He’s why I was tortured for two months. He’s why I lost time. He’s why she’s not mine, why she’s not in my arms, my heart, and my bed.
If she didn’t love him as everyone claims, I’d get rid of him for the sake of my suffering. There’s no doubt she’ll choose me. It’ll never be him. It’ll always be us even if it takes longer than anticipated.
“It’s nothing,” Leia plays it off.
“Yeah, like two dogs ready to wrestle and mate shortly after,” he scoffs.
“Wrestling is definitely a favorite of mine,” I joke, wanting nothing more than to rile Leia up. She’s going to come at me with a force I’ve been waiting for.
“Sy,” she reprimands, “don’t.”
“Can’t handle a little bait and switch, mi cielo?”
For the first time since her arriving, she looks at Xo. Her eyes come back to me as if she’s letting me know her mamá’s the reason. I’m fully aware, but I play coy.
“I guess not,” I add.
Her little growl makes me smile wider.
“Enough,” she bites, shaking her head adamantly.
With her little hands on her narrow but curvy hips, she gives me the don’t test me look. But I want to. Pushing her is my favorite. It forces her to express herself, and she always hides otherwise.
I’m not a quitter, and if she wants me to prove it’s her and not Xo like she’s asked in the past, it’ll happen.
“Scared, Leia?” I prod, walking toward her.
She takes a step backward with my every step forward. Like a frightened animal, she peers around for an escape route.
“Not at all. Don’t be silly,” she lies, her body language more telling than her words.
“Stop,” Xo commands, her voice barely there. “Enough. Both of you.”
“Oh, now you care,” Leia condescends, throwing her hands up. She’s adorable, all angry and horrified that it took her mamá this long to pay attention to her.
“I’ve always cared,” Xo snaps back, her voice sharper, much like it used to be before Danté fucked with her head.
“That’s rich.” Leia doesn’t elaborate. She just sticks her tongue into her cheek, resentment billowing out like waves cascading against the shore.
“Quien te crees tu, hablandome asi? No me faltes al respeto, mi nina!” Who do you think you’re talking to? Do not disrespect me!
Even with how little Xo spoke in Spanish with Leia, every little girl with Latina heritage knows that saying all too well.
“Mamá,” Leia concedes, her eyes welling a little. “Lo siento, mamá.”
She sidesteps me, and I watch as she stands straighter, pride swelling inside from her knowing which fight to win and which to walk away from. Even if I want to protect her—grab her myself and hold her…
It’s not my fight.
It’s not my place.
“It’s getting late,” Leia comments, giving her mamá a short but awkward hug. “If you two,” she gestures to Sinthe and I, “are done being miscreants, I’ll head home to Brax.”
She pronounces his name slowly, like she needs it to hurt. It does, and I fucking hate it. She’s mine. Not his. This separation is only temporary.
Soon, mi corazoncito. You’ll see.
“He didn’t know anything,” I mutter, trying my hardest to appear unaffected.
The problem with Venom is that he ostracizes bullshit no matter the person. Call it a skill, past heartbreaks, or trust issues, but you can’t call it a lack in judgement. Nothing goes past him. Nothing gets passed him.
“Why does it feel like you’re talking out of your ass, Baby?” he prods, his eyes narrowing the slightest, making his electric green orbs appear even more animalistic.
“Not sure.” I shrug nonchalantly but don’t feel I executed the action well enough. “But he wasn’t hiding anything,” I add for good measure.
He observes me, his gaze roaming up and down, inspecting me for answers he won’t find. “All right,” he comments, his voice full of disbelief and annoyance. “That’s not enough for me, kid. To be a Viper, you have to put in your work. You’ve got to earn that cut, the patch, and our brotherhood…” He steps toward me, his palms cupping my shoulders. “This half-assed attempt isn’t going to work.”
I swallow loudly, my mouth suddenly dry at the inquisition. There’s not many people I trust in this world, not since Darryl stepped into my life, but Venom makes the short list. I nod, and it’s decided. He’ll know.
“I’m not the best person for this job,” I admit, chewing on my inner cheek.
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity and worry creasing his forehead.
“Are you going to elaborate or play fuckin’ games?” His tone is harsh and unapologetic.
Closing my eyes, I swallow my pride and allow myself to open up. Just an inch. “Me… and Brady…” I whisper, my speech hoarse, filled with fear and insecurity. He might hate gay people. What if he kicks me out for liking dick?
“You and Brady?” he questions grittily with aggravation.
If I don’t spit it out, he’s going to be all over me, and that’s not a gay euphemism.
“We have a past,” I pussyfoot around the real answer, not knowing how to say it, to finally admit I like dudes or, at least, like Brady.
“Yeah, you mentioned you went to school with the kid. I can’t imagine that’d affect your duty with us.”
“It wouldn’t,” I begin, still feeling like a fucking pussy, unable to just admit it. It doesn’t make me less of a man, regardless of what Darryl tried to instill in me. “But he and I were together… romantically.”
When I finish, Absinthe’s eyes connect with mine so quickly I flinch, the action scaring me as much as relieving me of the label and bad memories a sick sonofabitch drilled into my mind.
Brady doesn’t make me sick.
Brady doesn’t make me weak.
Liking what me and Brady do behind closed doors doesn’t make me less of a man.
Venom clears his throat, his eyes almost glossing over. When he meets my eyes again, the expression on his face nearly makes me cry, and I’m not one for emotion.
“I-I didn’t know you were gay,” he admits, covering his face in a bashful way I’ve never seen from him. It takes everything in me to not correct him, but labels have no place in this moment. Just the truth.
“When I’m around him, I have a hard time seeing the lies. My gut can’t be trusted, and it sure as hell shouldn’t guide me. He messes with my head, my focus. If I continue to do this, I’ve got to take another route.”
He nods as if understanding. “Do what you need to do, but if it’s anyone other than you, I can’t promise it won’t turn out badly. The others, well, they’ll do whatever it takes even if that means doing things that you’re not comfortable with. Understood?”
The realization burns through me, forcing me to man up. Jealousy flickers. I know he’d more than likely send Chefski, Skinner’s piece of shit little brother, who, also, is into dudes.
“I’ll do it,” I growl, unwavering.
But he shakes his head, almost as if deciding himself to go a different direction. “I’m sending Tombstone, and you can be there on the side.”
Tombstone. He used to be Chefski. Some still even call him that now.
“No!” I bark, knowing this would be his next step. If that fucker as little as touches Brady, I’ll kill him myself.
The white hot burn of rage slicks my palms. I grip the edge of the bar with absolution, needing to keep Chefski far the fuck away.
Venom gives me a once over then chuckles. “You’ve got it bad, and you’re not in the right headspace. So, man the fuck up, Baby, because this is happening. You can keep him in line, but he has the job. It seems I gave you the reigns too soon.”
“Don’t do this,” I nearly plead.
“It’s already done. I’m not risking this, not when Los Desolados has the upper hand. Get your shit together, and talk to your girl because you forget, she’s who you�
�ve fought for, not him,” he reiterates, like he’s trying to imprint my mind with the answers I already have.
I’m with Leia.
I’m not with Brady.
I’m so fucked.
“So, they put me with fresh meat?” Chefski scoffs, twenty minutes later, attempting to offend me. If he thinks I’m into dick, he hasn’t tried anything, which is cool with me. It’s bad enough Brady makes me question and accept this part of me.
Chefski—Tombstone’s a douche, and I’d never touch him, not with a twenty-foot pole, unless it’s to connect his face with my fist. Otherwise, he’s the last person I’d want involved in my life, let alone my bed.
“Yup,” I comment, leaving it at that. There’s no need for small talk, not now, not fucking ever. It might be the most childish I’ll ever act, but he brings out a nasty side of me, the green-eyed monster side.
“Fucking fantastic,” he mutters, probably not realizing he talks way too loudly.
“Believe me,” I retort, “this isn’t a goddamn walk in the park for me either. We have a job. Let’s just get this shit over with.”
He smirks and then unwelcomingly pats my shoulder. “Sure, Baby,” he says mockingly, “Let’s.”
Rolling my eyes, I jump on my bike, glad he has his own, and there won’t be any more conversation until we hit UCH.
I should’ve been better.
I should’ve done better.
The ride to the university is far too short for time away from Chefski. As soon as we park in a non-parking zone area, we head to the dorms. We decide to split up, so Brady isn’t aware we’re together. Unlike Tombstone, I don’t have a cut to wear.
Which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing since Brady doesn’t know I’m a Viper, and it makes me less inconspicuous. A curse since I won’t be able to scare the shit out of people that’ll give me problems. Like the fact that we’re parked in a no-parking zone.
But I stick out like a sore thumb in comparison to Chefski. I’m more of the bad boy with tattoos, piercings, and a band tee—the obvious culprit if anything goes down.
Tombstone, on the other hand, is more of the innocent type. For a Viper, he passes more as a goodie two-shoes businessman, rather than a biker, in the looks department. His hair is long, not too much to be unkempt, but more of the shaggier in the front, shorter on the sides hairdo. It’s always gelled back, making him seem so suave and put together. If not for his cut, he’d look like he belongs on a magazine cover or even as a hotshot lawyer.
If he wasn’t such a tool, I’d find him attractive. Hell, even with him being a tool, he’s fucking nice to look at. He’s not like most of us. He’s tattoo-less, or I haven’t seen enough skin to know. Unlike the rest of us, he’s clean and proper, and I don’t know where the fuck Venom found this guy.
Shaking my head, I start in the direction I told him I’d go. I reach for my cell and see several texts from Leia. Instead of reading them, I check the time, seeing I’ve been in lala-land for over ten minutes.
As I walk toward the football field where I’m sure Brady will be, I spot Tombstone. He was supposed to go the other way. My eyes travel his body. Did he change? From head to toe, he’s different. Instead of skinny jeans and a leather jacket, he’s wearing slacks and a button down. In this heat even… it doesn’t sit well with me, especially when I notice a very important part of him missing. Where his cut once was is now gone, and his hair looks freshly combed.
What the actual fuck?
When my eyes connect with him, the one guy I never want to see near Tombstone, I nearly run over there. Nearly. Except now I have a girlfriend. Now, I have a reason to keep a level head. Now, I have no right to be raging with jealousy.
Not even when I see Tombstone kiss him square on the fucking lips.
Red.
So much goddamn red.
My face hurts from the heat. It feels more sweltering than the lobster red sunburn I got three summers ago, yet this pain is somehow worse. This feels like first-degree burns to my skin. I’d rather have it melt away or dissipate, anything to not feel the intense betrayal I feel now.
When did they start dating? Especially since Chefski is five years older than us and a fucking biker. God. What the hell? Is that why he took off his cut? Because Brady isn’t aware?
Did Chefski not want me alone with his new boyfriend? Is that why he volunteered to go? Is this why he didn’t argue? Was he scared I’d interfere with his plan? His love life?
My head spins. The uncertainty and grief fill me to the brim. Do I walk over? How long have they been together? Does he even like Brady?
And that’s the worst part. My duty between my crew and friendship is now split. Is this a test? Does Venom want to make sure I’m a loyal soldier?
That’s how I find myself heading straight for them. I know where my head will be. My decision is made, and it’s what’s best for me.
Regardless of who it fucks with.
Brax hasn’t been home in two days.
At first, I thought it had to do with Sinthe and Sy brawling. Whatever the hell they fought over is still unbeknownst to me. Mamá and I haven’t spoken, which isn’t abnormal but after how emotional she seemed to be, I thought she would at the very least tell me why they fought.
Sinthe is a hot head, but Sy, he’s level headed. Not even when Brax got in his face that one time junior year did he lose his head.
The most he does is when I test his limits, but even then, it’s of a sexual nature, and that man was hard to crack.
What could have possibly set him off? And why the hell was he coming onto me in front of his wife? Just because he wasn’t wearing a ring doesn’t mean they’re over. I mean, how many times did the average person take off their ring? Especially men.
When are you coming home? I text Brax, the same message I’ve sent every day since the night I came home to an empty apartment.
I would be more worried if Sinthe was, but he mentioned Brax would be going on his first run. I just figured my boyfriend would tell me more or, at the very least, let me know he’s okay. He could have taken me. Regardless of my soft exterior, I can handle it.
After five minutes of staring at my screen, nothing. No response. It’s left unanswered once again. Instead of dwelling, because I’m sure Brax is just doing his job, I open Facebook. The message that’s haunted me since Puerto Rico still sits in my inbox. I’ve checked the account. It’s fake.
The more I stare, the angrier I get.
They haven’t said anything since that day, the one where I lost my virginity to the man who could have had every piece of me if he wanted. But no, he left me. Not only that but he said he never wanted me, that I was nothing.
Now, that same man is back, acting as if he didn’t destroy me our last day together.
I pull up the fake account with a gray empty picture and see the little green active dot. My stomach lurches along with my heart. This person has to be real to an extent. It can’t just be a hoax. Why else still log onto the profile?
Who are you? I send a message, hoping not to make it worse. But Sy and I aren’t together anymore. This person has no leverage.
Stupid little girl. The response chimes through seconds later.
Who are you? I ask again, hoping they’ll cut the bullshit.
I see you haven’t gotten smarter in the last six months. Luckily for you, I need your assistance again.
Not going to happen. I fidget with my thumbs, twirling them incessantly, wondering what I’ve dragged myself into now.
Ah, you stupid child. You’ve forgotten. I have the power here. Just because you’re not currently fucking your stepdad doesn’t mean the statute of limitations is up.
“Fuck!” I scream, wondering why the hell I even signed onto this mundane app. It’s not like I’m social anyway. The only time I come on here is to stalk Brady and Zaely, Brady because jealousy is a gnarly bitch and Zaely since Sy had been missing.
I can see you’re reading my messages, Leia. Now, li
sten up. The task is simple. I need you to get with Silas again, and I need everyone to know about it.
As I throw my head back in a pitiful laugh, nausea settles in. What is this person’s angle? What do they hope to gain other than Sy’s death and Brax to finally have had enough with me?
Not a chance in hell. My response is fast and sure and so goddamn stupid. This person has Sy by the balls already. Statutory rape is a class two felony in Arizona, especially since Sy’s age is vastly higher than my own.
Dots appear then disappear several times. The back and forth of non-communication has me anxiety-ridden, and when the words finally pop up, I wish I could take back my quick response.
If you don’t, Braxton dies.
Brax? My Brax? My heart leaps but not with love though. No, from a deep pit within myself that knows this person is a sick individual, and they can and will hurt him if I don’t comply. Are they one of my father’s goons? Are they another enemy of the Vipers? Especially now that Brax has the Viper name.
Is this another ploy for my loyalty like they did with Tanto? They wouldn’t do this… not this far in advance, and they’d never take it this far either. Sinthe didn’t know about Sy and I way back when the first message was received, and it’s not their style.
That means whoever this is needs to be appeased until found. I’ve got to tell someone. Sinthe, maybe?
Okay, I’ll do it. As soon as my finger hits send, regret consumes me. I’ve just agreed to seduce the man I’m still in love with to save the man I love.
I knew you’d see the bigger picture. Talk to you soon.
“Fuck off!” I screech, throwing my phone against my apartment walls.
Now, it’s time to get this shit handled. How will I accomplish this and still win? How will I recover pretending to be with Sy when that’s all I’ve ever wanted anyway?
And how the hell do I hide this from Brax without him hating me? The message was specific about being open about the relationship with Sy. Brax’s never going to forgive me. When he finds out, we’ll be over. So much for happiness.
Always (Cape Hill Book 3) Page 12
