by Joanna Wylde
I was already grabbing the phone, a battered, old-fashioned beast with a long, coiled cord. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen anything like it, but it worked.
“Hello,” said a small, soft voice. My five-year-old niece, Callie, had answered. Knowing my luck, Hannah was in the shower.
“Hey baby,” I replied, careful not to let any of my frustration into my voice. “This is Auntie Mandy. Is Mommy around?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Can you go wake her up?”
“She said to be quiet. Her head hurts.”
Oh, shit. Hannah had gotten migraines ever since she was a little girl. Not sort-of-uncomfortable-but-manageable-with-Tylenol migraines, but full-on, knock-you-on-your-ass-after-hallucinating-and-puking-for-hours migraines.
“Have you had any breakfast?” I asked, trying not to panic. Callie was the oldest. She could help the twins get some cereal, maybe turn on the TV until I got home. It was either that or call Randy, and he was worse than useless. Hannah had finally kicked his sorry ass out when she learned he’d been selling drugs while he was supposed to be watching the kids.
His parents were theoretically willing to help, but his dad was stuck in a wheelchair and his mom was legally blind. Thus the need for my relocation…
“Yeah, we ate some Cheerios and a candy bar,” Callie said proudly. “I cooked it in the microwave and it was soft and yummy. The twins want to go outside and play in the dirt. I told them Mommy wouldn’t like that.”
“You’re right—definitely stay inside,” I replied, thinking fast. “Turn on the TV, but keep it quiet so it doesn’t hurt Mommy’s head. I’ll get home as fast as I can. Until then, don’t bother Mommy unless it’s an emergency. You remember what an emergency is?”
“Yes,” she said gravely. “If there’s blood or someone can’t breathe or there’s a fire.”
“And do you open the door?”
“Only to a firefighter or the police. Not for Daddy, even if he’s being nice.”
My heart caught, because it wasn’t fair that a kid so young should have to deal with shit like this.
“All right, then,” I told her, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “You’re doing great. I’ll get home as fast as I can. You watch your sisters until then.”
“I’m a big girl. I can do it.”
I hung up the phone, running a hand through my hair, my own headache growing steadily worse. I felt like I should call someone, but who? The girls were safe and the last thing Hannah needed was an investigation from CPS. Given the whole single-mom thing—combined with the fact that she was an outsider and their dad was the local drug dealer—she didn’t look so good on paper. But she was a good mom. A really good mom.
Just get your ass back to the trailer and things will be fine.
But how was I going to do that?
“Everything all right?” the girl asked, looking concerned. She had big raccoon eyes from smears of makeup and was still wearing a teeny tank top with a push-up bra from the night before, but a sort of innate kindness still shined through.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I need to get back home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Violetta.”
“You shouldn’t leave without talking to Shade first,” the guy said, and his voice was firm. His hair was all flattened on one side where he’d passed out—probably on one of the couches lining the room—but despite the silly hair, I didn’t want to mess with him.
“He said he’d give me a ride—” I told him. Then someone started pounding on the main door, startling the hell out of me. Instantly three men I hadn’t noticed (had they been sleeping on the couches?) were on their feet, one of them looking through the peephole while another stood ready by the door.
“It’s that tool, Rebel,” one of them said, glancing toward me. “He’s your boyfriend, right?”
Damn, gossip spread fast in this place.
“Ex-boyfriend,” I said grimly. My fury from the night before came rushing back, mixing with my worry about the girls and the pain of my headache to create a roar in my ears. I couldn’t fix things for my sister. I had no clue how I was going to get home and I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around what’d happened, but one thing was very clear in my mind.
Rebel needed his ass kicked, and I was just the girl to do it.
Chapter Six
Shade
“Boss, we got a situation with your girl.”
I woke instantly, reaching for the gun I kept under the bed as I rolled to my feet. It was an old habit, one that’d scared the shit out of more than one woman, but it’d served me well during my years as a club enforcer.
Nowadays, I always traveled with security—one of the many “perks” of being national president. Got on my nerves in a big way. I also understood the reasoning behind it. Nothing throws a club into chaos like seeing their president gunned down, or worse, taken hostage. Not that the brothers would be stupid enough to give in to any demands if it happened, but they’d kill themselves trying to rescue me. Taking on the job meant losing some freedom, which sucked.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea already. Mandy was gone, and seeing as she had no transportation, that meant she had to be wandering around the clubhouse. Nobody would give her a ride without my permission.
Fucking hell, but that bitch had me tied in knots.
Why I gave a shit about her I had no fuckin’ idea, but I knew one thing for sure—I wouldn’t be happy until I was balls deep in that sweet snatch of hers. Fuckin’ hated watching the eyes that followed her at the bar. Every man in the place wanted a piece of that. I hated them all, but I hated Rebel more than the rest combined because at the end of the day, he was the one hitting that.
He’d been mouthing off last night about how tight her asshole was, and when he’d offered her to me, I’d known it was a bad idea to say yes… But I wanted her. Wanted her bad. Bad enough to drag her back to the clubhouse, despite the fact that I knew it wouldn’t end well.
Every second of the ride had been hell. Half of me wanted to howl at the moon in triumph because I was finally gonna fuck this woman who’d been driving me crazy. The other half wanted to kill someone, because apparently she loved that fuckwit loser so much that she’d pimp herself out for him.
By the end of the night my balls were blue and I’d been frustrated as hell, but there’d been relief, too. I’d seen the fury in her eyes when she’d realized what he’d done.
Fuckin’ gorgeous, that.
“Rebel’s out in front of the clubhouse,” said McClane. He was a local brother who’d been assigned to help me out as needed, and the man was damned good at his job. “Your girl’s about to kill him with her bare hands. Wonderin’ if you want us to step in?”
His face was carefully blank, but I saw the hint of humor in his eyes.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked, reaching for my boots.
“It’s pretty funny,” he said, studying me. “You fuck her last night?”
“Nope.”
He smiled. “So she’s not a whore?”
“Not Rebel’s whore, anyway,” I said, holding back my own grin. “Who’s out there with her?”
“Half the clubhouse,” he replied. “Everyone’s waiting for you. Not club business, but we don’t want your woman gettin’ fucked up, either.”
“Appreciate that.”
He shrugged, slapping me on the back as I passed through the door. Whatever else happened, watching Mandy take on Rebel should be entertaining.
Mandy
“You Goddamn piece of shit!” I hissed, stalking toward my future ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t believe the fuckwit had the nerve to show his face… Although I wasn’t stupid enough to think he was here for me. Nope. He’d come to collect his bike. The bastard held up his hands, giving me that cute little puppy dog face I used to think was so adorable.
Yeah. Not so fucking cute any more.
“
It’s not like you got hurt,” he said, his voice wheedling. “And you’re always saying you want to help me get ahead. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you, and it didn’t even cost you anything. And just think—now we can start riding together again. I know how much you’ve missed riding!”
I felt my blood pressure rise. All my life I’d been surrounded by people who thought I was trashy, but I’d taken great pride in the fact that I never acted that way. I wasn’t the type to scream at people in public, I didn’t air my dirty laundry and I never, ever put on a show for anyone. I’d survived twenty-seven years, five step-dads and one failed marriage without losing my dignity, but this was the end.
“You treated me like a fucking whore!” I screamed, then balled up my fist and punched him in the stomach as hard as I could, savoring the look of utter shock on his face. Then that same face transformed into something ugly as he caught me by the shoulders and threw me into his truck.
I hit hard and stumbled, falling to the side and clipping the mirror with my cheek on the way down.
Black swirled behind my eyes. I blinked, trying to catch my breath as my face throbbed in time to my heartbeat. Rebel gave a startled squeal as one of the Reapers—Dopey, the anti-dwarf I’d met last night—knocked his head back with a crack. My ex-boyfriend hit the ground and Dopey kicked him in the side for good measure. Rebel moaned.
“Touching her was stupid,” the big man said. “Now Shade’s gonna be in a bad mood and that won’t end well.”
I took a deep breath, looking around to find half the clubhouse watching our little scene. My back hurt and my cheek throbbed where it’d hit the truck’s side mirror. I reached up, touching it carefully as I considered my options.
“Shade’s coming!” one of the girls said breathlessly. Rebel tried to push himself up, his face filling with panic. Another biker stepped forward, raising a baseball bat.
Holy shit.
This was actually happening. This is my life. I was really surrounded by angry Reapers and their women, and my ex was gonna get destroyed. I might be new to the area, but I’d been around long enough to know how things worked around here—these guys could do whatever the hell they wanted without any consequences.
A good girl would be scared.
A decent girl would find a way to run.
I’d been a good girl for most of my life, though, and what’d it gotten me? A couch in a trailer and a boyfriend who traded me for a fucking motorcycle. He only traded you for part of a fucking motorcycle, Wonder Woman whispered in my ear.
Too true, sister. Too true.
“Give me the bat,” I said, my voice cold and strong. The bikers glanced at each other, and Dopey shrugged. His fellow Reaper tossed me the bat and I caught it like a badass, hefting it thoughtfully in my hands. A flash of sunlight reflected in the truck’s side mirror caught my eye, reminding me that I’d have one hell of a bruise soon. I raised the bat, took aim and hit the mirror so hard it went flying.
“Fuck!” someone shouted, but I didn’t pay attention. Rebel loved that truck. Not as much as he’d loved his motorcycle, but enough that destroying it would hit him hard. Raising the bat again, I circled the vehicle, then aimed for a headlight, smashing that out too. Oh, this was good. Very therapeutic. Whoops and cheers went up around me as I took out another light, the other mirror and then attacked the windshield. The glass cracked but it didn’t break, which was frustrating as hell. I’d just turned the bat around to use as a battering ram when someone grabbed me around the waist, pulling me back and away.
“You need to stop,” Shade told me, his voice in my ear low and controlled.
“No,” I snarled, bucking against him. “I want to kill him and kill his truck and cut off his balls and—”
“And you can,” he said soothingly. “But this isn’t the right way to do it. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you don’t calm down.”
The adrenaline surging through my body begged to differ, but he held me tight, forcing me to settle. I considered fighting him but that wouldn’t do any good. He’d made his point last night—Batman was stronger than Wonder Woman.
Fucking stupid men.
I stilled and Shade let me go, reaching out for the bat. I stared down at his hand, hating the fact that yet another man was telling me what to do. His club surrounded me, though. They had all the power.
Men always had all the power.
I forced my fingers to release my weapon. Shade smiled at me, tossing it to the ground. Then he raised his other arm, offering me something.
A tire iron.
“This’ll do a lot more damage,” Shade said, the words just for me. “You fuck up his truck as much as you want, but don’t touch him. Not here. We’ll take care of him later when there aren’t so many witnesses.”
My mouth gaped. “Are you serious?”
“Always,” he replied, reaching out to touch the tip of my nose. “That was cute with the bat, but show me what you can do with a tire iron, baby.”
I grinned like a lunatic, wrapping my fingers around the heavy bar and turning toward the truck again, taking careful aim. The metal hit the windshield with a shattering crash, the curved tip finally punching through the weak spot. The safety glass didn’t totally disintegrate but it’d still cost a fortune to replace, and I knew for a fact Rebel didn’t have any insurance.
Yeah, I had real a gift for picking winners.
I smashed the windshield again, then went after the driver’s side window. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted more. Circling, I studied the truck and then glanced down at Rebel, who still cowered on the ground. He watched me with wide, terrified eyes, and I let my gaze fall to his crotch. Trade me like a baseball card, would he?
God, but I’d love to take that tire iron to his balls.
Shade was right, though. There were a lot of witnesses and I didn’t want to go back to jail. Ever. That didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck with Rebel’s head a little, though.
“Do you have a knife I can borrow?” I asked Shade. He raised a brow, then glanced toward Dopey. The man shrugged and unsnapped the leather strap that held a large knife sheathed to his leg. He handed it to me wordlessly. I tested the sharpness against my thumb, the thinnest of blood lines welling up from the tiny cut. It hurt, but not half as bad as Rebel had hurt me.
“I should cut off your balls,” I told my former boyfriend. “You tricked me and tried to use me like a whore. Now you’re going to pay for that.”
Rebel moaned in terror as I stepped toward him, sending a thrill through me. Damned straight you should be afraid, motherfucker. Then I turned away, smiling as I drove the knife deep into one of his tires. The air rushed out. I moved on to the next, and the next. By the fourth I felt some of my adrenaline fading. Rebel was sobbing, and all around me bikers were laughing and clapping. I turned to Dopey, carefully rotating the knife to offer him the handle.
“Thank you.”
Then I took a deep breath, wiping my forehead. Goddamn, but it was a beautiful morning.
Shade stepped up to me, looking almost proud. Something sparked between us, something wild and fun and free. Something close to the feeling I got from riding on the back of a motorcycle, a mixture of thrill and excitement and sheer joy as the wind tore through my hair and sang in my ear.
“That was the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” Shade said. He caught the back of my head in his big hand, pulling me in hard for a kiss. His other arm wrapped around my body, holding me tight as his tongue ravaged my mouth like it belonged to him. God help me, in that moment it did. My body went molten, the thrill turning to something else—something more intense—as his tongue thrust deep.
I wanted to stay here, I realized. Let him drag me back into his clubhouse to his ratty old bed, rip off my clothes and fuck me until I forgot reality. The past few months had been tough, and while I’d had fun with Rebel, I’d never really been able to count on him. I had a feeling that if I just did what Shade wanted—followed him like a good biker babe�
��he’d take care of everything and I wouldn’t have to think for a while or make any tough decisions.
God, but I wanted that.
Unfortunately, the only thing my niece Callie knew how to cook was chocolate. There were three little girls waiting for me, along with a sister who was probably in agony and almost certainly at risk of losing her job for missing yet another day of work. Pulling away from that kiss was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I managed somehow. Shade’s eyes were dark and hungry. Full of fire. For once that didn’t scare me.
“I need to go home,” I whispered. “My sister is sick and I’ve got to watch the kids. Will you give me a ride?”
Shade met my gaze steadily.
“This isn’t over,” he said, and he wasn’t talking about the situation with Rebel.
“My oldest niece is only five, and she already microwaved them a candy bar for breakfast.”
Shade cocked his head at me. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I replied solemnly.
“Then I guess I’d better give you a ride,” he said slowly. He glanced toward Rebel and his face hardened. “Get in your truck and go away.”
Rebel looked to the truck, almost comical in his confusion. “But the tires are all flat.”
“So drive on the rims,” Shade told him. “Make yourself disappear or I’ll do it for you.”
Rebel nodded quickly. I watched while he staggered to his feet, clutching his side as he lurched toward the Chevy. Then Shade caught my hand, tugging me toward the line of bikes. I turned toward him and he froze, reaching up to touch the side of my face.
“You’ve got a bruise starting here. Rebel hit you,” he said, his voice like ice. I shook my head.
“Technically, he threw me into the truck.”
Shade’s face went hard. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“No,” I said, catching his arm. “You’re gonna give me a ride home. I don’t care about that fucker, but I do care about my nieces. If you want to help me, take me home.”
