Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby)(69)

Bristling, I clung to my fresh anger. It was better—so much better—than the sickening horror I was surrounded by. “So you're abandoning me.”

“Abandoning?” Ronin chuckled, but he sounded so very tired. When he came my way, I stood my ground, trying to speak to him with just my furious glare. “To them, you're just another junkie whore. I bet they don't even know your name or where you came from. If you disappear, they won't be able to come after you. As long as you stay away from Fiddle, you'll be safe.” Hunching lower, he bent near enough that I smelled the musk and sweat on him. It reminded me, again, of what he'd done for me.

How he'd saved me a second time.

A sad smile crept across his face. He whispered, “Me on the other hand? I've fucked with damn near every notable MC scumbag there is. It was something of a hobby of mine. So barring a face transplant, when news drops that I've been cut loose, that I'm no longer protected... Hell, just being near me will get you torn to shreds.” Pointedly, he gestured at Roach. I didn't look; I couldn't. “I've got no illusions as to what comes next. It's only a matter of time now till I’m a second too slow. The only way that you get to walk away from all of this is if you put as much distance between us as possible.”

Licking my lips, I searched for something—anything—that I could use to convince him to help me. I needed him, wasn't that clear? Ronin might be out of his club, but he had connections. Roach, dead as he was, made that obvious.

Without Ronin, how could I possibly find my sister?

And if he was right—and how could he not be—I needed his skills. I needed backup.

How could I survive without him?

Glowering at him under my lashes, I chased every plea I had. The one word that came out surprised us both.

“Coward.”

With a blank expression, he stood straight, walking on those long legs around the side of the building. He didn't even have the decency to respond. He just... left me.

Surrounded by trees and my own thoughts, I jumped when a single bird crowed. I couldn't see it in the branches, but the thought of eyes watching me made me cringe. At the same time, I didn't know what to do. Where did I go from here?

Was it possible to walk away? I can't go after Claudine, according to him.

But I also can't go home.

How could I return? Ronin was right, Fiddle was dangerous, and he could be in Lakeview still. He was likely to kill me if he saw my face again, thinking I'd turn him in to the cops. He was wrong, though.

If I saw him again... I would do much worse.

Squeezing my fists, the car keys chewed at me. I had transportation, that was something. Gazing over where Ronin had vanished, I frowned. He's not wrong, being near him probably IS dangerous. But, even so... It was hard to reconcile his bitter claims with my own experiences.

How could I associate this man with my own death, when he'd rescued me so many times?

Rescue.

Locking my jaw, I looked at the backdoor. What was I doing? How could I debate my next step? Even if I didn't have a clear method, I knew what I had to do. Nothing had changed. I'd known it last night when I'd plotted my escape; I'd been willing to go alone. If Ronin left me, my path remained the same.

I would save Claudine.

Clutching the backdoor, I cracked it open. I didn't want to see the damage, but I needed supplies, as well as my jacket—and my photo. I also didn't want to face Ronin so soon. This entrance would let me steer clear of him. Tip-toeing, like the dead might awaken, I inched back into the bed and breakfast.

The kitchen was a massacre.

Blood covered the tile, some of it coating the remains of breakfast. Seeing the combination of a murder scene mixed with the pleasant memories of fruit and souffles nearly made me retch.

Looking down, I saw footprints. They were Ronin's, a path he'd beaten in his haste to save me from Roach.

Warily, I walked through the room, eyeing the three bodies where they rested. I only recognized two of them; a biker from earlier and the Serbian man who would never hurt me ever again.

Hurt me?

My brain tingled. These men had to have weapons. After today, I could certainly use one. I'd shot a handgun a few times with Claudine; like drugs, guns were easy to get in the rural backwater town we'd grown up in.

Shooting cans wasn't the same as shooting a living person...

But since when did that matter?

Crouching down, I hovered by the body of a young man. His shirt was punctured by bullet holes, red and sticky. My nose filled with the scent of pennies. When I started to taste it in the air, I covered my mouth, tensing. Don't throw up, I willed myself.

Studying the biker, I frowned. Something was odd. I hadn't gotten a great look at Roach, but the vision of his face, pale and still, was frozen in my mind. This man, though he was the color of old yogurt, didn't look the same. Why was that?