Thumper (Cerberus MC)

I don’t know what the plan is. There was nothing about their trip that was discussed with me. I know Lauren said that Javier has a tracker on him and that they were headed to Central America, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.

“Thank you,” I whisper, picking up my fork and mixing the scrambled eggs on my plate. I won’t eat much of it, and that has more to do with my lack of appetite rather than the same fear of being poisoned like I had before.

“Have you seen Mom this morning?” Cannon asks, looking over his shoulder and directing the question to Emmalyn.

“She and Khloe went to the grocery store. She’ll be back soon.”

Cannon turns off the water in the faucet and dries his hands on a dish towel before giving us both a quick nod and walking out of the kitchen.

I realize that he made me breakfast without making something for himself. The thought of being catered to doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not a bad feeling, just different. I’ve been doing everything for myself for so long, it’s weird to have others do things for me.

“How are you sleeping?” Emmalyn asks as she places her cup of coffee on the table and takes a seat across from me.

“I’m okay. The bed is really comfortable. I appreciate being able to stay here, and I promise to pay you back—”

She holds her hand up. “I’ll have none of that. There’s nothing to pay back.”

“I’ve been eating your food and sleeping here. I took a shower so long yesterday the water ran cold. I owe—”

“You owe nothing.” She smiles again, a compassionate soft hitch of her lips. “But if you want to do something to help, I have a suggestion.”

“Anything,” I say. “I can cook or clean or—”

“None of that. I want you to talk to someone.”

“Like a counselor?”

“I want you to talk to Mia.”

“I met Mia. She’s very nice. Just when she approached me, I was tired. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t not want to talk to her. It was late and—”

A chuckle escapes her lips. “I don’t mean just have a regular conversation. If you’re tired, you don’t have to make excuses to be around anyone or go to bed. You have complete freedom to do what you want when you want around here. Mia was abducted several years ago, and I think speaking with her will help.”

I nod, emotion clogging my throat. “She was?”

“Yes, and of course I’ve suggested it, but I want you to do it on your own time if you do it at all. It’s not a requirement to stay.”

“Thank you,” I say as she stands, taking her cup of coffee with her.

“And if you feel like it, we’re all going to be trying some new recipes at my house this afternoon.”

“Okay.”

She gives me another sweet smile before leaving the room.

Delilah was right about this place being different, so much so, that I feel a little guilty for even mentally comparing it to Knight Salvation. These women aren’t brainwashed and abused, and I blame my own upbringing, and my mom’s inability to escape my horrible father in the years before he just took off and never came back. Then she met and married a cult leader. I haven’t witnessed any stability in my life other than what I’ve been able to create myself, and that has been a long, hard road considering I spent more time working to pay bills and survive than actually living a fulfilling life.

These people are a family, some related by blood, but some choosing the others to bond with.

“Good morning,” Mia says as she enters the kitchen, and the timing is so perfect I have to wonder if it was coordinated with Emmalyn.

“Morning.” I’m not upset if it was, I was already wondering how I was going to approach her. “Listen, about last night.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I’m the one who had the energy drink too late in the day.”

“Trouble sleeping?” I know all about that.

She pours a cup of coffee. “I don’t sleep well when Ryan is gone.”

“Which one is he?”

“Scooter.” She smiles as she sits down across from me. “I’m comfortable here, and I’ve never had any reason to doubt my safety, but some nights when he’s gone are worse than others. It’s been years, but sometimes I’m still scared.”

“Years since you were abducted?” I ask, knowing parts of her story from what Emmalyn has mentioned.

She nods. “Most days I feel strong and all ‘I am woman hear me roar,’ but there are times when the shadows creep in.”

“How long were you gone? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind.” Her fingers toy with the handle on her coffee cup. “I was gone for nearly two months.”

“I feel guilty for being so upset I was gone for only two weeks.”