Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC #2)(13)

“Did your parents pay her?” I question, knowing the answer.

“Well yes, of course…”

“Then she was a servant.”

Her face goes pale white as she looks at me.

“You really are a horse’s ass,” she says and then turns and walks out of the room.

I grin because I got to her. It almost feels like a victory. I ignore the emptiness that invades the room when she leaves.





Chapter 6




Carrie


It takes me a good hour to calm down after leaving Jacob. I hate that I let him get to me. I knew from the minute he acted like he wanted me around, what his game was. I wish I could be more like Nicole. She’d kick Jacob in the balls or something. I jump in the shower and decide to just go to bed. It is early, but sleep sounds better than taking more of Jacob’s abuse.

I slip on a long t-shirt that Bull gave me to sleep in. It’s soft and worn and lands at my knees. It has short sleeves and is half way to my elbows. Did I mention Bull towers over me?

I prefer my pajamas, but I accidentally left them at the club. I crawl under the covers with a sigh. Maybe I could move to Georgia, my friend Tammie lives there. Surely whoever it is that is after me won’t follow me down there? That’s the last thought I have before I’m out for the night.

*

I awake with a jerk. I can’t tell how long I’ve been sleeping, but now the room is dark and the house is silent. At first I’m confused. I’m not sure what woke me. I yawn, thinking it was nothing and close my eyes. Then I hear it again. Yelling.

I worry that I’ve been discovered. Did I get Jacob in trouble? Oh god, I can’t have him get hurt in any way because of me. I’ve already been responsible for robbing him of two years of his life.

“NO!!!!”

I hear again and there is so much pain in Jacob’s voice. It feels like something grabs my heart and chokes it. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and jump up out of the bed. I use my hand on the mattress to guide me as my eyes become adjusted to the darkness. I walk blindly, feel the wall with my hand, and find the light switch. I turn it on but leave the light behind, just thankful it illuminates enough so I can follow the sound of Jacob’s moans.

“Oh god, get away from me! I don’t want this! I’ll kill all you f*ckers! Every f*cking one of you!”

I freeze as he says the words. The words register and they paint a scene, I might not see clearly, but it’s clear enough that my brain rejects it.

“No!” The wounded sound comes out and it’s so full of misery of pain.

No…just oh god, no. His words are beginning to paint a picture, and I don’t want to see it. I come out of my trance and rush to get to him, hoping I can somehow stop him from saying more. I don’t want to know. That’s selfish, but he wouldn’t want me to know. I’m the last person he would talk to.

I find him in the room Bull has been using. There’s an old floor model television sitting catty-cornered, which offers pale, flickering light. Jacob is sitting in a chair and the darkness feels…ominous. The TV screen casts a dim light in the room, hiding Jacob in the darkness. All that is visible is his form. His shape absorbs just enough light to look eerie. It sends chills running up my back. The TV has been muted so the only sound in the room is the low, aching moan of misery that comes from Jacob intermittently.

I lick my lips nervously, my throat feeling closed off. I’m not sure I’m equipped to deal with this. He’s sleeping, but obviously in the thrall of a nightmare. I realize it’s more than that, but I can’t deal with the implications right now. Now I must concentrate on helping, somehow. Would Jacob know who I was if I wake him? Would he wonder why I came into the room?

The television switches scenes and the brightness infiltrates harshly in the room. That’s when I see it—the gun in Jacob’s hand. My heart stops, my blood runs cold. Then, it jumps back to life, pounding so hard it hurts to breathe. He has the gun half way up his chest, pointing towards his face in a haphazard manner that speaks volumes.

His head jerks, and his eyes open half-way.

“Fuck, not again,” he moans out and my heart clenches. It’s said in a way that I understand instantly he’s used to waking up from this nightmare.

In his other hand there’s an almost finished bottle of whiskey. I watch as he brings it up to his mouth and swallows the last of it down in one gulp. He moans again. It’s the sound I imagine an animal would make if it is caught in a trap.

Somehow the painful noises coming from him are worse now that he is awake. This doesn’t just haunt him when he can’t help it. It’s constant. Is this my fault? Is this why he hates me so much now? Dear God, I think I hate myself more.

The light flickers again and this time it is bright enough it reflects off his face. Had it not been so hauntingly sad, it would have weakened my knees from the sheer beauty.

I take another hesitate step into the room. Unsure at this point of what to do or say, only knowing I have come too far to turn back.

The bottle falls from his hand, or rather he drops it. The carpet softens the fall and you can’t hear it drop—not really. Still, I think the thud echoes in my heart. Nicole’s words come back into my head.

He’s broken, baby.

Oh god, I don’t think I had any idea of just how broken.