Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC Book 2) by Marie Jordan

Author:Marie, Jordan [Marie, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, MC
Published: 2015-04-05T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Dragon

I’m probably making a mistake. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve wrestled with it for a week and I’m still not sure how to handle things. The only thing clear is that Dancer is not getting better. He may have allowed Carrie to get closer to him, but a damned fool could see he is just going through the motions. If I continue to ignore it and do nothing? If I do that and Dancer keeps spiraling? That will be on me. So, I know I have to try and reach him. The thing is, I have no fucking idea how to do that.

When I talked with Nicole in Dance’s hospital room and he started having a nightmare, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought he was reliving almost drowning. I know he is having trouble adjusting to the outside and I know he has secrets. I had no idea how bad those secrets are.

When he screamed out against unseen men holding him down, my blood ran cold. When he cried out how he would gut them? My heart stopped. When Dance cried? Cried in his motherfucking sleep? I wanted to join in. I didn’t. My woman did. She cried and looked at me with such sadness, I wanted to scream. Instead I held her close, buried my face into her neck and tried to absorb her. His words didn’t stop, each one more horrific than the next. When Nicole could take no more, I kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulder. Then, I watched her leave.

It was all I could do not to leave with her. She ran from the room, ran away from the horrible truth. I didn’t. I stood there listening to a story unfold that brought me to my fucking knees.

Now this shit is like acid swimming in my system. I need to try and help Dance. I need to be here for him, like I failed to do when he was locked up. I just don’t know how. I am at a loss. So, I find myself here. I figure I am fucking up, but I’m afraid not to try. Me…afraid. Fuck.

When Dancer makes it into the club the room is eerily quiet. There’s no music, no crowds, nothing. It’s empty with the exception of me. I’m sitting at a table with a bottle of Jack and two glasses.

“What the fuck is this?” Dancer demands stopping at the door. His hands are pushed so far in his damn jeans, it’s a wonder the pockets don’t rip.

I don’t respond. I figure he knows what is going on. I pour two drinks and kick a chair out in front of me. I watch his hand shake as he rakes it across his beard. He doesn’t want this. Hell, I don’t want this.

“Say what’s on your mind,” he orders, watching me.

I take my shot and down it quickly. I drop the glass back on the table. The sound echoes in the room.

“Sit.”

“I don’t feel like doing this

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