Page 56 of Dirty Salvation

"I'm okay." she nodded and he resisted calling her a liar.

If she was okay, then he was Mother Teresa's dildo.

He wanted to baby her, to wrap her up in his arms and never let another thing hurt her. If he could have built a bubble sure as shit he would have shoved Zara inside it, safe, secure and under his care.

His nerves were fraught and hanging by the fingertips. "lemme just go deal with whatever fucker wants to get punched out there and I'll come back. I'm bringing food. You'll eat." he growled the command.

She was too thin, so thin, all skin and bone.

Stress tightened in his chest, tighter than a coiled spring, he was so ready to snap, he'd never seen such despair on anyone and with Zara, he felt helpless.

A sentiment not linked with theSoulspresident, he didn't know what to do with it other than succumb to the anger flooding his brain.

Salt on an open sore, he took one measured breath, dropped a kiss on her forehead and stalked to the door to see what the noise was about.

Capone's face was grim so already Rider could figure his Sergeant at arms hadn't brought him news about unicorn piss curing cancer. He stepped out into the hall, pulling the door half closed behind him, not wanting his brother to see Zara as she was, already it was happening, that line between his life with the club and the one he wanted to take shape with her.

An invisible divide of a man looking after his old lady when she needed it the most.

His old lady. Where the fuck had that come from? Rider wasn't denying it.

"What it is?" he asked.

Capone's voice dropped, his dark eyes turbulent but hyper as fuck as he leaned in to share. "Grinder got 'em,presidente. He fucking rounded up the last three of those shit stains. They were holed up like maggots on stink over by the lake house in Vail, one of Hades' properties, shitfucks didn't even have the smarts to go further afield while waiting for transport out to the sticks. Fucking got em."

Somber, Rider didn't grin like a sinister motherfucker as Capone was doing, but he clapped him on the arm. "No one can run from Grinder for long. He bringin' them in?" Vail was a six-hour ride by bike, with three hostages his tracker was going to need a bigger ride to cart them in.

"Sí, hermano, he radioed in. Hawk is already on his way there now; he took the black SUV." Good. An unmarked vehicle with no connection to his club. Rider's banked anger began to rise to the surface. A hot surge of it until it pooled into his throat, flexing his fists at his side.

The last three Raging Rebels members and then that left Hades.

It was going to be twelve hours at least before Grinder arrived back. They were taking additional risks bringing the men here, especially if cops had eyes on their compound, but these murders he wanted slow, painful, with his own hands.

After just witnessing his girl's breakdown there was going to be no mindless quick death for them. No, he wanted them to know why they were dying, to feel every last inch of it, to beg for death.

He couldn't go back in his room just yet, not with a fire burning through his gut, he was likely to growl and scare the fuck out of Zara. Instead, he closed the door over quietly, jutted his head the other way, and had Capone walk down to the kitchen with him. As he fixed her a plate of leftovers, nuking potatoes, and chicken fried steak in the microwave, giving it a liberal dousing in sausage gravy, adding a couple of biscuits to the side of the plate, he discussed the terms of how things would go down next.

Funny he could talk murder like he was ordering a new pair of boots.

It was nothing.

And strange how his chest tightened when Capone's watchful gaze bounced from him to the tray he was fixing and asked: "Theniña, she means something to you, Prez?"

Murder was an easy conversation.

Discussing what he felt for Zara ... not so much, not when his dick had done most of the thinking this week.

Adding a cold can of soda to the tray, before he decided the caffeine might not be a good idea and switched it out for water Pretty Boy kept in the fridge.

He gave Capone a brief chin jut. He wasn't about sharing his fucking feelings like a pussy either. "She’s a good woman." And left it at that, however, Capone wanted to translate his leader's cryptic reply.

"Then we will finish this for her, Prez. For your girl and for our club. We drown the rest of those rats once and for all."

Rider smiled at that. Goodwill bastard. No one would ever guess Capone's underlined motivations for most of what he did within the club and why. He was an outlaw just like the rest of them, a pit bull when he needed to be and a gentle giant the rest of the time, Rider trusted the guy at his back and with his club.

With his girl's well-being.

"We finish this." he agreed.