Page 17 of Guarded by Atlas (Steel Rebels MC #6)

Atlas

I hear her scream, a sound so raw it claws at my insides, but this time, there is no way to get to her. It’s almost like I am stuck in a dark room with the sound coming from all directions. My calls go unanswered, and I keep hitting a wall at every turn.

There is no way to get her, so I punch the walls until my hands are bloody, clawing at it as I yell for her to stay calm, vowing to find a way out of this maze I’m stuck in to save her. Every part of me is shaking with fear and rage.

God. He can’t hurt her! I need to get to her before she gets hurt!

I’m jolted out of the dream by a choked cry, and for a full second, I think that the sound is simply an echo of the nightmare until I turn to her.

Beside me, Marie is thrashing, flailing beneath the covers, her face contorted in a mask of pure terror.

It’s been happening every night for a week.

The memories of that day have found their way to her dreams.

“Please…don’t… No!”

Her breath hitches, a ragged gasp that tears at my heart.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I murmur, gently smoothing the hair from her damp face and wiping away the sweat that slicks her forehead.

Her body is tense and every muscle is coiled in fear.

Christ, is there anything that could bring a man to his knees faster than seeing the woman he loves suffering?

I want to kill him so bad. Raid the jail they are keeping him at and make sure he doesn’t have a pulse when I walk out. It’s been a week since the attack, and even moving Marie into my apartment hasn’t stopped the nightmares that plague her most nights.

My jaw is clenched with anger as I gently gather her in my arms, pulling her against my chest. “It’s okay, baby.

He can’t get to you.” Her body trembles, and the sobs come again, muffled against my shirt.

Rocking her gently, I whisper soothing nothings, words and comfort that I hope will chase away whatever’s been plaguing her dreams all week.

Slowly, the tremors begin to fade. Her breathing deepens, and the ragged gasps even out.

Her grip on my shirt loosens, her body softening against mine.

The nightmare, it seems, is beginning to recede, but I don’t let go of her.

No, I hold her all night, for her comfort as well as for my peace of mind.

I stay that way, holding her. The nightmare seems to be held at bay by my touch, and a part of me never wants to let go. It eats at my insides that I can’t go into her dreams and kill whatever the hell is chasing her there. I would give anything to take the pain away from her.

Marie wakes up a little past nine, her eyes locking on mine first thing when she opens them. “I had another nightmare, didn’t I?” she asks when she notices the position she’s in. “I’m sorry I woke you—”

“I want you to see someone, talk to someone who can help.”

Her mouth set in a frown. “What about you?”

“Sweetheart, I’m not the one who got kidnapped and held at knifepoint twice.”

“Fair enough,” she says, trying to pull away from the embrace, but my hands tighten around her, keeping her in place. “Atlas, you can’t make me believe this is any easier for you. The stress of everything that’s happened and trying to cope with how it’s affecting me… I know you blame yourself...”

There is no amount of talking or punching a bag in the gym that will take that away. She wouldn’t be going through any of this if I hadn’t left that day. I would have stopped the fucker before he got to her, saving her all this pain. Of course I blame myself.

“…but I don’t blame you,” she continues, reaching up to cup my jaw, her fingers rubbing against my scruff.

“Have you ever thought that we probably never would have met if I hadn’t been kidnapped the first time around?

And the second time… Well, that was just unfortunate, but I got to see you in action.

” She chuckles, trailing her hand down my chest, and my cock perks up as her curious fingers explore.

“You said you would protect me, and for most people, that’s just a figure of speech.

I witnessed what those words meant when you put yourself between me and danger.

You saved me—again. Heck, you keep saving me even in my dreams.”

She always knows the perfect thing to say. Who the hell needs a therapist when my gorgeous nurse heals all my wounds, even those she can’t see?

“You’ll talk to someone,” I say, leaning in and brushing my lips over her temple as I grab the hand that’s moved dangerously close to my erection. “For now, however, you need to put that hand away before I’m late for Church and the cookout after.”

“Right, I promised to help set up the terrace for the cookout. What time is it?” Her eyes cross to the clock on the bedside table, and she gasps in alarm. “Nine! Why didn’t you wake me up? Atlas, it’s nine freaking AM!”

The same reason I didn’t wake her when she had another nightmare. “You’ve been working tirelessly this week,” I say, gently nudging her to the side before climbing out of bed. “You needed the sleep.”

“God, I should have set the alarm. I promised the girls I would join them at nine-thirty, and—shit, I have less than half an hour to get ready.”

“Why don’t we shower together?”

“No!” she hisses, scrambling out of bed, her feet tangling in the sheet and falling off the bed before I can catch her. “I don’t want you anywhere near me. Every time we shower together, I always end up being late. Don’t come any closer, Atlas, I’m warning you.”

I smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

“No!” she shrieks, running fast toward the bathroom, but I’m faster and catch her before she slams the door closed.

My mouth is on hers, and that seems to melt her protest, her arms winding around mine as she whimpers into the kiss.

One that turns into love making in the bathroom, her hands gripping the sink and her nightgown bunched up at her waist as I take her hard and fast, sending us both tumbling over the edge with pleasured groans.

“You are bad for me,” she sighs, but the dazed eyes that meet mine in the mirror tell a different story. “Remind me not to challenge you next time.”

I laugh, slapping her butt as I walk away, leaving her to get ready first and heading to the kitchen to make coffee.

Rusty lets out a loud yowl when I walk out of the bedroom, twirling around my feet and looking up at me expectantly as I open the shelves.

I glare at him when he swipes at my hand, scratching it as I pour cat food into his bowl.

“You never give Marie this treatment when she’s feeding you.”

He ignores me as he attacks the food. With a sigh, I get back to preparing coffee and decide I might as well fix breakfast. I’m just about done when Marie comes flying out of the room, sliding into her coat as she goes.

“I’m so late! You made me so late!” she cries, hopping as she tries to put on a shoe.

“If the girls scold me, I’m blaming it on you. ”

Then she’s gone before I can offer her a cup of coffee. I chuckle, carrying my mug to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

***

“You’re in a good mood today,” Doc tells me as Church–the club’s weekly meeting—ends, but it seems I’m not the only one in a good mood.

The atmosphere at the meeting was especially light today as most of the talk revolved around the Chrome Vipers and how we cleaned the streets off those scum bags. Finally.

It doesn’t hurt that by ending the Vipers, we now control their territory as well.

“The Vipers are gone; it’s a good reason as any to be in a good mood.”

The man hums as we head for the elevator. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with the woman you follow around like you’re her personal bodyguard?” He smirks. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a tracker on her.”

“Oh, fuck off!” I say, showing teeth. Of course I have a tracker installed on her phone, but I don’t tell the fucker that. Judging from his smirk, he’s figured that out already. “Just wait until you find a girl of your own then come back and talk to me about following her around.”

His smirk falls, and he quickly looks away, but I don’t miss the look that crosses his eyes. It seems I’ve touched a sour subject, because he goes stiff as a flagpole. “Perhaps you’re right,” he says, and I can tell the conversation is over.

Like most of my MC brothers, much of Doc’s past remains a mystery.

I know he was locked up for four years after being found guilty of involuntary manslaughter, and although he never talks about it, I’ve always suspected that there is more to the story than him getting into a fight with an old neighbor.

Before going to prison, he’d been in the military as a combat medic, but even that part of his life is a gray area.

Doc has always been a quiet man, and I don’t imagine he’ll want to talk about it.

Rarely does anyone in this place want discuss their lives before coming to the club, including me.

That’s what the gym is for. We have an entire floor in the building fully equipped with all kinds of equipment dedicated to letting out pent-up rage.

The elevator doors open on the terrace, which is a hive of activity.

The smell of food hits, and I start to head toward it when a small hand closes over mine.

Doc stops to see what’s holding me back, smiling when he spots Marie.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she whispers, her voice tight, which makes my brows furrow in concern.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Doc says, walking away.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, looking around as if expecting to see some kind of threat, but this is the freaking Steel Rebel clubhouse. Trouble doesn’t just walk in.