by Marie James
“I’m sure she did what she thought was best at the time,” Jaxon growls, but Rob keeps going. “We told her we didn’t want children. Do you remember the numerous conversations we had, lying in bed after Misty showed up with Griffin? She was only reacting to what we had said.”
I wasn’t the only product of some quick fuck by a biker? This club is more fucked up than I thought.
“What the hell are we going to do now?” Defeat fills Jaxon’s voice.
“He needs us now,” Rob says softly.
“He doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with us,” Jaxon counters.
Damn right I don’t.
“He doesn’t have many other choices. We give them a place to land, provide both boys with what they need.” Rustling of bed covers can be heard before Rob continues. “It’s all we can do. Provide that and hope they're smart enough to take it.”
“That’s doubtful,” Jaxon interrupts. “Did you see the look in Lawson’s eyes? I had that same look in mine. Coming from a shitty home, living the way I had to, the things I had to do just to survive. I was pissed at the world, ready to take any motherfucker on that challenged me. Hell, I was willing to destroy my own life for just the smallest taste of revenge.”
“I remember the angry fucker you were when you showed up at boot camp,” Rob recalls. “I don’t think you spoke a word to anyone until at least Swim Week.”
“Exactly,” Jaxon mutters. “It took the Marine Corps for me to realize that I could have a different life than the one I’d thought I was destined to all my life.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what he needs, too.”
My hands shake, the trembling damn near bone-deep, as I step away from the door.
Marine Corps?
Fuck those two if they think even for a second that I’m going to sign up or participate in that shit. Taking the stairs two at a time, I head to the bedroom they were pitied into giving us. I keep in mind that Drew is sleeping, oblivious to the pain he’s going to feel tomorrow when he wakes up to find me gone. Leaving is the only option. If they ship me off, I won’t be able to help Drew at all.
Silently, the door opens, and I lock us both inside. His soft breathing fills the room, and I envy the peace he’s found in sleep. Sitting down on the desk chair, I give myself a few moments for my nerves to settle.
“The doors have alarms on them.”
Delilah didn’t mention the windows, but is it a risk I should take? This house is out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have a clue about the terrain, and navigating it in the dark will be almost impossible. I flex my neck, leaning my head over the back of the chair, trying to think of the best course of action.
I’m eighteen. They can’t force me to go into the military, but they can use Drew as a bargaining chip.
I can’t allow that to happen, but leaving right now seems impossible. I close my eyes as the exhaustion from the day, fuck, the last several years, begins to weigh me down. Stomach full of lasagna, I don’t stand a chance. My eyes flutter closed before I have the ability to realize I’m falling asleep.
Chapter 6
Delilah
A thump outside of my room wedges its way between sleep and conscious thought. Rolling over, I ignore the intrusion. I tossed and turned all night, and Sunday mornings are made for sleeping late.
“I don’t want to leave.” The unfamiliar whining filters through my door, and I sit up in bed.
“We can’t fucking stay,” Lawson snaps at his younger brother. “Hurry before you wake everyone in the house.”
I didn’t figure that they would stay long. Lawson isn’t the type to abide by rules, and my dad isn’t one to cave or bend his rules for anyone, much less an angry boy who’s mad at the world.
I find nothing but their retreating backs when I pull open my door. Each with the duffel bag they arrived with, they slowly make their way down the stairs.
That’s when all hell breaks loose.
“And where do you think you two are going?” The anger and irritation in Jaxon’s voice are palpable.
I creep down the stairs, finding the boys in a standoff with my dad in the living room.
“Leaving,” Lawson hisses. “And you can’t fucking stop us.”
I believe him, and the surety in his tone tells me he believes it too. The only problem is when my dads, Jaxon specifically, make their minds up about something, it’s as good as written in stone. He’s not one to be pushed around, but I fear digging in will only make Lawson push back more.
“Not going to happen,” Rob says with quiet authority.
“Try and keep us from leaving,” Lawson challenges.
Jaxon takes a step closer, and the tension in Lawson’s back is visible.
“You’re eighteen, Lawson. I can’t keep you from leaving this house. I won’t even attempt to, but Drew is not leaving with you.”
“He’s my brother,” Lawson sneers.
Chill bumps race over my arms at the menace in his voice.
“What’s going on?” I jump, startled when Samson speaks over my shoulder.
I turn back to the cluster of people ten feet away, praying they don’t notice our intrusion. Of course, my dads know we’re here, but the other two seem oblivious to our eavesdropping.
“Lawson is trying to leave,” I explain not taking my eyes from the altercation that seems to be seconds away from turning physically violent.
“Let ‘em leave,” he whispers. “I have no idea why they showed up in the first place.”
It appears my brother’s goal of distraction for my dads isn’t going to work the way he wants. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he anticipates Dad being too angry to change his mind on the senior trip.
“He’s a minor,” Jaxon interjects. “You’re not leaving here with him to end up God knows where.”
“The world is a scary place, Lawson.” Rob is doing his best to de-escalate the situation.
Lawson’s maniacal laugh makes my skin crawl.
“Scary? You have no fucking idea what we’ve been through. We’ll be fine.”
“That’s the fucking point,” Jaxon rages. “You shouldn’t have to face the awful things you’ve been challenged with for as long as you have.”
“Don’t start caring now, Daddy.”
Uncomfortable with the direction everything is heading, Drew shifts from one foot to the other before deciding to take a step back from his brother.
“Who do you think will win?” I roll my eyes at my brother even though he can’t see me do it.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I whisper.
“Dad’s pretty strong, but Lawson seems like a psycho. It’d be an awesome fight to watch, but I think he’d win because dad’s old.”
“Dad’s not old. Now shut up so I can listen.”
I must speak too loudly because Jaxon’s eyes lift to meet mine. I can tell he wants us to leave, to let this be just between the four below, but I can’t turn away.
Noticing the direction of his eyes, Lawson turns his head enough so he can look over his shoulder at us. Anger, animosity, and hostility fill his bright blue eyes, but I also don’t miss the twinge of fear in them either. I beg him with my eyes to calm down. There may even be a hint of pleading, asking him to stay, but his lip turns up in a sneer, either unable to read my expression or not caring how I feel.
“Looks like the whole family is here,” he spits before turning back to Jaxon.
“Would you like to go into the office and speak privately?” Rob offers.
“Talking is the last thing I want,” Lawson says. “We’re leaving.”
He goes to walk around Jaxon but surprisingly stops when Dad holds his hand up. “Feel free to leave, but Drew stays here. You can ruin your life all you want, but I won’t stand by and watch you ruin his.”
“Fuck you,” Lawson barks. “Let’s go, Drew.”
Lawson grabs his younger brother by the arm. The wince on Drew’s face makes it clear that the grip Lawson has o
n his arm is painful.
“You’re hurting him,” I say, unable to watch the tear rolling down Drew’s cheek.
“Mind your own fucking business, Princess. This doesn’t concern you.”
Lawson’s command doesn’t surprise me. He’s pissed and practically cornered. I would expect nothing less.
“No,” Drew yells, yanking his arm out of his brother’s grasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Confusion swarms Lawson’s face. It’s apparent he’s never gone against his brother’s orders before.
“Now,” Lawson commands.
“I’m staying,” Drew says in refusal, crossing his arms in defiance.
Lawson remains silent, mulling over his options as he glares at his younger brother.
“What would Mom say right now? What would she tell you about choosing these people over family?”
Another tear rolls down Drew’s cheek, and his throat works on a hard swallow before he speaks. “She would tell you to stop being stubborn. She would tell you that Rob and Jaxon are offering a chance at a real life. She would tell us to be grateful and take every opportunity we were handed.”
Lawson shakes his head. “You’ll regret being here with them.”
Jaxon steps out of his way this time when Lawson heads to the front door. “You’re always welcome here, son.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” Lawson mutters before disappearing out the front door and into the cool, morning air.
Drew all but collapses. Thankfully Rob anticipated it and catches him on his way. Drew shies away from Pop but doesn’t make a move to get off his knees.
“Go get dressed,” Jaxon instructs as Rob consoles Drew.
Looking down, I realize I’m only in my sleep shorts and a thin tank.
“Yes, sir.”
After changing in my room, I head back downstairs, finding Samson, both of my dads, and Drew around the kitchen table. Sunday morning breakfast is going on like the blow up didn’t just happen ten minutes ago.
Jaxon is at the stove making an array of different pancakes just like he’s done for as long as I can remember.
“Samson?” he asks as he flips a pancake over with the spatula.
“Simple is fine,” he responds without looking up from his phone.
“Delilah?”
“I think banana and blueberry would be perfect.”
“Drew?”
I look over at the young man. His face is still red, but the tear streaks have been wiped away. He looks uncomfortable and out of place.
“Apple cinnamon is the absolute best,” I tell him with a gentle smile.
“I’m allergic to cinnamon,” he answers weakly.
“Noted,” Jaxon says from across the kitchen as he throws the bottle of cinnamon in the trash. I have a peanut allergy, and no form of them are allowed in the house. Watching what my dad just did makes my heart swell. He’ll make sure Drew is safe here as well.
“The mint chip is excellent,” Samson offers, and my eyes sting at his generosity.
Drew’s eyes light up. “I love mint chip ice cream.”
Jaxon chuckles from the stove. “These pancakes will be so much better. I promise.”
“Babe?” Jaxon prompts.
“Simple works for me today,” Rob answers.
I grab the seat next to Drew, so he’s not left alone on this side of the table. He moves his phone closer, and I don’t miss the protective edge to the action, but I understand it.
“Has he called? Texted?”
Drew shakes his head. “He’ll be back.” He tries to sound hopeful, but the skepticism in his voice betrays the front he’s putting on.
“Of course he will,” I agree.
“He gets mad sometimes. He comes back after he walks it off.”
“Our door is always open to him,” Jaxon says as he slides pancakes onto Samson’s plate. “If he texts or calls, remind him of that.”
Drew meets Dad’s eyes, seeming to analyze if he’s being genuine.
“He said some pretty awful things,” Drew reminds my father.
Jaxon shrugs, as if having arguments in the living room at nine in the morning is nothing to worry about. “It’s an adjustment, Drew. We’re allowed to get angry. Could he have handled it better? Of course. But, I get the feeling your brother has been fighting and clawing to keep you guys safe for a long time. He’ll come around once he realizes we’re not out to hurt you or him.”
Drew nods. “He’ll be back.”
Only this time there’s more confidence in his words.
Chapter 7
Lawson
“Stupid motherfuckers,” I mutter as I jump off of the front porch and leave all five of those assholes in my dust.
If Drew wants to live in some swanky ass house that’s fine. So much for fucking loyalty. All he gives a shit about is his damn stomach.
Mine growls at the thought of more of that lasagna from last night.
Voices draw me to the front of the metal building we entered for the first time yesterday. Moving my duffel to my other shoulder, I peek around the house. Paranoia is vital in every situation. I can’t believe Jaxon and Rob just let me leave. I was so sure after last night there would be a Marine recruiter standing in the living room first thing this morning. It wouldn’t surprise me if the voices were coming from a group of guys heading my way to get me to step in line.
Instead of a mob coming after me, I find a group of guys, mostly in their twenties it seems, hovering over a motorcycle.
One guy, with his back to me, is struggling with the rear tire.
“He’ll never get it,” a tall guy mutters.
“This is fucking hard, you asshole,” the guy working on the bike hisses. “Harley’s are completely different from dirt bikes.”
“Rocker can do it in a couple minutes, and he started with dirt bikes,” a blond guy taunts.
“He’s been doing this shit for years,” the crouched guy complains.
“You don’t get to wear the cut until you can change a fucking tire,” the tall guy responds.
With my head down but still peeking over at them, I step away from the corner of the building. The crunch of my boots on the gravel draws the attention of several of the guys.
“Hey kid,” one calls out.
I bristle but keep walking with a firmer grip on the strap of my duffel bag.
“He may look like his daddy, but he sure as hell doesn’t have his personality,” someone taunts with a southern drawl.
I spin around, facing them but not knowing which asshole is bringing Jaxon up right now.
“Kid acts like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders,” a dark headed guy working on the bike adds.
“You got a fucking problem?” I ask the group in general.
“Enough,” a booming voice commands from the front porch of the metal building. The bald tatted-up guy, thick with muscles, looks ominous as he looms above us. “Scooter, you got that damn tire on yet?”
“No, Prez,” he mutters.
I chuckle, and several of the guys look at me.
“Think you can do better, Lawson?” Why in the hell does the Cerberus MC President even know my name?
“I wouldn’t be bitching and complaining. It’s a simple fucking tire, not a goddamned flat.”
Kincaid steps down from the front porch and gets closer to me. I don’t miss the fact that he keeps several feet of distance between us, and I appreciate the space.
He angles his head to Scooter who’s now standing, glaring at me. “Give it a try.”
I look at the curious group of guys. They watch our interaction with interest.
I take a step back, holding my hands up. “No thanks. He’s got that so fucked up, the next person riding it will end up as road kill.”
Scooter growls at me, but Kincaid stops his advancement with a hand on his chest. “That one then.”
I follow his finger to a magnificent bike, albeit a little dirty.
“Prez,”
one guy mutters. “Surely you’re not going to let some punk work on your bike.”
“Shadow’s gonna be pissed if he has to fix something that kid breaks,” another adds.
All it takes is a quick look from Kincaid to make the heckling stop.
“Go ahead,” he urges when he sees the hesitation in my eyes.
Challenges like this I can take. The cockiness that has been forming all my life may be half false bravado, but my skills around anything mechanical are nothing but pure talent.
With a grumble, Scooter rolls over another jack, and I situate it under the bike. Once it’s suspended, I take a step back, envying not only the money a bike like this costs, but also the care that has been taken to maintain it. I shouldn’t expect anything less from bike lovers though.
All the tools I need are readily available which makes this even easier.
Less than ten minutes later, I stand, having taken Kincaid’s rear tire off and put it back.
“I’d suggest a power wrench for those bolts on the exhaust before you ride.” I swipe at the sweat trailing down my face with the bottom of my shirt. “The roads around here are complete shit. That tire’s liable to roll out from underneath you.”
“They are,” Kincaid agrees with a smile.
“He didn’t even take the caliper off,” Scooter mutters.
I cough, clearing my throat to keep from laughing at the awe in his voice. Growing uncomfortable with everyone shifting their attention between the bike, Kincaid, and me, I grab my duffel and start to walk away.
“A word, Lawson?” I stop but don’t turn around. He may have expressed it as a question, but the command in his voice is still there.
I hear his boots crunch on the gravel, but when I turn my head to look back at him, he’s walking toward the door he came out of a bit ago, not walking toward me.
“Can someone teach Scooter how to change a tire?” Kincaid says as he walks past the group. “It’s dangerous for him not to know how.”
“Lawson seems to be the perfect teacher,” the tall biker answers.
“Fuck that,” I mutter, as I follow behind Kincaid. “He’s unteachable.”
I chuckle when Scooter growls as I walk past.
