Bare (Diamondback MC 3)

“Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.”

– Rumi

Prologue

Sadie

Your past always has a way of catching up to your future, that’s how the saying goes. Truer words were never spoken. I’d like to say meeting Mack, having one night of stupidity with him, was a mistake, but that’d also be saying my now two-year-old beautiful baby girl was one. She’s not. Henley is my whole world, even when she’s fighting sleep like she is tonight. I can’t blame her though, it’s been one thing after another lately. Just last week, we were surrounded by a family of sorts. Ruger has definitely become a permanent fixture in our lives since Mack got so deep in with the Cartel that it ended up taking his life, something I know more about than I should.

“Shh, baby girl,” I coo softly. This is the first night we’ve been back in our apartment since Shovel declared it safe enough to leave the clubhouse. I’ve been reluctant to accept help all along, even though I should take it. The threadbare carpet beneath my feet, the loud sirens wailing outside our doors, the peeling ceiling from past leaks that were never fixed by the landlord. Yeah, I should definitely take Ruger’s help, but I’ve done my time with a bad boy. It ended with Henley fatherless and me not sure whether I should be thankful that Mack is gone or sad because, well, now my baby girl doesn’t have him in her life.

I continue walking and swaying Henley, not sure what could be causing her to be so fussy. She’s eaten, she’s in her nighttime diaper in case of an accident, which is dry, but that doesn’t stop the waterworks from leaving her beautiful green eyes or the wailing she’s doing. Thankfully, it’s not her loud wail that will have the neighbors banging on the walls and yelling at me. Did I mention this apartment is shit? It’s what I can afford though.

A knock on the door has Henley’s head popping up, making her cry louder and me wondering who that could be. Not that I’m going to open the door. It’s well past midnight, plus there’s another factor. I have no freaking peephole.

“Sadie, open the door, sugar. I know you’re in there, and I can hear Henley.” Speaking of permanent fixtures, Ruger standing on the other side of my door tells me everything I already know but don’t want to admit to myself.

“Ru-ru,” Henley babbles out her name for Ruger.

“Yes, that’s Ruger. Should we answer the door?” I ask her, but I’m already walking towards it and the three locks that were installed just a couple of months ago when we came back into town when the Mack issue came out to play.

“Yes.” Her ‘s’ hisses like a snake.

“Okay, but first we need to clean up your eyes and nose, Henley-boo.” I grab a tissue from the table by the door, making quick work of cleaning her up, and then go through the motions of unbolting the locks.

“Sadie,” Ruger says, hand up, about to knock again when I open the door.

“Ru-ru.” Henley launches herself at Ruger, his arms open and ready.

“Henley, my girl. What are you doing up so late?” he asks her. His lips graze my forehead in a kiss. That’s something new and one of the many things I’ve been trying to decipher tonight while attempting to get Henley to sleep.

“She’s having a rough night. What are you doing here?” Ruger moves into my apartment, and I snap out of it, shutting and locking the door.

“Was in the neighborhood. Why don’t you go get ready for bed yourself, and I’ll work on getting her down.” This is so typical of Ruger, almost bossing me around but making it seem like a favor. I’m too tired to argue, and if I want to get an early start on some work projects tomorrow, I’d be stupid not to take him up on it.

“Fine, but she may not sleep. I’m wondering if she’s teething.” Her red curls are sticking up every which way, thumb in her mouth, and her head is on Ruger’s chest. Thankfully, she’s quiet.

“That’s okay too. Really wish you’d move out of this area.” It’s the same song and dance we’ve had for what seems like ever. The last time we stayed with Ruger in his room at the clubhouse, and let’s just say even though Henley was in her pack and play, I reached for Ruger in the middle of the night, he got me off with his fingers, kissing me senseless, and I attempted to reciprocate. It didn’t happen though; he wouldn’t let me unless I admitted I was his woman.

“It’s fine and hopefully only for a little bit longer.” Needless to say, I wasn’t ready to tell Ruger I was his, even if I wanted it with every depth of my being. And I’m the only one holding us back. I’m a train wreck of epic proportions, but it’s not like my track record with men has been the best either.