HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC

by Claire St. Rose

  The trashy woman—whose breasts were purposely poised to pop out of her uniform—smirked. “Rumor has it your juvenile delinquent of a boyfriend tried to do himself in and spent some time in the ER yesterday. What happened? Did he have a stroke of conscience about the guy he shot, or did you get your panties in a twist because he came before you could get off?”

  No longer willing to take this kind of bullshit, Ariana nodded. “Well, Alyssa, I can see you get your information from Dr. Bernard. He’s the only one who could twist something like that, and you have been sucking his cock for the last three or four months.”

  Alyssa bristled visibly, and some of the other EMTs started closing in, sensing something brewing. Sal put a hand on Ariana’s shoulder from behind her, but she gently brushed it off, glancing at him with reassurance that she could handle things.

  Alyssa laughed derisively. “So, you’re not going to hide behind your Latino boy today?”

  Heat flooded Ariana’s system. Insults directed at her were one thing, but no one talked about Sal that way. Alyssa had just signed her own exile order, the rest of the room taking poorly to that, as well. “I can take care of my own business, Alyssa. And I don’t have to do sexual favors to get what I want.” She took a step forward, threateningly. “You know, I’m tired of you trying to make me a laughing stock, Alyssa. Maybe you should consider stepping the hell off. After all, I’m not in the best of places right now. My boyfriend was falsely accused of a felony, my father is currently lying in the hospital knocking at death’s door, and I’m a little overwhelmed with school work right now since I aspire to something greater than a glorified medical assistant who assists more with rubbing one out than with taking care of patients. I might just come unglued, and it would be a pity to mar that pretty little face or those ten-thousand-dollar breasts.”

  The murmuring and laughter around them had Alyssa’s face heating with humiliation, and Ariana couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. This would be enough to get word out. No one would bully her anymore, and maybe she’d finally get a little respect.

  “Go suck on a pair of garbage balls,” Alyssa spat, turning on her heel and striding out of the garage.

  Ariana knit her brows and smiled in confusion at Sal behind her. “What does that even mean?”

  He shrugged, laughing so hard he had to hold his sides. “I don’t have a clue; but, whatever’s gotten into you, I like it.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Really, Ariana, what’s this about?”

  Taking a deep breath and trying to stop shaking, Ariana realized she’d been nervous through the whole confrontation. Now, the adrenaline coursed through her like she was on speed. “I’m tired of taking shit from people, Sal. My whole life is a wreck, and I have enough stress without having people think I’m a pushover, or a drunk, or riding my father’s coattails. I’m done with it. That’s all.”

  Sal narrowed his eyes and assessed her suspiciously. “I think maybe someone’s had a revelation of some kind.” He hopped down beside her and crossed his arms. “Spill the epiphany, pipsqueak.”

  Ariana didn’t want to rehash everything, so she summed up things as quickly as she could. “I talked to Vince, and we’re cool. We’re going to work together and get my dad moved to a private facility with a full time nurse. The hospital wasn’t treating him well, and he doesn’t have long. I want him to be comfortable, and Vince’s going to help me take care of it.”

  Sal raised his eyebrows with a mocking grin and said nothing.

  “What?” she asked, waiting for the judgment she expected.

  He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. I mean, a few days ago, you were enraged and too upset to face the world. Today, you’re a bombshell who’s suddenly hopping on the train to Commitment City. I didn’t expect it.”

  “Neither did I,” she said, staring out the open dock doors. But then, she’d never expected to find the tamed beast inside the rabid biker that Vince presented. Just thinking about his generosity made her warm and fuzzy, and no matter how much she thought it best to distance herself from everything Vince was part of, she couldn’t stay away from him. She was madly in love with him, and while she wasn’t going to say it out loud, she was beyond denying it internally.

  Speaking in a quieter voice, Sal said, “It’s alright to be happy about it, Ariana. You deserve that. And really, I don’t think he’s a bad guy. Vince strikes me as a guy with a good heart who’s had some bad luck and made a few bad decisions. Overall, I think he’s a stand-up, responsible guy.”

  Ariana welcomed the reassurance, but she was skeptical. “Sal, doesn’t it bother you that he’s been in legal trouble? That whole shoot out was like some gangbanger encounter, and I don’t want that kind of violence in my life.”

  However, Sal shook his head. “He was cleared of the charges, remember? Plus, I’ve got sources, Ari. I hear that Vince and his crew were attacked and only pulled the guns in self-defense. Would you rather he sat in a cell for a couple of hours or surrendered and died?”

  He had a point. Still… “He’s into something illegal if there are men trying to kill him. I don’t want to be linked to that, and I don’t want to worry about him dying every time we’re apart.”

  “Honey, you’re going to worry either way—and probably more if you just ditch him. When it comes to clubs like his, all he has to do is look at someone in another club the wrong way, and then he’s a target. Not all motorcycle clubs are into illegal shit. Why don’t you just ask him about it?”

  “No way!” That was none of her business, and Ariana liked the idea of plausible deniability. Fidgeting with her hands, she dropped her gaze and muttered, “I’m in love with him, Sal.” It felt weird to say that out loud to anyone other than Vince, but it was like a weight lifted off her chest. Just moments ago, she’d been unable to express it, and now, she wanted to shout it out.

  “I know you are,” Sal told her. “Live in the moment, Ariana. You and I both know you only get one chance at life.”

  Didn’t she know it! She’d wasted too much of it already. Considering her partner’s wise words, Ariana climbed back into the bus and continued her duties, trying to focus on the moment without worrying about what more damage could be thrown at her later.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Vince hung up his cell and shoved it in his pocket. He was beginning to wonder what good it did to have contractors on the club payroll if he still had to threaten their families to assure good work. At least now he was certain that by tomorrow morning the spare room in his house would be set up like a plush hospital room, completely equipped for Ariana’s father. The nurse would meet them all at the hospital for the transport, and she’d be given the medicine regimen and daily care. With the salary Vince offered, the woman better not make a mistake, or she’d be staring up from six feet under.

  “That sounded rough,” Cyril ground out, stepping up beside him and lighting a cigar. Vince considered him with interest. The two of them had kept a distance since their little altercation, and Cyril’s nose was still swollen and looked like, this time around, it was going to heal crooked. Not that it marred his looks any worse than they already were. “Everything alright on the home front?”

  Vince nodded, lighting his own cigarette. “Yep, it’s all good.” He stared straight ahead of him, cautious of getting in too deep with his club president.

  “We’ve got a problem on our hands, Larson. Any thoughts on what to do about the Demons?”

  Vince couldn’t remember the last time Cyril had asked his advice, and he had to wonder what the man’s angle was. He opened his mouth to respond, but several of the brothers started yelling. He squinted toward the road, his mood darkening as he saw a train of three black sedans turn in. “What the hell?” he muttered, taking a couple of steps forward.

  “This can’t be good,” Cyril grunted, following. Together, they strode forward to meet the unexpected visitors.

  The minute they stepped out of the car, Vince reco
gnized the suits. Only FBI wore such stiff, no-nonsense suits, and that definitely wasn’t good. He ran through his head, trying to recall if there was anything on the property that was incriminating. Thankfully, he came up with nothing—unless his crew had made a move without his knowledge. If they had, he’d shank them himself once they made it to prison.

  Two of the six men flashed their credentials, and Vince made straight for them. “I’m Agent Underwood, and this is Agent Haynes.”

  Vince nodded amicably. “Vince Larson. Can I help you boys with something?”

  “Mr. Larson, weren’t you recently released from custody on charges of murder?” Agent Haynes asked in a deep, accusatory voice.

  Vince grabbed his jacket and smiled. “I was released because the charges were dropped. I didn’t shoot or kill anyone. My brothers and I were attacked. The bullets that killed the victims were deemed to be friendly fire. Is that what you came all this way for?”

  “No, sir, we have another matter to investigate,” Agent Underwood told him. “We received an anonymous tip that your club was trafficking drugs and other illegal substances.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up paper. “We have a search warrant for the entire premises, inside and out, including personal and business vehicles parked within this lot.”

  Vince took the paper he offered and skimmed it. He’d seen enough of these to know it was legit, and he prayed none of his boys had packed away the kind of treat he shied away from in any of their bikes. He nodded, handing the paper to Cyril to check out. “Go ahead, gentlemen. Let me know if anyone is uncooperative or if you need my assistance with anything.”

  The two men gave him a suspicious stare and exchanged glances, and then Agent Underwood gave a short nod as the two of them strode in sync toward the building. The rest of the suits followed, and Pound moved in behind Vince. “What’s going on?”

  Vince leaned back and said, “I’d be willing to bet the Demons had a hand in this. Thought they’d take us down the cheap way, staying out of the picture and claiming we had shit here that would get us charged.” He shook his head and scoffed. “The storage building is locked up tight, right?”

  “Yes, sir, and none of the keys are here,” Pound assured him. “They’re with Jude, Traunch, and at your house.”

  Vince nodded. “Perfect. Then, we’ll just sit back and watch the show.”

  Inside, Vince was raging. This was a low blow, even for the Pale Demons, and it wouldn’t be a stretch of imagination for the feebs to start looking at the individual properties held by each member of the club. They’d have to move everything on hand quietly, with eyes watching, and that pissed Vince off. When it came down to survival, he took matters seriously, and this time around, he had other people to think about. He wasn’t about to let the Demons take him down now. Protecting his tribe and his family were the only things he would kill for—and that meant his brothers, as well as Ariana and her father.

  Lighting another cigarette, he leaned on his bike and waited, knowing that the agents were going to be frustrated at their waste of time as they left empty-handed. Then, he and his boys would have a good laugh before they sat down to discuss the business of retaliation.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Ariana sat outside her parents’ house, staring at the bright light still on in the main room. She knew her mother was in there since she saw her shadow moving now and then. After a slow night at work, she felt anxious and restless, and with her earlier confrontation, she wanted to clear the air, even if it meant a family feud.

  Climbing out of her car, she traipsed purposely up the walkway, knowing she had to tell the rest of her family that her father was going to be moved tomorrow. She didn’t care what they thought. After all, she was the only one who ever visited or did anything for him. Technically, they’d given up the right to opinions and decision making.

  However, most of all, she wanted them—mainly her mother, but also her sister—to feel the bitterness of guilt because they abandoned her father. She didn’t bother to knock, using the key she’d taken from her father’s ring to open the door. She moved toward the alarm—though it wasn’t even set—and she rolled her eyes at her mother’s careless oversight.

  The woman came teetering around the corner, still wearing heels and looking paranoid. When she saw Ariana, a hand fluttered to her chest, and she closed her eyes in relief. Then, she turned an angry gaze on Ariana. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to scare me into an early grave?”

  “No, Mom, but I do need to talk to you. Is Lorraine here?” She wasn’t feeling patient, as she walked right past her mother and into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of day old coffee, and popped it in the microwave.

  “She’s already in bed. Do you know what time it is?” her mother admonished.

  “Yes, I do. In fact, I just got off work about fifteen minutes ago.” She waited for the microwave to finish and sipped at the steaming, bitter liquid. “Have a seat, Mom. This could take a few minutes. Since I don’t want to repeat myself, I can either wake Lorraine, or you can pass this information on to her whenever you feel like it.”

  “Lorraine’s awake,” her sister said in her snotty voice, as she entered the kitchen, wrapped in a plush robe with a sleep mask pushed up on her head. “Is there a reason you’re here? Did you come to cry to us about your criminal boyfriend?”

  “No, actually, I didn’t, especially since he’s not a criminal; but, I’m glad you’re awake. Sit with us a minute.” Ariana let her sister’s insults roll off her in a way she’d never been able to in the past. She slid into a chair facing her mother and didn’t miss how Lorraine drug the chair between them to their mother’s side, as far away from Ariana as she could get. Her sister was such a child.

  “What is so important you have to come here at all hours of the night and disturb our routine?” her mother snapped.

  Ariana raised an eyebrow. “Your routine? You mean the one where you sit up for hours, watching trash television while Lorraine sleeps away her painful marriage? I have a routine, too, you know. I get up, I go to school, I study, and I work. Plus, in between there, I’ve been going to see Dad in the hospital, something I barely have time to do and still manage to fit in. Since the two of you don’t have jobs or school, what’s your excuse for not seeing him?”

  “Oh, honey, I can’t watch him waste away like that,” her mother whined, fanning herself as if she was trying to hold back tears. “It’s too painful to see.”

  “Yes, it’s very painful, and the only thing that really eases his pain anymore is the love of his family. But I forgot, it’s all about you.” Ariana couldn’t believe she was taking this tone with her mother, but she was tired of listening to the neurotic whimper of a self-absorbed head case.

  “Mom’s been having issues, and you know that,” Lorraine defended, putting an arm around the older woman’s chair.

  “Okay, let’s say I buy that. What about you? Why haven’t you been visiting Dad?”

  Lorraine’s face screwed up in disgust. “What makes you so self-righteous? What gives you the right to come in here and berate us for the way we handle things? Like you’re so much better! Acting out, spending time with that filth.”

  “That ‘filth’ is the man who’s going to help me make sure that Dad’s last days are comfortable, which is more than I can say for the two of you. Because you two can’t be bothered with a few minutes a day to get off your lazy asses and give Dad a little loving care, he’s got bedsores, hasn’t eaten, and is parched. But that’s going to change because that ‘filth’ has helped me arrange for private care until Dad passes.”

  Lorraine slapped both her palms on the table. “What gives you the right to make decisions without consulting us?”

  Ariana mimicked her sister, standing and leaning on her palms, as she loomed over the two weak women she was ashamed to call her family. “What gives me the right is that I’m his daughter and apparently the only one who doesn’t want to see him suffer. You two are so busy w
orrying about watching him hurt that you don’t care if he does or not, as long as you’re not witness to it. I’m not going to stand for it.”

  She stood up straight and crossed her arms. “I’ve been the one on the outside of the family for a long time, and maybe I asked to be shunned, but now, I’m going to make up for my own mistakes, and the two of you can live your sad excuses for lives. Tomorrow morning, Dad’s being moved from the hospital to a place where he can be comfortable, and there will be a full-time nurse caring for him. Not that the two of you will bother, but if you want to see him, you’ll have to go through Vince or me—since we’re the only ones with keys. Once he’s gone, I’m done with the two of you. I can’t afford to put the effort into relationships with people who don’t give me anything in return.”

  “How are you paying for that?” her mother demanded. “Are you using up his insurance or retirement fund?”