Absolution (Heaven's Rejects MC Book 3)

by Avelyn Paige

  Raze damn near stuns me with that question. Logically speaking, I would have probably asked the same question in his place. One of the most loyal members of his club takes off after a woman with no reassurances of coming back. It’s unusual even for me, and he knows that the possibility could be real.

  “You trying to get rid of me, Prez?” I tease back, trying to break the tension.

  “I would never do that brother, but man to man, I have to ask. I’ve never seen you go after a girl this hard, and coming from someone who’s been there, I get the draw to be on the outside of what happens when you’re a part of an MC.”

  “Raze, I fully intend on returning, but the situation is more complicated than I expected. There’s a kid involved,” I bluntly say, laying it all out on the table for him.

  “A kid? Shit, Ratchet. That is not what I expected you to say. Is it hers?” he asks.

  “It’s her brother. She just told me about him last night. I’m not sure what her intentions are with him yet, but I need to ride this out. If she intends on bringing him home with her, I will make sure that happens.”

  “I understand Ratchet, and I am happy to know you want to stay with us. It just wouldn’t be the same around here without you.”

  “Yeah, who else would bust V’s balls?” I smile. Raze’s laugh fills the phone, and I laugh with him.

  “If there’s anything that you need me or the club to do, please let me know. Keep me in the loop where you can.”

  “Will do, Prez,” I tell him. “So, tell me how our good friend Rex met his maker.”

  Raze begins to tell me about the activities of the last night, when a stack of papers on the coffee table in front of the couch, catches my eye. I scoop up the pile, and study the words on the first page as Raze talks about burning Rex’s business to the ground with him inside of it. I should have been pissed that someone else got to handle my job for the club, but this new information has me engrossed.

  The paper in front of me is the application to file for custody of the boy whose name I know now is Asher.

  Does she intend to make this a permanent stay?

  My eyes read line by line, and I notice that she’s left only one portion blank. Marital status.

  Thank god for small favors.

  I flip to the next page and find a hand-written page with her to-do list with a neatly organized row of check boxes. The first line simply reads find a job with a broad check mark next to it, but the rest are blank. The other items on her list are a bit more sporadic. The next line mentions a therapist, and the rest detail the things she needed to do based off of the application I saw first. The biggest item that stands out to me is her task of paying the court administration fee and filing the actual paperwork. It hits me like a punch to the gut knowing she’s working constantly just to scrap together two hundred bucks. This could have been taken care of far sooner, if she had just let me in from the beginning. I may not be rolling in serious cash, but everything that I have earned from the early backdoor dealings of the club and my legitimate job through the club’s security service, has been saved. I grew up with nothing, and after starving and living on the streets, I made a promise to myself to not waste whatever I was given. In my own way, it was a guarantee to never go without a roof over my head and food in my belly.

  A swell of pride hits me, when I realize how serious she is about getting her brother, and no matter the cost to me, I want that for the both of them. But even I have to admit that the odds will be stacked against her. After spending countless years in the system, I know all too well the requirements of getting custody of a relative or adopting a child. While it might be different here than it was in Florida, married couples with disposable incomes and huge houses always get priority. It pains me to think that her effort to get him may all have been in vain. She’s a single woman with a small income, and a trailer that is falling apart around her. She would be seen as a risk by the courts. Not to mention the fact that she might have a criminal record a mile long thanks to the men she clung to during that dark period of her life. Something that I don’t blame her for, since I know all too well the sacrifices that it takes in order to survive.

  A crazy idea pops in my head, but I need to look into the local laws, before I go through with it. My idea could come with consequences should the Kentucky state law stars align. She would be pissed, but if it expedites her case, it’s a risk that I am willing to take.

  “You still there?” Raze asks. “Did the connection drop?”

  “I’m here, Prez. I think my girl is starting to wake up, but when Voodoo leaves his computer bat cave, have him give me a call.”

  “Will do. Be safe, brother.”

  “Same goes to you. Get some sleep, old man.”

  I disconnect the call, and toss my phone down next to me. With Raze not distracting me, I look over the paper again. This confirms what I have only assumed since she told me about her brother. She wants to adopt him, and what my girl wants my girl gets. I will, for damn sure, make this happen.

  I make myself a promise, before heading back to bed with my girl.

  That no matter how much she will fight me, I will fight for her and Asher even harder.

  “What the fuck have you done to my truck,” I yell out the door of my trailer. Ratchet looks up from the heap of car parts lying around him and just smiles.

  “Good morning to you too, Siren. How did you sleep?” he smiles, while cleaning off the engine grease on his hands with a rag from his back pocket. He tosses the rag aside and just smirks back at me.

  “Don’t you dare try to play this off, Ratchet. Why are these engine parts all over the ground? I may not be a mechanic, but even I know that doesn’t go there.”

  “It needed a tune up, amongst other things,” he coolly replies. “The brakes were shot, the alternator was about to go out any second, and I don’t think the previous owner changed the fucking oil since the day this thing came off the dealer’s lot. It’s a miracle it’s still running.”

  It should have been a warning sign, when he came to me a few days ago with the copy of the truck’s title in hand, and also demanding a copy of my mother’s death certificate, that he had plans for the old beater. How he even found that is beyond me, but he did. Surprisingly, my mother did actually own this hunk of junk. Ratchet had me sign the title amongst other documents, before whisking them away in the promise that he would handle the Department of Motor Vehicles for me. Maybe I should have asked more questions, but if it kept him occupied for a few hours, then so be it. I hated that place; even here it wasn’t as bad as California. If I didn’t have to go to the one government office that was modeled after the pits of hell, it was fine by me. But this was just way too much.

  I just stare at him in shock. It’s been a week since I let him into my life, and he has taken it upon himself to just impose in every facet of my life. First, he fixed the plumbing on the trailer. Then it was the roof. After that, he convinced Willie to switch me to the afternoon shift, which I protested. The money was better at night, but Ratchet’s overprotective ass didn’t want me around that kind of a crowd, after what he witnessed the night with Johnny. And now he’s fixing my truck. Well at least I hope he’s fixing it.

  It’s not that I don’t appreciate the work that he’s doing, but it is all so unnecessary. This trailer would have better served as ash once it’s purpose was fulfilled, but he didn’t see it that way. Ratchet took one look at the place and his inner handyman came out. I think if I hadn’t have distracted him the last few days, then this place would have looked like it belonged on the front page of Redneck Home Weekly.

  The house was one thing, but the truck is a completely different story. It’s my only means of transportation, aside from his bike. Now that I think about it. Maybe that was his intention all along. If I was dependent on him, he could invade everything in my life. Fucking asshole.

  “You could say thank you, Siren. I’m trying to make this thing safer for y
ou,” he suggests, slamming his hand down on the metal exterior.

  I glare back at him in return. His intentions of stranding me here are as clear as day on his face. Every time that I have tried to leave for work, he’s tried to use his dick as a means to keep me here. Not that I minded, but at the same time, I needed to make money. Without that, Asher would have to stay in my father’s care another day longer than necessary.

  “And how exactly will I be getting to work?” I question him. “This doesn’t exactly look like I will be driving it anytime soon, Ratchet.”

  “About that,” he smiles, wiping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I didn’t think that it was going to be this bad, until I started really looking at it. It’s going to be a couple of days before I finish up.”

  “I guess I could take your ride.”

  “I’ll take you, Siren. Not a big deal,” he replies, without a clue at what I just said. Autopilot answers are about to bite him in the ass.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me as confusion clearly paints his face.

  “I didn’t mean taking your bike as in riding with you. Since you took my ride, I am going to take yours.”

  I step off the porch, heading towards his precious ride. He stands stoically, trying to figure out if I am bluffing or not. It isn’t until I swing my leg over the warmed red metal tank, that he suddenly takes action. He strides across the driveway towards me with a look of concern plastered on his face. Playing along, I run my fingers toward the ignition switch just as he reaches me.

  “This is how you turn it on, right?” I innocently ask, before turning the switch. The engine roars to life between my legs, and his eyes widen. Moving my hands to the grips, I outstretch a finger across the brake. “And this is the gas.”

  “Hang on just a fucking minute, Siren,” he yells over the sound of the engine. “You can’t take my bike.”

  “Well you took my truck. It’s only fair.”

  Ratchet reaches down and switches off the engine.

  “While I would be happy to teach you how to ride, this isn’t the kind of bike you try to learn on. You need something with a bit less power and weight to it. Had you popped that kickstand, I would have had to haul this thing off of you.”

  “I think I could handle this bike just fine,” I argue, knowing that this is going to annoy him even more.

  “If you’re going to handle anything, it’s going to be me. Now, why don’t you slide right off that seat, and let me show you how we handle things around here.”

  “That an offer?”

  “Get your ass off my bike, and you’ll find out, Siren.”

  I smile back, and do as he asks. As I pass him, I can feel the arousal radiating off of him. As each day passes, the passion that I feel for him grows exponentially. For the first time in my entire life, I feel loved. Though he has never said it aloud, I know he feels the same way. He may never say it, but as much as I am his, he is mine. One heart beating in two different bodies.

  I get a few feet away from him, and bolt for the door. The chase is on, but he soon catches me. His arms envelop my body, as his mouth descends on mine in the hallway to the bedroom. I rip his shirt over his head and he undoes his jeans.

  My fingers trace the edge of his boxer briefs, before sliding inside. I wrap my hands around his thick cock and begin to stroke him, feeling the quickening pulse of his arousal. His head falls back with pleasure, but he quickly snaps back and looks at me.

  “As good as that feels, I want your mouth first and then your pussy, Siren. My cock has seen enough of my hand in your absence the last few months.”

  I smile and release him, lowering myself to my knees as he works his briefs over his hips and down his legs. His cock is rigid with his need. It might be an odd thing to say, but Ratchet’s cock is a work of art. The veins wrapping around his thickness are like a beautiful piece of architecture, and every time I see it, it makes me pause to admire it.

  I look up to him as I take his cock into my mouth. The tip slides against my tongue, which sends a moan slipping from his lips as his head falls back again. The tip of my tongue flicks against his frenulum, and I feel the veins of his cock pulsing against my lips in response to the touch. It’s a small act that drives him crazy. I let my teeth lightly graze his sensitive flesh, while I pull his cock from my mouth, before taking it back in. His hands fall to the top of my head as I quicken the pace. With each motion, the pulse from his cock vibrates more and more, until he suddenly pulls himself from my mouth with an audible pop.

  In one swift motion, he hooks his hands under my shoulders and lifts me to my feet. He urgently grabs my leggings, and I give him a knowing warning not rip them. He just smiles, before dropping to his knees and sliding them off of me. He gently pushes me against the wall, spreading my legs with his hands. His mouth plunges straight to my aching, wet pussy. I cry out in pleasure, forcing my hands to run through his short hair. His tongue laps at my clit, biting and sucking, until I nearly come undone against the wall.

  “I’m so close,” I protest when he removes his mouth.

  “The only way you are getting off is around my cock,” he demands.

  His devilish demands make me smile as he stands, but before I can protest, he hoists me back around his waist. His cock teases at my wet entrance, before he pushes himself inside of me, stretching and filling me to the brim. I press my back against the wall and wrap my hands around his neck. His smile beams as he thrusts hard.

  “If you’re smiling Siren, then I am not doing my job correctly.”

  I smile back, but it soon fades to pleasure within seconds as he quickens his pace. With each movement, he continues to increase his pace; his hands digging into my ass to the point that I know his fingerprints will be bruised into my flesh. But I don’t care. All I want is for him to fuck me, until I can’t take it anymore. As weird as it sounds, the aches I feel, with each step at work, remind me just who I belong to.

  “Fuck me, Ratchet,” I murmur. “Harder, please.”

  He smirks, as his pace increases more with sweat dotting his brow. Just a few seconds more, and I begin to feel the vibrations of my impending orgasm. I try to force it down to prolong our time together, but with each thrust, my back scrapes against the wall roughly turning me on even more.

  Note to self, wall sex is super-hot, but this wallpaper shit has got to go next time. I’m pretty sure that the floral pattern on this wall is about to be permanently tattooed onto my back.

  “Siren,” Ratchet moans. “I know you’re holding back. Give it to me. I need to feel you come.”

  He leans down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth, knowing exactly what it does to me. His teeth nip my sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves straight to my clit. He releases my nipple, adjusts my hips one more time, and thrusts deeper into my core. My body shudders as my orgasm takes hold. My pussy clenches like a vice around his cock, when I feel his own release inside of me. He thrusts a few more times, before his forehead falls to mine and our chests heave from the exertion.

  “I love you, Siren,” he whispers, before pulling his cock out of me and lowering me to the ground.

  “I love you, Ratchet,” I repeat, pulling him in for a deepened kiss.

  My eyes flick to the clock on the wall, and he catches me looking at it.

  “Come on,” he says, pulling me by the hand. “Just enough time for me to get us both cleaned up, before I need to take you to work.”

  “And maybe a round two?” I tease back.

  “Jesus, woman. You are insatiable.”

  He makes good on my request, but the high of the second orgasm is short lived, before its time to head to Willie’s for my lunch shift. Ratchet sits on the edge of the bed as I braid my wet hair in a tight plait against my head, in the mirror he installed for me.

  He slides off the bed, stalking closer to me, and wraps his arms around my waist. He places a kiss on my
neck, and looks up to our reflection in the mirror.

  “I do love you, Siren. I know I have a shit way of showing it sometimes, but I do.”

  “I know,” I respond, leaning into his embrace. The sweet moment between us lingers a little longer, before he pulls me away. As we ride towards the bar, my mind relives that moment he told me loved me over and over again like a song on repeat. His affirmation of his feelings leaves me walking on cloud nine my entire shift. Even Willie noted how happy I looked as I clocked out after my shift ended.

  “Happiness is a good look on you, sugar. It’s nice to see you smile.”

  “Thanks, Willie,” I respond back. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  “Be safe, sugar!” he calls out in return.

  Stepping outside of the bar, I instantly notice that Ratchet isn’t here. Reaching inside of my purse, I retrieve my phone and notice a missed call and voice mail notification on the front screen from a local number. With him running late and having a bit of extra time on my hands, I click on the bubble and the voicemail instantly plays, instead of waiting until I get home to take care of it.

  “Hello, Erica. My name is Marissa Myers, and I am calling from the Hancock County Family Court office. I wanted to verify that you are available to attend the hearing regarding custody of an Asher Delmont that is scheduled for next Friday at ten o’clock in the morning. Please let me know if that time doesn’t work for you.”

  I look down at the voice mail translated text to make sure that I didn’t mishear the message, but sure enough it has everything I heard clearly written on the screen. A wave of confusion washes over me.

  “This has got to be some kind of mistake,” I tell myself, as I search through my contacts and click on my caseworker’s number.

  “Kentucky Cabinet for Health and Family Services. How may I direct your call?” the operator answers. I ask for Nicole, and I’m immediately transferred to her.

  “This is Nicole Wild. How can I help you?” she answers automatically.

  “Hi Nicole, it’s Erica Delmont,” I hurriedly state. “Listen, I just got a voicemail from the family court office regarding a court date for my application for Asher next week. Is that correct?”