The Butcher (Ruthless Sinners MC 10)

Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over to the bed. He leaned down, and without the slightest grunt or sign of struggle, he lifted me up into his arms and carried me out of the room. Seconds later, we were walking past his enormous kitchen with its white walls and countertops and into his living room.

Again, everything in the room was white—the walls, the sofa, the chairs, and the rugs. Even the paintings on the walls were shades of white with a black or gray background. The guest room had been much of the same with its white comforter and carpets, and while it was all really nice, I found it a little odd.

Actually, I found it more than a little odd, but the thought quickly came and went. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything when I was in his arms. It was strange, but I’d never felt safer. Billy carefully lowered me onto his sofa and adjusted the pillows before saying, “I’ll be back.”

Seconds later, he returned with a tray of food. As he lowered it down to the coffee table, he told me, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I kept it simple.”

“I’m sure it will be great.”

I looked over to the table to find that he’d made us both a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It was the same meal my father fixed any time I was sick or feeling down in the dumps, and I found it endearing that Billy had done the same. I took the bowl in my hand and took a quick bite before asking, “Was someone here earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard you talking to someone.”

“It was my daughter, Kiersten. The one I mentioned earlier... She came by to drop off a few things.”

“Oh.” I don’t know why, but up until that moment, I hadn’t even considered the possibility that he was married, much less that he was a father. “So, she doesn’t live here with you?”

“No, she’s got a place of her own.” He took his soup and sandwich and carried them over to the kitchen table. “It’s about a half-hour or so from here.”

“It’s nice that she’s so close.”

“I certainly think so.”

I knew I was being intrusive, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I’m sure your wife does, too.”

“I’m sure she would if she was still alive.” There was no missing the anguish in his voice when he said, “She passed just over ten years ago.”

“I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”

“No way you could’ve known.”

He turned his attention back to his soup and started eating, putting an end to our conversation. We both finished eating in silence, and once we were both done, Billy collected our dishes and carried them over to the sink. He didn’t say a word as he cleaned up the dishes and put the leftovers away. I thought he was going to avoid talking to me for the rest of the night, but then he surprised me by coming back into the living room.

Billy sat down on the loveseat across from me as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad.” I smiled as I told him, “Dinner was really good. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Silence fell upon us once again, and I didn’t know what to think. It was clear from his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw that he had something on his mind, but I had no idea what until he finally asked, “How did you become involved with Antonio DeLuca?”

“Well, it wasn’t by choice, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Then, what was it?”

“He used my father’s debt against me.”

Billy looked physically pained as he listened to me describe the day DeLuca’s men came to my house and forced me into their car. I didn’t go into every detail, but I told him about my father’s gambling debt and how DeLuca used that debt and my father’s life to force me to work for him.

“How long had it been?”

“Just over five years.”

“Damn.” Billy shook his head as he grumbled, “He stole five years of your life.”

“He did.” Billy’s expression softened when I told him, “You can’t imagine how hard it was to be taken away from my family and friends. I felt so alone. I hated being locked away in that room, night after night, day after day, and year after year.”