by Bella Jewel
“What are you so afraid of?” he asks me, eyes so intense it burns.
I decide to tell him the truth, because god damn I’m tired of every piece of my life being a lie.
“Myself,” I whisper.
Myself.
So damned afraid of myself.
~*~*~*~
MALAKAI
Herself.
She’s afraid of herself.
That statement doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I can see it in her eyes that she means it with every single piece of who she is. I wonder what the fuck happened to her to make her think that she’s a bad person, because from what I’ve seen, she absolutely is not. She’s pure of heart, and very few people can say that about themselves.
I don’t ask if she wants it, or if she doesn’t, I just start stripping off my clothes until I’m in my jeans, and then I walk over to the bed, pulling the covers to the side and sliding in. Amalie stares at me, eyes wide. “Try and kick me out, darlin’, see what happens to you. I’m stayin’.”
“Why?” she whispers, looking into my eyes.
I roll closer to her, and fuck she smells amazing. I want so much more from her than she’s willing to give, but I’m also not going to push her for it. She’ll give it to me when she’s ready, but she will give it to me. No matter what I have to do. Felt a lot of fucking things in my life, but nothing on what Amalie does to me.
She’s mine.
Even if she refuses to accept that yet.
“Why am I stayin’?”
She nods.
“Because you make me a better fuckin’ man. And I want to stop whatever pain is in your eyes. So, I’m stayin’. So you know, that even if it’s just for a night, you’re fuckin’ safe. Because you are, Amalie. You’re always safe with me.”
She swallows and her bottom lip shakes, but she quickly recovers. She might think she’s fragile and broken, but she has a strength inside her too. A strength that I don’t think she yet realizes.
“We know nothing about each other. How can you be so sure I make you better?”
“That stuff comes, eventually. But if you want to know somethin’, ask me. Got nothin’ to hide from you. The way you make me feel is far more than a fuckin’ story, Amalie. It’s the whole god damned tale, and I feel it right here, harder than I’ve ever felt anythin’ in my life.” I slam a fist over my chest.
“I do want to know more about you, Malakai. Because you do make me feel different to anyone else in my life, I can’t really explain it. So, if I ask, will you answer?” she questions, shuffling a little closer.
“‘Course I will.”
“How did you become the President of a motorcycle club?”
I grin at her. “Goin’ straight for the big questions.”
“Yeah.” She smiles shyly, and fuck, I want to kiss her again.
All fucking night.
But instead, I answer her question.
“My dad was President, and his dad before that. It was either Maverick or I that it got passed down to. I wanted it. Maverick didn’t. Simple as that, really.”
“Is that what you wanted to do with your life?”
I nod. “Yeah, I knew it growin’ up. Club life was all I had. So I didn’t question if there was anythin’ else out there for me. I wanted it. I breathed it. I lived it.”
“It’s a dangerous life, isn’t it?”
I hold her eyes. “Anything in this world can be dangerous, darlin’. You gotta know that by now. I try to keep my hands out, and my club’s hands out, of anything illegal. Don’t mean I don’t do illegal things, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my club. But mostly we trade through, and work with, legal sources.”
“So the purpose of your club is to keep people from doing bad things around town? Like Treyton?”
“Yeah and no. It isn’t what I’m here to do. We buy shit, we sell shit, we make shit, we rid the town of scum when they get out of hand. We don’t like our name bein’ dragged into the mud. Treyton is scum, and his operation affects people very close to me, includin’ you, so I will rid this town of him.”
She stares at me, biting her lower lip for a second before finally asking the question that’s obviously playing over in her mind. “Are you going to kill him?”
I hold her eyes. “Does that scare you, Amalie? That I might take his life with my bare hands?”
Her eyes widen, and she looks at me, really looks at me. And I let her. I let her see it all. Because she needs to know I will not hesitate when it comes to protecting my club and my family. I will take life after life if it means I can sleep soundly at night knowing they’re okay.
“No,” she whispers. “Not with him. He’s a bad man, not just for what he’s doing in the town, but for what he did to Scarlett.”
“And to you.”
She flinches.
And that is all the more reason for me to find that little fucker and gut him slowly.
“And to me,” she agrees.
“I will make him pay for that. You can rest assured that I will make him scream for what he did to you, Amalie. And to Scarlett. He will wish he was never fuckin’ born.”
She swallows and then says in a soft, but strong voice, “You scare me, Malakai, but it’s the kind of scary I want in my life.”
“Then quit fuckin’ runnin’ away from me.”
She looks away, and before I can ask more, changes the subject. Smooth. Quick. Effortless.
“Have you ever been married?”
I shake my head, and her cheeks go pink. Can she feel that? Does she know how fucking sweet it makes her look?
“What about love? Have you ever been in love?”
I shake my head again, this time her eyes get wide.
“What’s so shockin’ about that?” I ask her, then give her a wolfish grin. “I know it’s surprisin’ with a man as fuckin’ good lookin’ as me, but it’s the truth.”
She giggles, and it fucking hits me right in the gut.
Perfection.
“There’s that,” she says softly, her voice happy and light. “And there’s the fact that you’re a man, and I figured most people had been in love at least once in their lives. Isn’t it how we learn?”
“Depends how you look at it. I figure if I haven’t been in love, it means I’m savin’ it all up for the right woman, for the woman who will own all of my heart, not just pieces of it.”
She smiles.
And it touches her eyes.
And it’s the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the woman I’m saving it for.
And she will get all of it.
Every, single, inch.
-9-
THEN – AMALIE
I scream in frustration, slamming my hands down over the keys of my piano, kicking my legs out until they hit the back of it. I can’t play. It’s been four weeks since my ear operation, and since I left the hospital, and I can’t play. No matter what I do. I try, god do I try, but I can’t hear the pitch, I can’t hear the music, I can’t hear a damn thing.
Caiden has moved in with his parents and hates me. He hates me so much. So to add to the fact that I can’t hear, and I can’t play, I also have ruined someone’s life. No matter how hard I try to go and see him, they kick me back out again. But I still go, every single day, because I need him to know I won’t abandon him.
I will stand by him because he deserves that much respect.
But my music is a whole other pain. It was everything. It was the only thing I lived and breathed. I had the opportunity to join a band after I auditioned for a spot. They’re going on tour next year with Scarlett Belle. Scarlett. Belle. It was the chance of a lifetime. When I played for them, they loved my music.
They wanted me.
They still do.
Only I can’t play.
I can’t god damned play.
My eyes clench shut in frustration and I try again, running my fingers over the keys, trying to
get the pitch right. I can hear it, faintly enough, but I can’t hear how loud, or how high, or anything but this incessant ringing in my ears. I want to throw the towel in and give it up, but without my music, I simply am not me.
A tap to my shoulder has me spinning around to see my mother standing behind me. She’s staring at me, disappointed no doubt. She doesn’t support my music. She doesn’t support my choice of career paths, and she wants me to stop. But I come in here, every single day, and I practice. I practice, and I practice. I get angry. I cry. I yell. But I do not give up.
“You need to find something else to do.”
It’s amazing how quickly you can learn to read someone’s lips when you can no longer hear their words. It took me a few weeks, and now people have to speak really slowly, which they all do, even my stubborn mother, so it makes it easier for me to read what they’re saying. Even then, I still often ask them to repeat their words.
“This is my life. I’m not giving up on it.”
“You need to heal,” she tells me, and I can read the frustration in her face. “Caiden needs you more than you need this music.”
“Caiden hates me.”
“He has every right to, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you.”
Her words hit me like a thump to the chest.
I open my mouth to say something, but my father walks into the room and says something to her. She argues back a little, and then shakes her head and storms out. I look up and meet his eyes, thankful that he is around to have my back, because if he wasn’t, I don’t know what I’d do.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
I shrug. “I can’t play, and Mom keeps making me feel so bad about Caiden. Like I don’t already live with that intense guilt.”
He nods. “She’s just confused, don’t let her get to you. Caiden will get better. It’s just going to take time. Right now he’s hurt and probably very lost, just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s all you can do.”
I nod, shoulders slumping as I exhale.
“And as for your music,” he tells me. “Don’t give up on that, either. I know what your mother thinks of it, but I don’t agree. You have an incredibly rare talent, Amalie. Don’t let it go.”
“I can’t play anymore, Daddy,” I say softly. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t play. I can’t get the pitch or the tones right. I can’t hear if it sounds good, or bad, and my fingers won’t do what they’re supposed to.”
He smiles at me. “You’re focusing so much on hearing the music. You need to accept the fact that you can’t hear it anymore, Amalie. So you need to find another way to let it into your soul. Connect with it on a different level. Music is your soul, and it goes far deeper than hearing. Trust in yourself.”
With that, he turns and walks out.
I glance back at the piano, and I place my fingers on the keys, pressing down. My fingers vibrate with the sound, only a little, but I can feel it. I shuffle forward and place my feet against the back of it, and press on the keys. The vibrations go right through it.
Is he right?
If I stop concentrating on hearing it, maybe I’ll learn to feel it?
Maybe my fingers will just let me do what it is I need to do.
I close my eyes, and I start playing a basic song that I know the notes to like the back of my hand. Every note I press, I take note of how the vibrations feel against my fingers and against my feet. I also take note of how it sounds to me. As I am now. Not as I remember it. I listen carefully, I take note of the different ways the music sounds to me, and I know my father is right.
I will never play the way I did before.
Because I’ll never be the way I was before.
I’m different now.
And so is my music.
~*~*~*~
MALAKAI
“Charlie’s here, boss,” Koda tells me, swinging the door open to my office and strolling in.
“Ever heard of fuckin’ knockin’?” I bark at him, frustrated.
I’m frustrated because since Scarlett’s attack, I’ve heard fucking nothing from Treyton. Nothing about Treyton. He took the drugs he transported into Denver with Scarlett’s bus, and he disappeared. Where he went, I do not fucking know, all I know is that he’ll come back.
Because he isn’t done.
He made that clear.
“What got up your fuckin’ nose?” Koda grunts.
“Just send Charlie in.”
“Righto.”
He walks out and comes back a minute later with Charlie by his side. She strolls in without a fear in the world and stops at the front of my desk, looking down at me. Her tits are popping out of her tight shirt. Fucking rebel, this girl, without a doubt. Will take a strong man to tame her down.
“I got a little information, it isn’t a lot, but it’s a start.”
“Well, spill it, girl,” I growl. “Not in the mood for fuckin’ games.”
“You want the information, you better start speaking to me with a little respect, biker.”
I launch out of my chair and slam my hands on the desk, leaning forward and holding her eyes. “You want me to protect your fuckin’ ass from whatever it is you’re runnin’ from, you will start doin’ as I fuckin’ say, when I fuckin’ say it.”
Her jaw tics, but she doesn’t fight me any further. In a rough, pissed off voice, she tells me, “There are a lot of drugs running through town. More than usual. A big deal. The drugs are good. Selling for a lot of money. Whoever is sourcing them is doing a good job at hiding. I couldn’t get a name, or any information, out of anyone I tried to buy off. But I did get some of the stuff being sold.”
She reaches into her pocket and tosses a small plastic bag at me. It skitters across the table and lands right in front of my hand. I pick it up, shaking the white powder around. It’s got something else in it. A different texture. A mixture.
“What is this?” I ask her.
“I’m not sure, and I’m not willing to try it. I asked for ice. They told me they could get better. They’re calling it Whack, and they’re saying it’s better, stronger, and more powerful.”
I toss the bag at Koda and he catches it with one hand. “See if you can find anythin’ out about this. Anythin’ at all.”
“On it, Prez.”
I look back to Charlie. “Anythin’ else?”
“People are showing up dead, going missing, it’s a dangerous operation, whatever it is. I don’t know who you’re chasing, I don’t really care, but I do know whoever he or she is, they’re doing an incredible job at running drugs through this town undetected.”
“Go back out there, ask more questions, cozy up to whoever you have to and find some answers.”
“You want me to dig deeper, I want more.”
“What more could you possibly need?” I growl.
“Money. And don’t argue with me, biker. I’m not here to be your friend. This is business. I need money. I know you have money. I’m going to find out more, but I’ll need compensation for it.”
“How much?” I grate out.
“Ten thousand.”
I glare at her. “Ten thousand, and you go in, you get what I need, and you don’t stop until I get it?”
She nods.
The girl knows how to drive a bargain, and she knows how to get what she wants.
“Deal,” I say, extending my hand.
She takes it and shakes.
“I’ll dig deeper. I have a few contacts. I know people. I’ll try to get a name, a location, something to put you on the right path.”
I nod.
She nods.
And then she leaves the room.
Five minutes later, Maverick walks in. “Koda said our girl got information.”
“She did, but it isn’t enough. All we got is that there is a fuck load of drugs movin’ around, and a new drug, a more powerful drug. Whack, they’re callin’ it. Don’t know what or who Treyton is workin’ with, but I’m startin’ to think it’s for a hi
gher source.”
“Yeah, no way that fucker is smart enough to do this on his own. He’s gotta be the eyes, ears and delivery for someone else. Someone bigger.”
“Cartel, maybe,” I mutter.
“Possibly. You send Charlie out for more information?”
“Yeah, and she upped her price on me.”
Maverick grins. “Like that girl, bro. She’s got spunk. Ain’t afraid of much.”
“No, she isn’t, but I still don’t fully trust her.”
“She got you information.”
“Yeah, she did, we’ll see what she comes back with now there is money involved.”
Maverick nods. “We’ll find him, Prez. We will find that fucker, and we will make him scream.”
“You’re damn fuckin’ right we will.”
That fucker will roam my town no longer.
I’ll make sure of it.
~*~*~*~*~
NOW – AMALIE
“Burn, burn, burn,” I sing into the microphone as Scarlett sings the chorus to her new single.
It feels weird to sing. It’s not natural to me, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It’s just different. I’m still playing majority of the songs on the piano for Scarlett’s new album, but she wants two with my voice in them, mostly background, but also one as a duet. That’s daunting, and I’m terrified my pitch will be completely wrong and I’ll put her album on hold or delay it, but she’s confident.
They all are.
Her label loved my voice, and were more than happy to add something different to her album. I guess it comes down to sales really, for them; they’ll do anything it takes to make a buck.
Isaac is playing a few songs with us, too, and so far today has been a really good day. We came in early to finish recording the first song, which will be the single to promote the album. After that, we’ll start working on writing and creating the other songs. The process takes quite a while but it pays well, keeps us busy and is really like living a dream.
Well, it is living the dream.
Every second I get to spend in here, with Scarlett, or on tour, is everything I could have ever wanted and more. I’ll be forever grateful to her for what she’s given me. The chance. The opportunity. I close my eyes, singing, and living in that dream for a little while longer, relishing in it, loving it, letting it become a part of who I am.
