Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I already knew of his kind heart and spirit from my days in Puerto Rico. But knowing he was my father—my blood—made my connection to him even deeper. I could see it was the same for Mae and Maddie too. Mae, like she did with most people, welcomed him into her heart. And as for Maddie, every day she became more comfortable around him. Every day her barriers were crumbling down just that bit more.
I was so proud of them both.
Stephen and Ruth had moved to an apartment that Tank owned just outside of the compound. I had often wondered in Puerto Rico if they were more than friends, but I was assured they were not. I thought that, in a way, Ruth saw Stephen as the older brother she should have had. Stephen had cared for her and given her the love she had needed so desperately in Puerto Rico. They were best friends.
They were our family.
Solomon and Samson had taken the apartment above the garage. They visited the clubhouse often, and not just to see Rider and me. I got the distinct impression that the brothers liked the Hangmen. At least, they liked how they lived. Solomon had confided in me that he found the way the Hangmen lived was not a huge adjustment from their role as guards. The Hangmen seemed quite fond of the brothers too. I could understand that. Solomon and Samson had always been strong, decent men. I was never told what had happened to them to take them to the defectors’ commune, but I understood it was bad. I could see it in their eyes every time they spoke about our former home.
Like me, they were simply trying to adjust to this strange new world in any way they could. Though, unlike them I had yet to realize that we were truly free. I had yet to even step out of these clubhouse doors.
“You ready?” Solomon asked Rider.
“Yeah,” Rider said. Solomon and Samson helped him off the bed and toward the door. My heart sank when I saw how much weight he had lost. His denim pants hung loosely off his legs, and the shirt that used to be fitted was now a size too large.
I still found his short hair strange, and his shorter beard too. Yet he still looked breathtaking. Long or short hair, beard or not, he was still so incredibly handsome. Rider slowly walked to the door. I followed behind with Ruth and Stephen.
As we walked down the hallway, I could hear voices coming from the bar. That filled me with nerves. It was no secret that the men hated Rider. Only Smiler had ever come to see him.
This was not going to be easy.
As Rider entered the bar, it fell into silence. Ruth stretched her hand out and gripped mine. I straightened my shoulders as we followed behind . . . and my heart cracked. Each of the brothers were glaring over at Rider. Words were not necessary; we could read their silent expressions—none of them wanted Rider to be alive.
My breath faltered as the men rose from their seats, folding their arms across their chests, sneers on their faces. My heart shattered apart in pride as Rider hid the devastation I knew he would be feeling and forced his legs to move forward.
He shook his arms from Solomon and Samson’s supportive grips and turned to face them. I was right. This reaction from his former club was killing him inside. The pain in his eyes was obvious.
“I can walk myself.” I had to turn my face away as my husband staggered forward under the hateful glares from the men in the bar. I could not bear the sight of seeing him try to hold on to the pride they had so savagely ripped away.
I heard Ruth suck in a pained breath. Rider had stopped in the center of the room to breathe through his pain. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but Ruth shook her head. “Let him do this,” she whispered almost silently. “He needs to do this himself.”
It went against all my instincts, but I knew she was right. My husband raised his head and started walking to the exit. He kept his face straight forward, never once looking back.
Because we could not. If we were to survive, we had to look solely to the future. He was doing just that, stealing more of my love as he did so.
Rider made it to the door and he stepped outside. Solomon and Samson went straight after him. But I could not. Instead I roved my disappointed gaze over all of the men who had so cruelly stood and intimidated him. But they did not care. I could see it in their blank expressions.
I was unsure if Rider would ever fall back into their favor. Too much bad blood had passed between them. I no longer cared. I was beginning to feel that these men were not worthy of his favor. I did not understand how they could stand by and ignore everything he had done to atone for his sins.