Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(40)
The smile he received in return caused his heart to split into a million different pieces. Then, as the organ began to knit itself back together, feeling fuller and stronger than before…
He got it.
Just like that, he finally got it.
He knew now why Cox was such a bumbling moron when it came to Kami. He understood why Jase refused to let Dorothy go even though he knew their f*cked-up relationship was slowly killing her. He got why Deuce had never been able to stay away from Eva…despite the age difference…despite Preacher’s trigger-happy hands, despite her being married to a crazy motherf*cker.
Why they never could forget them.
Because once you had a taste of a good woman, suddenly nothing else mattered but her.
Nothing.
Yeah, he got it now. There wasn’t anything sweeter. Not even riding.
It was that very moment, a mere pittance in the span of his lifetime, that after he’d lost Danny, would become his happiest memory, the one Ripper would hold closest to his heart and cherish above all others. The one he’d lay awake at night playing on repeat.
Wishing…
Wishing…
Wishing…
…she still loved him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On the couch, lying on top of Ripper’s back, wearing a holey Metallica T-shirt five sizes too big for me, I smiled at the television as Johnny offered Baby his hand and pulled her out of her seat.
Nobody puts Baby in a corner.
“I love old movies,” I said with a sigh. “Dirty Dancing is my favorite.”
Ripper’s big body shook with laughter. “Old movies,” he repeated. “You do realize this shit came out when I was a kid?”
Pressing my lips together, I buried my face between his shoulder blades, directly over the words hell’s horsemen tattooed on his back. He had his fair share of ink, although not nearly as much as Cox who, aside from his face, probably didn’t have any skin left that wasn’t tattooed.
From his left wrist to his elbow Ripper had a beautiful montage of his parents’ faces, their birth and death dates swirling around them with a heavily detailed headstone as the backdrop.
A bare-breasted pinup girl took up the space from his right shoulder to his elbow, that had since been slashed through several times and filled in with scar tissue. On his knuckles, in gothic lettering, when he put his clenched fists side by side, spelled out R-I-P-P-E-R-4-1.
Lastly, on his right wrist he had a sparsely beaded rosary wrapped several times, the cross falling in the middle of his palm.
When I’d finished counting the beads, seventeen total, I’d looked up at him.
“Are you religious?” I asked.
He laughed. “Naw, baby, I ain’t. It’s just a reminder because sometimes I need remindin’, yeah?”
“Reminding of what?”
He lit up a cigarette and took several long drags before answering. “Of what kinda man I am.”
At the time, I hadn’t understood what he’d meant, but because of the sudden change in him, from silly to serious, I’d dropped it and moved on.
“You look pretty good for an old man,” I whispered against his warm skin, trying hard not to laugh.
“Brat,” he whispered back and I heard the smile in his voice.
It was our fourth day together in Ripper’s home, yet it was the first time since arriving that we’d left the bedroom for something other than a bathroom trip or a food break.
“You wanna watch an old movie, we can put in The Wild Bunch. Great f*ckin’ movie.”
I wrinkled up my nose. “The what?”
“Pike?” he asked. “Old Sykes?”
“Who?”
“Jesus, Danny, it’s only the best western ever made.”
I rolled my eyes. “Westerns are lame.”
“Yeah, and nobody puts Baby in a corner isn’t.”
“It isn’t!” I protested, smacking the back of his head. “It’s romantic. Best quote ever.”
Ripper snorted.
“Yeah, it’s real f*ckin’ deep. Try this on for a change,” he said, clearing his throat. “?‘The land had changed. They hadn’t. The earth had cooled. They couldn’t.’?”
“What does that even mean?”
“Means shit was changin’ all around them but they were stayin’ the same. Men who had a certain way of livin’, their own way of gettin’ shit done, wasn’t gonna fly anymore ’cause they were livin’ in a world full of pussies makin’ rules.”
“Kinda like the club,” I mused, thinking about my father and Mick, about Bucket and Freebird and their rants about society and living by their own rules, the code of the road and brotherhood.
And speaking of my father…
Before I could speak, Ripper was reaching behind him and hooking his arm around my neck. In one swift move, he’d reversed our positions and had me pinned underneath him.
“Smart girl,” he said softly, cupping my chin, tilting my head back as he moved in for a kiss.
“Wait,” I said, turning my head away from him.
“No,” he growled, biting down on my exposed neck.
I swatted at his head. “Yes!”
He lifted his head and scowled at me. “What the f*ck, Danny, make it quick.”