"Evidently, a damn good orgasm." He kissed her forehead. "You scared the shit outta me."
She nodded and opened her eyes. "Wow."
Two days later, Stake found Santana sitting on the back porch swing he'd put up for her the previous evening. He handed her a beer and sat beside her. "I have to go to San Antonio on Thursday, but I thought you might want to take the trip to the cemetery tomorrow. If we leave early enough, we should be there and back before dark."
She took a sip of her beer. "I don't think I'm ready to go to the cemetery." She lifted his arm and draped it over her as she snuggled against his side. "I may never be ready."
"What about your mom's ashes?" He understood that she was still processing the realization that her own father had been attracted to her, but he wanted her to have the closure with Ellie that he felt she needed.
She buried her face against his chest. "Is it wrong that I don't care about what happens to them? I keep thinking about how miserable she made my life, and a part of me wants to defy her wishes in death." She looked up at Stake. "I've never been to Dad's grave, and I don't think I'm ready. When he killed that cop, he killed my future, not that he gave a shit because the club always came first." Her eyes drifted shut as she hugged Stake. "For the first time in my life, I don't want to worry what either of them would think of my actions. I'm doing this for me, because it's what I need right now."
He wanted to tell her about Cecil's involvement in the shooting, but club business was just that, and telling her the truth would only put her in jeopardy. He kissed the top of her head. "When you're ready, just let me know."
She nodded but didn't look at him or speak.
Their peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of a car in the driveway. "I swear I'm going to put up a damn security gate," he mumbled.
Santana's body went rigid. "Do you think they're here for me?"
He gave her a deep kiss before getting to his feet. "Stay here, and I'll get rid of whoever it is." He jumped off the porch and walked around to the side of the cabin. As soon as he saw the cherry red Crossfire, he groaned.
When he saw no sign of Rachel, he stalked to the front of the house. There she was in all her bleached and silicone glory. "What're you doing here?" he asked before she could knock on the front door.
Rachel spun around to face him. "Dad told me you have that Rogers slut living here. I came by to see if it was true." She came toward him with fire in her bright blue eyes.
He held up his hand. "Get off my property," he warned, so pissed he wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. "And if I ever hear you refer to Santana that way again, I'll forget you're a woman."
Crossing her arms, Rachel purposely tried to display her big, fake tits to their best advantage. "Everyone's talking about how you've gone crazy over that bitch. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Stake tilted his head from side to side, popping his neck, in an attempt to control his anger. Unfortunately, it didn't work. He grabbed her by the upper arm in a bruising grip and jerked her toward her car as he walked. Santana had suffered years of verbal abuse from people like Rachel, and he be goddamned if he'd let her taint the home he was trying to build with Santana. He opened the door with such force he was surprised the metal didn't buckle, but he wouldn't have given a shit if it had. He caught Santana out of the corner of his eye and knew she was watching and probably wondering who Rachel was.
Before shoving Rachel back in her car, he leaned in until they were nose to nose so only she could hear him. "If you ever bring your skank ass to my home again, I'll fucking kill you. And if I ever hear you talking about Santana, I'll tell the whole club that you're pussy's rancid shit, and they should stay away." He grinned at the disbelieving expression on her face. "Yeah, even your father. I think he deserves to know just what a whore his perfect, little princess is."
"I'm not afraid of you," she spat.
With his hands braced on the roof of the car, he leaned down. "You should be, but in case you really believe I won't lay a hand on you because you're a woman, maybe I'll give Santana back her knife and tell her what you said about her."
Rachel's face went pale. Before she could spout more venom, he stepped back and slammed her door shut. He stood there until she peeled out of his drive before turning to face Santana. "I'm sorry about that."
Without a word, she turned and disappeared around the back of the house.
"Shit." With a sigh, he went after her. He jumped onto the porch to find she'd resumed her seat on the swing. He wasn't good at apologies, but he knew he owed her one, so he dropped down beside her. "That was Rachel, Magic's daughter," he began.
"Yeah. I remember her. I'm assuming she's one of your girlfriends?"
"No." He stretched his arm across the back of the swing and buried his fingers in her hair. "I fucked her a couple of times, but that's all it was. I told her that at the time and a couple since. Had I known she was a batshit crazy bitch, I'd have never done it the first place." He slid his hand down to Santana's shoulder and pulled her closer. "I'm sorry she came here, but she won't be back." He knew he needed to prepare her for future run-ins, though. "If she ever tries to give you a hard time, you need to take that bitch down. It's the only way you'll earn the respect of the other old ladies."
"I'm used to being on the receiving end of pain, so I'm not sure I could intentionally hurt someone." Her breath caught with a tiny gasp. "I hurt Gordon." She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God, I just realized that."
He tilted her chin up. "Don't. Gordon deserved everything he got and more. Do not blame yourself."
She shook her head. "I don't. It's just hard to believe that I fought back for the first time in my life." Tears filled her eyes. "I've been worried that something was wrong with me because I didn't feel bad about what happened to me, but I think I just realized that I didn't see myself as a victim because I fought back," she said, drawing the last three words out.
"Fuck." He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it off his face. He'd thought only of the attack on her not what she'd done to protect herself. "You're right," he agreed.
"I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun," she proclaimed, squaring her shoulders.
There was something in the tone of her voice that bothered him … resolve maybe? "I'll teach you, but are we talking self-defense, or are you going to go on some sort of rampage against everyone who's ever hurt you?"
Santana bit her bottom lip. "There's only one person I plan to get even with."
"No!" he growled. "I told you, I'll take care of Gordon. As soon as the heat dies down a bit, he'll get what's coming to him."
She straddled his lap and faced him. "And if you get caught?" Tears filled her eyes. "You've shown me more kindness in a week than I've ever known. Losing you isn't something I can survive."
He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, smashing his mouth against hers. He put all the love he had for her into the kiss, trying like hell to convey with actions how deeply his feelings went. For the first time in his life, he felt loved, and he would do anything for her. How the hell could he make her understand?
He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Fuck, he wished he was good with words. Maybe if he shared a piece of himself, she would realize that she was the only woman who could break down his defenses. It wouldn't be enough, he knew that, but it was a start. "You know that biker names are given, right?"
"Yeah, well, I know Dad got his because he was a petty smash and grab hoodlum in his younger days."
"Do you know where I got mine?" he asked. He'd never told anyone the story he was about to share with her.
"No." She ran her fingers through his hair, knowing the action always soothed him.
"My name's Jakob, but ever since I could remember, my mom's called me Stake. I thought it was cool when I started school because I was the only kid in kindergarten with a biker name." He took a breath, needing a moment to compose himself. "When I was in the fifth grade, we had to draw a family tree, but I had no idea who my father was. I went home after school, and my mom was drinking. I think her newest boyfriend was there, but I don't remember who he was."
He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. They never stayed, anyway. So, I start asking my mom questions because my project was due the next day. She told me she didn't know who my father was, and that I was a drunken mistake that should've never happened, which is where my nickname came from." It took everything he had to breathe after admitting to the woman he loved that his own mom still considered him a mistake.