Rein In (Willow Bay Stables #3)(21)

I scoffed.

“That’s better.” She laughed, and the sound was so rich it stung my senses. “Now would you care to—” Her sentence was cut short when the door behind us was kicked open and the force threw her body forward onto the ground.

A drunk stumbled out, knocking back the last of a beer and cursed when he saw her.

“Ah, shit,” he grunted, and the cut of his leather told me he likely belonged to the bike parked next to us. “Sorry, babe.”

Her palms stretched out on the ground and her head lifted to look at me.

My reality snapped.

The moonlight caught the shine from her auburn hair as her head rolled to face me.

The sinister hollow in my gut roared to life.

“Stop.” She held out a hand as she struggled to her knees.

The white of her dress was stained in dirt and caked blood that suggested they’d had her for hours.

“Rhys, don’t,” she pleaded.

Her blood on my hands screamed in my soul.

The blood trickling from the cut above Aurora’s eye triggered the gutless monster in my heart.

I was irate.

“Bobby!” Aurora screamed for help.

My knuckles purred and my muscles ached for war. I had a blood feud to settle.

I lunged for the biker and she threw her body between us.

“Rhys!” Her voice trembled with my name on her lips.

I dove right and she did, too, the clown behind her still unaware of the debt I’d settle to his face with my fist.

“Look at me!” she begged. “Look at me, please.”

My eyes slipped down from the man, over the top of her perfect blonde hair, and down to her blue eyes rimmed with tears.

“I’m okay, see?” She turned her chin from side to side. “Do you see that I’m okay?”

I growled, and my sight honed in on that thin trail of blood.

“Don’t do this, please.” She shook her head. “You can’t fight or you’ll go back.”

My nostrils flared, and my fingernails dug into the palms of my hands.

“This little boy wants to fight me?” The biker laughed from behind her, and my eyes snapped up to his face.

“Rhys.” Her voice wrapped around my name took a stab at my heart.

The biker’s hand curled around her shoulder. “The bitch is fine, kid.”

I throttled forward, my fist just inches from his jaw when something heavy anchored around my middle and hauled me backward.

My body didn’t thrash against his. My anger was a calm fury that settled in my chest.

“Walk it off,” Fun Bobby ordered, throwing my body in the direction of the sidewalk.

I stopped, assessing her face from a distance, and my stomach rolled.

“Now!” Fun Bobby yelled.

My boots hit the pavement and started walking.

I walked until that white Ford pulled up alongside me on the road twenty minutes later.

“You good?” he asked from the still-moving vehicle.

I nodded, looking at the ground.

“Get in.” He hit the brakes and waited for me to round the hood.

The shame in me wouldn’t even allow myself to look at her as I folded into the passenger seat.

“Rhys,” she whispered a small plea.

It hurt to look at her. The red around her blue eyes told me she’d been crying.

My hand curled around the base of her jaw, and I tilted her chin toward me. “Are you okay?”

The hand she had in her lap moved and wrapped around my wrist. “No.”

My heart threw itself against my ribs.

She leaned into the weight of my hand on her face and closed her eyes. “Please don’t do that again.”

My soul ran full throttle toward the sun and her light eclipsed me.

Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, “I’m sorry.”





THEY SAY YOU CAN NEVER really judge a person without first walking a mile in their shoes.

Well, I wasn’t sure I’d last a mile in Rhys’s motorcycle boots. They were heavy both physically and also weighed down by a heavy juncture of emotional baggage, the dark kind. The kind that keeps you awake at night.

From what I’d seen, it was paralyzing being in his shoes.

I’d never seen anything like that before, uninhibited rage. It ripped him apart at the seams and yet, he couldn’t control it. It was like darkness opened up and swallowed him whole.

I hated that feeling of helplessness on his behalf, what a torture it must’ve been.

Just as I’d asked, I saw Grant’s white truck pull into view up the street. He parked next to where I was leaning against the hood of my pickup.

“How’s your day going?” Grant asked, rolling down his window as Rhys folded out of the passenger seat.

My smile felt a little guilty. “It’s been good,” I responded.

“Atta girl.” Grant waved. “Keep an eye on him.”

Keeping my eye on him was exactly what I had planned to do.

I waved back as he put the truck in reverse. “You bet.”

The guys were supposed to be supervised at all times by either Grant or a volunteer, and that volunteer was usually me. Save for, of course, yesterday when Fun Bobby had let Rhys walk off his outburst on his own, but none of us mentioned that to Grant.