Page 17 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)
HARLOW
T he afterglow of my orgasm vanishes with that little drop of news.
Silas looks incredibly sure of himself, but it doesn’t settle the unease running through my veins.
His mention of The Reaper sets off alarm bells in my head.
I don’t know many others in my field, but you still hear whispers.
It’s usually from the men on my list from Macon.
They worry I’m him and cry out against his particular form of torture.
Which I’ve heard is drawn out and meticulous, quite the opposite from my typical brand of “get this shit done so that I can move on” mantra.
Not that it matters either way; their lives still end up snuffed out by the end of things.
It all just drives home that regardless of knowing Silas for more than half my life, I don’t know him.
The motorcycle club he’s been wrapped up in for years obviously isn’t the kind to get together for weekend rides when the sun’s out.
His assist the other night, on top of the surveillance photos Macon handed over, only solidifies it.
The problem: Now we’re connected.
I’ve got a job, and for the first time, it looks like I won’t be holding up my end of the bargain.
“So, what happens now? I can’t imagine forcing us into matrimony was the entirety of your genius plan,” I ask, buttoning my jeans back into place.
Stepping away from him to the other side of the bed, I finally give us the space we desperately need to have any sort of productive conversation. Otherwise, we’re bound to end up naked in the middle of it, fucking rather than talking.
“Now, you have my protection. Not just me but my brothers. My family.”
I scoff before replying, “I didn’t need your protection. Then you went and made this fucking asinine move. Evan was dealt with. What the fuck were you thinking?” If I had something to chuck at his head, I would, maybe then it would knock some sense into the man.
“Honestly?”
I nod because what good is a lie going to do for us now?
“Because I fucking wanted to,” he says with a slick grin.
This time, I do lean over to his nightstand and pick up the first thing my fingers wrap around. It doesn’t have much weight to it, but I chuck it at him all the same. He dodges the small trinket, which thuds to the hardwood floor at his feet.
“Really, wildcat?”
“It’s not my fault you make shitty fucking decisions and keep useless crap on your nightstand.”
While I’m dead serious, Silas bursts out in full-body laughter.
He folds over, pushing his big hands into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath.
It makes me want to find something else to throw while he’s unaware of the object hurtling toward him, but the sound of his deep, throaty laughter cuts through my irritation.
It’s boisterous and carefree, the opposite of how I feel right now.
“Silas!”
“Sorry.” He composes himself a bit and stands up. “Sorry, but man, I needed that.”
“God, you’re infuriating,” I say with a huff and stomp out of his room for the kitchen. This man is making it damn near impossible to talk to him.
“Right back at you,” he calls after me, and the soft chuckle that follows has my fist flying into a stack of the moving boxes that line the hallway.
I need a blunt to take the edge off, but I don’t know where any of my stash is because all my stuff is in these boxes.
Something inside me snaps, and I stop at the first stack of boxes, hauling the top one to the floor in front of me.
These fuckers didn’t even bother labeling them.
Another wave of irritation courses through my veins, but it fuels my digging.
By the time my fingers wrap around the old makeup case—five boxes in—that I keep my wrappers, stash jar, and lighter in, my stuff is littered across the hall and living room. I have zero intention of cleaning it back up. Let Silas deal with the mess since he brought it here.
Pushing out into the backyard, I shield my eyes from the sun, sitting low in the sky behind the trees lining Silas’s property.
It’s otherworldly and peaceful as the pink and orange hues meld into a watercolor scene.
The heat from the day is starting to die off, leaving the perfect temperature to relax on the back patio.
I drop onto one of the wooden loungers while the Texas night bugs create a playlist to keep my ears busy. I get to work filling and rolling my blunt before licking and baking the edge. The sliding door closes, but I keep my head down, packing my stuff back into its case, ignoring Silas’s approach.
It doesn’t deter him, and he flicks open his Zippo, offering me the flame.
His version of an olive branch, no doubt, before he crawls behind me, pulling my back into his chest. He’s brave to take the liberty after the last couple of hours.
I reluctantly lay against him, relaxing the slightest bit as the smoke fills my lungs and the weight of today slowly releases from my shoulders.
Taking another puff, I pass it back to him, my own olive branch now that I can think without wanting to murder or maul him.
“You can hate me all you want, Harlow, but I did this for you as much as I did it for myself,” he whispers in my ear.
I let his words hang between us for a while, watching the first signs of dusk take hold of the evening. “I don’t hate you,” I finally confess with a sigh. “How could I, after loving you all these years?”
The weed’s loosening my lips and cutting off my judgment sensor, but maybe it’s better he knows.
I dreamed of being Mrs. Silas Kane over the years.
I might even have a notebook or two from high school with it doodled in a corner somewhere, but this was never how I imagined it coming about.
The older I got, the more I realized my lifestyle wasn’t exactly conducive to a serious relationship.
Hence, the trail of one-night stands behind me.
Meanwhile, the universe really took it upon itself to say, “I got this.” My usual excuses don’t matter here. The terrible shit I’ve done, the mess I’m bound up in, is just another day to him.
He places a soft kiss against my temple and draws me in tighter, folding me into his arms. “It wasn’t just about Evan,” he says, telling me something I already know. “I know what he did to you.”
He doesn’t need to explain. My mind’s already hyper-focused on the one thing he must be talking about.
The thing I keep locked down deep inside until something so small and simple, like the light creeping through a cracked bedroom door or the smell of old coffee on someone's breath, catches me off guard, and the memories flood in. Some people deal with their trauma and heal from it, finding a healthy way to cope and move past what’s happened to them. And some don’t.
It was never really about Evan. I mean, maybe a little at the start of his downward spiral, but in the end, it became about him ; it’s always about Macon fucking Conrad.
I shift uncomfortably, hand reaching for the last hit before I stub it out on the chair and flick the roach into the yard. “Was it Branson or Pierce?”
They don’t know all the details, but they were around to see the after-effects of it all. It didn’t take Branson’s genius mind to put the pieces together. That’s probably why they only questioned me about returning to town but not leaving it.
Silas clears his throat and shifts my body to the side so our eyes can finally meet. “It doesn’t matter, wildcat. But getting you out of his hold was only the first step in my plan. He’ll pay for what he did, baby.”
I drag in a lungful air to settle myself, already starting to shake my head. He has to know my mom’s situation if he knows all this. “Si, you can’t,” I say, defeated because there’s nothing more I’ve wanted than to dole out my own kind of punishment to the man who assaulted me.
“I can, Harlow. And I will. Your mom will be taken care of; don’t worry about that. Then, when the dust settles, I’ll destroy the last piece still holding you back from me, baby.”
The self-assured look is back in his eyes, but it’s not the crazed look of someone cocky enough to run into something they have no business getting into. It’s the look of a predator that’s just been given the freedom to hunt its favorite prey.
I somehow sink further into his hold and nuzzle against his warm chest, the weed finally taking its hold on my body. I feel safe for the first time in… possibly ever. His lips in my hair add to the comfort. I know what I need to do now that his plan’s laid out.
I pull out my phone and find the photos I scanned earlier. “You should probably see these then.”