Gavin's Song (Road to Salvation A Last Rider's Trilogy 1)

She hadn’t bothered formally quitting and never went back. She hadn’t pressed charges either, too wary of exposing the fictitious identity that Will had given her. Carter Dawkins had enough power that a good lawyer could start snooping into her past, and Ginny didn’t want any red flags where her identity was concerned.

The real problem was that Carter Dawkins didn’t believe in taking no for an answer. Despite her nearly ripping his lip off when he had attacked her—enough for him to get stitches—Carter started frequenting the diner, staring at her with frightening intensity during her shifts.

She was grateful for the jobs Willa had given her at the bakery and clubhouse, which reduced her chances of seeing Carter to almost non-existent. Treepoint was small, but the chance of running into him in town was no more or less than any other person, and if she did, it wouldn’t matter; she was confined to this place because of her past.

She had already started the two crockpots for dinner when she got the vacuum out. It was quick work, and as she was putting it back in the closet the handle caught on one of the jackets hanging inside. Moving the jacket aside, she pushed the vacuum farther back into the closet and noticed the name sewn on a patch on the sleeve.

Reaper.

Without thinking, she reached out, running a finger over the letters. She hadn’t heard of anyone with that name. Goosebumps went down her arm as she wondered what type of man had earned that nickname.

“Don’t touch it.”

Ginny jumped at the harsh voice behind her. Turning around, she saw Viper standing behind her with Winter by his side.

“I’m sorry. I was just moving it away from the vacuum,” she explained, stepping away from the closet when Viper stepped forward to move the jacket himself.

“Problem solved.” Hard grooves were pronounced in his cheeks as he reached into the closet and took out the one that had his name on it before closing the door.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” Worried that he would think she had been snooping, she didn’t want Viper complaining to Willa and putting her on the spot for hiring her.

Winter gave her a smile as she gripped her husband’s arm. “It’s okay. Viper is sensitive about that jacket. It was his brother’s.”

Dread filled her at the implication. “Was?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, Winter.” He put his arm around her, directing her to the door.

Ginny felt terrible from the anguished look on Viper’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, closing the closet door. “I know how painful it is losing a sibling. I lost my sister a few years ago … the same day I lost my dad.”

Viper and Winter paused, listening.

Ginny gave Viper a bittersweet smile. “I still see her waving at me as they rode away”—Ginny blinked back tears—“and I still have her pink jacket in my closet. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she finished simply.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for yours also.”

Ginny nodded, moving away so they could leave. She went to the kitchen, then down to the basement to start a load of clothes. Thankfully, there was no one there and she was able to have time to herself to get her emotions back under control.

That the hard-as-nails president of The Last Riders’ expression had shown that same depth of pain she felt made him more likeable and not as formidable. Losing someone you loved would bring even the strongest man to their knees. Loss struck a devastating blow regardless of the person’s ability to withstand the pain, searing their soul forever. Viper, Bliss, and she had been marked; the only difference was how deep the burn went.

Hearing steps coming down the basement stairs, Ginny turned, seeing Jewell carrying a basket of clothes.

“Sorry, I meant to bring these down last night. You mind? I want to wear the top tonight.”

“No problem. I haven’t even started the load.” Taking the basket of clothes, she set it on the folding table, then picked up a blue top, accidently dislodging a set of keys. Seeing them fall, she clasped them in her hand mid-air.

“Good catch.” Jewell grinned, taking the keys from her. Then her eyes widened on Ginny’s exposed palm.

“Damn, that must have hurt like a motherfucker,” she said sympathetically.

Sorting through the rest of the clothes, Ginny saw that Jewell was still looking at her hand curiously. “You know the old saying.”

“Which one?”

Ginny gave her a rueful smile. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ginny raced around the house, getting everything organized. Making sure her bath towel was hanging before grabbing her curling rod, she went back to her bedroom to shove it in her suitcase, then zipped it closed. Wheeling the small suitcase to the steps, she grabbed it by the handle.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, I don’t want you to fix me anything to eat. And no, I don’t want you to bring me anything back from Lexington. Just go. Have a good time at the basketball game.”