple so Cathy wouldn’t inform the law, she thought Zara had been in an abusive relationship with Hades.Vomit.

But all that was marginally tolerable to share than what Cathy wanted from her.

She'd spoken candidly, as though she was recounting events from a script, distance from her own horrors, after all, she’d lived it for years, every bruise and mental torture she could report, a play in act III… and then the sweet middle-aged lady had smiled and taken a swerve in the conversation asking about her situation now, her new relationship and Zara felt her fingers tingle, her breath went shallow.

She hadn’t wanted to discuss Rider.What has you hesitant about that?Cathy had asked.

Zara had blown ten minutes of her session thinking on that question. Why after everything was Rider her hard limit? It seemed stupid. He was her one good thing.

Realization didn’t always have an invite when it came to the party, it didn’t even bring a bottle of wine, but boy, did it make itself known at the buffet table. In a short time, too short, some would undoubtedly accuse if asked for their opinion, Rider had become the eye of her storm, that anchor to grab hold of and bring her back to life.

Sue her if she was protective of that, not willing to share intimate details with anyone else the genuine moments she had with him, even with sweet Cathy who smelled like soothing lavender and wore glasses on a chain around her neck.

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