Page 8 of Just Heartbeats (Royalla Motorcycle Club #1)

Kodiak woke to the dull throb of a hangover pulsing behind his eyes. Slats of light leaked through the blinds, cutting across the bed. His mouth felt like ash. His head and beard smelled of smoke.

He sat up, groaning, and froze.

Curled up on the floor beside the wall, head tipped to the side, her arms wrapped around her knees like a kid who'd fallen asleep while watching cartoons, Roma slept. She looked uncomfortable, but peaceful.

Kodiak rubbed his face with both hands and grimaced. His hands were swollen and stiff. He gazed down at the split knuckles, bruised and abrased. Fragments of last night came to him. Blood. Snake. Cold.

He moved carefully and knelt beside Roma. Slipping an arm under her knees, another around her back, he lifted her off the floor.

She murmured incoherently but stayed asleep. He gently laid her on the bed, tucking the blanket around her as if it mattered. It did, somehow. More than it should have.

Kodiak stood for a moment, watching her. Part of him was anxious to tell her that the man responsible for killing her dad was dead, and he'd done the deed. Another part of him wanted her to continue sleeping because as soon as she woke up and heard the news, he needed to set her free.

He walked into the bathroom to remove the evidence before she spotted his clothes from the night before. But the bloody clothes were gone. Cruz must've come in before he woke up and taken them out to burn.

The shower ran hot, steam rising around him as the water pounded the night out of his skin. It didn't make him feel any cleaner, but it helped dull the ache in his muscles. It also helped him pretend, for a minute, that he hadn't killed a man.

Curt Morgan wasn't the first life he'd taken and probably wouldn't be his last. As president of Royalla, shit happened. He'd taken an oath to protect his brothers.

He dressed, noticing his vest was cleaned and folded in half on the arm of the couch. Leaving Roma in his bed, he walked out of the room and into the main area, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead with his hands.

The place was quiet. It was too early for anyone except the old diehards. The elders stayed patched members for life but no longer took part in rides or voting.

He found Cruz right where he expected him to be, leaning on the counter and typing something into his phone.

Kodiak poured a mug of black coffee and took a long drink before speaking. "All cleaned up?"

Cruz looked up from his phone and nodded. "No prints, no trail, no evidence. If anyone asks, we were fixing Rusty's clutch all night."

Kodiak gave a small grunt of approval and took another sip, but before he could breathe, the rush of footsteps against the concrete floor closed in behind him.

" Kodiak." Roma grabbed his arm, trying to spin him around.

He turned, taking her in. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, and her voice sharp with panic. She grabbed his vest and put her hand against his stomach, patting over his ribs.

"You're okay?" she panted breathlessly.

He led her a few feet away, knowing she deserved answers. The conversation they needed to have was private. Nobody else needed to know what they discussed.

"What happened last night? You wouldn't wake up, your clothes were soaked in blood, and you shut yourself off from me." She locked in on his abused hands and frowned. "What did you do? "

Cruz cleared his throat and made himself scarce. Kodiak pointed toward the meeting room with his coffee and slipped his free hand underneath her elbow, pulling her with him.

Once inside the room, he shut the door, giving him privacy. The discussion they needed to have was two years late.

She stared him down like she expected him to lie. He sat in his usual chair with his elbows on the table, coffee steaming between his hands. The heat brought comfort to his bruised joints.

"You might as well sit your ass down." He drank, letting the liquid warm his insides. "My head hurts and I'm not in the mood for you to move all around."

She slipped into the nearest chair and leaned against the table. "Tell me."

Normally, club business wouldn't be shared with those who weren't wearing the patch. But Roma was different. Chopper had made his home here. He'd raised his daughter amongst the men. She deserved to know.

"Last night, I caught the man who was spotted near the fence. He had the snake tattoo on his forearm that proved he was the man who had killed your dad," he said, low and steady. "He's no more. You can be assured that he suffered."

She flinched. "You killed him?"

"He's dead." He would never admit to a crime because he never knew when the information would be used against him. "Not only was he the one responsible for killing your dad, but he was also the man who tried to kidnap you."

She gasped.

"He was a threat to you— the threat. And now he can no longer hurt you." Kodiak drank the rest of the coffee in one big chug and set down his mug. "You're safe, Roma. No more shadows."

She moistened her lips, rubbing them together. "You did that for me?"

Of course, he had. Whatever she needed, he would always find a way to help her.

"It's safe for you to live your life." He softened his tone. "Maybe go off to college or buy yourself a small house with your dad's money from the club."

She shook her head. "You think I'm gonna pack a bag and go because you've made it safe for me?"

He met her eyes, steady and calm. "Yes."

"No way."

"You should go to college," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Get a place near campus. You could even rent an apartment, take real classes, live like someone who doesn't have to look over their shoulder anymore."

"I don't want that," she snapped. "I want to be here ."

"This lifestyle is hard, Roma. There's blood on the table.

You deserve something better." He paused and clenched his hands together.

"Chopper wanted better for you. That's why he was living here for so long, because he was saving all his money to get a house so that you could live away from the clubhouse.

Royalla isn't a forever plan for you. It's survival.

You don't have to live like that anymore. "

"Stop trying to push me away," she whispered.

"I'm trying to give you a chance at a better life." He sat forward. "You deserve more than living with a bunch of fuckers who drink themselves stupid most nights and use any woman available."

She stared at him, stubbornness battling the fear in her eyes. "I don't care about college."

"You should."

She opened her mouth to argue again, but he cut her off gently.

"If not college, then get a job." He pushed the mug away from him. "Learn to stand on your own two feet. If you find yourself in that kind of life, you may figure out what you want. Maybe you'll discover there's more out there than Royalla."

Her jaw clenched. "What if all I want is Royalla?"

"This will always be your home. But try something different.

I don't want you to stay because you never tried anything else.

Whatever you do has to be your choice, Roma.

You've lived too long under the eye of the club.

Having the freedom to live life the way you want was taken away from you.

You need to spread your wings, baby girl. "

For a long moment, the only thing he could hear was his heart cracking open, piece by piece.

Finally, she looked down at her lap. "I'll think about it."

That was enough—for now.

"Your dad...he can rest now." He reached out and lifted her chin. "He'd want you to go on and be happy."

She swallowed and closed her eyes, slowly opening them again. "Thank you," she mouthed.

He got up from the chair, kissed her forehead, and left the room to give her time to process the information he'd given her. In the hallway, he exhaled sharply and leaned against the wall. He'd done what Chopper would have wanted.

He let the back of his head hit the wall. But all he wanted was her.