I cringe at the language he uses in front of Stella, but I don’t say anything.
“Okay,” I say before I turn to leave.
“You look beautiful, baby,” he calls out. I freeze before I turn to face him in surprise.
“What?” I ask, surely mishearing his words.
I can’t look beautiful. My hair is a ratted, matted mess, and my makeup from last night is assuredly smeared under my eyes. I’m nothing short of a disaster.
“Heard me, babe. You look beautiful. Now go get dressed,” he grunts.
A shiver runs through my body at his words. Beautiful. It’s been so long since a man has said that word to me and meant it, truly meant it.
I don’t respond. Instead, I hurry inside and get ready to see my sister. I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see myself.
Bates thinks I’m beautiful and I want to relish in that, soak that in. I don’t want to see the truth looking back at me in the mirror.
Once I am dressed, I can hear that Stella and Bates are back in the house. There is a cartoon movie on television, blasting, and her voice is boisterously singing along to the song currently playing.
I tip-toe past them and walk into the kitchen to clean it. I don’t want Kentlee coming over and seeing a dirty kitchen. I would be embarrassed.
I gasp when two strong hands wrap around my waist as I am washing the last dish. I moan when his lips touch that spot right behind my ear, and then when one of his hands slides up my belly to cup my breast—I melt.
“Bates,” I murmur.
“Morning, beautiful,” he whispers as he gently sucks on my skin.
“It’s afternoon,” I point out. He chuckles behind me, pulling me into his chest. “Thank you for doing that with Stella,” I murmur.
“She said she’d never been on a bike before. Vault brought that over the other day; his daughter outgrew it,” he announces. It makes my heart skip a beat.
That is so nice of Vault, and this club, for taking care of not only me, but Stella too. It’s the sweetest thing that anybody has ever done for us. Bates and his club. I can’t even put my gratitude into words.
“I don’t know what to say. It’s all so much,” I whisper, looking out the little kitchen window in front of me.
“Nothin’ to say, baby, except thanks. We take care of our own as much as we can,” he states before his fingers squeeze my breast. I whimper.
“Bates.”
“Want you again tonight when you come home, baby,” he informs me as he grinds his hard, jean covered cock between my ass.
“It’s going to be a late night again,” I warn.
“I won’t be home until after three, then I’m going to fuck you at least twice,” he grunts before he plucks my hardened nipple over the top of my bra and shirt.
“You’ll be at the strip club, then?” I ask as I turn in his arms to face him.
“I will. That’s my job, Brent. I manage the club and the girls. I have to be there,” he says, his face hardened and his eyes even harder.
“I know. I just…”
I let my insecure words trail off. He doesn’t need me acting insecure and totally bat-shit crazy.
“You just what?” he asks with narrowed eyes as his hands wrap around my ass.
“You’ll be there with naked women all night long,” I say on a sigh, turning my head to the side. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want him to see my voiced insecurities.
“Think I can’t keep my dick in my pants?” he grunts.
I don’t answer.
I don’t want to tell him even more truths about my life just a few short weeks ago. I don’t want him to feel even more pity for me. He’s already heard enough about my life—my marriage.
“Brent,” he whispers. I turn to face him, my eyes shining with tears.
“He cheat on you, too?” he asks, reading me. He reads me so damn well. I should be angry, but I can’t be. He knows me. He’s always known me.
“Yeah,” I croak.
Bates’ hands cup my cheeks and his thumbs sweep the wetness from underneath my eyes before his lips gently touch mine. I sigh when his forehead rests against mine and his nose slides against my own.
“When I told you last night that your pussy takes no other dick but mine—that goes the other way, too, baby. I don’t want anybody else, not when I have you at home. It’s you, tigritsa. No other woman makes me feel the way you do. He’s a fuckin’ moron and an asshole. I’ll never purposely do anything to hurt you or Stella, ever.”
I let out a shaky breath at his words.
Me.
It’s always been me.
He’s said them before, but the way he is looking at me now, like he sees me, like he knows exactly who I am—there is no more illusion that I’m this perfect, untouchable, mythical being from the past.
He knows my ugly, he knows most of my secrets, and he knows what a slut I’ve been. Yet, he still wants me. I don’t understand why.
“Why?” I ask what I’m thinking, but the rest of the words won’t come. Fortunately, the most important does.
“If you can’t understand why I want you, only you, then that just means I have to work my ass off to show you. I can’t explain something like that, Brentlee. I have to show it. I’m your man, now. If you don’t want to label that for the public yet, that’s fine; but regardless, that’s exactly what I am.”
I blink and just look at him, really look at him. He’s completely serious. He’s my man. Mine. The thought is so foreign. It’s been so long since I’ve thought of any man as my own. Since him, over ten years.
Scotty was my husband, but he shared his body with whomever he wanted to, ignoring the ring on his finger. Bates was the last man who I called my own, and now he’s telling me again, he’s mine.
“I—I don’t…” I can’t finish my words.
I shake my head in confusion. Bates shifts his forehead off of mine and captures my lips with his.
I fist his shirt with my hands and pull him closer to me when his tongue slides between my lips. He consumes me, as he always does, tasting me and tempting me all at the same time.
I moan when his hands roughly squeeze my ass as he grinds his hard cock against my belly. I want him again. I’m still sore from last night, but that doesn’t stop my body from craving more.
“Tonight, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Okay, tonight,” I agree.
I can’t deny I want him. I couldn’t even if I tried. It’s always been him, just as he says it’s always been me. We’re like magnets drawn to each other. I’m just not sure how we will end up.
Most likely, it will be in complete ruins.
SNIPER
Brentlee is so fucking adorable as her mind races with about a million different thoughts.
I want to fuck her to the point of exhaustion again just so she’ll stop whatever bullshit she has going through that head of hers.
But I don’t have time.
I have a meeting with Drifter in about thirty minutes, and then I have to go straight to the club.
I hate that I won’t be able to drop her off for work tonight, but I’ll be picking her up.
Then, I’ll be fucking her until she begs me to stop. I feel like an addict. I can’t stop thinking about that sweet fucking pussy of hers.
“I gotta head out, babe. I’ll pick you up at the clubhouse tonight, so don’t leave with anybody else,” I warn as I release her perfect ass and take a step back from her.
“Who’s going to take me there?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.
“LeeLee is going to drop you off after you’re done here,” I inform her. She nods once.
“Okay, Bates,” she murmurs. I nod once before I turn my back to her. I hear her exhale loudly and it makes me turn around and take two long strides toward her.
I grip my hands around her hips and lift her to my height before I kiss her soft lips, fast and hard. She squeaks with her surprise,
but soon her arms are wrapped round my neck.
“Now I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” I ask after I’ve kissed her.
“Yeah,” she sighs.
I place her back on her feet and press my lips against her neck, needing one more taste of her delicious skin as I swipe my tongue under her ear.
“Good god, you two are just the cutest couple I have ever seen,” Kentlee says. We freeze before I turn to her.
“LeeLee, you shouldn’t sneak up on me,” I frown. She ignores me and smiles.
“I saw Buck outside, he’s on full protection duty. I had to sneak in and see the two of you in action. I was honestly scared after Fury came home last night. I wasn’t sure all of this would happen,” she says, waving her hand around toward us.
“I’m out of here, ladies. Have a good afternoon,” I say as I begin to walk toward the front door.
“You know I’m going to get all the details, right?” LeeLee calls out. I stop and turn to her before I smile widely.
“Anything Brent tells you isn’t nearly as much as you’ve already seen,” I tell her.
“You’re disgusting,” Kentlee cries. I can’t help myself, I laugh.
In the living room, Stella and Bear are seated, and Bear is showing her some new toy of his. She’s totally into it and doesn’t even hear me walk up next to her.
I sink to my knees and tug on one of her little blonde, braided pigtails. Those little fuckers were not easy to do.
I haven’t braided hair since Mary-Anne was a kid, and it took me a few tries to remember how.
“Bye, malyshka. You be a good girl for your mama now, okay?”
“I will, Bates,” she says as she looks up at me with her pretty blue eyes, and her mother’s perfect smile.
“Take care of your cousin, Bear. You’re the man of the house,” I say before I ruffle his hair and stand.
“Yeah, I will, Uncle Bates,” he says, trying to sound bigger with his little boy voice, his chest puffed out. Such a big man, he is.
I leave the women and kids, nodding to Buck as I pass by him on my way to my bike. I take a good look around, making sure there are no signs of Scotty or whoever-in-the-fuck he has had watching Fury and Kentlee’s place.
It looks clear, and I know Buck will keep an eye on the girls and kids. He’s a good guy with kids of his own; he knows the importance of protection.
I take a deep breath and then smile as I start my bike.
Tonight, Brentlee will be on the back, holding me close to her, her sweet tits pressed against my back as we ride from the club to here—our home.
My dreams are finally coming true, dreams that I didn’t even know I wanted anymore.
I thought they were long gone, buried and forgotten, but they aren’t. Nope. They’re alive and right in front of me, ripe for the taking. I’m going to take them, too.
My girls.
They’re mine.
All fucking mine.
And if that prick Scotty thinks for one goddamn minute he’s going to get them away from me, he’s got another thing coming.
I killed for LeeLee without hesitation. But for Brentlee and Stella, I’ll fucking torture, and I’ll do it with a fucking smile on my face.
Chapter Eleven
SNIPER
I pull up to the Devils Club and see that Drifter is already waiting for me. Today isn’t so much a meeting about the club as it is about Brentlee and that fuck face Scotty Corbin. I need information, and Drifter has it.
I give him a nod as I take my keys out and open up the club. Once we’re inside, I lock the door behind him and grab him a beer from behind the bar, along with one for myself. I have a feeling I’m gonna need this shit.
“It’s ugly, brother,” he murmurs as he slides the manila envelope toward me. I take a pull from my beer and open it up, sliding the papers out carefully and setting them in front of me.
Medical records. Pictures. Notes. They are all stacked neatly. They are all undocumented but kept by the family physician Brentlee said the Corbin’s sent to her after the horrific beatings Scotty gave her. Things that she didn’t have to be admitted into the hospital for.
“Yeah, I heard some of the shit,” I admit, taking another pull before I open the file.
“Hearin’ it and seein’ it. Totally different, brother,” he grunts as he drinks his own beer.
I open the first page and see a younger version of Brentlee. The date says she’s nineteen, one month after their marriage. She’s got a black eye, swollen shut, and bruising on her neck. Choked. I close my eyes. No wonder she freaked out on me last night. I’m surprised she didn’t go into a full blown panic attack.
The report says she fell. Don’t they always?
I scan the document and at the bottom in fine print it says that there’s vaginal tearing and bleeding after a complete physical. It makes my stomach turn. Rape. He raped her. One month after their marriage, it had already begun.
I flip through the pictures, watching them like watching a movie, each one more brutal than the one before. Bloody noses and lips. Swollen eyes, concussions, vaginal and anal bleeding and tearing.
All photographic evidence of her hellish nightmare of a life. I also notice the light leaving her eyes more and more as each year passes. In the last picture, her honey-brown eyes look completely dead—void of all emotion.
“How’d you get them?” I demand.
“Snuck in when the fuck was sleeping. Held a gun to his head,” Drifter chuckles.
What I asked him to do is definitely below his pay grade, since he’s the vice president of the club, but he’s the best at sneaking in and getting shit handled.
“Retaliation?” I ask, finishing off my beer in one gulp.
“He couldn’t get that shit to me quick enough. Said the Corbin’s are an entire family of sick fucks and anything he could do to help, he would. He can’t, of course, go against him in court, seeing as he’d be thrown in the pen for hiding it the way he did. But he said he’d cooperate with us anyway we want him to,” Drift explains. I nod.
“Thanks, brother. I appreciate it,” I mutter, my eyes focused on a picture of my beautiful Brentlee looking so fuckin’ broken.
“He would have killed her, had she stayed any longer,” Drifter says. I nod.
I know he would have.
Drifter leaves and I can’t help my thoughts from being consumed by my own past. Instead of Brentlee’s beautiful battered face, I see my mother’s. Blood and bruises littering her face, arms, neck, and legs.
I can’t remember how many times my dad brought her to near death with his fists, let alone when he would use his feet and other objects around the house.
My mind takes me back to one horrible night in particular. I was seventeen, almost finished with high school.
Already bigger than my old man, I had decided enough was enough. He walked in on me begging my mom to just pack her shit and go. I was almost through with high school, I could work and take care of her and Mary-Anne.
We didn’t need him anymore. Once he heard me say that, he started to wail on me. He wasn’t as big as I was, but the old fucker was strong. Once the shock wore off, I was able to stop him. I screamed at my mom to go while I held him down. The old man just smiled and winked.
“She ain’t goin’ nowhere, boy,” he sneered.
“Mom… go,” I yelled.
“I… I can’t, Bates. I love him,” she whispered.
That was the moment I lost all hope for my mom. She loved him. Loved him so much she’d let her kids get beat by him; she’d let herself get beat by him. Nothing else mattered but her sick and twisted love for an abuser.
I stayed until it was time to leave for boot camp.
I stayed for only one reason.
Mary-Anne.
My baby sister.
I didn’t want to leave, but I needed to get the fuck out. I needed a good career so that I could take care of myself.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
My career didn
’t fuckin’ matter. Killing dozens of people in the name of country didn’t matter. Not in the end, not when it consumed me and fucked me up and made it impossible to go back.
The nightmares that plague me are sometimes more than I can bear. I’ve buried myself in weed, and booze, and pussy to try and forget, but I always remember—I’ll always be haunted.
I put all the papers back in the envelope before I grab another beer and go into my office. I take a swig and shove the envelope into my desk drawer. I could live my whole life and never see it again. I can’t, though.
Scotty Corbin needs to be taken down. Brentlee can’t live holed up in my house or the clubhouse her whole life. She needs to have her freedoms.
I pick up the phone and call the attorney.
“Bates Lukin, I was just getting ready to call you, myself,” Stan says.
“Got a file I ain’t supposed to have, Mr. Jones,” I confess. He chuckles.
“Lay it out for me, then.”
I do. I tell him everything in detail. He asks me to make copies and forward them to his office. He can’t use them, of course, but what I love about Mr. Jones is he isn’t afraid to scare the piss out of people.
“He is being served with the intent to divorce this evening. Make sure you keep a close watch on Brentlee and Stella in the next few days. You never know when guys like that are going to strike,” he warns. I nod.
He doesn’t know that I fully comprehend what he’s saying. My father drug me out of bed once, by my ankle, because I didn’t put a dish in the sink. I set it next to the sink. He beat the shit out of me for twenty minutes straight before he made me go back to bed. I was nine at the time. I never left a dish on the edge of the sink again.
This is probably why my housekeeping skills leave something to be desired.
“I got a man on the house at all times when I’m not home. They’re safe,” I assure Stan. He hums.
“Honestly, I don’t think the divorce will be much of a problem. He might turn into a bit of an asshole, but I have proof of his extracurricular activities, and Brentlee isn’t asking for anything, so he won’t really have much of a say in the matter. Custody, however, that is what I’m concerned with.”
The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet Page 37
