by Bella Jewel
“I agree, which is why it is your choice if you choose to have them help,” Slater says, his voice gravelly and low.
“If they have so many connections,” Maverick adds. “Gotta know, why haven’t you used them before?”
“I wasn’t to speak with them when my loyalty was with Shanks. You understand, I was going to do anything to find Ellie, even if that meant I had to give up my family until I did.”
Brutal.
“That’s a big choice,” Malakai says, his eyes scanning over the three men. “You say you run an underground fighting club. Is it legal?”
Lincoln, who seems the oldest of the four brothers, meets Malakai’s eyes and shakes his head. “Not legal. But, how many of them are?”
“Make a valid point,” Malakai murmurs. “What exactly do you achieve from running something that could get you into a fuck load of trouble?”
“Intel. A way into the underground world. Information. We all have demons, we all want to slay them. Gotta fuck with the fire to get what you want, no point in doin’ it clean. I get the information I need. I have a name. My brothers have a name. Nobody fucks with us. We get shit done. That fightin’ ring is our life, and it is what’ll get Slater’s girl back.”
Malakai stares at Lincoln for a minute and then nods. “Got a good deal of respect for that.”
Lincoln nods. “Heard of you. Know the ins and outs of your club. Not here to cause you any problems, willin’ to work together to get the information needed. No toes need to be treaded on.”
“And how can we trust you?” Mason asks, crossing his arms. “Because fuck knows we’ve had nothin’ but shit the last six months. Can’t trust a single fuckin’ person outside of this group these days. Hell, we don’t even trust all the members of our club, and that’s fuckin’ sayin’ somethin’. You’re askin’ us to trust strangers.”
Lincoln nods. “Can only tell you we mean good. Like anythin’, trust takes time. We build up to that. We let you in, you let us in. One goes down, we all go down. That’s how this works, isn’t it? That’s the best way for trust to go both ways. We open the door wide fuckin’ open and if someone chooses to step out of it, we all suffer.”
“Logical,” I mutter. “We’re all puttin’ ourselves at risk, if someone betrays the trust, we all go down. Only way it’ll work without time on our side.”
Malakai nods, crossing his arms. “So you’re sayin’ you’re goin’ to give us the ins and outs of that fighting ring, and all the information you have, and we do the same. And that’s our promise of trust?”
Lincoln nods. “All in.”
“All in,” Malakai murmurs. “Got to know, why you’d risk all of what you’ve worked for to find a girl?”
“Not about the girl,” Damon speaks, his voice rough, deep and low. “It’s about our brother. He’s been through fuckin’ hell to try and find that girl, he’s risked it all, and now he’s part of your club. Best place for him to be. But alone, you’ll not have enough to find where Ellie is. Together, we have a chance. You do that for family.”
Got a whole lot of respect for these boys in this moment.
A fuck load of it.
“Let us discuss it, understand I’m not goin’ to just make a choice without first consultin’ all the members of my club. We’ll have an answer for you by mornin’,” Malakai finally concludes.
Lincoln nods, and the three brothers stand. Slater stays seated. He’s part of the club now.
“One question,” I ask, and only because it suddenly pops into my head when I see Slater stay seated. “If, and I know it’s a big fuckin’ if, someone betrays this little agreement, and shit hits the fan, Slater, where is your loyalty going to lie? Because if this went wrong, it would be your family against your club.”
“Valid fuckin’ question,” Malakai nods at me.
Slater looks to us, then to his brothers. But it’s Lincoln that speaks. “You pulled my brother from the depths of a fuckin’ monster, he swore his loyalty to you. That’s where we’d expect it to lie.”
Fuck.
Yeah.
I like these boys.
Slater nods. “My loyalty is with the club.”
“Big fuckin’ call,” I add, even though I respect the hell out of him for saying that. “Family is family.”
“Loyalty is with the club,” Slater says again, holding my eyes.
Malakai nods and stands. “We’ll have your answer by tomorrow.”
The three men nod and leave the compound.
Just when we thought things were coming good, we just opened our arms to a whole new world.
And possibly a fuck load of problems.
This could go either way.
~8~
NOW – CHANTELLE
“So, you and Boston don’t speak anymore?” Saskia asks, flopping down onto Mason’s couch beside me.
I came over after my shift. We’re going to have a few drinks. Mason gave Saskia the okay to have a few, because her recovery has been long, but I know she’s looking forward to slowly getting her life back on track after everything that went down with Enzo. She went through a lot, and deserves happiness more than anyone I know.
“No,” I mutter, taking the beer she offers me. “The last time I saw him was when I told you he came over drunk, told me a little about Maverick, and then told me he had to cut contact for a bit, because he was conflicted when it came to Penny and me. Since then, he has tried to call, more than once, but I’ve not answered.”
“And how does that feel,” Saskia asks, crossing her legs and sipping her beer with a moan.
“Shit,” I admit, huffing. “Regardless of anything, we had a good connection, you know? I’ve tried talking to a few other men in the last month, but there’s just nothing there. Nothing feels the same. Nothing even comes close. Boston and I, we talked so freely. And I miss it. I miss him.”
“You should tell him that,” Saskia suggests, raising her brows.
“Woman, you’re the one who told me it was for the best, and that cutting contact was better for everyone as someone was going to get hurt.”
Saskia grins at me. “Yes, I did say that. But you’re miserable, and I hate that. I hate seeing you in pain. Maybe I didn’t know what was best, I mean, I was trying to protect you which is my job and all …”
“You made the right call …” I admit, even though it sucks to admit it. “But it doesn’t make it feel any better. Especially not when Penny gets to see him every day.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s spending time with her…”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe not, but he isn’t rude, which means he’d still be talking to her. How long do you think it’ll take until he starts opening back up to her again, and I’m nothing more than a distant thought.”
“Wow.” Saskia reaches over and squeezes my knee. “You really liked him, huh?”
“More than I wish, believe me.”
Saskia sighs and then grins big and stands, rushing into the kitchen. She comes back with a full bottle of expensive whiskey. “We need to hit the hard stuff. Let’s get drunk.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to go crazy?” I question, but I’m already grinning.
Saskia shrugs. “I’ll deal with Mason later. You need a distraction.”
She’s right about that.
And I’m super glad right about now she’s my best friend.
Super freaking glad.
~*~*~*~
CHANTELLE
I love being drunk.
Seriously. It’s the best thing ever. It makes my heart happy. At least for a little bit, anyway.
That’s how I feel right now. Happy. Drunk. My mind off in its own little peaceful place. Away from Boston, and Enzo, and everything else bothering me right now.
“Girl, I am so gone.” Saskia giggles softly, like we’re fifteen again and hiding in our closet after stealing our parents alcohol.
I giggle, too. “Me too, seriously. That’s good stuff.”
The door op
ens, and a trail of voices comes into the living room. Saskia and I are sitting on the sofa still, music playing lightly in the background, glass in our hand and the bottle wedged between us. We’ve been talking non-stop for about three hours, and in that time, we’ve more than had our fair share to drink.
We both peer over our shoulders when the voices get closer, and my heart instantly launches into my throat. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, at least. Probably more. It’s been a while since we decided to cut contact. I wasn’t planning on seeing him anytime soon, either, knowing full well I need more time.
But here he is.
Standing with Mason, Malakai, Maverick, and Koda. And two other delicious men I’ve never seen before.
Still, my eyes fall on his, and my heart beats so fast I’m sure he can see my chest moving. Dammit.
What are the chances of this happening?
“Ladies,” Mason says, walking over to the sofa and peering down between us, raising his brows at the bottle. “I thought I said take it easy.”
“It is,” Saskia points out, her voice a little more slurred than mine. “We haven’t moved from this spot, to be fair. Not even any dancing. Just us, and this delicious bottle.”
Malakai walks over, and I tip my head back on the sofa so I’m looking up at him. He stares down, and grins. Amalie is a lucky girl. He’s freaking to die for.
“How’s things, darlin’?” he asks me.
“Well, I’d say right about now they’re fantastic.”
“See you got style, pickin’ the best whiskey there is.”
I grin up at him, head still tipped back. “Well, desperate times, Malakai…”
He chuckles. “Ladies, want you to meet the newest member of our club, sure you’ve heard of him. This is Slater Knight.”
I twist on the chair, avoiding the scorching look Boston is giving me, and stare at the man that nods. Good lord, he’s gorgeous. Fine as silk. My lord. He’s scary though—dark, and freaking massive. He’s bigger than any man I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something, because they all pack a punch.
He has eyes as black as the night, soft olive skin, thick dark hair and a jagged scar on his face. He’s dangerous looking. The kind of man you don’t really want to take on. For anything. At all. Ever. And the guy standing next to him. Holy mother. He’s just as scary. His eyes, they’re more brown than black, but he has the same olive skin, the same dark hair only his is cropped shorter, and he’s covered in tattoos, so much so I can see them crawling up his neck. Hot. Hot. Hot.
“Hey,” I wave, not able to tear my eyes from Slater, or his brother.
“Jesus,” Saskia murmurs. “Where do you find these people? And who is the other delicious piece?”
Mason shoots her a glare, and I giggle. “To be fair, Mason, you just brought some seriously fine man candy into the house with two drunk girls, we’re going to ask.”
Dark mysterious brother, who has not yet been introduced, grins. I grin back.
Boston shoots me a look that about burns my damned soul it’s so frustrated and hot.
“That’s Slater’s brother, Lincoln Knight. Not part of the club. But helpin’ us out right now,” Malakai says.
“Damn,” I breathe.
“Nice to meet you,” Lincoln says, nodding.
“I just got a little wet.”
I slam a hand over my mouth. I was thinking that, I certainly was not planning on saying it out loud. I make an embarrassed noise, and Saskia starts laughing, hysterically. Malakai holds in a wheeze and Maverick chuckles. Nobody else does anything, excepts stares at me.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Lincoln murmurs, and I don’t miss his eyes going to my boobs.
Oh, boy.
“Okay,” Mason says, clapping his hands together. “You two have had enough, yeah? Chantelle, you can stay the night.”
I put a hand up to protest, but Mason’s look gives no room for argument. I salute him, instead. “I’m just going to stumble, rather shamefully, out to my car and get my purse.”
I stand, straightening my clothes, and don’t miss more than one set of eyes trail in on my short shorts. I flush a little and stumble past the men and out the front door. As soon as the cool air hits my face, the alcohol hits my head. Hard. I sway over to my car and open the door, leaning in and fumbling around until I find my purse, then I pull it out and stand, air whooshing from my lungs because damn, I’m drunk.
A hard body presses against my back, and I squeak, trying to spin around, but I’m kind of squashed in the door space. Warm breath tickles my ear, and Boston’s very clear voice murmurs, “Care to tell me what that was back there?”
Oh, boy.
My knees wobble.
“Hello, Boston, how are you?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Chantelle.”
I snort. Tough guy act isn’t going to work on me today. Or ever, for that matter. Big sexy biker doesn’t scare me. Turns me on a great deal but doesn’t scare me.
“Which part, I’ll need clarification.”
“Saw how you were lookin’ at Lincoln.”
I won’t lie, a little something special swells inside me. Maybe satisfaction? Because, well, good. He was the one who played the game and got himself all confused over two women. Not me. I was happy. I was content on being whatever he needed me to be. Except a fuck buddy, of course.
“And?”
“Panties. Wet.”
Oh. Someone didn’t like that comment.
I shrug, and I can feel his cock against my ass, hard and aching. Good lord, I want to back myself into it and just let it slide into me. My panties are most definitely wet now. I’m not telling him that, though. Stuff him.
“I’m a speaker of the truth, the man is scorching. I don’t know what the problem is?”
A low growl in my ear.
Thrilling.
“The fuckin’ problem is, I don’t fuckin’ like it.”
“Aw, poor baby. Last time I checked, you ended this. Not me. Remember?”
“Fuck me, Chantelle. You’re testin’ my nerve.”
I grin, even though he can’t see it.
“Sorry to make you so uncomfortable, Boston. But I’m a young, hot-blooded woman. I know what I want.”
“I fuckin’ know what you want, too.”
His hands glide around to my hips, roughly, and then with little to no effort, he unbuttons my shorts and slips one down the front, finding my aching pussy. I don’t try and stop him, hell, why would I? The man turns me on, and fuck, I want him so bad it hurts.
“I thought we weren’t doing this,” I whimper when his finger slides through my flesh.
“Fuckin’ wet, you dirty little bitch.”
I grin.
“Talking to me like that only turns me on, honey. You should know that by now.”
“This pussy achin’ for him, or me?”
“Both.”
He bites my shoulder and I cry out. “By the time I’m done, it’ll be me, and only fuckin’ me.”
I don’t get a chance to throw more sass back at him, because his finger plunges inside me, and my whimpers turn to low, pleasured moans. I’m horny. But mostly, my body has been craving him. Aching for him. Needing him. He fucks me with his fingers until my knees get weak and my body trembles for him. I’m far too drunk for this. If I wasn’t, I’d probably stop him because I know I’m going to feel like shit about this in the morning.
But damned if I have the control to say no.
Not when deep down I really want it.
“Boston,” I whimper.
I hear his jeans unbuckle, and then his cock is pressing against my ass. He bends me slightly, removes his finger, and then he’s inside me. Deep and fucking hard. So fucking hard it burns. I cry out and his hand comes around, clamping over my mouth. And then he fucks me, he fucks me so hard I see stars, my legs get weak, and I rely on the car to stop me from falling.
I cum, and I cum hard, screaming into his hand, my head spinning, my vision blurring,
but no amount of alcohol can take away from the pleasure ripping through my body.
He cums, too. Minutes later, a feral groan in my ear and a few hard thrusts before his body goes still and his cock pulses inside me. Over and over. Until he’s emptied himself deep in me. Then his hand slowly comes away from my mouth, and my lips burn from the pressure. I don’t think I can move. My head is spinning, and my body is on fire. Boston pulls out, fumbles around for a bit, and then kindly puts my shorts back in place and slowly turns me around.
I stumble.
That felt incredible, but my head is done for.
“Boston,” I whisper, fingers clutching at his shirt. “I’m drunk.”
“I know, babe,” he murmurs, circling an arm around my waist.
“I’m going to regret that in the morning,” I whisper as my legs give out from beneath me and he scoops me up into his arms.
“Know that too.”
“Why do you have to do this to me?” I say, turning into his chest and breathing him in.
Fucking heaven.
“Because I can’t fuckin’ stay away.”
“Then don’t,” I murmur, before closing my eyes and tucking myself into him.
Loving how his strong arms feel around me, and his chest feels pressed against my face.
Safe.
Home.
“Have to.”
That’s the last thing I hear him say before I pass out.
I know I’m drunk.
But I also know when I wake in the morning, tonight is going to suck a whole damned lot.
A whole damned lot.
~9~
NOW – PENELOPE
“You can’t be serious,” I breathe, walking up to my front door.
My stomach is sick, my hands are trembling, and I’m scared. Scared out of my mind. Because my door is open. It’s open and I know, I just damn well know, that I locked it. Someone has been here, or is still here. In my house. My home. My fingers tremble as I reach the front door and look down at the lock. It’s mutilated. Whoever broke into it did it without trying to be sneaky.
I push the door, knowing I should probably just turn around and call the police, but for some reason I can’t stop my feet from moving close, needing to know what’s behind this door. What horror I’m about to face. Someone has broken into my home, and I don’t know what I’m about to find. Hell, I’m probably about to walk right into a dangerous situation. There could be someone waiting.
