by E. C. Land
Don’t I know it. She might give in to me on a lot of shit, but that doesn’t mean Anabelle doesn’t try to push everyone away.
“What do you mean?” I ask, furrowing a brow at him.
“Oh boy,” Izzy sighs.
“She didn’t tell him, I guess.” The way Kenny’s voice holds a hint of amusement tells me I’m about to blow my lid completely.
“Honestly, K-9, what do you care?” Lex demands, leaning back in his seat.
“You know why I care,” I grind out, giving him a glare.
“Bullshit, K-9,” Izzy snaps.
“Izzy,” Twister warns, pulling her deeper into him as I cast my glare in Izzy’s direction.
“Don’t Izzy me.” Izzy is not one to piss off. I’ve seen her in action taking on one of the club whores who had tried fuckin’ with her. “Anabelle is a woman who needs a man that isn’t going to treat her like shit. You keep doing that, and she’s going to move on. When she does, she’ll leave,” she announces, keeping her focus on me while she gives me a glare of her own.
“What the hell? Anabelle’s my brother’s girl. I’m just looking out for my nephew,” I snarl, curling my lip.
“Derick is gone, brother,” Lex says gruffly, sitting forward. “I hate saying it harshly like that K-9, but it’s the truth. My sister can’t belong to the dead. Even if she and you both want to believe that. I know you’ve been with her. Just like I know you got feelings for her. She’s my little sister, and I love her. I want her happy, and she definitely ain’t. Your little brother would want you to be happy, and if that means being with my sister, he probably would be the first to tell you to do so.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Slumping in my chair, I let Lex’s words sink in. Derick had known I wanted her. Fuck me.
“I need to talk to her. She’s ignoring my calls,” I grumble.
“Probably, because she didn’t want to tell you she’s moved yet,” Lex informs me.
“We gotta get ready and go on in five minutes,” Chaz announces, looking at the time on his phone before Lex can finish telling me about his sister.
“Got it.” Lex nods. “You need to talk to my sister, go to her house and talk to her. I’ll text you the address.”
“Appreciate it,” I say through clenched teeth.
Lex nods, pulls out his phone, and does just that. A moment later, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach and slide my phone out before looking at the screen. My gaze narrows when I see what the address is. I know exactly where the fuck she’d moved to, and she ain’t about to be staying there. No fuckin’ way am I allowing Anabelle to stay on the southside of town, in the territory of the enemy.
Standing up fast, the chair behind me falls backward. “I’ll see y’all later.”
I turn toward and stalk in the direction of the door. My mind switches to all thoughts Anabelle and what the fuck she had to be thinking when she decided to move without telling me. Anabelle has a lot of explaining to do, which she’ll be doing right after I fuck her hard enough to leave her breathless and wanting more.
Lex and everyone are right, my brother is gone. There’s no bringing him back even if I wanted to. Derick would want this for Anabelle and me—to be together.
Chapter Eight
Anabelle
Music thumping from the house next door causes my windows to rattle. My house isn’t a shack by any means, but it is older and not as soundproof as a lot of the newer homes nowadays. It’s a good thing Derick’s grandparents had called earlier after we got back from the mall, wanting him to spend the night. If he were home right now, he would be wide awake thanks to the music being so loud.
As it is, I’m trying to have a relaxing evening with a glass of wine while watching Bridgerton on Netflix. I’ve heard several different opinions on the show, so I figured I could check it out for myself. So far, it’s good, and I’m enjoying it. Or well, I was until the music had started.
What the hell do I do now?
If I go over there and ask them to turn down the music, I would be making a scene, but also, they probably won’t turn down the music. If I don’t go over there, it means I’m a baby and won’t stand up for myself. Besides, I don’t want to call the cops about the noise. That would just give me a name I don’t want. It’ll also put a target on my back. I didn’t move out of my brother’s place to put Derick and myself in danger.
I get this neighborhood isn’t the safest one there is, but it’s not the worst one either. The southside of town has two different areas to live in, and neither are the best, but the Washington neighborhood, I’ve heard, is a nightmare. I’ve also seen men and women, even kids, come into the ER after a shooting happens. Just the other day, there were three kids that came in, one sixteen-year-old boy, another fourteen-year-old girl, and the last a nine-year-old girl. The nine-year-old died right after coming in due to a gunshot to her stomach.
I’d witnessed the little girl take her last breath, and it hurt knowing that the little girl’s parents wouldn’t see her grow up to be a beautiful woman.
The music grows louder and pulls me from the dark thoughts of the little girl who’d lost her life and irritates the hell out of me.
Screw it.
I’m going over there.
Standing from the couch, I suck down the last of my wine in one gulp. I need the liquid courage for what I’m about to do. I walk with a purpose to the door, slip on my flip-flops and throw the door open. I storm out of the house, down the few steps leading down to my yard. I cross my yard and stalk the short distance to my neighbors, who are being rude.
There’s a lot of people standing around drinking, talking loudly, and laughing. Some were even smoking marijuana. It may be legal now, but it still stinks, in my opinion.
Scanning the crowd, I spot the guy I’ve seen around the house the most and storm right up to him. “Can you please turn down the music?” I demand.
He grins and leans back in the chair he’s sitting in, scanning over my body with his eyes. The guy isn’t my type, but I’m not blind, he’s hot. And I mean hot. Hot enough to be on the cover of a magazine. He looks so much like Adam Rodriguez if that tells you something. Or even better, Shemar Moore.
The way he stares at me sends chills down my spine. I should have put something else on or at least covered my skimpy sleep set I’d put on starting Bridgerton.
“Damn baby, you want me to turn the music down. I could do that if it meant you and me going inside, and you wrap them sexy legs around my waist,” he says, coming to his feet.
“That’s not going to happen,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Then I’m not gonna turn the music down,” he chuckles and holds out his hand for me. “Names Trevor baby, what’s yours?”
“Anabelle,” I say, taking his hand to shake. I try and pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let it go.
“Nice to meet you, now tell me why you want me to turn the music down, Anabelle,” he purrs my name. Literally freaking purrs.
“Because Trevor, I work twelve-hour shifts, I’m tired and trying to relax. On top of that, I have a three-year-old son who, thankfully isn’t home tonight otherwise, would be unable to sleep, because the noise is so loud it’s rattling my windows,” I inform him. “Will you please turn down the music?”
“Sure, baby, whatever you need.” I cringe at the way he keeps calling me baby. I try again to pull my hand from his. Unfortunately, he won’t let go. “You got a man or something?” he asks, using my hand to pull me a little closer.
“Um, I don’t think that’s really any of your business,” I mutter softly, trying to keep my breathing in check. I don’t want him to know how much he’s affecting me by his closer proximity.
“What if I wanna make it my business?” He grins.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in you being in my business. I only came over here to ask you to turn the music down.” I try and pull my hand away once more.
“I’ll turn the music down, baby.�
�� There he goes again, calling me baby. Trevor looks to one of the guys he was sitting with and gives him a jerk of his chin. The music instantly cuts out, leaving only the sounds of the night filling the air. That and the sound I know all too well.
The rumbling of a bike coming from a distance.
Oh no.
I know it can’t be. I haven’t spoken to him. But I know the sound of those pipes.
Crap, K-9’s coming, and I’m not wearing anything, but some skimpy PJs standing outside in the midst of a party holding Trevor’s hand.
“I appreciate you turning the music down,” I say, attempting to take my hand once more before K-9’s bike comes into view. Trevor’s eyes come to mine, and he gives me a wicked grin.
My heartbeat can be heard in my ears, and it feels like it’s about to burst from my chest.
“You’re welcome, baby,” Trevor says, his eyes lift to look behind me. I don’t have to look to know who is parking in my driveway. “Looks like I have the answer to whether you got a man or not. Pity really. You’re a hot piece, and I wouldn’t mind getting you underneath me.”
He releases my hand only when I feel a heat at my back that I know all too well.
Oh boy. I’m in trouble.
Major trouble.
Chapter Nine
K-9
The whole ride over to Anabelle’s, I did everything I could to calm myself down enough to talk civilly with her. Pulling up in front of her house is another story altogether. I clench my hands at my sides to keep from pulling my gun out of its holster and start shooting.
Too bad I can’t do that right now. Not with being in High 7’s territory. I glare in the direction where I find the insufferable woman—my woman who is barely dressed and holding the hand of the leader of the High 7’s territory.
What the fuck?
Stalking in their direction, Trevor finally releases Anabelle’s hand when I step up behind her. I wrap an arm around Anabelle’s chest, pulling her flush against my body. I immediately feel a small sense of peace, knowing she’s in my arms now.
I hold Trevor’s gaze––glaring at him a warning he’s to back off. Trevor gives me his typical grin acknowledging my warning, giving me one of his own in the process.
With Anabelle in my arms, I turn us in the direction of her house. I pull out my phone as I do so and pull up my Prez’s number.
Me: Need some brothers here at Anabelle’s.
“What are you doing here, K-9?” Anabelle’s sweet voice hits my ears as we step up the few steps leading to her house. My phone beeps before I can answer her, so I continue to push her toward the door into the house.
Twister: What’s going on?
Me: High 7’s right next door to Anabelle’s, and I need help. She ain’t stayin’ here. I’m moving her ass to my place tonight. Her house is right next to the leader’s.
“Hello, K-9. Are you going to answer me?” Anabelle huffs, stepping into the house.
I clench my teeth together to keep from going off on Anabelle. At least until I get the door shut. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I don’t bother looking at the screen when another text comes in. Instead, I close and lock the door behind the two of us.
Anabelle turns to face me, her cheeks flushing, and she licks her bottom lip nervously. “K-9?” Her voice has the smallest of trembles in it.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Belly.” I finally say, stepping into her space. Anabelle backs up and I move with her until I have her pressed up against the wall.
“No, I’ve simply been busy,” she utters quietly.
“I call bullshit, now you’re gonna go pack your shit up, and I’m packing Derick’s . . .”
“No, I’m not. I just moved in here. I’m not leaving.” Anabelle snaps, interrupting me. The fact she moved here in the first place already pissed me off, and now she’s giving me attitude.
Fuck.
“Yeah, Anabelle, you are. I’m not having my nephew living next door to the motherfucker who caused his father’s death,” I sneer, hiding my need to fuck her behind the anger––lashing out at her.
Anabelle pales at my words, and I know I hit the target in upsetting her. She looks as if I’ve slapped her—tears spilling down her cheeks.
Yep. I’ve hurt her.
“You did not just say that.” Her head drops and she looks to the floor.
“Yeah, Belly, I did. Now go pack your shit. You ain’t livin’ in this house.” Taking a step back, I give her the opportunity to make a run for it. I’m not just doing this for my nephew’s safety, but for her own.
It didn’t take long for a few of my brothers to show up at the house with a couple of trucks. The party next door seems to have died down, which is good. What’s also good is the fact Anabelle’s shit was still mostly packed. The only room that was, for the most part, unpacked is Derick’s. Anabelle’s room is still mostly packed except for a few uniforms. I guess she was going to be using her days off to finish unpacking.
I step out onto the porch and grin as Badger, Burner, Wolf, and Red all walk in my direction.
“Everything’s ready to be loaded up into the trucks,” I grunt when they get close enough for me to keep my voice down.
“Good, I don’t like the fact she’s in this neighborhood,” Badger grumbles with a nod.
“Agreed. Let’s get this over with. Where we takin’ her shit?” Wolf keeps his voice down, but it still comes out with a harsh boom.
“My place.” I grin.
“Guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s been too quiet around here lately,” Burner chuckles.
I ignore what he’s insinuating since it’s true. I just don’t know how I’m going to approach it all.
“Let’s get this shit over with. It’s late, and I want to get some sleep at some point tonight,” I say, turning on my heel—heading into the house.
I find Anabelle in her room while my brothers work at getting the few boxes out of the living room, kitchen, and Derick’s room. “Time to go, Belly.”
Anabelle jumps at my voice, and she gives me a nervous look, but doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t spoken to me since I said what I said earlier.
I’ll just have to deal with her when I get her to the house.
Stacking a few boxes, I carry them out of her room and out to the trucks.
“The only furniture we need to take tonight is in Derick’s room. I’m not worried about the rest of it,” I inform my brothers.
“You got it, brother.” Red nods heading into the house.
With the four of us working together and Anabelle silently standing to the side, we get everything that needs to go loaded up within an hour.
I wrap my fingers around Anabelle’s elbow and pull her out of the house. “Follow the trucks,” I order, guiding her to her car.
Biting her lip, I can see she wants to say something, but isn’t ready yet. Once we get to the house, I will make her talk to me.
Anabelle’s in for a rude awakening if she thinks I’ll let her get out of it. We have a lot of shit to discuss, including the fact she fuckin’ refused to respond to my messages or calls.
Making sure she gets in her car, I stalk over and swing a leg over my bike, straddling my beauty. I have three bikes, but this girl is my favorite. My brother had helped me restore her when I found her at a junkyard left to rust away.
I also have many damn good memories of this bike. I was riding this bike when I became a member of the Devil’s Riot MC. Before we moved here, we lived near Stonewall Mills, where the national charter is located. It just so happened to luck out the Prez of the national charter allowed me to prospect alongside a few of my brothers who I became friends with in high school. He also knew I wanted to go into the military, and once I received my patch, I did. I joined alongside my brothers, who’d wanted the same thing. The club supported our decision and showed us the support we needed at the time.
My parents moved when Stoney agreed to form the Franklin charter—making Twister Prez. I told
them I would be coming home to the Franklin charter. They had no problem moving since they wanted to be close to me when I got out of the military. This also helped in getting my little brother away from the crowd he was associating with at the time. Derick even admitted it was the best move they could have made. He’d cleaned up and met Anabelle.
Following Anabelle to my house, I shake the thoughts away, not needing them to go to that dark place. One of the many that I keep seated in the back of my mind. The only time they’re allowed out is when they find their way to the forefront in my dreams and my guard’s down.
After the twenty-minute drive, we pull into my driveway. I live in a two-story house that sits on three acres of land not far from where my VP and his family live. The house itself has four bedrooms, three baths, an open floorplan for the living room and kitchen. On the outside, it has a wrap-around porch. I’d already set up a play area for Derick after he turned one.
Shutting my bike off, I put the kickstand down and climb off. Without a word to Anabelle, I help my brothers quickly unload everything into the garage. We’ll put everything in the house later. It’s not needed immediately.
Anabelle, I can sense is now fuming by the time we finish.
When my brothers leave, I guide her into the house.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asks. Something in her voice is definitely off and I know she’s about to blow. It’s been years since I’ve seen her actually go off. The woman is constantly keeping everything suppressed and not giving her emotions to anyone. Derick had told me once that he would piss her off on purpose to get her to let it out, and that was when they were in high school. He knew her like the back of his hand. Anabelle was his best friend more than anything else.
“Brought you here because you sure as hell aren’t living in that area. I’m not about to let you do something stupid,” I shrug.
“What do you care? You hate me as it is, so what if I do something stupid.” What the fuck?
Closing the distance between us, I use my body to push her up against the wall. “You wanna repeat that?” I snarl.
