Page 17 of Risk (Mayhem Makers: MMM #3)
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
McKenna
A lot of information about the club and its new additions was thrown at me along the ride back to their clubhouse.
Some of it I tuned in for but some of it seemed inconsequential so I dismissed it.
My mind kept swiveling between his words and Phoenix.
Everything in me wanted to tell Risk all about him, but then I remember that Marshall and his empire are still out there and my lips stayed sealed—like a fastened vault.
I have to let it keep holding my deepest, darkest secrets.
My mind and heart are at war with one another.
I’m already going to be spilling some truths that I’d prefer stayed buried.
My life hasn’t been some big ole fairytale fit for entertainment, it’s cold, brutal, and full of terror.
Once I sit down with the guys and spill my guts, they’ll know how dirty I am and be thankful that they sent me away and kept me and my demons far from them.
Especially since they’ve built themselves a good life.
When we ride between a set of iron gates, my heart begins to pound in my chest. When the building comes into view, bile rises in my throat. I don’t know if I can do this. Leaving with them might have put everything I’ve protected in jeopardy.
“I can’t,” I wheeze out. “Risk. I can’t do this. Take me back. Take me back. Take me back!” Each time I say it, my volume rises until it’s an ear-piercing shriek.
“Kenna, calm down. Vixen, listen to me, you need to settle before we both go toppling over.”
His tone is calmer than mine as he shuts his bike down, twists around in his seat and pulls me around until we’re facing one another.
I’m both awed and panicked about his show of strength.
These arms attached to a set of muscular biceps I’m currently clutching onto like my life depends on it used to bring me peace and solace, now, however, they make me a screeching scaredy cat.
I’m lost in fear, my heart beating in my chest like a set of drums kicking off a concert. “What am I going to do?”
Cupping my face, he tells me, “You’re going to let me in. Let me help, Kenna. You can’t do this alone. Not anymore.”
“I have to!” I scream, closing my hands into fists and beating on his chest. Not that it does me any good because he’s protected by leather and his pectorals are like metal—hard and unforgiving. “You don’t understand.”
Squeezing my cheeks together and looking at me as if he’s trying to see into my soul, he assertively states, “Then make me, Vixen. Make me understand why you can’t lean on me for help. Why do you have to do this alone?”
Gritting my teeth, I say words I think will make him back off, but instead, they cause a fire to light in his eyes. “Because people will die if I don’t.”
“What people, Kenna?”
Stumbling over the words, I spout out, “You, the guys, me, my mom, my–” I stop speaking in the midst of my sentence because my mind comes back online.
If I could slap myself in the forehead I would, I can’t believe I almost had such a colossal blooper.
I’ve always suffered from foot to mouth disease when I’m placed in stressful situations. “Just people.”
His eyes darken and his body stiffens. He knows, he knows me better than anyone else and he’s figured out that I didn’t stymie my words for the hell of it. “There’s someone else you’re protecting, even from me. Why, Kenna?”
“Don’t ask, Risk. Just don’t. Not if you don’t want me to lie to you, do us both a favor and drop it. Please,” I beg, shaking my head and sending him an implorable look.
“No lies, Kenna. If things are as bad as you’re making me believe they are, you have to tell me everything.”
“No, I don’t,” I argue.
“Why don’t you, Kenna?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I admit, even though it breaks my heart to do so.
His eyes clamp closed as he takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales. “I deserve that, Kenna. I deserve your censure. I do. I know I broke what we had, but this isn’t about that. Lives are at stake, you admitted that to me, so I need you to get past what I did and let me help you.”
“How do I do that, Risk? Tell me how and I’ll try,” I confess.
“Guys, before this turns into a heart-to-heart, why don’t you shut down your bike and come inside.
Everybody is waiting on you,” Conan says, lifting his hand and placing it on my shoulder.
“We were friends once, Kenna. The best of. We can be that again, if you give us a chance and lower your walls.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I whisper. “I won’t survive losing you all again. You weren’t just my friends, Conan. You were my brothers and you all abandoned me when I needed you the most.”
“A regret I’ll have until my dying day,” Conan says, his expression repentant. “Trust is hard earned once it’s been fractured, but I’m willing to put in the work. Are you?” With that blowing question, he turns around and walks back over to the others.
“You can do this, Kenna. You’re one of the strongest, most intelligent women I’ve ever known,” Risk avows. “You’ve never been a wallflower, don’t wilt on me now, Vixen.”
“Stop calling me that,” I spit out. “It hurts.”
“Alright, Kenna. I won’t call you that again until I’ve earned the right to,” he conveys. “On my honor.” He lifts up his hand and makes a cross over his chest cavity. “Let me be your knight again.”
My head whips upward and I look up into the sky. I wish it was dark so I could use the stars as my guidance, but the sun is high and bright, hindering me from seeing my favorite view. “A kernel.”
“What was that, Kenna?” Risk asks.
“I’ll give you a kernel of trust, but I won’t tell you everything. Not until I think it’s safe,” I inform him.
“That’ll have to be good enough for now,” he states. “Come on, let’s go join the others. We need to know what we’re up against so we can start making plans.”
“Sure,” I say. Numbly, I let him lift me off the bike and I float through the parking lot and through the clubhouse. I don’t take anything in, that can happen later, for now, I’m in survival mode and the only thing that matters is protecting myself and my boy.
The next time my brain becomes alert again, I’m sitting at a large wooden table.
The banging of a gavel makes me nearly leap out of my seat.
Kodiak looks at me until I glance his way.
When I notice the way his concerned eyes are connected to my person, I shrug my shoulders and send him a wobbly smile.
“I know this is going to be hard on you, Kenna. This may even be your worst nightmare come to fruition. But we need you to be truthful. One-hundred percent honest.” He sighs, slumping back in his chair but he never loses eye contact with me.
“The thing you don’t know about us yet is that we went into the security field.
We’ve had some high-profile clients who were in some serious shit.
We can handle anything you throw our way, no matter how vile it is.
Nothing you can say will traumatize us or make us turn our backs on you.
” When I go to retort, he holds his hand up in the air, stopping me.
“We made a mistake before, one I plan on making amends for and rectifying, but this is different than giving you and Risk some distance to sort your feelings out. We all thought you’d come back, Kenna.
This distance between us isn’t solely on our shoulders.
We aren’t the only ones who should bear the weight.
I told you, before you left, that once you felt like you could be in the same room as Risk without losing your shit to come back to us.
The door was open, but somehow, we all kept that damn thing shut tighter than Fort Knox during an invasion.
Remember that before you pass judgment on us. That’s all I’m asking.”
I’m startled by his sincerity. And as I pivot my head around the table and see all of the men around it, giving me the same sincere look as Kodiak, something inside of me shatters. That wall around my heart begins to crumble and I lose my composure, sobbing for everything I’ve lost.
He’s right, he did ask me to come back, but I made a choice, sacrificed every inch of my soul when I realized I had to stay away. What other options did I have though? It was survival of the fittest. I was mentally unstable and running for my life without them as my sword and shield.
“Y’all are going to hate me,” I cry. “I didn’t have a choice!”
“Tell us,” Risk implores.
“For you to understand, I have to start at the beginning,” she apprises. “It’s not a pretty story.”