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Opening the video file, the grainy footage plays back in front of me. I watch it intently as the scene from that night unfolds. The man grabbing Kimmie, the brief struggle, and then the moment I had walked out, scaring the guy off.
I replay the footage several times, my frustration growing each time as I fail to see anything that could identify the man.
I can clearly see the man's lips moving as he says something to her but I can’t read his lips well enough to figure it out.
I’m almost ready to throw the damn computer as I wonder why the fuck we don’t have cameras out there with audio. The man definitely said something to her and she answered back. I want answers damnit!
“Ringo?”
The soft voice behind me makes me jump, and I quickly turn around to see Kimmie standing in the doorway. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and concern.
She’s wearing one of my old T-shirts, the hem brushing against her thighs, and her hair is tousled from my hands being wrapped up in it earlier as she screamed out in pleasure.
“What are you doing?” she asks, walking over to where I’m sitting.
I sigh, closing the laptop as she approaches. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “I was going over the footage from the cameras behind the cafe, trying to figure out who that guy was.”
She frowns, her eyes darting to the laptop. “Why?” I can tell she’s now wondering if I was able to hear anything.
“Because,” I say, my tone firmer than I had intended, “I need to know what he wanted. I need to know if you’re in danger, Kimmie.”
Her gaze softens a little, but she remains silent, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. I can literally see her walls going up again, the ones she uses to keep the world at bay.
“I need you to be honest with me,” I say, gentling my voice as I reach out to take her hand. “Did he say anything else to you that night? Anything that might help me understand why he was after you?”
She looks away, her hesitation about letting me in clearly on her face. “He didn’t say anything,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why. I don’t even know who he was.”
Squeezing her hand, my frustration soars through the roof. “There has to be something more. People don’t just show up in dark alleys and attack strangers for no reason.”
Kimmie remains silent, her gaze fixed on the floor at our feet. I can feel the tension between us, the unspoken words hanging in the air. I already know she is holding back, and I honestly can’t stand it any longer.
“Kimmie.” I begin again, softening my voice the way I do when dealing with the horses out at the ranch, “I’m telling you this because I trust you. Because I need you to trust me too.”
I pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. “When I was a kid, I had a really bad stutter. It was so bad that I could barely get a sentence out without tripping over my words. Kids made fun of me, and I hated talking to anyone. I still hate talking to just anyone.”
Her eyes widen slightly with surprise by my sudden confession. I’ve never talked much about my past, but I feel like I need to share something more personal with her.
“I spent years in therapy,” I continue, my voice steady but slow, choosing each word carefully. “Learning how to control it, how to slow down and think before I speak. That’s why I talk the way I do now. It’s not because I’m slow or because I don’t have anything to say. It’s because I’m making sure I get the words out right, so I don’t trip over them like I used to.”
Kimmie’s expression softens even more. “I had no idea...”
I shake my head, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I don’t usually talk about it. But I wanted you to know, because it’s important to me that we’re honest with each other. I’ve been honest with you, and now I need you to be honest with me. If there’s something more going on, something you’re not telling me, I need to know. Not just for your sake but for my club as well. We’re family and we take care of each other. That now extends to you as well.”
She hesitates, her eyes searching my face for a long moment. Then, with a deep breath, she speaks, her voice trembling slightly.
“I don’t know who he was, Ringo, I swear. But... I know who he works for.”
“Who does he work for?” I demand softly, my heart racing that she’s finally telling me something.
“Hugo, Remmy’s dad.” She says in a small voice as a tear falls down her cheek.
Grabbing her hand, I move us both over to the couch, sitting down and pulling her into my lap.
“I need you to tell me all of it. Can you do that for me?” I say softly, reaching up to dry the tears on her face.
Her eyes look back at my own and I feel like I’m punched in the gut by the fear shining in her eyes. Pulling her face to mine, I gently kiss her lips hoping to convey to her that I will protect them both with my life.
“I don’t remember my parents much. I think my mom died or something when I was a baby. My father, I have a picture of him but the only thing I really remember is the day he left me at what I can only describe as a brothel. There were a lot of women there, young girls like me as well.”
