Page 147 of Nyx

"I guess you could call it that. My ex-husband was there. He was always there. He wanted me to work to contribute to the bills, but I couldn't do it unsupervised. He'd found money I had stashed, my getaway plan. Kincaid saw him hit me."

"He hit you in public?" I say, knowing that a lot of men keep their abuse hidden from others. How terrible her life must've been at home if her husband was willing to hurt her in front of witnesses.

"Yes, and it wasn't the first time, but Kincaid saw and punched the hell out of him."

"I can see that about him," I say, but honestly, I bet any man connected to Cerberus would do the same thing.

"He told me to get on his motorcycle. Listening to him that night was the best thing I could've ever done," she says, a hint of nostalgia in her tone.

"And the ex-husband?"

Her face falls, but she doesn't look sad or upset.

"Kincaid killed him in the living room," she says, hitching her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the other room.

The knife I'm holding clatters to the countertop.

"What?"

"He was working with another member of Cerberus who had betrayed the club," she continues. "He broke in trying to come after me, and Kincaid stopped him."

It doesn't go unnoticed by me that she refers to her husband as Diego when it's something personal, but by his road name when it's work-related.

"He slayed your dragon," I whisper.

"He did," she confirms. "And his vetting process for new Cerberus members is so extensive, I think they reject ten people for every one they accept."

"A hard club to join, huh?"

"The hardest, no doubt, but that just means the people we do get are the best of the best. They have the highest morals, integrity, and dependability you could ever hope for."

I had a sense that was the case, but her words confirm it.

"I'm so glad to have found Farmington," I say, keeping my eyes on the cutting board as I work. "I'm grateful for the help they've provided for me. They didn't have to hire me after they found out about my past."

"Juliet," she says, drawing my eyes to her. "Make no mistake, they hired you because of your past. They're the type of men who see a need and know they can't just walk away without solving the problem. I don't negate the fact that you're incredibly qualified for the position, but they'd never sense a threat against someone, especially a woman, and just walk away. Their moral compasses are too unyielding. They'd lose sleep at night if they thought they could've done more and didn't."

"I'm just glad to be a part of it for however long I can be," I assure her. "I can't even find the words to explain how grateful I am."

"They'd never ask you to. They don't do the things they do because they expect something in return."

"They started working to save and protect women because of your history?" I ask, finishing up the celery and starting on the broccoli.

"Diego's mother was killed by their father," she says, and once again I drop my knife to the counter. "I think that contributed, but the true start of the club happened when Diego and some of the others got out of the Marine Corps. Their good friends, Doc and Rose, had a rough time in their marriage, and that contributed as well."

"Was Doc abusive to Rose?"

"Oh God, no," Emmalyn says. "Sorry. I didn't explain that well at all. Doc was married to Rose. He was stationed at the same base as Diego, Kid, Shadow, Itchy, and Snatch. Rose was a reporter working in the same area and was abducted and held prisoner. The club started when they got out, with the focus of rescuing sex-trafficked women."

"She was sex-trafficked?"

Emmalyn shakes her head. "I'm terrible at storytelling. Thankfully, no, she wasn't, but the guys had seen a lot of terrible things in the military. Things they could not stop, so the idea of the club just grew from there."

"A lifetime of helping others," I say. "That's something you can hang your hat on."

"It truly is," she says. "I'm so grateful Diego was there that night, and even more grateful I get to be a part of this club. They do a lot of great things."

"Don't discount your own efforts," I tell her. "The women at Juniper House love you, and your help there counts as well."