by Marie James
Wrench claps his hands together and rubs them vigorously like he’s won the fucking lottery. He, unlike me, doesn’t have an issue with going after married women.
“No,” I say to him. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“But you don’t do married women,” he seethes.
“Leave her the fuck alone. I mean it, Wrench.” He narrows his eyes at me but keeps his mouth shut. He knows he’s on thin ice and better not push his fucking luck.
I tip my beer up and take a long pull, my eyes evaluating the guy across the bar. I can’t help but wonder if he’s the one who busted her lip; it’s highly likely. He looks like the type of asshole that would hit a woman. I despise men who hit women; they are the absolute scum of the earth.
Knowing I need to divert my attention away from the waitress for more than one reason, I scan the bar. My eyes land on a redhead sitting on a stool at the bar. She’s facing outward and staring right at me. From the way she’s running her tongue over and around the tip of her beer bottle, I can guarantee she’d be down for just about anything, which means she’s my kind of girl.
I wink at her to let her know I see her and go back to talking to the guys at the table.
“Kid,” I say catching his attention. “Why the sour look?”
Dustin “Kid” Andrews is the newest and youngest member of the MC. At twenty-four and having served three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan in the first four years of his adult life, he’s seen more devastation and death than most men twice his age. The great thing about Kid though is he always has a smile on his face; he always sees the bright side of things. Right now? That character smile is nowhere to be seen.
Wrench laughs and Kid shoots him daggers from across the table. “He got blue-balled last night.”
I tip my beer up, emptying it to hide the smile on my face. Wrench is cackling like the idiot he is, but Shadow has enough respect to hide his laugh behind a cough.
“Well,” I finally manage. “It’s a new night. No reason not to try again.” I turn to Shadow. “And Misty?”
Misty is the woman he’s been seeing casually since we got to Denver. She’s also the woman who called in the tip about Josie when the little girl reported a woman being held by her parents at the school Misty works at. I’m grateful for Misty, which means I’m for once grateful for Shadow’s inability to keep his dick to himself. This time, it worked in our favor.
He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “We’re leaving in a few days.” It’s his only explanation, and I know that’s all I’ll get from him. Shadow treats every woman he comes across like a princess, but when he’s done, he’s done. He likes to spread the love around.
I force my eyes to keep from following the waitress, but it’s appearing to be an impossibility since she’s walking toward us now. The smile she pulls from me is unintentional, but painted on my face nonetheless.
“Another round?”
“Sure,” I say just as Wrench reaches for and clasps her hand.
Her eyes sweep from their connection to me and then to the side where I assume her husband is sitting. No doubt that asshole is the one hurting her. I have to remind myself to mind my own business. I can’t save every woman. Hell, I couldn’t save the one I loved from birth, and certainly I can’t save someone who has no will to save themselves.
“Wrench,” I chide. “Leave her the fuck alone.” I keep eye contact with her when I speak, but I can tell Wrench has let her hand go.
“Thank you,” she mouths. I nod at her as she walks away.
I take a chug from my beer and glare at Wrench. “If you can’t learn how to behave in public, I’ll make sure you never join us on the road again.”
He huffs but is smart enough not to say a damn word; rather he stands and makes his way to the opposite end of the bar to the line in front of the jukebox.
“Remind me again why that fucker is still around,” I mutter to Kid and Shadow.
“You promised Socket you’d look after him,” Shadow responds.
Fucking Socket. His ass should be here right now, rather than his dumb ass brother.
I finish my second beer and stand giving the redhead near the bar the look I know she gets often. I rap my knuckles on the table top and head toward the restroom. Shadow laughs; Kid grumbles something about blue balls. I would laugh, but I find nothing funny about being thirty years old and walking to the bathroom of a shifty bar to get my dick sucked. As ridiculous as it is, I’m certainly not going to leave here without it happening.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I miss the girls back at the club. I haven’t touched a woman the entire time we’ve been in Denver; I’ve spent every waking moment looking for Josie. Now that she’s been found, I can’t wait to blow down someone’s throat, and since the waitress is married to an asshole, the redhead will have to do.
I meet the redhead at the center of the bar and drape my arm over her shoulder, turning her in the direction of the restroom sign hanging over an entryway at the back of the bar. Her hand is on my cock before we even make it five steps.
I sigh inwardly at the double standard. She’s a bar slut which makes her unappealing to me outside of this situation, but on the other hand, I’m grateful she is because it’s exactly what I need at the moment. We won’t exchange numbers; I won’t even tell her my name, and the fucked up part? She probably won’t even ask. I’d be surprised if my dick is the only one she touches tonight.
We round the corner, turning down the dark hallway, and my ears register the sound of the slap before my eyes manage to tell my brain what is going on. I see the waitress’ head swing to the side from the impact and look at the sneer on the face of the asshole that was sitting in the bar earlier; the exact one I’d assumed was her abusive asshole husband.
Fury boils over in my veins; the redhead on my side becomes inconsequential as I stride forward and punch the prick directly in his nose. The blood spray from his face isn’t satisfying enough, so I hit him again, and again. I don’t stop until he’s a whimpering puddle, crouched on the filthy floor.
I hear screaming and turn to comfort the waitress, pissed that she’s upset that I hit him, but when I turn around, it’s the redhead I was with a minute before that’s hysterical. I watch her back as she runs from the hallway. I turn my attention to the waitress who is leaning against the wall with a hand clamped over her injured cheek.
“You okay?” I ask taking slow, measured steps in her direction.
She pulls her eyes from the man on the floor to mine and then back down to him. I see the fear the second it hits her face, and I hold my hands up and take a step back. I’m pissed that she’d be afraid of me too but understanding of the situation.
“I’m not going to hurt you, darlin’.” I drop my hands to my side and attempt a casual, non-threatening pose, which is a chore because of my size and build.
Without taking her eyes from him, she says, “He’ll kill me for sure now.”
She raises her eyes to mine at the growl that came unbidden from deep in my throat. “He won’t have the chance.”
I reach for her and guide her by her elbow to the rear exit off of the dark hallway we’re standing in. She seems dazed, and I look over at her wondering how much damage he caused when he struck her. The cool night air that hits us seems to pull her from her trance.
“Wh… what are you doing?” She asks as the door to the bar and the noise of the jukebox closes behind us.
“Getting you out of here,” I tell her and point to my bike parked near the street. “Get on.” I swing my leg over the seat, hit the kickstand with the back of my boot, and wait impatiently as she stands there looking at me like she’s never seen a man on a bike before.
SINdicate: Cerberus MC 1.5
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Chapter 1
BT
The stinging slap across my face echoes off of the walls in the silent roo
m. Aviana gasps and pulls her hands to her mouth as her eyes widen in shock. I can’t help but smirk when I feel the heat of her handprint spread across my face.
“Out of all of the things you could’ve done, you think hitting me is your best course of action?” I attempt animosity and the deepest growly voice I can manage in this situation.
I take a step toward her, and she takes a step back.
“BT!” The teacher says from across the room. “I know she’s adorable, but you have to wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face if you’re going to convince the audience that you’re pissed that you’ve been smacked.” She sighs and shakes her head.
I turn my head to the teacher and shrug my shoulders. “I’ll work on it.”
The teacher winks at me as if she knows something I don’t.
“Sorry,” I hear Aviana mutter from beside me. I tilt my head at her in confusion. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
I huff playfully. “I’ve been hit harder before.”
“That’s all for today class,” the teacher announces as she makes her way across the room to Aviana and me. “I’d tell you guys to pick different partners, but we start work on kissing scenes tomorrow.” She cuts her eyes between us. “I have a gut feeling you guys will get that right.”
I follow the teacher with my eyes as she exits the class with the other students. When I cut my gaze back to the petite blonde that has had my attention for weeks, I notice the look of shock on her face. She cuts her eyes away from mine and crosses the room to gather her things. Is she still shocked at hitting me or at what the teacher just said?
Like a lost puppy, I follow. My jacket is in the chair right beside her purse and a few books.
“Hey,” I say grabbing her attention again. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this evening.”
She remains silent as she busies herself by stacking and restacking her books. Just as I’m beginning to wonder if she’s ignoring me or didn’t hear me at all, she responds.
“What did you have in mind?” She clutches her stack of books to her chest. My pulse gains speed. She’s blown me off time and time again, but she’s never once seemed to entertain the idea of hanging out.
“Figured you could come over. I can make dinner,” I shrug trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. “Watch a movie?”
She grins at me but then narrows her eyes. “Did you just ask me over for Netflix and Chill?”
I throw my head back and laugh. By the time I’m able to calm myself enough to look back at her, I see a small smile playing on her lips. “I have Blu-ray also.”
The composure she’s trying to maintain fails and her smile widens. “Is that so?”
I nod my head. “I make a mean spaghetti,” I entice her.
She shifts her weight and reaches to move her purse strap back on her shoulder, just for it to fall down to the crook of her elbow again.
I reach up and rub my face, certain that the handprint she left is gone by now. “You owe me for the assault,” I say, trying to gain sympathy.
“That’s not how it works,” she says, not buying into my bullshit.
“That’s how it should be,” I tell her, dropping my hand from my cheek.
I widen my smile, certain that pouting at this point wouldn’t work.
“You’re quite the charmer; you know that?”
I’m captivated by the way the light reflects off of the brown flecks in her hazel eyes. If I didn’t mistakenly leave my man card on the dresser at home, no doubt I’d have to pull it from my wallet and hand it over to her.
“We can watch The Office,” I finally say when her blink breaks the spell she’s wielding over me. “Consider it homework for acting class.”
She raises an eyebrow at me suspiciously. “You realize you’ve asked me out over a dozen times? What makes you think today is going to be any different?”
“I figure my luck has to change eventually.”
The way her eyes dart to my mouth as I speak, causing her to lick her own lips makes me hopeful.
“Dinner and a movie, huh?”
I nod.
“I do love spaghetti.” She taps her finger against her lips, contemplating my offer playfully.
“Salad and garlic toast also,” I say to sweeten the deal.
“Well in that case, how can I resist?”
I’m like a giddy puppy as the desire to bounce around and fist pump the air barely stays hidden. Rather than embarrass myself by doing a quick celebration dance, I hold out my hand to her.
“What?” she asks looking down at my empty hand.
“I need your phone so I can add my name.”
She hands it over, and I text myself from her phone and add my contact info into her favorites.
I hand it back and pull out my phone that just buzzed in my pocket. I shoot my address to her phone.
“Seven o'clock sound good?” I ask.
“Sounds perfect,” she answers.
We just stand looking at each other. I want to reach out and hug her for some strange reason, but I can’t determine if that would be stepping over a line she hasn’t approved yet.
“Okay,” she says breaking the awkwardness. “See you at seven.”
She side steps me and exits the room just as another class begins to file through the door. A quick look at my watch informs me I have six hours to get groceries, hit the gym, and make sure the house is presentable.
I nod a hello at several of the guys coming into the classroom. I’ve been taking classes here for several months now and have made a few acquaintances. Everyone is friendly… on the outside. If anything, I’ve discovered that we’re all technically in competition with each other. We all want the same roles. We all show up for the same castings. Most are cordial in the halls of the acting academy, but very few are interested in actual friendship.
I have tons of friends and fans for that matter. I don’t have much time to add anything extra to my plate. Between acting class, work at the gym, writing, and Warrior Inc. I have hardly a free minute to myself. That being said, I’ll rearrange whatever I need to if it means I can spend time with Aviana Maguire outside the walls of this school.
I’ve been flirting with her for weeks, since this block of classes began. She’s absolutely beautiful, but it’s her shyness in class that drew me to her. The contradiction of wanting to be an actress in any capacity and being as shy as she seems, made me want to get to know her more.
Her shyness has helped me wiggle my way into her good graces. We partner up a lot in class to work on various skills the teacher deems mandatory of a good actor. I approached her the first day, and it seems I’ve made at least enough of an impression that she hasn’t turned me down each time I’ve asked. That right there gives me hope.
I can’t even think about class tomorrow. I’m excited about kissing techniques for actors and terrified all at the same time. Maybe I can persuade her into practicing some of those techniques tonight, if anything so we won’t be awkward and nervous tomorrow in class.
I climb up in my truck and pull out my cell phone. After adding Aviana’s name into the contacts, I shoot her a quick text, hoping she won’t think I’m psycho for contacting her so soon.
BT: Do you have any food allergies/aversions?
I put the truck in drive and make my way across town to the gym. I have only one client today, so after his session and my own workout, I have nothing but time for dinner with Aviana.
I pull up to the gym, grab my bag, and my phone out of the console.
Looking at the screen, I see she has replied.
Aviana: I don’t particularly like onions, but I have no allergies that I’m aware of.
I pocket my phone, making a mental list of the things I need to get from the store. I’ve done a lot of traveling for various photo shoots recently, so I know my fridge is practically bare. I adjust my grip on the gym bag and head to the locker room. I love my job here almost as much as I love to work out myself, but I have to ad
mit I’m hoping the next couple of hours fly by.
Chapter 2
Aviana
I’ve sworn off dating and relationships for good. With my childhood and the destruction I’ve seen two people capable of causing each other, I’m certain there’s no chance that happily ever after even exists. I know some couples look happy in public, but that doesn’t mean things are as they seem behind closed doors.
My parents looked happy in public, but once they were sealed behind the thick front door of my first childhood home, they were at each other’s throats constantly. The fake smiles and happy personas came out again the minute they stepped off the front porch. That was, until my mother had finally had enough.
My dad left one day when I was eleven years old and never came back. I didn’t hear from him for ten years and when he finally sought me out, he hadn’t changed from the memories I had of him from childhood. Many of the fights between my parents were always about money and how he was spending more than she could make. I never remember my dad having an actual job, and much of the family strife was centered on that fact.
Mom? I’d like to be able to tell you that Mom got better after Dad left, but things just kind of stayed the same. For a while, it would just be us, then she’d get a boyfriend. The boyfriends eerily reminded me of my father. They didn’t work and came with their own set of issues, whether it be drugs, gambling, or both.
Due to my less than perfect upbringing, I’ve made sure, up until this point, to avoid anything that could possibly resemble a relationship. This is why I was beyond shocked when I said yes to BT when he asked me over earlier.
BT. Where do I even begin? He’s gorgeous, a veteran, quick-witted, and the beard damn near slays me every time I look at his face, and that’s only when I don’t get trapped first by his magnificent brown eyes.
What’s the problem then? BT screams relationship. He seems like the guy who’s just waiting for his soulmate to come along. I know I’m not that person, so I never felt like it was right for me to stand in the way of him meeting her, whoever she may be.
I can’t even tell you how many times he’s asked me out. I’ve turned him down each and every time, until today. Today, the back and forth banter I’ve grown fond of made me, for a split second, want to be that girl. A second. A flash of urgency for him when my palm slapped his face in class. I nearly groaned when my hand met the roughness of his beard, and I tried to play it off and covered my mouth with my hands.
