Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(74)

“But I did it. I killed him.” Now, despite her shock and dismay that she had taken another life, even Jesse’s poor excuse of a life, it seemed to Willa absolutely crucial that the act not be taken from her. Rad had said it, just moments ago: she’d handled her shit. The credit, and the blame, was hers.

Her insistence made Rad truly smile—his relaxed, serpentine smirk that she sometimes hated but usually loved. He was proud. “Yeah, baby, you did. And between us, it’ll always be true. Everybody in the club knows, too, but it’s best not to talk about it like that. Talked to D today. We’re in church tomorrow to talk it all out and get our story straight.”

“I’m so confused. Are the Rats going to look for him? And what about cops? Where’s Jesse now?”

“We cleaned the scene. Prospects bleached the carpet, pulled the sheets, washed everything down. We paid off the motel without bringin’ the club into it. It’s not the kind of place with cameras or any kind security. There’s no crime scene in Tulsa. The body and the van are handled. They’ll be found—we want that—but there’s no tie to us.”

None except, apparently, her. “How…why do you want him found?”

“We don’t know what the Rats know about you. If he was AWOL from the club, then this is done. Rats won’t have any beef with us. But if they knew about his fix on you, and knew he was in Tulsa, then they’ll come lookin’. It’s easier if they find him instead of dig around. There’s a chance they won’t tie it to us, ‘specially if he was rogue. If they do know about you, and tie it to us, we have the story that I told you. I did it, protectin’ my own.” Looking deeply fatigued, he finished, “And law won’t find any evidence on him, so we’re clear that way, too.”

“You’re sure this solves everything?”

“No, baby. Maybe none of it works. But law would need a witness, and I don’t think they’ll get one. Nobody who knows anythin’ would talk to law. The Rats might come, and they might start a war, and that would not be good. We made the best we could out of a shit situation, and we’ll get as ready as we can get.”

“I made the shit situation.”

“You did, yeah. If you’d told me and waited for me to handle it, the bastard would still be dead, but the club would have control of the situation.”

“They must all hate me.” God, his whole club. She hadn’t even had a chance to really get to know them first.

“Nope. I told ‘em all he did to you.” Shocked, she started to interrupt—that was her history, her story to tell or to keep—but he put his hand up. “That’s a price in this, Willa. You dragged the club in, and they deserve to know why. They understand why you killed him. They’re pissed at me for not forcing a guard on you, and they’re right to be.”

“I didn’t want that. I told you.”

“I know, and I caved. Tryin’ not to be an *. And here we are.” He grabbed her hands and held them together, tightly. “You’re not always right, Willa. Sometimes, even when it’s somethin’ you don’t like, it’s somethin’ you need. If you’re in my life like I want you to be, then you’re in my world. It’s not like it is out here. You gotta listen to me and do what I say. You gotta trust me to be doin’ what I need to do. You gotta trust me not to boss you around for the f*ck of it. Trust that I’m not tryin’ to be a bully. I’m tryin’ to keep you safe in a dangerous life.”

He let her go. “If you can’t, then we gotta stop.”

For something like the third time in this conversation, Rad had shocked her. “What? You’re breaking up with me if I won’t let you run my life? Then how’re you any different from Jesse?”

She regretted the words as soon as they were out, but her mouth wouldn’t take them back.

His eyes went wide, and then his brow drew down over them like a thundercloud. “Fuck you, baby. That was low.” He stood up.

For a few seconds, he stood there, fists clenched, breath heaving in loud rasps, like the angry bull on his back and on the back of his kutte. Willa could see him shaking; she could see his complexion darkening to furious red.

Losing the battle he’d been so visibly fighting, he roared and threw her coffee table over, sending it across the room. Everything that had been on it went flying and scattered onto the floor.

With a snarling growl just as loud and angry, Ollie, who’d been lying attentive on the floor at Willa’s side, leapt at him.





CHAPTER NINETEEN



Ollie was on Rad before he could react, more than a hundred pounds of a pit bull as solid as granite, with a mouthful of angry, protective teeth. He hit him full-on in the chest, snarling and roaring like a hound straight up from hell, and only the impact when they crashed to the floor gave Rad the chance to get his arms over his face.

Just in the nick of time, too—Ollie’s jaws clamped down on his forearm, and Rad felt every sharp point sink deep. The growl, deep in his chest, became a steady tone.

“Ollie, no!” Willa screamed.

No, baby, don’t scream. He hears your panic.

Rad went perfectly still, not even reacting to the shrieking pain in his arm, knowing that trying to fight the dog would only make him more fierce.