Unbeautifully (20 page)

Silence.

Then, “Gimme an hour and I’ll be there. You need Z?”

ZZ, the only brother who could sew them up nice and neat when shit got ugly.

“
Naw, it’s just a flesh wound.”

“
And Nikki? Two-man job?”

“
Yeah…and, Cox?”

“
Yeah?”

“
You know what you gotta bring, yeah?”

“
Don’t worry, I got you covered. Ain’t nothin’ about that bitch will be left to find.”

No shit. He was not going to allow one shred of evidence to remain that could in any way, shape, or form be traced back to Danny.

Ripper blinked back to the present as Deuce stood up, placed his palms on his desk, and leaned forward. “This is my club, you’re my boy, and that makes you a part of my motherfuckin’ family. So this is how shit’s gonna go down. Frankie Deluva is done fuckin’ up my family. So, yeah, you take some’ time, ride it out, and then you get your ass back here where you belong.”

Ripper lowered his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about what Frankie had done to him. In fact, he hadn’t been thinking about Frankie at all lately.

“SHUT UP!” Cox roared, startling everyone in the room. To everyone’s astonishment, Cox bent over the desk and shoved his face up in Deuce’s personal space.

“I get why you’re lettin’ him go, but if you let him go and some shit goes down and we’re not there for him, then what the fuck is gonna happen?”

Fuck him. As if this wasn’t hard enough.

His expression sad, Deuce lifted his arm and grabbed the side of Cox’s face. “Say good-bye to your boy,” he said quietly, giving Cox’s cheek a soft slap. “Then go home to your family.”

Family.

Ripper’s throat closed up. He was leaving the only family he had.

Before he broke down, he shrugged off his cut, pulled his dagger from its sheath on his boot, and started slicing through the stitches that held his sergeant-at-arms patch on the vest. By the time he was finished, all eyes were on him. Stalking forward, he slammed his patch down on Deuce’s desk and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, turned to leave.

“Ripper,” Deuce growled.

Reluctantly, he turned back around.

“This is still your club, brother. This will always be your club and you are still my boy, ain’t no shit ever gonna change that. You get your shit together, you come back, your patch will be waitin’ on you, you feel me?”

Jesus Christ, he had to get out of this room.

“Yeah,” he muttered and left the office. A handful of brothers playing pool all stopped to watch him walk away. He quickened his pace, headed for the door.

“Ripper,” Cox said, grabbing his arm.

He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. Brother wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

“Don’t do this,” Cox said quietly. “Don’t run just ’cause shit went down bad with Nikki. I ain’t gonna say a word and you know, sure as shit, she ain’t never gonna be found. Not after what we did.”

He wasn’t running away and he couldn’t give two shits about Nikki. Nikki had been fill-in, like an old pillow he’d only kept around just because it was there, had been for a long time, and what the fuck, it was a pillow, he needed a pillow and she’d fit the bill.

Until Danny.

And like everything else in his life, that had gone to shit real fucking quick.

If Ripper had learned anything in his thirty-something years of life, it was that dark roads only get darker if you stay on them, and his road was pretty damn dark.

So he was giving Danny the only good thing he could give her, what he couldn’t give her if he stayed here. The sooner he left, the sooner she could go back to being a normal girl, having a normal life, one without his inner demons and
his
dead girlfriends. A life without a man who could kill without a second thought. Yeah, his girl deserved better and so better was what he was going to give her.

“Brother,” he choked out. “Right now me and the road, we got some reconnecting to do, yeah?”

Cox stared at him, his dark eyes narrowing.

“I need to go,” he said firmly.

Shaking his head, Cox released him.

And he left.

Left his brothers.

Left the club.

Left Miles City.

Left Montana.

Left…Danny.

“Danny girl,” Cage whispered, softly brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Danny.”

I blinked several times, trying to blink back sleep and dried tears and memories I didn’t want.

“Gotta get outta bed, little sister.”

“Go away,” I whispered hoarsely.

I shoved his arm away from me and rolled over on my side.

Two weeks. Four days. A handful of hours.

Ripper had been gone for two weeks, four days, and a handful of hours.

At first, when he hadn’t answered my text messages or phone calls after dropping me at Anabeth’s house, unable to sleep or eat or do much of anything except pace and shake, the next day I’d tagged along with Eva and Ivy to the club.

And that’s when I saw the sad faces, heard the whispered conversations. That’s when I knew.

“
Ripper left.”

I pushed my sweatshirt hood off my head and turned to Tegen.

“
He just up and left,” she continued, shrugging. “Didn’t even give a reason. Isn’t that, like, against the rules or something?”

“
Wh-what?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

Tegen eyed me strangely. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. Fuck speaking, I couldn’t even breathe.

He’d left.

He’d just up and left me.

And now…

I was dying.

At least it felt like I was.

I could barely eat. When I did manage to sleep, it was riddled with nightmares, images of Nikki’s dead body and blood…everywhere.

I always woke up crying or on the verge of crying. I’d never felt so awful, so alone, so desolate before.

So empty.

Aching.

Oh god, it hurt…so damn bad
.

And it was all my fault.

I’d pushed for something to happen between us, and…and I…

I had shot Nikki.

Me.

I’d killed her.

Now Ripper was gone because I’d been a selfish little girl who’d wanted him so badly I hadn’t cared about the repercussions my actions would bring down on him.

“Danny,” Cage pleaded. “You’re makin’ yourself sick, please—”

“Get out of my room!” I screamed, yanking my blankets up over my head. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want anything at all…except to stop feeling, to lay in bed and waste away. Or die, I didn’t care.

• • •

Clutching the rim of the toilet bowl, Ripper’s face fell forward. Gagging and dry heaving, he began expelling another round of tequila vomit. When he finished, he spit, stood, and gripped the edge of the sink. Pulling himself up, he fell forward and leaned over the counter. Swaying heavily, he managed to turn the tap on and wash his mouth out.

He wanted to go back. He wanted Danny. She was all he could think about. The only thing keeping him from turning his ass around was keeping a bottle with him at all times and pussy in his bed. It helped, gave him a minute sense of comfort, but just barely.

He needed something else, a bigger distraction and real comfort, the kind that only comes from familiarity.

The kind that came from family.

Family…

He could go home, back to California, back to the house he owned yet hadn’t been inside of since he’d lost his parents.

For the first time since he’d lost the only two people in the world who’d loved him unconditionally, Ripper wanted to go home. They wouldn’t be there but his memories would, the foundation and four walls that he’d grown up inside of would be full of mementos and photos of everything he’d lost. And that was something.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, gripping the walls, he made his way back into the motel bedroom. Shielding his eyes, he cursed both the sun and the naked bitch sprawled across the bed he’d paid for like she fucking owned it. Seizing her arm, he haphazardly dragged her off the bed and dumped her on the floor, so he could take her place in bed. Another bitch, he couldn’t remember their names for the life of him, rolled over and curled up around him with a sigh. He shoved her off him and grabbed the nearly empty bottle on the nightstand.

“You gonna share?” the bitch whined, reaching for him again, running her hand down his body and taking hold of his cock.

He elbowed her hard, shoving her off him and, because she was still hammered or crazier than shit, the bitch started laughing.

Annoying, high-pitched drunken laughter.

His head throbbed angrily.

But he’d picked her for a reason. Because she was blonde, a real blonde, her hair nearly white and her body was toned and tight and her skin tanned, soft, and smooth.

“Too drunk to fuck.” She laughed.

“Fuck off,” he growled.

She laughed harder and he reached for her, grabbed hold of her hair, and yanked her face close to his. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

She didn’t.

Still gripping her hair, Ripper rolled on top of her and dumped the last of the tequila over her face. “You gonna shut the fuck up now, you dirty fuckin’ whore?” he yelled as she thrashed beneath him.

She didn’t answer, because she couldn’t.

Because he had her face shoved down in the pillows.

A blonde nurse in pink scrubs with small wrinkles around her deep brown eyes appeared in my line of vision. “How we doing?” she asked kindly.

Fighting my tears, I nodded jerkily and tried to focus on her instead of the cramping, rippling sensation in my abdomen and the dull roar of the machine that was sucking out the tiny little life growing inside of me. I should have opted for the drugs they’d offered me. But not having a ride home, I’d thought it best to have my head clear.

But having a clear head meant I was fully aware of what was happening to me…

To my baby…

I’d never given much thought to having children other than the passing, “I’d like to…someday.” But now, even as terrified as I was, now that I had one inside of me, Ripper’s baby, I wanted to keep it there, keep it safe, feel it grow, hold it in my arms. Be a
mom
.

Just not without Ripper.

And if this baby came out looking like a little version of him…

No longer able to hold them back, my tears began to fall.

“Almost done, honey,” the nurse said, rubbing my arm. “Almost done.”

Sucking in a breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from her.

I was a wreck, my life was a wreck, everything was just…wrong.

Irreparable.

And all I could think about was Ripper.

I loved him and missed him and
hated
him for leaving me. Leaving me all alone with my screwed-up family and both my beautiful and horrible memories of him and us and all the horrible pain and the gut-wrenching guilt that came with them. All of it had piled so heavily on top of me, I could barely stand any more.

I was tired all the time, physically and emotionally, and eventually I was just too tired to get my life in any semblance of order and back on track. I showered as often as I ate, which was nearly never because I couldn’t seem to keep anything down.

Then, on top of everything else, two weeks ago I’d discovered I was pregnant. After sharing my secret with Anabeth, she’d given me the number and address of a clinic in Billings that accepted patients without health insurance, or in my case, patients who had health insurance yet couldn’t use it without their father finding out.

So I’d borrowed some money from my father’s bedroom safe and taken a bus out of town.

And all of this had happened in just three short months. Ninety days. It had taken a mere ninety days for my entire life to fall apart.

“Here we go,” the nurse said, holding my elbow as I struggled to sit up. On shaking legs, I followed her out of the procedure room into the recovery room, and slid into the medical reclining chair she gestured to.

“Can I have some water?” I said hoarsely.

“You need juice, honey,” she replied. “I’ll go get some.”

I nodded and she walked off. A quick survey of the room showed me three other women, also seated in recovery chairs, avoiding eye contact while several busy nurses walked back and forth. Closing my eyes, I let my head roll off to the side.

“Here’s your juice,” the nurse said, handing me a small paper cup. She began flipping through a chart while I sipped on apple juice.

“Remember that bleeding and blood clots are normal, as is cramping, but if you’re bleeding excessively—”

I stared up at the kind nurse, not really listening, thinking about Ripper, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Wondering if he’d known that I was pregnant, if it would have made a difference. Would he have come back home? Wondering why he had left in the first place and why wouldn’t he answer my phone calls.

Wondering if he’d been with another woman.

“Do you have a ride home?” the nurse asked, handing me several small squares of paper. I glanced at the prescriptions, wondering how I was going to fill them without anyone finding out.

I shook my head. “I’m taking the bus.”

When the bleeding had slowed and I could stand without shaking, I was discharged. Exhausted and nauseous, I pushed through the front door of the clinic and stopped dead. Standing in the snow-covered parking lot, leaning against his pickup and smoking a cigarette, was my brother.

Seeing me Cage cursed, flicked his cigarette away, and strode quickly toward me. I tried to shrink away from him but he was quicker than me, bigger and stronger, and grabbed a hold of my shoulders. “Who?” he demanded. “I want to know who did this, right the fuck now.”

Clutching my abdomen, I gaped at him. “What are you doing here?” I demanded weakly.

“Tegen told me,” he gritted out. “Now fuckin’ answer me!”

Tegen? Tegen!

“How did Tegen know?” I shrieked, my pain turning suddenly into mortification and terror that my father or Eva knew as well. Did the entire club know? The whole world?