Page 20 of Viper's Salvation
Her eyebrows rise slightly. "You don't seem dark to me."
That pulls a genuine laugh from me. "Then you're not looking hard enough, Amy. I've got blood on my hands. I've made choices most people couldn't live with."
"And yet here you are, having a picnic by a lake, drinking water instead of beer, making sure I'm hydrated." She tilts her head. "Darkness isn't all you are, Viper."
Something warm expands in my chest at her words. This woman who's been through hell sees something in me beyond the violence, beyond the cut I wear.
"Careful," I warn, only half-joking. "Talk like that might give a man ideas."
A faint blush colors her cheeks, visible even beneath her bruises. "I'm just stating facts. You're more complicated than you want people to believe."
"Look who's talking," I counter. "The woman who survived and still has the capacity to defend a killer's humanity."
Her expression shifts, eyes dropping to our still-joined hands. "Maybe we recognize something in each other."
She's right. There is something between us, some recognition that goes beyond the circumstances of our meeting. I want to explore it further, to understand this pull I feel toward her, but now isn't the time. She's still healing, still processing her trauma.
I reluctantly release her hand and reach for my water bottle. "We should probably head back to the group before they send a search party."
She nods, though I catch a flicker of disappointment in her expression. "Yeah, probably."
I stand first, offering my hand to help her up. She takes it, wincing slightly as her ribs protest the movement. Once on her feet, she doesn't immediately let go, and I don't rush her.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For telling me about your father. I know that wasn't easy."
"You're easy to talk to," I admit. "Dangerous quality in a woman."
That earns me a small smile. "I'll try to be more difficult in the future."
"Don't you dare." I tease.
We walk back to the picnic area side by side, not touching but close enough that our arms occasionally brush. Jesus Christ, I'm acting like a horny teenager, not a grown man with nearly a decade of MC life behind me.
"There you are!" Kelly calls as we approach. She's sitting at a picnic table with Blade, Emma, and Wilder, playing some card game. "Come join us. We need more players."
Amy glances at me, then nods. "Sure, what are you playing?"
"Bullshit," Emma says with a grin. "And I'm currently kicking everyone's ass because they all have terrible poker faces."
"Amy's pretty good at cards," Kelly says as we sit down. "She used to clean out the other kids in foster care."
"Only the ones who deserved it," Amy protests, but there's a hint of mischief in her eyes I haven't seen before.
We play several rounds, and Kelly wasn't exaggerating. Amy is good. Her face gives away nothing, her voice steady whether she's telling the truth or lying completely. She even manages to bluff Emma, which is no small feat.
"Where did you learn to lie so convincingly?" Wilder asks after Amy successfully puts down four kings that I'm almost certain weren't actually kings.
"Foster care," she says. "Then waitressing. Then bar work. Life in general."
"Remind me never to play poker with you for actual money," I say, impressed despite myself.
"Wise decision," she replies, a hint of pride in her voice.
"Alright, deal me in," Reaper says, dropping onto the bench beside Emma. "My daughter isn't the only one with a decent poker face in this family."
"Oh please," Emma scoffs, shuffling the cards with practiced ease. "I caught you sneaking cookies at midnight last Christmas because you looked so guilty."
"That was a tactical decision to let you think you caught me," Reaper argues. "I was hiding the fact that I'd already eaten the entire second batch."
