Flawed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #6

by Ames, Jessica

  She rakes her fingers through her copper waves, looking a little dejected.

  “He can stay with me at my flat. There’s not much room, but there’s enough.”

  This appeases me, barely.

  I roam my eyes over her puffed-up face.

  “So, how did you both end up in the firing line of that scumbag?”

  She looks a little uncomfortable as she probes her cheek, wincing. Fire roars through my blood. I clamp my lips shut to stop it erupting out of my mouth.

  “I feel like an idiot, to be honest—not to mention the worst sister on the planet. I had no idea things were so bad for Jesse at home. Don’t get me wrong, I know my father has a temper. I’ve been on the receiving end of some fairly substantial tongue lashings over the years, but I had no idea he was hitting my brother.”

  “Kids like Jesse get good at hiding what they’re dealing with.”

  She frowns at me. “You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

  My smile is thin. No way in hell am I telling her I am. “I just know a lot of shitty people.” I jut my chin in her direction. “You still haven’t told me how you ended up on the receiving end of a right hook?”

  She blows out a breath. “I nipped over tonight after work to take some presents for Jess and Dad. I walked in on a screaming match. The things my father was saying to him…” A sickened look crosses her face as she lowers her head, her shoulders sagging. “My father hit him and I just…” Chloe breaks off, licking her lips. “I freaked. I lost it. I jumped between them and started yelling and shoving him. Dad didn’t like that much. He wasn’t keen on someone fighting him back, I suppose. He hit me and I fell down, banging my head off the coffee table. Then Jesse lamped him one in the chops. Someone must have called the police because of the ruckus, but I guess I blacked out a little, because the next thing I remember is seeing my brother being taken away in handcuffs and my father cowering like a coward. I wanted to go with him to the police station, but my head was rolling. By the time I realised what was going on, I was halfway to the hospital. Then the police had me detained here until they could figure out what happened. I guess I have you to thank for getting that lifted.”

  My jaw is impossibly tight through this whole explanation.

  “Weed, you look like you’re about to commit an atrocity.”

  I’m considering it, but I force myself to relax. I scrub a hand over my chin. “How long has this shit been going on?”

  “With Jesse? I’ve no idea. Weeks, maybe longer. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my little brother isn’t exactly the talkative type.”

  She’s not wrong about that. Jesse is a closed book. Even though I’ve lived through an abusive home, I didn’t recognise any of the signs of an abused kid in him. I could kick myself for being so blind to his turmoil.

  I might not be able to change my past, but I sure as shit can fix his present.

  “Get your stuff. I’m taking you both home.”

  I’m on my bike, but I’ll get us a cab back to her place and have a prospect pick up my ride. No way am I leaving them alone.

  “Honestly, you’ve done more than enough.”

  No, not yet, but I will.

  “Get your shit together, Chloe.”

  She doesn’t argue this time. Maybe she sees something in my face, but she just nods and slips off the trolley. I reach for her elbows to steady her when she wobbles, and I don’t miss the inhalation of breath she takes when I touch her.

  Christ, this can’t happen. She can’t be into me. Chloe isn’t a one-night thing. She’s not someone I can sleep with and forget.

  I jerk my hands away and step back—a move she doesn’t fail to notice, if the hurt flashing in her eyes is anything to go by.

  I shouldn’t care, but I do. I don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone her, but she can’t be looking at me like that—like I’m her fucking guardian angel. That’s not me. My DNA is coded with evil. It has to be. The man who took my mother’s life was a monster and I share genes with him. How can I not be part monster too?

  I don’t care usually about who I spread my darkness to, but Chloe’s different. She’s lightness and soft, and I can’t mar her with my shit.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I need to get some distance between us, and fast.

  “Yeah.” She forces a smile that leaves my gut roiling. “Okay.”

  I feel like the worst piece of shit on the planet, but I need to get away from her. I need to get away from everything. The walls feel like they’re closing in and I don’t know how to keep them from crushing me.

  It takes a little time to get the discharge papers sorted, and I don’t feel like I take a full breath until we’re outside the hospital main door.

  I should put them in the back of a cab and head to the clubhouse, but I can’t. What if their father is waiting at Chloe’s flat and I let them go? What if they get hurt worse? I won’t have that on my conscience. I couldn’t help my mum, but I can help Chloe and Jesse.

  So, I find myself sitting in a taxi with them, my mind in turmoil. I’m glad neither of them seems chatty on the way home, because I’m not sure I have it in me to make small talk. I put down the visor, which has a small mirror in it and use it to watch Chloe from the passenger seat.

  Chloe doesn’t say a word. She just sits in the back with her brother, staring out the side window. I wonder what she’s thinking, and then I wonder why I care. I don’t. I don’t care about anyone but myself—and my brothers and their family. At least, that was the case until I met Chloe Allen. Now, I’m caring about everything more than I should, everything more than is safe.

  I leave them to their thoughts, sure they need the time to decompress from the evening. I need time to decompress too. I have no idea what I’m doing or why. This shit isn’t me. I’m not the white knight. I don’t ride in to save the day.

  When we pull up outside the flat, I pay the driver, even though Chloe tries to fight me on it. Call me old fashioned, but I’m not letting her put her hand in her pocket. It’s another gesture I shouldn’t make, but I can’t help it. I don’t understand my need to take care of her, either. If she was anyone else outside my Club family, I wouldn’t care, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  She fumbles with her keys, trying to get them in the lock, and I wonder if she’s still dizzy from her blow to the head. The nurse was insistent she be watched carefully over the next twenty-four hours. After a moment, I take pity on her, and move her hand aside. She glances up at me and I see the desire in her eyes, the need.

  I glance away, even as the same need flares in me.

  Don’t go there, for fuck’s sake.

  I unlock the door and hand her the keys back, careful not to make contact with her, before pushing through the door first.

  The flat is small, poky and a little dreary. Chloe’s tried to make it home with little touches and knick-knacks around, but beneath that I can see how tired the place is. The sofa looks like it’s seen better days and what other furniture there is in the room is clearly not second-hand, but at least fifth.

  It is, however, empty. Their father isn’t waiting for them, which is just as well because the way I feel right now, I’ll put him six-feet under.

  “Why don’t you go and get ready for bed?” Chloe tells her brother as she toes her shoes off.

  Jesse looks like he’s considering arguing the point, then says, “Yeah, okay.” His gaze meets mine through his messy hank of hair. “Thanks for today Weed. And I’m sorry you got hurt, Chlo.”

  She smiles at him and that smile goes right to my cock. It lights up her whole face.

  “Hey, don’t you worry about me, kiddo. I’m fine.”

  She’s not even in the same ballpark as fine, which Jesse clearly also thinks, because he gives her a sceptical look that I want to mirror.

  “Yeah, night, Chlo. Later, Weed.”

  “Night, kid.”

  He heads off up the narrow hallway I assume leads to the bedrooms and bathroom.r />
  Chloe shifts on her feet. In fact, she’s swaying a little. Is she still dizzy?

  “So, um, I can take it from here,” she says as soon as her brother is out of earshot.

  “No.”

  She’s in no state to defend herself or her brother if her dad comes here and causes trouble.

  “No?” Her brow wrinkles.

  “I know a thing or two about abusers, Chloe. They don’t like to look weak. Your brother made your father look weak tonight, meaning your old man might decide to come here and dish out some good old-fashioned retribution. I’m not leaving you two alone, especially when you’re barely keeping on your feet.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I raise a hand. “It’s not up for discussion. I either stay in the flat or I’ll camp outside the front door. Your choice.”

  “Weed—”

  “You’re not good at listening, are you?”

  Chloe closes her mouth. “Well, I only have the two bedrooms... this… it’s not practical.”

  “Fuck practical. I’m fine with the sofa or the floor.”

  This answer doesn’t seem to appease her entirely, but eventually, she shrugs and says, “Okay then. I’ll get you some blankets.”

  I watch her go, wondering what the fuck I’m doing.

  Chapter Three

  I wake with a stiff neck and an aching back. For a moment, I’m disorientated as I try to remember where the hell I am. It’s not the first time I’ve woken up somewhere random. Likely it won’t be the last. It is, however, the first time I’ve come around on a sofa alone after staying at a woman’s place.

  “Relegated to the settee, eh?” I snap my head up at Jesse’s voice and internally curse him for saying what I’m thinking.

  I’m quickly learning the teen is far too fucking perceptive. I hate that he is, because honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing here. This isn’t me. I’m not the hero of anyone’s story.

  “You need to up your game, Weed.” He is standing in the doorway of the living room, making his way through a bowl of cereal, a stupid grin on his face.

  This kid…

  “There’s nothing wrong with my game,” I tell him, “and what do you know about game anyway? You’re sixteen.”

  “Enough to know if you had it, you’d be in there with Chloe, not on her sofa.”

  “I’m not looking to get in your sister’s bed, buddy.” This is a lie. I would give my right and left arm for five minutes with Chloe. I’m not about to tell Captain Motormouth this, though. “And less talking about game. Girls don’t like it when you talk like that.”

  Pot meet kettle. I talk like this all the time. Still, I figure I should at least try to teach him some good habits about respect.

  He looks a little bashful as he shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

  “Thanks for yesterday,” he says after he’s swallowed. “I was getting worried they weren’t going to let me out of there.”

  “Next time you get in a situation like that, you ask straight away for your solicitor. Don’t talk to the pigs, no matter what bullshit they promise.”

  “Police,” Chloe corrects, pushing around her brother and stepping into the room. My heart stops. She’s wearing a tiny pair of sleep shorts with a camisole top that makes her look edible. The long expanse of creamy flesh has my dick jumping.

  Fuck me. This is a special kind of torture.

  “We don’t call them ‘pigs’ in this house.” She folds her arms over her chest, which pushes her tits up.

  I avert my gaze, refusing to look at the globes of her breasts. I should have stayed focused on her chest, though, because the state of her face has my rage growing. It’s swollen and a dark purple bruise covers beneath her eye and part of her cheek.

  The growl that wants to roll up my throat gets stuck in my chest and I have to let out a breath to expel it. Her father must have slugged her so hard to inflict that much damage.

  Bastard.

  I clench and unclench my fist, and try to focus instead on the two mugs of coffee she’s holding, one of which she hands to me.

  It’s milky, exactly the strength I take it. “Jesse said this is how you take it.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Jesse can’t make a decent cup of coffee to save his life. Even so, I add, “It looks good.”

  What the hell am I saying?

  This is all too domestic for me. I fuck and leave. I don’t have tea and crumpets in the bloody morning.

  And we didn’t even shag, which is making this entire situation all the worse.

  I place the mug of untouched coffee on the low table and swing my legs over the edge of the sofa. I regret taking off my tee and jeans to sleep in. Sitting here in just my boxers is leaving me feeling exposed. I wouldn’t have done if I’d known I’d have an audience this early, but my need to get gone is overriding my need to be modest.

  As the blankets slip away, Chloe’s eyes go to my bare chest and I see the appreciation there. Now, the last thing I’m thinking about is leaving. Instead, I’m thinking things that are not appropriate.

  My cock swells a little in my boxers and I have to communicate with it to calm the fuck down. This is not the time to sport wood—not with her little brother two feet from me.

  Keeping the blankets pooled over my lap, I snag my tee from the floor where I tossed it last night and drag it over my head. Then, once I’m sure my cock is behaving, I throw the covers back, so I can get my jeans on. Chloe’s eyes go to the ceiling as I reveal I’m wearing just my boxers.

  Who knew she’d be such a prude?

  I find it amusing that a grown-assed woman is embarrassed by my semi-naked state. She might be young, but I doubt she’s that innocent.

  Once my jeans are tugged into place, I sit back down to put my socks and boots on.

  “And yes, as Jesse said, thank you for what you did yesterday.” She stumbles over her words as she watches me dress. Fuck me. I need to get out of here pronto. I can’t have her lusting over me. I can’t. She’s better than me. She’s more than I’ll ever be.

  “I feel terrible you got caught up in our drama on Christmas Day,” she adds.

  “I couldn’t give a shit what day it is. If you and Jesse have trouble, you call.”

  Why in the hell did I say that? Fuck. I don’t need to get wrapped up in any more of their tribulations. What I need to do is forget the name Chloe Allen and get back into my usual routine of shagging random women.

  I wish I could do that, but I can’t. I won’t leave them to face a bully alone. For all my talk, it’s not in me to walk away when I can help.

  And I can help.

  I’m going to start by putting the fear of God into their father. Once I’m certain he’ll leave them alone, then I can walk away. I couldn’t live with myself if Chloe or Jesse got hurt again and I did nothing.

  I point between them. “You two stay away from your old man, got it?”

  Jesse frowns a little. “I can’t.”

  “Kid, this isn’t up for debate. You keep a wide berth.”

  He shakes his head. “I still need my documents from the house. I never got a chance to get them with everything that went down.”

  I rub a hand over my jaw. I should say this shit isn’t my problem and walk away, but no way in hell can I let him go to that house without backup. He might get on my last nerve at work, but I’m starting to understand why he’s the way he is. His broody sullenness, the constant tiredness—it’s all a symptom of a shitty home life.

  Decision grudgingly made, I say, “Get ready. I’ll take you.”

  “Weed, you’ve done more than enough already,” Chloe protests. “I’ll take it from here.”

  I raise my eyes to her. “Do you think you can go another round with your old man if you bump into him?”

  Her eyes roll. “He’s not going to do anything this time.”

  “Do you have a crystal ball I don’t know about?”

  “Weed—”

  I shake m
y head. “You really think I’m letting you get within an inch of that man again?”

  I shouldn’t care. This isn’t my problem.

  Why, then, does the thought of her being hurt make my gut roil?

  I watch her throat work as she takes in my words. “You don’t owe us anything.”

  “No, but I’m not doing this because of that. I’m doing it because you need the help, and because I’m in a position to give it.”

  Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I am doing it, other than because I was Jesse. I saw my mum take her licks from my old man before I got my own. She always tried to protect me, but she was beat to hell. What could she do against someone bigger and stronger than her?

  I know this situation isn’t the same. Logically, I know this, but I don’t care. Jesse’s getting hurt because of his dad, and Chloe doesn’t have the strength or size to defend them both from a grown man.

  Internally cursing myself, I lift my chin to Jesse.

  “Get your shit together. We’ll leave in five.” I turn to Chloe. “Do you have a car or do we need to call a taxi?”

  “I don’t have a car, but you’re not going there. I told you. I’ll handle it. This is my problem, not yours.”

  Her green eyes blaze with determination—determination I’m about to bulldoze right through.

  “Woman, let me clue you in here—I’m not letting you or him go there alone. Not a chance in hell.”

  “Weed—”

  “Just get ready. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get out of your bloody hair.”

  And get her out of mine.

  She looks like she’s considering arguing with me again, but seems to think better of it. Good, because I don’t want to fight her on this. What I want to do is get this shit over with and get back to the clubhouse to start some serious post-Christmas Day drinking. There’s also a joint in my room with my name written all over it.

  The cab ride to their father’s house feels like it takes forever, but it’s no more than ten minutes. He lives in a good part of town—a far cry from where he’s expecting his daughter to live. This makes me angry on her behalf. Who leaves their kid to live somewhere shitty?