Unbeautifully

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I stared across the lawn, unable to move despite the hectic flow of traffic, people arguing, police officers running back and forth, children crying…

I just stood there and stared at the spot where not long ago Dorothy had been lying on the grass. Shot.

In the head.

There was so much blood.

And all I could think about was her swollen belly, her innocent baby inside.

What would happen to the baby?

Feeling sick, I placed my hand over my own flat stomach and dug my fingertips into my skin. Was this really happening?

Was Dorothy going to die? Her baby?

The bullet hadn’t killed her, at least not yet, and she’d since been taken to the hospital and her shooter, Jase’s wife Chrissy, had been carted off to jail, still screaming incoherently at Jase. I didn’t know where Jase was. Either at the hospital or the jail.

I hoped he was at the hospital.

There was so much blood.

“Danny?”

Recognizing Ripper’s voice, I didn’t bother turning. “Yes?” I whispered.

“Everyone’s either leavin’ or leavin’ for the hospital,” he said quietly. “You comin’?”

“Where’s ZZ?” I asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ripper stiffen. “Hospital,” he said tightly. “With Jase. He told you he was goin’, yeah?”

I nodded distractedly. Yeah, he had. I think. God…there was so much blood. And I was freezing.

Glancing up, I noted the sun still shining bright and high in the sky and frowned. Why was I so cold?

“Danny.” Ripper stepped in front of me, blocking out both the sun and the blood on the grass.

I glanced up at him. “What do you want?” I whispered. What did he want? Shouldn’t he be on his way to the hospital or out of town, whatever…?

“You’re shakin’,” he gritted out. “I’m tryin’ to get you to stop starin’ at the motherfuckin’ blood and go inside.”

I blinked. “I’m no stranger to blood, Ripper,” I said softly. “Or bullets,” I added.

“Or…dead babies.”

He visibly flinched and I immediately felt bad. I shouldn’t have said it, I don’t even know why I had, but I didn’t seem to be in control of myself. I was in shock and shaking.

And selfishly thinking about my own tragedies in place of the one that had just occurred right in front of me. During my marriage proposal…

Oh my god.

I glanced down at my left hand, at my ring finger. The ring was simple yet elegant, a band made of white gold with what I guessed was a two-carat diamond, princess cut, and circled by a thin line of diamond chips.

It was beautiful.

I hated it.

What was going on?

God, what the fuck was going on?

DANNY! BABY!

Ripper’s voice was suddenly echoing through my head, instantly returning my memories. Startled, I glanced up at him. He took one look at me and knew what I was thinking, knew I’d heard him yelling.

Everything about him told me he wanted me to drop it, to let it go, to not do what he already knew I was going to do.

Trembling, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He responded immediately, engulfed my hand inside his much larger, infinitely warmer one.

“What were you going to say?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Danny, let’s get you inside, baby, get you warm.”

“No!” I yanked my hand from his. “Tell me what you were going to say!”

His mouth flattened. “Does it matter?” he asked, nodding briskly at my ring-laden hand.

My insides seized and I fought the urge to scream at him, to beat him senseless. Did it matter? What was wrong with him? He no more wanted me to marry ZZ than I wanted to marry ZZ.

He still loved me.

“Say it,” I demanded, refusing to let him leave me again, every bone in my body suddenly protesting the very thought of it.

“Stop it,” he hissed.

“You started it!”

“Still so fuckin’ immature,” he growled. “Thinkin’ ’bout yourself when all around you, shit’s goin’ bad.”

“Are you really going to do this?” I cried, no longer caring who heard me, who knew about us. “Especially now? Are you going to keep running from me? From us? Because I can’t! Dammit, Ripper, I can’t! Not after this!”

I couldn’t. Not after I’d just watched Dorothy take a bullet to the head, all because she refused to let go of the man she loved, a man she might have died just to keep. Standing right in front of me was the man I loved and I didn’t want to spend one more second aching for him.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ spew this shit at me!” he yelled. “Right the fuck now? Right after Z puts a motherfuckin’ ring on your finger?”

“Stop it!” I shrieked, feeling him in his anger slipping away again. Retreating. Knowing that the second he could, he was going to get on his bike and put Montana and me in his rearview. And I couldn’t, I fucking couldn’t, let that happen.

“Stop ignoring this! Me! Just stop it! Admit it! Fucking admit you love me!”

“Yeah!” he yelled, grabbing my biceps and shaking me hard. “I fuckin’ love you, bitch! I’ve only ever loved you and I ain’t ever stopped!”

Despite his painfully bruising grip on my arms or that he was shaking me so hard I could feel my brain rattle inside my skull, I felt an instant relief flood me. He loved me. And right now, it seemed to be the only thing that mattered to me.

“Don’t matter though, does it? ’Cause you didn’t give two fucks about me! Proved it when instead of tellin’ me about my fuckin’ baby, you started fuckin’ Z! You coulda told me about the baby, Danny! You shoulda told me about the baby!”

Tears burned in my eyes.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry!” he yelled, shaking me again. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cry!”

“You left me!” I cried. “You just left me here all alone! I needed you and you left me!”

“You’re Z’s now! You’re his fuckin’ old lady and I got no right to be lovin’ you!”

“I’ve never been his,” I whispered. “Ripper, I’ve always been yours.”

His features tightening, he squeezed his eyes shut, and trembled ever so slightly.

“Dammit, Danielle,” he whispered hoarsely. “God fuckin’ dammit.”

• • •

Ripper, I’ve always been yours.

Ripper stared down at Danny’s tear-streaked face, his body shaking, not from rage, but from need. He wanted her back more than he’d ever wanted anything. He wanted her more than he wanted his fucking eye back; in fact, she could have his other eye if she wanted it.

Fuck him, he loved her. He loved every damn part of her. Every inch of flawless skin, every cell that made her into who and what she was. He loved her eyes and her mouth, he loved her breasts, her legs, all ten of her toes. He loved being inside of her, he loved just being in her presence. He loved the holy fuck out of her and if he’d known then that Deuce would have been not murderous, but instead violently accepting of Danny being with one of his boys, he would have shed light to his feelings long ago. Nikki would have never been blindsided at finding Danny with him, Danny never would have had to shoot Nikki, and he never would have had to leave. He’d be the man taking daily beat-downs and every single one of them would be worth it, worth it because it would have meant he’d be the man going to bed at night with Danny in his arms.

Not ZZ.

Never ZZ.

Something solidified inside of him, the part of him that had been broken and aching to be whole again. The part of him that, for a short time, had experienced what it meant to be truly happy, and he desperately wanted it back.

A quick glance around the lawn reminded him that they weren’t alone, and the remaining stragglers were openly gaping at the two of them. Mick and Adriana, Cox and Kami, Dirty, a couple of club whores, and Eva. His gaze caught that of Deuce’s old lady, and surprisingly didn’t find any disapproval in her eyes. Just tears. For Dorothy or for Danny or both, he didn’t know.

“Please, Ripper,” Danny whispered. “Don’t leave me again.”

He didn’t answer her; instead he released her arms and grabbed her waist, heaving her up against him. Carrying her, he strode across the lawn, unapologetically meeting the gazes of everyone who was staring. He didn’t care anymore. He was done being a pussy. He was done being angry. He was way past done wishing.

He would deal with ZZ.

He would talk to Deuce.

But first he was going to take back his woman.

Once inside the club, he headed straight to his room where, once inside, the door locked behind him, he set her down on the bed and stood over her.

She said nothing, just stared in disbelief at him, heavy tears streaming down her cheeks, her chest rising and falling with deep, harsh breaths. He fell to his knees in front of her, the longtime pain of missing her, needing her, still radiating inside of him, making him incapable of standing one second longer.

“Danny,” he choked out, looking away. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m—”

He jerked, surprised, as she leaned forward to press her lips against his neck, and a shudder tore through him. Unwittingly, his eyes closed.

“No talking,” she murmured.

He felt her hands on his biceps, her nails digging in his skin as she gripped him tightly, and then something soft and warm brushed across his lips. Again, he felt her kiss him.

She let out a tear-filled, shuddery breath. “I’ve missed you so much,” she admitted in a small voice that made his heart swell. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you, I think about you all the—”

He didn’t let her finish. His eyes flew open and he was on her. Shoving her backward, he bore down on her and cupped the side of her face. Tilting her head to the left, preparing to kiss her, he stared down at her perfect sweetheart features. Big blue eyes, a cute little nose, and wide, perfect pink lips, parted slightly as she breathed in and out…waiting for him.

The way she always had.

…And he kissed her.

And kissed her.

Fucking kissed her.

Kissed the fucking shit out of her.

Kissed her the way he’d been wanting to kiss her since he’d left her.

“Fuck,” he muttered in between kisses. Suffocating, nearly violent kisses that were growing harder, even more demanding.

Ah, god, he was touching her now and she felt just as good as he remembered, soft and smooth skin molded tightly over beautifully toned muscles.

“I want you,” she breathed out, her words barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, baby,” he rasped and slid his tongue back into her mouth.

He kissed her again, harder, his hand fisting tightly in her hair.

Her fingernails bit into his neck. “I love you,” she cried softly, breathlessly, but no less demanding. “And…I want you now…right now.”

• • •

“Oh god,” I breathed. This was actually happening. Ripper was home, I was in his room, on his bed, and he was nearly inside of me.

“Need you baby,” Ripper rasped, pushing my legs further apart. “Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Yes,” I whispered, arching my hips for him. “Please…”

“Fuckin’ love that,” he muttered. “Missed that.”

“Love…what,” I panted.

“You beggin’ me, baby,” he whispered, teasing me with his tip. “You beggin’ me for my cock,” he continued, pushing inside of me.

Oh god, it was so good, so all-consuming, filling me to the brim.

Which was why, when I burst into tears, I hadn’t a clue as to why.

They weren’t just any tears; they were an ugly, unstoppable, body-wracking waterfall of hiccupping, breathless sobs.

It was suddenly too much. Me. Him. Dorothy and Jase. ZZ. The club. Everyone and everything. Too much pain and sorrow, years of it, one tragedy after the other, too many bad memories of wasted moments spent yearning, wishing, and aching for something I’d thought I’d lost forever. Too much effort spent trying to fill the hole inside of me, a hole that had grown too big, too deep, and no matter how many new moments and memories I tried to shovel inside of it, it remained forever empty.

Now he was here. I was in his room, in his bed, and he was inside of me.

How had this happened? ZZ had been down on one knee in front of me, asking me to marry him and now…

It didn’t make any sense.

Did love make sense?

Oh god, it was all too much.

But like most things involving Ripper and me, they were always impulsive, messy, and confusing, giving new meaning to the term whirlwind romance.

Hasty, impetuous, we were like lightning and tornados in a flurry of both excitement and agitation, making rapid, rash decisions, feeling, only feeling, never thinking, all the while heading face-first into a churning whirlpool of turmoil and not caring who we hurt along the way.

It was too much.

I was aware of Ripper leaving my body, felt the warmth of him disappear, and I cried even harder, the loss of his touch stirring up more unwanted memories.

Then he was back, slipping his hands underneath me, picking me up and cradling me against his chest. I burrowed into him, gripping him as hard as I could, sobbing even harder, unaware of anything but the naked pain that I’d tried for so long to ignore, that had all at once broken through the surface and found it had nowhere to go.

“I can’t do this,” I cried. “I can’t…I can’t.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, stroking my tear-soaked hair. “You don’t have to do anything, baby, nothin’ at all.”