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Chapter Two

He Wants Cheese, She Wants Out

T he only way Mara could calm herself down was with pills. Xanax did the trick. She knew tolerance would become an issue and that could lead to addiction. In her mind, what the fuck did it matter… the second Cyrus got his hands on her, she was as good as dead.

Wearing the ink for a rat? Being married to a rat? She might as well just have been a rat herself. Even with the comfort of Darrow’s hands touching her face, it helped only a little. Darrow swiped away the stray tear that ran down her cheek.

“Fuck, Mara,” Darrow whispered. “You’re panicking.”

“I’ve been in a state panic since this all happened,” she said.

Darrow leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She felt her body tingle and melt. Her toes slightly curled and she reached forward. The second she touched Darrow’s leather cut, her hands recoiled. It made her think of Fitz. Her husband. The rat.

Her throat clenched for a second and she spun around and ran toward the kitchen. At the last second she grabbed her hair with her right hand and held it back so she could vomit into the sink. Her life consisted of downing coffee, Xanax, wine, the occasional meal, plus a good bout here and there of vomiting. Mara’s teeth chattered as she turned on the water and began to splash her mouth.

“Darrow,” she groaned.

“I know, babe,” Darrow said in his ultra-sultry, sexy voice.

The nerd of the club stood six-five and packed well over two hundred pounds of brain and muscle. Darrow was the kind of guy who could beat you with his fists and also wire up some random things around the house into a bomb. He was maybe the deadliest of the outlaws. Handling the tech side of things which had a huge influence on the motorcycle club. Not to mention he did well working with Slade to make financial decisions.

Mara listened to the heavy footsteps as Darrow went into the bedroom. She shut her eyes and took deep breaths. She knew there’d be no more vomit. Her stomach was empty as it was, and the vomiting came from the intense adrenaline rush of fear.

It’s going to happen… Darrow is going to have to tell the truth. There’s no choice. He’s not going to put himself on the line for me. No fucking way. Even right now, what he’s done so far? He’s a dead man. That’s why when they find me, I’ll never tell the truth. I’ll say I showed up and he told me to stay and wait, then he went to get the club. That’s the least I can do. Better yet, maybe I should just down the entire bottle of Xanax and go to sleep for good. Handle business my way.

Tears filled Mara’s eyes. She heard Darrow’s footsteps once more, coming back toward her. Without saying a word and without an ounce of judgement, Darrow filled a whiskey glass with wine and placed it next to the kitchen sink, along with a pill.

Mara reached, refusing to look at Darrow. She felt weak and shameful, but what the fuck was she supposed to do in this situation? It wasn’t like Darrow was carrying her on his broad shoulders into the SOFRAW clubhouse, ready to die to prove her innocence.

Mara tossed the pill into her mouth and downed it with the wine. She finally looked at Darrow.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” he said. “You need to calm down. Fully. I’m not going anywhere right now either.”

“You just want a chance to see me naked, don’t you?” Mara asked, managing to attempt to be silly and maybe flirt for a second.

Darrow half smirked. “You caught me, babe.”

Mara licked her bottom lip.

If you want to see me naked, Darrow, just rip my fucking clothes off… I won’t even think about trying to stop you…

Mara sank down a little more into the scalding water and let out a sigh. She watched the water and bubbles overtake her breasts. Without realizing it, she looked at the bathroom door and bit her bottom lip.

Darrow…

She closed her eyes and couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Picturing Darrow just opening the bathroom door. Definitely not knocking. Darrow was an outlaw and outlaws took what they wanted, when they wanted. She pictured Darrow dropping down to one knee and reaching into the water, no hesitation necessary. His huge, outlaw fingers touching her soft, wet pussy. Two fingers pressing against her, entering her, making her head fall back and hit the wall. Her upper back arching, her breasts lifting out of the water, hot and sudsy.

Mara’s eyes popped open and she swallowed hard. The Xanax and wine were definitely taking hold of her. It felt good. As much as she hated to admit that. Then again, this was the life. Plenty of inked up old ladies who popped pills, chugged booze, and plenty who did even worse just to survive another day being hitched to a biker.

But not a fucking rat, Mara thought to herself.

She reached for a washcloth and soaked it in the water, then placed it over her face. The hot water felt good. So did the wine. And the Xanax. And the fact that she knew Darrow was outside the bathroom somewhere in the apartment. Mara took a steamy deep breath.

How the fuck did I get here… she exhaled slowly and let it all come back to her.

She always hated Fitz in some regard… but when it came time to get inked and hitched, there was not much of a choice in the matter. Not that it mattered now. What was done was done. The life had settled in and around Mara a long time ago.

Lately she’d seen a change in Fitz. He was angrier. Way more violent. Just three nights ago he threw a glass at Mara’s head. She stood in the kitchen, shocked. That was the one thing…

She would never tolerate abuse.

A glass shattering near her head was one thing, yes. But then Fitz had the balls to walk up to the counter and grab a shard of the glass. He stared down at Mara with bloodshot eyes. Tired eyes. Desperate eyes.

“Don’t fucking talk to me anymore,” Fitz said to Mara. “When I need you, you’ll know. If I want your mouth, I’ll jam my cock into it. Otherwise I’ll just go for your pathetic cunt.”

Fitz lifted the glass shard up to Mara’s neck. She froze in that moment and had since hated herself for it. A voice in her head screamed to kick Fitz in the balls.

But then what? If she hit first, it gave Fitz all the allowance he needed to go back at her. And the look in his eyes told Mara if she was lucky she’d only end up in the hospital. Chances were, she’d end up in a casket or a hole in the ground in an unmarked grave.

Fitz was fucking insane. Something was eating at him. That’s when Mara hung around the clubhouse a little more. Getting to know Nova. Hating the fuck out of that little slut Maggie. Meeting Nelle. The life of an outlaw never slowed and certainly never calmed. The thing was… nothing stuck out to Mara as being so far over the top that Fitz would act the way he did.

Then there were the fleeting moments when Darrow would show up. A casual glance here and there. The time Mara got too drunk and he made sure she got home safely.

Why… what the fuck, Darrow? Why? Why wasn’t it you…?

Mara told herself her hatred for Fitz had written a story in her mind about him that simply couldn’t have been true. At least not until the night she came home to Fitz drunk out of his mind, half asleep, curled on the floor just outside the bathroom. Eyes shut. Mumbling…

“I’m not a fucking rat, Cyrus. I did this all on purpose. We can go get the detective right now. I’ll show you where he lives. And the… the Russian guy… the fucking… rat… cheese… rats… I’m not… I don’t like cheese, Cyrus…”

Mara stood in complete shock, putting the pieces together. A decision had to made right then and there. Mara backed away and left, never to see her husband again. The only problem with that was she knew nobody would believe her. Not for a second.

She also had the option of going to the club directly, but that meant putting herself in harm’s way, directly with Fitz himself. He could have easily lied his way to her death and then… what…? That’s what sent Mara into a dive motel for a full thirty-six hours.

Another option stood in front of her all along. An extremely risky option. That was going to Darrow’s apartment and seeking his help. His comfort. Hoping he would listen to her and understand she had nothing to do with Fitz being a rat and that she just discovered it herself. And that she never really loved Fitz.

He chose her. He inked her. There were rules to follow. It was either that or… hide in a motel until she ran out of money. Or flee.

Mara wasn’t stupid though. She knew a guy like Cyrus would look for her. He’d use all the other charters to find her. She’d never get a chance to think, sleep, eat in peace. She’d never have a chance at life. Darrow was her only chance.

That’s what made Mara dress in all black, including a baseball cap, and that’s what made Mara sit outside Darrow’s apartment until he came home. And when Darrow found her, he drew his gun, not realizing it was Mara until she stood up and took the baseball cap off.

That was maybe the most important moment of her life. Either Darrow would put a bullet between her eyes or tie her up and drag her ass to the clubhouse… or…

Mara knew she’d never forget the moment Darrow put his gun away. The moment he lunged at her. The moment his hands touched her face. Stroked her cheeks. The moment she knew that he knew she had nothing to do with Fitz.

A second after that moment, another came in the form of a kiss that had been way long overdue.