That definitely hasn’t changed. My brother has always been, and will always be, a ladies’ man. However, he’s gotten even more protective of me than he was before I left the city, which makes no sense, because I’m not a girl anymore, I’m a grown woman. I’m his baby sister, by a year, but he’s acting like I’m seventeen and trying to keep tabs on my every move. It was cute at first—but now it’s getting damn annoying and he and I are in need of a good chat. I can’t imagine he’s any better at compromising than he was growing up, but maybe I can use my puppy-dog eyes to let him loosen the reins a little. The truth of the matter is I love being around Rake and his MC. I just don’t like being controlled. I want to be there on my terms, not his. I want to be given choices and know that I’m being heard. Being around a group full of alpha males isn’t easy.
I sigh against Arrow’s back, enjoying the sensation of being pressed up against a man I should be glad wouldn’t give me the time of day. He’s dangerous, I know it and so would anyone who saw him. It is more than his physical appearance. You can almost feel the menace radiating from him, the raw power. It also doesn’t take a genius to see that he has an extralarge chip on his shoulder, weighing down on his muscular build. My breasts rub against his back and I feel him tense, so I move away slightly, my fingers gripping him with more pressure than before.
The ride is quick, and Arrow’s bike soon skids to a stop. I climb off, handing him back his helmet.
“Thanks, Arrow,” I tell him quietly.
He grunts in response and takes the helmet from my hands, but doesn’t bother to look me in the eyes.
“How’s your day been?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and studying him as he gets off his bike.
He glances up at me, finally, and rubs the back of his neck. “It was okay. You gonna ask about the fuckin’ weather next?”
“If I have to,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “In case you were wondering, my day was kind of awesome.”
He grins then, his eyes softening on me slightly. “Good to hear, Anna, good to hear. Now get your ass inside.”
He is trying to get rid of me. How predictable.
“Arrow,” I say, taking advantage of his attention. “Do you think Rake will tone down the whole escort thing?”
He licks his top lip, then follows through with his teeth. I stare at his mouth, mesmerized by the action.
He clears his throat. “Don’t look at me like that, Anna.”
“Like what?” I ask, still staring.
“Anna,” he snaps. I lift my gaze, my cheeks heating. “Go and ask Rake, but I don’t think so. He just wants you safe. Bad shit has happened before, and he’s going to make sure that nothing bad touches you. And I agree with him. Now get your ass inside before he calls me asking where the hell you are.”
“Okay,” I reply, puffing out a breath.
He steps to me and touches my cheek in an almost-there caress. Okay, this is new. He’s never shown this type of affection to me before.
Our eyes lock.
I swallow hard.
He pulls away and turns his back to me. Looks like I’ve been dismissed.
“Nice chatting with you as always,” I call out as I walk into the clubhouse. The scene before me is a familiar one. Rake is sitting there with a woman on his lap, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world. Faye, the president’s wife and queen bee of the clubhouse, is talking with Tracker, another MC member and a friend of mine. Sin, the club president, is nowhere to be seen. Faye turns when she notices me, her auburn hair framing her pretty face. I nod my head at her, giving her the respect she’s due as Sin’s old lady.
I know Faye is a badass chick, I’ve heard all the stories about her. I tend to stay out of her way—we don’t really interact, even though she’s close with Rake, Tracker, and the rest of the guys. I think in any other situation, we’d probably really get along well. I’ve heard nothing but good things about her, but I still have no plans to befriend her anytime soon. I’ll never admit this to anyone, but I envy her. She has all the men wrapped around her finger, but more important, they treat her like an equal. No one tells her what to do or orders her around. They listen to her and respect her. And it pisses me off that while I’m treated like a child, she can do as she pleases.
I know the men keep a close eye on me only because of Rake’s commands, and I hope that will ease up when my brother realizes that I’m a woman who can take care of herself. I think he needs to figure out that he never let me down when we were younger, and he has nothing to make up for. He’s a great brother, even though he can be a tad excessive when it comes to me. I know it’s because of how much he cares about me, but I don’t think he knows what to do about it. Or me.
Tracker walks over to me when he sees me, a smile playing on his lips, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Anna Bell!”
“Don’t call me that,” I reply, raising an eyebrow at him. Tracker is friendly, easy to get along with, drop-dead gorgeous, and completely fuckable. Shoulder-length blond hair frames a handsome face with bright blue eyes and full lips. His body is impressive, lithe and toned, and covered in tattoos. Why he’s with Allie, I have no idea. I think it’s one of those things—like how good girls always finish last, because the bitch definitely won when she got her paws on a man like Tracker. The first time I came to the clubhouse, he approached me and made a comment about breaking in the fresh meat. I replied with a joke about how I was harder to get than Rake, and we both found that amusing. We’ve kind of become friends since then. Tracker is very easy to be around, and he’s a good listener. I just bonded with him from the very start.
“It’s a very cute name, for a cute lady,” he says, squeezing my cheeks, shaking my head left and right.
“Fuck off,” I tell him with a smile, slapping away his hands.
“How was class?” he asks, pulling on a lock of my blond hair. Could he be more annoying? He treats me like the sister he never had yet didn’t want, so I make sure to return the favor.
“It was okay,” I reply. “Still thinking about quitting and becoming a club whore though. It seems to hold a certain appeal.”
He laughs, a deep rumble. “Don’t let Rake even hear you joke about that.”
“What would he do? Treat me like a kid and have people escort me everywhere?” I ask, voice full of sarcasm.
“And that,” he says, smirking, “is the reason you will never be a club whore.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
He chuckles. “Your sharp tongue. We like the club women to be pliable and—”
“Stupid? Easy? Flexible?” I offer, waggling my eyebrows sleazily.
He laughs harder. “I was going to say accessible.”
My lip twitches and I shake my head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now.”
“It’s a normal conversation for me,” he adds.
“I’ll bet.”
“Where’s that sidekick of yours?”
I narrow my eyes on him and purse my lips. “Why do you want to know?”
I saw the way my best friend, Lana, stared at Tracker when she met him. Like he was fucking Superman or something. I caught Tracker studying her too, but didn’t think much of it until now.
I know that Lana would never be someone’s side chick, but Tracker has this way about him . . . I hope he just leaves her alone. Lana is smart, bookish, and doesn’t have much experience with men. If Tracker shows interest in her, that’s not a good thing. Allie is his woman and is so crazy—legit crazy, not just crazy in love—she’d probably claw Lana’s eyes out. I don’t miss the looks she gives me when I talk to Tracker, and I’m just a friend.
Of course, Allie might have to watch her back. Lana can be quiet and unassuming most of the time, but she has a serious temper on her. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand. It hardly ever comes out, but when it does, everyone is in trouble.
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him either way. “Just making conversation. Put those claws away, Anna Be
ll.”
Rake walks over to me like he’s only just realized I’ve been standing here. Which he probably did.
“Hey, sis,” he says as he rubs his scruffy jaw. Blond hair and green eyes the same shade as mine, my brother has an eyebrow piercing and lip ring that suit him. He’s good-looking and knows it.
Yes—he’s one of those men. He uses his good genes to his advantage and no woman is safe in his presence. I wonder when he’ll settle down, and the type of woman it would take to make him do it. I’m thinking she would have to be pretty freaking phenomenal, because Rake seems to like a lot of variety and never stays with one woman long enough for me to even get to know her. Okay, that’s not exactly true. Rake started acting this way only after he broke up with Bailey in high school. She was the only woman I’ve ever seen Rake pay any real interest in. I wonder what Bailey’s up to these days.
“Hey. Why did you want me to come here?” I ask him, getting straight to the point.
He looks confused. “I thought we could hang out; I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”
I blink slowly.
“Okay. Will she be joining us?” I ask, pointing to the woman who is now standing behind him wearing a pouty expression.
“Fuck, no,” he replies, turning back and telling his tag-along something.
“Cut him some slack,” Tracker tells me softly so no one else can hear.
My mouth drops open. “But . . . but . . .”
He grins. “I know, but he’s trying.”
I know he’s trying; I do. He isn’t used to me in his space, I’m not used to being in his space, but I’m getting there. It is a lot to take on, being thrown headfirst into the MC lifestyle. I am adapting though, and know it means a lot to Rake that I try to fit in here.
When I see Rake walk past Faye and kiss her on the top of her head, my throat burns. How can he be so loving and affectionate with her but not his own sister?
I pretend his casual affection with her doesn’t hurt.
Rake says something to Faye, and she throws back her head and laughs. “What have you done now?”
Rake grins boyishly. “Nothing . . . yet. Just need some legal advice on something. Make some time for me, woman.”
Faye looks amused. “Come see me tomorrow.”
My brother nods and says something to her in a low tone that I can no longer hear.
“He doesn’t wanna fuck things up with you, so he’s being careful,” Tracker muses from beside me.
Thank you, Dr. Phil.
I sigh and lean my head on Tracker’s arm. “I know he cares about me. I just wish he wasn’t so . . .”
“Slutty?” Tracker adds with a wolfish grin.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No. It’s almost like he’s scared to be himself around me.”
“I think he just wants you to be proud of him and not scare you off with his bikerish ways.”
“I am proud of him,” I say, cringing when he slaps the woman’s ass as she leaves. “Okay, he can be a pig sometimes.”
Tracker’s loud laugh gets us looks from everyone in the room.
“What’s so funny?” Rake asks as he walks over and moves me away from Tracker. He sends Tracker a look that says She’s my sister, asshole.
I roll my eyes. Rake has the protective big-brother thing down pat, that’s for sure. He’s always looking out for me, always has.
Tracker raises his hands, proclaiming his innocence. “We’re just friends, man, you know I wouldn’t go there.”
“And why not?” I ask him in a sweet tone. “Is there something wrong with me?”
I put my hand on my hip, cocking it to the side, and give him a look that dares him to say anything other than how I’m one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. I try and keep my face serious, not wanting to break out in the smile that’s threatening my lips.
Tracker tilts his head to the side, taking me in from top to bottom. “You kind of look like Rake if you squint your eyes, so yeah, no, thanks.”
He doesn’t expect the punch in the gut. “Ow! You’re strong for someone so little.”
Rake grunts. “Come on, Anna, stop bullying my brothers.”
Tracker laughs and rubs his rock-hard stomach. Like that even hurt him.
Arrow chooses that moment to walk in, and as always, he garners my full attention. I watch as he storms into the kitchen and comes out with a bottle of Scotch in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
He plops down on the couch and starts to drink straight from the bottle.
He doesn’t look up, or pay attention to anyone around him, until Faye walks over and starts to talk to him in a hushed tone. I follow behind Rake as he leads me toward a long hall, forcing myself not to look back at Arrow. We stop at a door, and he grins boyishly at me as he opens it.
“This is your room. So, you know, you always have somewhere to stay, no matter what,” he says, gesturing for me to enter. The room is bare except for a stunning black leather bed.
“It’s new,” he explains as I turn to stare at him.
“I have my own place,” I tell him, feeling confused. Growing up, we didn’t really have a house. We moved around and stayed wherever we could, couch surfing or living with our mother’s latest boyfriend. We didn’t have a stable life, or many other things that most people took for granted. We didn’t come first to our mother; the drugs did. Maybe that’s why he wants me to feel as though I have a home here? That no matter what, I’ll always have a place to go? A place where I will be welcome?
My heart warms at the sentiment, but it isn’t necessary. I am no longer that scared little girl; I am now a woman who knows how to take care of herself.
“I know you do, but you also have a place here. With me. You will never have to worry again.”
Looks like I was right.
“Rake—”
“You don’t have to call me that,” he says, not for the first time.
“I know, but it’s weird when I’m the only one calling you Adam and no one knows who the hell I’m talking about. Although I still call you Adam in my head,” I try and explain.
His laugh makes me smile. I like seeing him laugh. “It’s weird having my baby sister calling me Rake.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re nicknamed after a man who lives in an immoral way and sleeps around a lot.”
I used the dictionary for that one. It says a rake is another name for a womanizer, or a libertine.
The flush that works up his neck lets me know he isn’t exactly pleased to be having this conversation with me. “Maybe I just like to . . .”
He searches fruitlessly for another reason to be called Rake.
“. . . get rid of leaves?” I suggest in a dry tone.
“You always were a smart-ass,” he says with good nature. “Fine, I like women. Sue me. I’m the perfect example of a man you shouldn’t date. Learn from it.”
“Surely there are some good men around this clubhouse . . . ?” I say casually, pretending to look around.
Like Arrow.
That’s what I really mean.
Rake’s laughter isn’t what I was expecting in response. “No one will go near you, Anna. They know you’re off-limits.”
“How would they know that?” I ask him suspiciously, my hackles rising.
“Because I told them,” he replies, unable to keep the smugness out of his tone.
My mouth drops open. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re my sister,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes, but I’m not asexual,” I reply dryly, walking farther into the room and sitting on my new bed.
“To me you are,” I hear him mutter. “Look, Anna, now that you’re back here . . . I want to be here for you, like I haven’t always been in the past.”
Ahh, the infamous Jacob incident.
“That wasn’t your fault,” I say for the hundredth time.
He ignores me.
“Do you wanna get a drink?” he asks
, the conversation clearly over. “You can tell me how your week has been.”
“Sure, I could use a drink.”
I wonder if Arrow will share his bottle.
TWO
I SIT at the clubhouse bar sipping on my screwdriver, sandwiched between Rake and Tracker.
“Where’s Allie?” I ask the man on my right.
Not that I like her, I ask just to make conversation.
Tracker’s reply is a non-amused grunt.
I grin into my drink. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Anna Bell, you are too young to understand the concept of—”
“I’m the same age as you,” I cut in in a bored tone.
We both turn to look at each other. “You’re twenty-five? You look nineteen.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” I mutter, lifting the glass and tipping its contents into my mouth.
“As you should,” he replies.
I chew on an ice cube and say, “Your woman doesn’t like me very much.”
“She doesn’t like anyone.”
I don’t miss the way he downs his Scotch, drinking every drop in his glass.
“Except you,” I add with a grin.
He smirks. “Who doesn’t like me?”
I go to raise my hand, but he grabs my wrist and holds it down playfully. “Bully.”
“How’s school, Anna?” Rake asks, pulling my attention to him. His knuckles are bruised and red, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s been up to.
Maybe I don’t want to know.
“Great, actually. I ran into a friend of yours . . . Andrea?”
His brows furrow in confusion. “Who’s that?”
Arrow's Hell Page 2
