Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby)(78)

His hand moved by his side. I tensed, ready and entirely unprepared. Was he going to touch me? What would it be like to taste his lips, so soon after our near death escape?

I was disappointed when he turned away, head hanging low as he walked. “I'll grab some wood for a small fire.”

“Aren't you worried we'll be seen?” The idea of more men attacking us was too much.

“They can't follow us this time.” There wasn't a hint of doubt in his voice.

His confidence reminded me of how little I knew. “How can you be so sure?”

With one brief, final glance, he said, “Trust me.”

Recently, the thought of associating that word with him would have been hilarious. When had it all changed? Probably somewhere between New Jersey and here, I mused.

It was incredible what a long stretch of road and time could do for the soul.

Hugging myself, I relaxed on the grass and watched his shadow. He returned with a pile of various branches and logs, the lighter I'd seen him use when he smoked setting everything ablaze.

Sitting beside me, he rested his elbows on his knees. “You manage to get any water from the gas station?”

He mentioned the place so casually. How much had he seen that we didn't even need to talk about, or decompress, from the fight? Digging into my purse, I offered him one of the bottles.

“Good job,” he chuckled.

Flushing, I hid my smile. “Will you tell me who those guys were?”

Sipping the drink, Ronin's throat worked. I watched the muscles flex, enjoying the sight, feeling myself growing thirsty for something else. Something more solid than water. “Just my past catching up with me.”

“Were they the Knights of the whatever?”

“No,” he said, smiling sideways. “At least, not directly. I was right though, Lucky did put a bounty on my head.”

It wasn't much of an answer, but I was too tired to probe further. Getting the full truth out of Ronin was exhausting.

“You did a lot of good tonight.” His voice was tender.

It pulled me back, our eyes meeting. “I did what I had to.”

Ronin's teeth shone in the firelight. “Don't we all.”

Unsure what to say, I stared into the flames.

“She really taught you to ride?”

I willed the glowing dots in my eyesight to go away. Ronin had his mouth set in a curious line. “Yeah,” I said, smiling at the thought. “She got a motorcycle years ago. Her pride and joy.”

He mulled that over, the rim of the bottle to his lips. “The one in your photo.” It was a simple statement, not a question.

I nodded. “I don't know what happened to it. It was missing back home. Now that I think about it... I'm sure Fiddle took it, dumped it or sold it to make it look like she drove off. The cops were sure convinced.” My chuckle was as hollow as a drum. “She loved that thing. Took it everywhere, and me with her. Once, she let me drive us for miles. Up to this part of the woods, where I'd never even been before. We sat there and listened to the birds, the peace. It was beautiful.”

My eyes watered at the memory; I willed them to stop. “She said we'd leave together, one day. Just her and me... riding across the country. No burdens.” The implication was massive. I was reminded of what my sister had done for me, what she'd endured... and what she'd sacrificed.

Was she alright? Was she locked up somewhere in Miami, wasting away, being used by awful men? Or had she been shipped elsewhere already?

Ronin took another drink. “She sounds like a good kid.”

That shook me from my painful reverie. Cocking my head, I considered his words. “Good kid. As in, not a junkie?”

His simple glance stopped my heart. “People can be good and still do bad shit, Flora. Sometimes you can't choose between being a saint and a sinner. Sometimes the choice is thrust upon you and you just have to make the best of it.”

With the night hours cloaking us, the ambiance sank. I wasn't cold, but I still shuddered, my knees tucking to my chest. Ronin slid between casual humor and somberness as easily as water dripped through my fingers.

Closing my eyes, I debated on a way to make him understand. Claudine wasn't a sinner. She was flawed, but she couldn't be both good and bad... and I knew she wasn't bad.

“Afghanistan.”

It was a single word. It made me sit up straight. “What?”

“Afghanistan,” he said again, looking into the fire. “You asked what I did before I was in the club.” The edges of his eyes sharpened.

“You were a soldier?” I would never have guessed. I associated the army with stiff, rule following protectors of the innocent.

But then...

Ronin had protected me.

Afraid he would stop talking, I held my tongue and waited. I was rewarded by his rumbling words. “A friend of mine, an Afghan translator I'd known for the better part of a year, was out on patrol with us. He and I fell behind and went down the wrong alley to catch up. We were ambushed.” Ronin made a fist, his knuckles shining. “He was wounded. Shot in the leg... The firefight nearly killed us both. Bullets were coming from both buildings, we were completely surrounded. I'm still not sure how I got us both out of there, but I did. I saved his life. My friend.”