Zane (Inked Brotherhood Book 3)

by Jo Raven

  He grabs my chin, pulls my mouth open and stuffs a bunched-up piece of cloth in it. I choke on it and start to cough. It makes my whole body scream with pain. It’s as if I’m being torn apart.

  The other man lights a cigarette and sucks in the smoke. Then he reaches behind my neck and stubs it into my skin.

  I scream and scream into the gag, tears blurring my vision, and finally, mercifully, everything bleeds into darkness.

  No.

  I come awake with a jolt, my stomach churning, bile rising in my throat. Falling out of bed, I scramble into the bathroom and lift the lid of the toilet just in time before I puke my guts out.

  Holy fucking shit. Goddamn triggers.

  Finally, I pull back and wipe my mouth on my arm, slide back and lean against the cold wall. Fuck…

  Against my better judgment, I reach up and touch the burn scars on my back. I swear they hurt like a bitch, although I know for a fact they are old. Very old. Pretty sure I was a kid when I got them.

  The dream haunts me, and I try not to think about it too much. I know that dreams aren’t exact memories. I’ve had this one before, and it’s never exactly the same. Though this time it was clearer. More real. The pain still courses through me, enough that I reach back to rub the scars again.

  I need to get out of this pit. This dream was the last thing I needed, and I know what triggered it.

  Kissing. There’s a damn good reason I don’t kiss, and now I’ve broken yet another rule, and I’m paying for it. I should have seen it coming.

  Kissing Dakota.

  I drop my head back as the memory of her body under my hands rushes back. The taste of her lips, the sweet smell of her arousal, the tremors going through her slender body… The sounds she made while I fucked her mouth with my tongue…

  Hot damn.

  My dick twitches, and I push down on it with my hand. My body is willing, but my head still isn’t in the right place. I rub my face as the images from the dream crowd in again. The hands. The smell of burning cigarettes and scorched flesh. The blinding pain.

  Too fucked up.

  Kissing her felt damn good, so why’s my brain turning on the bad shit? I don’t want to remember my past. I want to live now. Make out with Dakota. I want to give in and trust her, get over my shit and have a chance with her.

  Christ, listen to yourself, Zane. You think kissing her means you’re now married or something? That she’s your girlfriend? Jesus, you go berserk and scare the crap out of her on a regular basis. She sure tried, keeping still, letting you fuck her, kiss her… Doesn’t mean she wants more of it.

  Right? How am I supposed to know? Never been here before.

  What was I thinking? Giving her my number. Kissing her. Telling her about the memories. Letting her get closer than anyone before.

  I groan, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. I set myself up for this trap. I never wanted a girl to come after me, and now I can’t stop chasing after her, hoping she wants to stick around despite everything.

  Hope is a bitch. This is a train wreck waiting to happen, and I don’t think life insurance covers this sort of thing.

  Nothing can.

  ***

  I’ve just finished a tattoo, a Maori-style eagle with spread wings that reminds me of Dakota and the drawings I make on her skin, when my cell vibrates with a text message.

  Pulling off my gloves, I set about cleaning my tools and tidying up my work space. It’s late, and I’m beat. No clue how I’ll last the rest of the week—and the idea of the weekend scares the living shit out of me.

  My hands shake, and I stare at the ink stains on them.

  How long until you break?

  Only I can’t. Not allowed to. Can’t afford it. Emma can’t afford it. I can’t let her down, not now.

  Christ.

  My cell vibrates again, jumping on the counter, and I reach for it automatically. The text on the screen reads, ‘Going to a party. Join me? Dakota.’

  Dakota. My lips pull into a grin. She didn’t call or text since yesterday, and I was afraid she wasn’t… Wasn’t interested.

  Pathetic, Zane. Fucking pathetic.

  I stare at the text. A party. The way my head is pounding, and my vision keeps going blurry, I should say fuck no. I haven’t slept a wink since the nightmare, and that was at three in the morning.

  Need your beauty sleep, Zane?

  I rub my eyes and let out a breath. She texted me. She will be there. I want to see her. It’s like an itch under my skin, a tug inside my chest. Who the hell cares about sleep now?

  Before I know it, I’m locking up the shop, getting into my truck and texting to ask her for the address.

  I’m insane, I know. So what.

  She texts me right back and directs me north, to a fancy neighborhood with huge mansions, towering over cast iron garden gates. I wonder who lives here, and why we’re going to this party. Must be a friend of Dakota’s.

  I wonder if the person throwing the party knows who will be there. Probably not.

  The place is easy to find, the lights and noise giving it away. Not shocked to see the house is as huge as the rest of them on the street, I park my truck and climb out.

  Wealth always surprises me. You’d think I’d be immune to it by now. After all, Rafe is quite rich and so are Tessa and other people I hang out with. But every time I step into a house like this one, I need some time to wrap my head around the amount of money some people have and the stupid ways in which they choose to spend it.

  I mean, if they have no idea what to do with all their cash, can’t they just ask me? I’ve seen real poverty, and hey, it’s not hard to find. Just a few streets away, there are people sleeping on the sidewalk. Instead of spending thousands to build a patio surrounded by a pool with alligators made of stone poking their ugly snouts out of the water, why don’t you donate that money and relax?

  Jesus H. Christ. I rub my hands over the shaved sides of my head and suck on the barbell in my tongue. Have to calm down. People earn their money and can do whatever the hell they want with it. I shouldn’t care.

  It’s just that I’ve taken people off the streets and would give my right arm for that money so that I can set them up, pay for their medical care, their lessons, their rent and all they need.

  Help Emma, although Matt says her insurance covers everything. Everything when they can do nothing for her. Maybe if I had this money, I could take her to better specialists who could cure her. Maybe…

  Shit. Flashes of her thin face fill my thoughts, and I just want to sink down and howl, when I hear Dakota’s laughter.

  Silver bells and crystals. Has to be her. I cut through the lawn, past groups of people drinking and talking. Somehow I know that when I find her, things will be okay. I’ll be okay.

  I spot her in a small group. They seem to be having fun, and I slow down. Maybe I should have a drink first, leave her with the fun people.

  Just as I’m about to turn and go, she glances my way, and her eyes light up. Transfixed, I watch her as she starts toward me, her dark hair framing the pale oval of her face. She’s dressed in black shorts and ripped black tights and a tight blue top that hugs her slender curves and shows off her perky tits.

  And of course my dick goes from zero to hundred in two seconds flat. This girl acts on my body like an energy drink. On my mind, too, but I try hard not to think about that.

  She walks toward me. “You made it,” she says and lifts her arms, as if asking for permission to hug me.

  I step closer and let her hold me for a long moment before I return the hug. It’s crazy how good her touch makes me feel. My mind blanks, though in a good way, and I grin as I lock my arms around her waist and lift her into the air.

  She squeals, and it makes me laugh, until I let her down and catch the flash of fear in her eyes.

  “Dakota?” I lift my hands to her face and cup her cheeks. Her skin is cold. “Oh shit.”

  “I’m okay.” She puts her hands over mine, keeping th
em there. “It’s just…” She swallows hard. “For a moment it felt like falling. I’m scared of falling.”

  “I won’t let you fall.” I wipe my thumbs over her lips. “I swear.”

  She nods, and her smile slowly returns, the one that makes my breath catch and the world shine brighter. But as I hold her, I think that I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep. I’m the one falling. How the hell can I keep her from tumbling down?

  ***

  Dakota’s friends come over, and she introduces them to me. Luke the lead guitarist, Quinn the second electric guitar and Riley, who’s the bassist. Turns out nobody really knows the guy who’s throwing the party. They got the invite through the friend of a friend.

  Figures.

  They quickly drift away to talk and flirt and drink, and I sort of expect Dakota to follow them, but she doesn’t. She takes my hand, tangles her fingers with mine and smiles. A calm settles over me. She’s got, like, a magical touch. Makes me peaceful and hard at the same time.

  Fucking weird.

  “You know, I may leave town for a while,” she whispers.

  A sort of weird seizure goes through my chest, constricting my lungs. “Where will you go?”

  “Home. Tessa can’t host me forever, and I still haven’t found a place. I mean, you said it yourself: I get along fine with my parents. I can stay there until I find a roommate.”

  I say nothing, my heart thumping too fast. I look down at our joined hands.

  She tugs on me, and I walk with her. As if by silent agreement, we move away from the pool, toward the back of the garden. I tug back and pull her to me, so I can slip my arms around her tiny waist. Her large blue eyes twinkle. Her hands land on my chest, and I dip my head to kiss her lips. Nightmares be damned. This feels so good.

  She kisses me back, her lips soft, her taste sweet, her body pliant and warm pressed along mine. Our tongues meet and clash in a furious dance that sends electric bursts straight to my balls.

  Holy fuck.

  Voices drift toward us, and she pulls back a little. A group is wandering toward us, and regretfully, I let her go.

  “You know,” she says, “I’m a good cook.”

  I lift a brow at that, because I must have missed something. I reach down to adjust my suddenly too tight jeans. “Good for you.”

  She laughs, and the sound makes me want to fall on the cool grass and smile up at the starry sky. “What I mean is, if I were your roommate, I’d cook nice things for you.”

  The words throw me smack back into reality. Tension returns, making my back cramp. I pat my pockets for my cigarettes. “I bet you would.”

  “My mom always says the way to a man’s heart goes through his stomach.”

  I frown. “So you want my heart?”

  She shrugs and shoves her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Even in the dim light of a lamppost, I can see a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Just a room would do for now.”

  Yeah, of course what she needs is a room. But I can’t let her move in with me, even if the idea of her moving out of town makes me want to do something real stupid and ask her to stay. I can’t. She can’t.

  It was different with Erin. I never reacted to her like I do with Dakota. My body was never interested, and Erin was in love with Tyler since ever. We were like siblings. Still are.

  If Dakota were my sibling, I’d be in hell for incest already.

  Wait, I’m already in hell. What am I missing?

  “I get it. You don’t want me as a roommate.” She kicks at a pebble, and I wonder if this is a deal breaker, but she gives me a faint smile. “Have you found someone already?”

  I shake my head.

  “Never mind. It’s just…”

  “Just what?” I’m really curious to hear what’s on her mind.

  “Just want to take care of you,” she whispers.

  I don’t know what to say to that. I could say I’m okay, but that’d be a lie, and I do want her close, there’s no denying that. I need her.

  And yet I can’t have her.

  “Hey, stop worrying about things. Everything will be okay.” She gives me a bright smile, and I try to smile back. “I’ll just go say hi to Marisa.” She points at a leggy blonde in a bikini who’s standing by the pool. “Be right back.”

  I shrug, still lost in thought, and pull the cigarettes from my pocket. I toy with the pack as I watch her go. I’ve already let down my defenses with her. I’ve held her, kissed her, fucked her face-to-face. Had a damn breakdown in front of her.

  And that’s not all. I miss her when she’s not around. I picture her face as I work, as I walk, for chrissakes, as I jerk off in the shower. When I hear a woman laugh, I strain to hear in case it’s her. If she moves in with me…

  Move in with me. Fucking hilarious. If I scare her now, imagine what will happen if she lives with me under the same roof.

  I light a cigarette and take a long drag, then look for a bar or cooler. I need a drink. Spotting a wet bar at the end of the pool, I head that way, passing by Dakota. She smiles at me, and some of the tension leaves me.

  ‘Everything will be okay.’ Her words echo in my head, and I wish I could believe them. Her voice follows me as I approach the bar. It draws me like an invisible string, so that I turn to look at her.

  That’s how I see the moment she’s jostled backward by two guys clearly drunk off their asses. Her scream jolts me into action. The lit cigarette drops from my hand as I sprint toward her, shoving people aside, calling her name.

  They’re swinging her between them, laughing, and she’s flailing and screaming again. Fucking assholes. I make a grab for them, and they falter, turning to look at me.

  “Let her go. Let her the fuck down!” I’m grappling with one of them, and he drops her, turning, his fist flying.

  It catches me in the jaw, and I stumble. The other guy is still trying to throw Dakota into the pool, and a few other idiots are cheering him on. Her face is white with fear. Can’t they see how terrified she is?

  The guy tries to swing her over the edge, but I manage to grip his arm and pull him backward. He curses and digs his heels in, but I’m not letting go. My jaw hurts, my heart is racing, and I’m really pissed.

  “I said let her go, bitch.” I shake him, and he finally drops Dakota to take a swing at me.

  “You’re kidding me.” Have I mentioned how pissed I am? I punch him in the stomach, and he doubles over, gagging. Which serves him right. I hope he chokes on his own vomit.

  Hands are pulling me back, because apparently, someone finally figured out not everyone was happy with the whole joke.

  I push them off me, looking for Dakota. She’s walking backward, away from the pool, clutching at her arms.

  Fuck.

  Throwing the last person off me, I march straight to her and cup her face. “You okay?”

  She nods and bites her lip, and goddammit, of course she’s not okay. Her face is ashen, her eyes all white with fear. She’s panting, short, sharp gasps.

  I pull her hands to me, drag them up and loop them around my neck. “I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

  She nods again, looking dazed. It makes me want to turn around, grab the two asshats who did this to her and smash their faces in.

  Christ. “Hold on.” I bend my knees, slide an arm under her knees and lift her up. I hold her close to me, loving the way her head drops on my shoulder.

  She looks up at me, her gaze clearing. “Zane?” Her hands tighten around my neck.

  “S’okay. Let me take you home.”

  ***

  Home.

  It’s not until I’ve tucked Dakota into my truck and belted her in, not until I’m driving off toward downtown, when I realize I’m not taking her to Tessa’s apartment.

  I’m taking her to my place.

  Just for tonight, I think. I steal a glance at her. She’s twisted around, tucking her feet under her, and she’s still clutching at her arms, as if she’s cold.

  Fuckers.
>
  “Why are you so afraid of falling?” I find myself asking. “So afraid of the water?”

  I want to know, and I dread knowing. If my own fear, and its cause is anything to go by, I won’t like what I’ll hear.

  But she says nothing for a while, and I focus on reaching my place and parking the truck. I go around to open her door, and she climbs down. I want to carry her upstairs. Loved the way she clung to me before.

  She looks up at me and shivers, and the hell with it, she doesn’t seem opposed to being carried. I lift her again, her slight weight sweet in my arms, and go up.

  “Not afraid I’ll drop you?” I mutter as we reach the apartment door and have to put her down for a moment to unlock and open.

  “You won’t drop me.”

  She sounds so certain when she says it, and I just gather her up in my arms again and walk inside.

  I wish I was as sure of it myself.

  I walk blindly into my room and lower her on the mattress. At least the sheets are clean, I think. I changed them yesterday. The room is a mess, but in the dimness you can hardly see it.

  Turning on the lamp on the bedside table, I sit down next to her and work on her boots, unlacing them and pulling them off. She wiggles her toes, and through the stretch fabric of her black tights, I can see that her toenails are painted black.

  I run my hand up her leg, from her ankle to her knee. I want to unwrap her like a Christmas present.

  “About the pool and the water,” she says, and I freeze, my hand resting on her thigh.

  “You don’t have to tell me.” Because if she does, then maybe I’ll have to tell her about me, too, tell her more than I already have.

  She shrugs and leans back on my pillows, crossing her legs at the ankle. “I fell into a pool once.”

  I wait for more, but she just stares at her hands, folded in her lap, her eyes dark, so I rub my eyes and scoot beside her, until our shoulders touch. “Okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” Her voice wavers. “I didn’t really fall, you know. I was pushed.”

  I still don’t get what the big deal is, so I force myself to nod. We’re pressed against each other, ’cuz my bed isn’t a double, and there isn’t much space, so I lift my arm and place it over her shoulders.