The Soldiers of Wrath MC: Complete Series

by Jenika Snow

  He didn’t want to see himself falling harder for her when she stayed back.

  Weasel turned onto his street, his motorcycle noisy as he headed toward his house. He pulled his bike into the driveway, cut the engine, and climbed off. Once standing he stretched, working out the kinks from the couple hours of riding. His back was killing him. He stared at the house for long seconds, wondering if Renee was inside.

  She didn’t have a car yet, but you knew who she was saving up for one and to get a place of her own. That very thought that she wouldn’t be in this house, wouldn’t be close to him anymore ate at him.

  But Weasel knew that unless he grew some balls and actually told her how he felt he had no right to feel anything.

  He grabbed the saddlebags off the bike and headed toward the front door. As soon as he opened it, the scent of lemons and flowers slammed into him. It was girly as fuck, but he couldn’t deny that it smelled nice. It reminded him of Renee, of her femininity and the slight innocence that she tried to keep hidden.

  He finally realized the state of his house. He slowly shut the door behind him, looking from the living room into the kitchen and back again. The house was clean as fuck. There were no clothes on the floor, no beer cans scattered around the coffee table. The wood mantel on his fireplace was even polished.

  He set the saddlebags down on the ground and headed into the kitchen. Hell, in here it smelled like steak, like red-fucking-meat. His mouth watered, and damn if he almost didn’t get an erection at the incredible smell. He walked over to the pan on the stove, lifted the lid, and saw vegetables frying. Opening the oven, he saw steaks and baked potatoes.

  And on the counter cooling was a fucking apple pie. Weasel gripped onto the edge of the counter, this wave washing through him. He heard Renee laughing behind him and he turned around.

  She stood there with folded dishtowels in her hand, the smile on her face wide.

  “You okay?” she asked with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

  Weasel couldn’t even find his voice to answer.

  A clean house.

  Dinner cooking.

  A damn apple pie cooling on the counter.

  And Renee the center of it all.

  This was fucking heaven.

  “I think I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven.” She started laughing harder and walked in, put the dishtowels away, and turned to stare at him.

  She looked so fucking good in that moment, with even a bit of flour on her cheek. Without thinking he reached out and smoothed him thumb along her skin, rubbing the flour away.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand to his side and looking back at the pie. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in…” He thought about it. “Hell, aside from the BBQs at the club, no one has ever cooked for me like this.”

  “Well, seeing as this is part of the job.” She grinned and he could see that she was teasing. “I figured I might as well make your first meal living with me a good one.”

  He was the one to chuckle now.

  “Take a seat and I’ll serve you.”

  Weasel walked over to the table and sat down. He watched as Renee put the dishtowels away and then grabbed a plate and started filling it up with food for him. His stomach gave a loud grumble at that moment and he heard her chuckle. It was nice having her around, her presence this balm in his soul.

  He knew one thing for sure. He couldn’t let her go, not without admitting how he felt first.

  Chapter 10

  After seeing how clean Weasel’s room was, she had been tempted to throw all the trash inside there. Instead, she had dumped it all, and whatever could be kept, she had sent to charity. Everything personal like CDs, and DVDs, she’d placed on a shelf in the sitting room.

  Even she was impressed with how good the house was but then she’d always been able to clean. Renee hated mess and had driven her brother crazy with how much she loved to clean.

  Once Vengeance had complained that she used too much bleach and that it was burning his nostrils. She had ignored him until he finally snapped and threw out all her bleach. She’d been using six bottles a week and had decided to make a cutback.

  “You like it then?” she asked, putting a large plate in front of him. She left, grabbing a steak and a potato for herself.

  The apple pie was her weakness. She loved baking, and apple pie was a recipe she had perfected. Had Vengeance got someone else to make him apple pie? She didn’t know why that hurt but then again, she didn’t have the right to comment.

  “Did you have a safe trip?” she asked.

  “I did. I’m alive. If there’s no new holes, then it went fucking well.” He took a bite out of his steak and sat back. “I forgot how good you could cook. That is so fucking juicy.” He took another bite and she watched as his eyes closed. The rapture was clear on his face.

  She ate her own food.

  “The house looks fantastic. I thought for a second that I had gone into the wrong house.”

  She laughed. “You’re a pig, Weasel. I will grant you, there were no rats but the spiders were enough to make my skin crawl.” She chewed on her steak and stared at him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t start. You’ve got that look that says you’re thinking something and you’re worried about telling me. Just spit it out.”

  She licked the sauce off her lips, and when she glanced back at Weasel he was staring at them. “Your room.”

  His gaze moved back to hers. “What about it?”

  “Your entire house was completely trashed and yet your room was perfect.”

  “You went into my room?” he asked.

  “Why was it clean?” She didn’t like the way her body responded at his close proximity. The few days he’d been away, she had missed him. Cleaning his place didn’t help much either. She spent most of her time going through all his stuff. The pictures, the trinkets filled with memories—it had all brought back everything that she had been missing, and she hated it.

  This distance between her, her brother, and the club had been down to herself. There was no one else to blame.

  There had been a picture in Weasel’s drawer in his office. She had left the image shut away but it had brought back so much feeling. The picture had been taken at one of the final bonfire parties before she met Jake. Everything had been perfect. She and Vengeance were happy. She was going to college and working at the local diner.

  The picture had been taken by Weasel in a selfie-style pose of the three of them. His arm had been around her shoulders, and he’d pulled her close, pressing his lips against her cheek.

  She remembered the moment clearly, as it had been a turning point for her. Weasel inspired so many feelings, so much yearning, and she knew without a doubt that there was no hope for either of them. Weasel never looked at her like a man did a woman.

  However, when she had licked her lip, there had been a fire in his gaze, almost as if he wanted to touch where her tongue had. No, it had to have been a mistake. She was imagining things again.

  Pushing her thoughts to one side, she stared at Weasel.

  “I don’t like sleeping in a dirty room.”

  “But the rest of the house?”

  “It didn’t matter, Renee. The club didn’t visit here. This was a dumping ground, and I didn’t care about it. It was an … impulse buy. That’s all this was. You did an amazing job as well. I won’t dump shit around the house anymore.”

  Something was going on here, and she didn’t know what it was. “I like your house, and I’ve even gotten started on the garden. I mowed the front lawn yesterday, and I’ve been working through the back. Did you know there are random beer bottles thrown everywhere?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do. I told you, this was a dumping ground.” He shrugged. “How are things with you and Vengeance?”

  “They’re … good. All things considered. I’m so pleased I came back home.” She finished her food and put her knife and for
k down. “I also missed you while I was away.” There, she had said it, admitted it.

  Weasel stared at her. “Do you have any idea how many times I wanted you to come home? The long nights that I worried that something had happened to you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He put the knife and fork down. “You were my family too, Renee. I didn’t want you to leave. You know that. I asked you, and I called you. Does Vengeance know about that?”

  She shook her head. She had ignored all the calls, the texts, and then the voicemail messages. Weasel wouldn’t give up. No matter how many times Jake told her to ditch her phone and buy a new one, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Hearing Weasel’s voice had gotten her through, and she felt like the biggest fool around. Instead of coming home, she had kept on going, hating her life, and then when she wanted to come home, she couldn’t. She had waited to hear from Vengeance before coming back.

  “I’m sorry, Weasel.”

  He stood up and left the table. She felt his hurt and wished she could do something to change that.

  Chapter 11

  Weasel had to leave, had to get away from Renee and the feelings she evoked in him. He loved her, but didn’t know if he would ever be ready to actually tell her the words.

  He was a fucking coward.

  When she’d been gone with that asshole he tried to get ahold of her, tried to connect with her and bring her back. But she ignored him at every turn and he had no choice but to let her live her life. He’d had to move on with his.

  Weasel pulled his bike into the parking lot in front of the MC, cut the engine, and for a second just sat there. He saw some of the Patches and Prospects milling around outside, some of them working on bikes, a few of them all but fucking a club whore against the side of the club.

  This was his life, what he’d known for longer than he could even remember. But he did want something else, felt like he was missing something in his life.

  He never thought he would want an old lady, somebody to stand by his side no matter what. He had his brothers from the club, knew they’d always have his back, but that didn’t mean it filled the void he felt. Weasel tried to pretend like he’d always been fine, like he didn’t care about what he was missing or what he could have.

  But ever since meeting Renee, she was all he thought about, all he wanted in his life.

  But because she was back, living in his house, it was harder to stay away, harder to try to pretend like he didn’t want her in the way he did.

  Weasel knew he couldn’t fake this forever, knew that the strain and need he felt inside of himself would come out sooner rather than later.

  He didn’t want to ruin things with her, didn’t want to push her away or make her feel uncomfortable, but he also couldn’t live with this emotion that ate at him.

  Weasel set his skullcap on the handle and climbed off the bike. He walked past the club members and Prospects groping and grinding on the side of the clubhouse, made his way inside, and ignored all the action going on around him. Drinking, smoking, even some Prospects doing drugs. All littered the interior of the club.

  He headed downstairs to where the weight room was. It was a crude setup, almost barbaric in nature and nothing like you’d find in a gym. But for what the guys needed to do, it worked out just fine.

  When he finally reached the bottom, he took off his cut and headed over to the dented-in rusted lockers that were set up on the side of the wall. He took off his jeans and grabbed a pair of track shorts from the locker. After those were on and his shit kickers were off and sneakers covered his feet, he walked over to the punching bag. He just needed to get some aggression out, try to numb his emotions.

  For the next half hour, he hit the punching bag over and over again, his knuckles aching, his body covered in sweat. But he didn’t stop, couldn’t. All he kept thinking about was Renee, how he wanted to go back to the house, strip her clothes off, and show her how he wanted to take care of her.

  And fucking hell, he’d take care of her real good.

  He had no order in his life, no control if he was being honest. He restrained himself in everything he did, but that was his only control, that was him hiding what he wanted, how he really felt.

  He stepped away from the bag, panting, his chest rising and falling, his body covered in sweat. He was focused on the lightly swinging red and duct-taped, patched-up bag. Weasel should just go to Renee, stop jacking around with his emotions and finally tell her how he felt.

  The worst she could do was say she didn’t want him, to tell him that there was nothing that would ever happen between them.

  And he’d deal with that, respect what she wanted. But he’d never stop loving her, never stop wanting her.

  With his mind made up, Weasel grabbed his clothes, headed upstairs to take a quick shower and grow some balls to finally tell her how he felt. He didn’t know how Vengeance would react to it all, even if she did turn him down. He was going after Vengeance’s baby sister, and tarnished past between them or not, that was family.

  He’d tell Renee exactly how he felt, what he wanted to do to her, have with her. But he’d also let her know he couldn’t walk away. He loved her, dammit, and he needed her as his.

  Once he was showered and dressed again, he left the clubhouse and headed to his place. He parked his bike. His heart thundering with what he planned on saying. Without overthinking it he headed inside, followed the sound of Renee in the kitchen, and stopped there a second just watching her.

  Fuck, she looked so gorgeous.

  She was humming to herself, maybe not even aware he was here. But she’d soon find out more than she probably wanted to. She’d find out exactly how loved and wanted she was. Renee would see that a hardened biker like him could treat her like a fucking queen.

  If there was one thing that Weasel knew, it was that he couldn’t ignore what he felt anymore. It was eating him up inside, and fuck if he could live with that.

  Chapter 12

  Ignoring Weasel had been one of the hardest things Renee had ever done. She had loved him for so long. She’d developed a crush on him when she was younger but knew that there was no way in hell anything would happen. It couldn’t. They were worlds apart, and she knew that. There was no way either of them could be together. Vengeance would pitch a fit, and Weasel had all those club whores that loved him.

  But the way he looked at her right now, standing in the doorway, made her feel something … deeper.

  “Vengeance called,” she said, not knowing what to say, the words falling out of her like they meant something more. She finished doing the few dishes that were there, needing to keep busy, and grabbed a cloth to dry her hands. “He said the club has a meeting tomorrow. You’ve got to be there. You weren’t answering your cell phone.”

  She tucked some hair behind her ear. Only a small table separated them.

  His muscles seemed harder, as if he’d been working out.

  A distant memory came forward of another time.

  She had been about fifteen, and underneath the clubhouse was a gym for some of the members to blow off steam. Weasel had been there, and she’d stood inside the door, leaning against the wall, watching as he attacked a punching bag. It had been well worn and falling apart, but that hadn’t stopped him from attacking it.

  His back had been covered in his sweat, and the veins in his arms seemed to bulge much like they did now.

  She smiled, recalling what he’d said to her.

  “Sometimes you need to hit something just to make you feel better.”

  After she had left, there had been one too many times that she’d hit something.

  “I see you’re still killing the punching bag,” she said.

  “Sometimes you need to hit something.”

  That was all he said.

  “I know you hit that because of me.” She wouldn’t look away. This time she forced herself to stare right into his eyes as she talked. “When I left, I knew it was the biggest mistake I had ever
made. I regretted it all the time. Hated every single second of it but I thought I was in love. I thought I was doing the right thing, Weasel.”

  “How could you be doing the right thing if every second you fucking hated it? I called you, Renee. I called you every single day for over a year. I begged you to come back.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she remembered all of those messages. Sometimes when he called she’d be sat staring at his name on her cell phone, tempted to accept him. Instead, she’d waited for it to go to voicemail and then listen to him.

  “I was afraid,” she said.

  “What were you afraid of?”

  “Being laughed at. Being told that there was no way I could come back. The things I said to Vengeance, to you, to the club. Only when I was away and able to really see what I’d done and said, I was an awful person. Don’t you see that?”

  “We all do bad things.”

  She dropped her arms and sighed. “That’s not a good enough excuse in my book to say and do the stuff I did. Vengeance is my brother, and you were my best friend.”

  “Fuck being your friend.” Weasel stepped toward her, rounding the table so that he stood right in front of her, nearly toe to toe. “You think I give a fuck about being your friend?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was your friend, Renee. I watched you grow and saw what a beautiful woman you’ve become, and then I watched as you started to withdraw. I know that was my fault. I saw you, and I didn’t do fuck all to stop it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I wanted you. You were younger than me. I didn’t want to take the chance of a great life away from you. The club is not for everyone. I saw some of the old ladies succumb to drink and drugs because they couldn’t handle it. They had to be put down because they couldn’t handle the life. When you’re part of it, there’s no turning back. There’s no ratting us out. It’s us or them. You’re a smart girl, and even though your brother is part of the club. I didn’t want any of this for you.”