He was right. She was protecting herself, feeling like the woman who’d retreated behind the mask she’d created for herself. She was hiding there again, terrified, afraid of believing anyone could really love her. The moment her faith in him had been tested, she’d failed. She knew it would happen again and again.
“Before you open that door and we go any further, Absinthe, you have to know that I want to be with you more than anything in the world. I came to you with that intention. You think you’re fucked up, but you don’t hold the corner on that market. I am too. I have issues as well and, sadly, I’m not certain I’ll get over them no matter how much I want to. And I do, for you, for me, so we can be together.”
“No matter what, whether you accept me or not, our club is going to protect you, Scarlet. We’re not letting you face Holden or any of the MCs he sends after you.”
Scarlet’s heart skipped a beat. “Just how much do you know about Holden and me?”TENAbsinthe pushed the door open and waved Scarlet inside. Someone had already turned on the gas fireplace and the logs were burning low, sending heat through the cavernous room. At one time, the building had originally been a paymaster’s building. Turning it into their clubhouse had been a labor of love. Master, Keys, Player and Maestro were all woodworkers in their way, builders and craftsmen. Aside from loving instruments and all things music, they had an affinity for building things.
The four members of Torpedo Ink had taken on the older, run-down properties the club had acquired and, one by one, began to rebuild them, most from the ground up. Together they formed a construction company, although they rarely took a job outside of the club because they were busy restoring Caspar into the beautiful little village it once was.
The common room was a favorite of Absinthe’s not only because was there a tremendous amount of space, even when they were throwing parties, but because the design fit with the actual layout of the outside landscape. The long sweeping bar was curved, the top made of a gleaming oak. Bar stools were comfortable and inviting, but not as comfortable as the furniture Lana had chosen for the room.
Lana had asked him what, if anything, she had a talent for. She might think she wasn’t good at anything, but it wasn’t so. Anya could look at the bar and immediately notice all the things that would help Preacher improve it. She could shave steps off the work areas, make the drinks faster and more efficiently, just by the placement of the alcohol. She did the same with the tables and chairs and where the dance floor was located in relation to where customers purchased drinks, but she didn’t know the first thing about seating.
Lana knew how to make everyone comfortable seated in those chairs. She knew the exact tables and chairs that would look perfect in the bar. Or the clubhouse. Or Alena’s restaurant. Between Anya’s eye for the details of making things work easier for Alena and Lana’s eye for comfort and beauty, and Alena’s for food, the restaurant was a huge success, the bar as well, and all of them felt right at home in the clubhouse.
He indicated one of the armchairs across from the fireplace for Scarlet to sit and glanced up at the camera before tapping his finger on the table next to it. Just walking through the entrance they’d been scanned for any recording devices. It was imperative that they were always careful. Scarlet had weapons on her, but hopefully she hadn’t come prepared to record any conversation between them.
Soft music flooded the room in answer. She was clean. Absinthe took the chair at an angle from her, very close. He wanted to see her face, but if necessary, be able to run his fingers over her pulse.
“I told you about how we lived in those harsh conditions as children and what those fuckers did to us every damn day. We had to find a way to survive, Scarlet. You may as well know one of the worst things I’ve done. We began to target them. First the worst of them. The ones that liked to kill and do it especially painfully. Some of us would crawl through the vents together. One or two would be on lookout. I would make the suggestion to look the other way or not to see. Either Demyan or I would sacrifice ourselves, whoever was in the best shape, and let the fucker have us until the others were in place. Then we’d make the suggestion to look the other way, to not see, and either Reaper, Savage, Maestro or Keys would come out of the vent and slit their throat. At the same time, Mechanic would disrupt the security cameras, looping them, so no one would ever see any of us with our chosen victim.”