“Not really, that’s when I found out,” I told her.

“And you didn’t end things with him when he turned out to be a vigilante?” she pushed.

I shut up.

She still knew my answer since I didn’t end things with Shy. He’d ended them with me.

Thus she kept talking.

“And, although you didn’t share the fullness of your maneuvers with Chaos against Bounty with your mother, you put your behind on the line for Chaos against your old man’s club knowing they had something planned for your old man’s club. And since that is not about Chaos turf in Denver or Englewood, but things happening on Bounty turf in Aurora, this had something to do with this war with this Benito person you also knew about.”

“I heard Beck talking about what his brothers were getting into. And that Benito guy. And the Chaos situation. And old ladies and biker groupies chat. So, not all of it, but yeah, I knew enough of it.”

“Enough of it you approached Chaos to help out,” she surmised.

I shut up again.

“Because you wanted Beck to sort himself out,” she kept at me.

“At first,” I said.

“And when he continued to go along with his club when they were doing seriously stupid stuff that put you all in danger, you gave up on him and started to see what else was out there, even if this happened unintentionally. That something else in your face and your life and involved with this situation,” she deduced.

I nodded.

She nodded back and kept going.

“I think it’s important to note that you were in danger even before you informed on your old man’s club, Rosalie. The authorities don’t like anyone enjoying ill-gotten gains, not even those who gained them consequently. This might not mean you’d be prosecuted when they’d gotten caught. What it would mean is that, if you’d bought a home with Beck’s dirty money, it would be taken from you. If you’d bought a car, it would be taken from you. If you’d had children with him, the powers that be might concern themselves with your ability to make good choices for yourself and your children, and they might consider taking them from you. And Beck made conscious decisions to put you right there. It was you who made conscious decisions to get you and him out.”

“I know what happened, Mom,” I said carefully.

“And in the meantime, you met Snapper, who came to mean something to you, something deep and good and important. A Snapper who is with a club at war with a man who peddles flesh and makes porn and your issue is…?” she prompted.

“He might get hurt,” I told her.

“Yes, and a police officer faces every shift every day with that same risk.”

And finally we were where I needed us to be.

“Snap is not police,” I pointed out.

“And a soldier faces that every day when they’re deployed,” she kept on like I didn’t say anything.

“He’s not a soldier either, Mom.”

She jerked her head to the side. “He isn’t?”

I shut up again.

“You know,” she carried on, “in a perfect world, there are rules and everyone abides by them. There is good and there is bad and everyone understands which is which. There is dark and there is light and each person understands which they carry inside them. But this isn’t a perfect world, Rosalie, and it never will be. In every case, in every instance, in every nook and cranny on this planet, the lines are blurred. Each person has to decide their version of what is right and what is not. And so far, you haven’t told me anything that, according to my version, isn’t right about Snapper Kavanaugh or his Club.”

“I’m scared of losing him to this war,” I told her.

“And he’s deeply in love with you. How do you think he’s felt all these months you’ve been a part of an outlaw motorcycle club you’ve been informing on, Rosalie? How well do you think he’s slept knowing he couldn’t protect you every second of every day? And now, when what happened to you happened, living with how that might scar you and he’s powerless over that too.”

Not exactly.

He was so far really good at handling that last part.

That said, I’d never considered how Snapper might have felt about what danger I was putting myself in. I’d just pushed him away when worse came to worse and he was blaming himself and hurting for me and wanting to step up to take care of me.

Not wanting to do it.

Doing it.

God!

Now I not only had a messed-up head, I was a selfish bitch.

“Life is a risk, Rosalie,” she said impatiently, cutting into my thoughts. “And I totally understand you being hesitant after that pack of mongrels set themselves on you. But I hope I raised a daughter stronger than that. A daughter who can get herself past that and recognize what’s good for her, grab hold, and keep it close and safe for as long as God gives her the privilege of having it.”

I looked away and sipped coffee, right then worried that I wasn’t that daughter she’d hoped she’d raised.

The coffee was awesome, and as such fortifying, but nothing could be fortifying enough to pull my stuff together on this.

Mom’s tone was a lot gentler when she noted, “You say you’re in love with him.”

“I fell in love with him while I was with another man,” I told the nicked coffee table covered in spent magazines and used books for sale that had been taken from shelves, perused over coffee, and left for next time.