Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(72)

“It don’t make sense that you didn’t tell me. I’d’ve come right back. I’d’ve handled it.”

Willa found a smile in her sore mouth. “I know. But Jesse is not your problem.”

As she said those words, a new understanding emerged. If Jesse had hurt her—and obviously, he had—and if Rad knew about it and was here with her and, relatively speaking, calm, then did Jesse still require present tense?

That was what was missing. That and much more.

Rad hadn’t challenged the her assertion that Jesse wasn’t his problem, but his eyes darkened. He was holding his tongue. She needed to get through the story she had and hear his.

She paused and let more memories form. “The next day, I went out and ran errands—I didn’t need to, but I wanted to see if he was following me the way he did before—always showing up in random places, making sure I saw him, leaving when I tried to engage. He was. So I went home and got ready.”

A barrage of memories suddenly hit her, and Willa put her hand over her mouth. She could remember the cold, calm resolve that had come over her. She remembered planning what she would do, why she’d taken her grandfather’s knife. But that seemed like another person. Someone who could commit murder. Who could plan it.

That was where the memories stopped. They ran into a solid black wall. There was nothing more.

“I meant to kill him. I went there to kill him.” She lifted her eyes to Rad’s. “Did I kill him? Is he dead? Oh my God!”

Rad pulled her close and settled her at his chest. “What’s the last thing you know, Wills? Anything else?”

She shook her head. “Driving to the motel. That’s the last thing. Rad—did I do it?”

“You did it. He’s dead.”

She should have been happy. Her tormentor could hurt her no more. She’d taken care of her problem. She’d taken the matter into her own hands. She hadn’t let him have her again.

But she was a murderer. She’d gone looking to kill a person, she’d planned it out, and she’d carried it out. That wasn’t who she wanted to be. That wasn’t the kind of strength she wanted. Was it? Now that it was in the past, and she couldn’t even remember doing it, she couldn’t believe she’d planned it so coldly.

“Shhhh, shhhh. I’m here. It’s okay,” Rad crooned, kissing her head, and Willa realized she was crying again.

When her tears ended, and she could be quiet, Willa thought through what she remembered, what she knew. She touched her sore face. She thought about how sick she’d been when she’d woken, how she’d lost so much time. Jesse had hurt her. He’d done something to her. He hadn’t raped her—Rad had promised, though she didn’t know how he knew. But Jesse had hurt her.

She couldn’t remember being in the motel room. She didn’t know exactly what had gone down. But she’d killed him. That was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.

There were so many questions yet: Would there be police? A trial? Prison? What did Rad know, and how did he know it?

As if he’d been hearing her thoughts, Rad spoke. “I can’t fill it all in for you, but I’ll tell you what I know.”

She sat up and wiped her eyes and cheeks. He put a coarse finger on her jaw and swept a drip away.

“You paged me. That’s how I knew. When I called you back, you were…you were barely there. All you could say was ‘Help me,’ and then you were gone.” His jaw twitched with tension, and he inhaled sharply. When he let it out, it came as a grunt of effort. “I ‘bout lost my head, Wills. Jesus, I was so f*ckin’ scared. Never felt like that before in my life.”

Another deep, effortful breath. Willa laid her hand over the fist he was pushing into his thigh.

“I didn’t know where you were callin’ from, but Gunner recognized the number. We sent the prospects there. Slick picked the lock, and they found you unconscious and Smithers dead. I hauled ass back home. Ox, Gun, and Simon came with me. We were just west of St. Louis, but we flew the whole way down 44. The prospects got you onto the bed and made sure you stayed alive. You don’t need the details of what we found—”

She interrupted, because he was wrong. “I do, Rad. Please. I told you everything. I need to know everything.”

Long and hard, he stared at her. Willa could feel him trying to change her mind through the sheer, potent force of his stony will. But she was stubborn, too, and she needed this. She had killed a man. She needed to know what had happened, in as much detail as they could muster.

“Maybe this is the time we have this talk, too, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“The talk where you decide what kind of old lady you want to be. One who knows everything? All the dirty details of what I do? Or one who knows nothin’? There’s no middle ground in this life, Wills. You need to think hard on that. If you know everything, it makes you vulnerable—to law, to our enemies. But if you know nothin’, then I will always have secrets. Big bag of ‘em.”

She didn’t hesitate, because she didn’t need to think hard. She knew how she could live and how she couldn’t, and she couldn’t live in the dark. “Everything.”

“You’re sure? Didn’t even slow down for a thought there.”

“Everything. Starting now.”