Emma
I’d just told twelve bikers I was going back to the house where my husband nearly killed me.
Judging by their expressions, they thought I’d lost my mind.
Jake stood beside the clubhouse phone, looking like he was deciding whether to argue or throw me over his shoulder. Three weeks ago, he might’ve done both. Now he rubbed his face.
“Emma, Derek wants you there. That’s the point.”
“I know. But I’m not suggesting we knock on his front door.”
Nash leaned against the table. “Good, because I was starting to worry about you, sweetheart.”
I pointed toward Sophia’s monitor. “Derek plans everything. Even our vacations had schedules. Breakfast at eight, sightseeing at ten. God forbid I wanted to stop somewhere because I saw a cute shop.”
Raven snorted. “Sounds romantic.”
“Nothing says
