by Marie James
“You already know the answer to that,” he seethes. “This has to do with Candi. I know it, and you know it.”
“Not everything revolves around pussy for me.”
At least it didn’t until recently.
“You were sloppy tonight.” He’s resigned. He knows better than to expect anything else from me. We don’t chit-chat about petty shit, and short of asking him to find a new girl to sink inside of, we never talk about women. “Get a handle on your shit before we get back to the clubhouse. We have enough to worry about without the chance of your ass getting sent back to prison on a murder charge.”
I turn to plant my newly cleaned fist in his face, but he’s gone from the doorway. The door leading to the parking lot slams a second later.
This has to do with Candi.
I sneer as I reach for the shower nozzles.
Of course, it fucking does.
She’s infected my brain like a metastasized cancer.
She’s the throbbing in my chest, the irregular heartbeat that shows up every time I see a flash of brown hair or get a whiff of flowery perfume.
She’s the reason I can’t eat anything sweet because everything is bitter in comparison to the honey dripping from her cunt.
It doesn’t matter that I took off from the clubhouse minutes after she and Molly left for the mall, or that I’ve been gone for nearly a fucking week. Geographically, we could be on opposite sides of the fucking earth, in different fucking galaxies, and everything would still be about her.
With punishing hands, I scrub the blood of numerous faceless men from my body. It’s everywhere, in my hair and on my biceps even though I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. My skin is burning, rubbed raw in anger and frustration. Pain is my friend, coming along for the ride no matter how many miles I put between myself and Sutton, Massachusetts. Its brother, regret, has also tagged along for the damn ride.
Denial has also been trying to rear its ugly fucking head. More than once I’ve almost let that excuse of an emotion creep in. Most people live in it, revel in the ease it brings, but I’ve always been a self-aware person. That trait, or flaw as it feels in recent days, is what’s fucking with me the most.
That fucking redhead, in all of her amateur dick-sucking glory, was a way to take back control of the situation that had sent me spiraling the day Molly showed up with her friend. Candi would’ve enthusiastically joined us had I asked her. I might have even convinced her to put her talented tongue to work on pleasing Cherry while my dick tested the limits of her throat.
Doing so, however, would’ve made the situation about us.
Us was the whole fucking problem to begin with.
Us is what I never wanted.
Yet, us is exactly what I crave.
It’s what got my dick hard in the first place.
It’s what made me come down Cherry’s throat while Candi stared at us with resignation so heartbreaking I felt the tremors from across the room.
I pour shampoo on the top of my head, keeping my eyes open while I rinse. Blaming the sting on the soap is a much more palatable explanation than the truth.
The truth doesn’t help anyone. It doesn’t set you free and make everything okay. At least my truth won’t. My truth is what nightmares are made of. What parents warn their teenage daughters about, and pray their sons don’t get involved in. My truth is swirling crimson around the drain. My truth is that what happened tonight has happened before and will happen again. The truth is, I don’t regret a single fucking minute of it.
You make a mistake, you die.
Each and every person who signs on to work with Ravens Ruin MC knows the rules. It’s the one thing my father insisted on, one of the very few rules we’ve kept in place since I took the reins. He wanted the men he killed to know exactly why they were dying, why they were bleeding at his feet. He wanted them to know they chose wrong, that they chose betrayal.
And I can’t change that.
I won’t.
Not for a beautiful, brown-haired girl who would never fucking understand the brutality I enjoy.
Keeping this part of my life a secret is a requirement. It’s essential to club life for every man who wears the patch. Building anything pure with Candi would require disclosure of what happens behind closed doors and in the basement. Confessing those sins will only make her leave.
Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe my mood when I climb out of the shower and towel off. My disposition doesn’t change as I dress, tugging my jeans over my hips like the fabric personally wronged me somehow. The only light at the end of the dark tunnel I’m perpetually traveling down is the small bar connected to the motel we’re boarded up in. Liquor, the burn of alcohol, and the empty escape I’ll feel later bring me comfort as I step outside and let my eyes rake over my men.
Chatter halts and every eye in the group meets mine. Some of the guys that have been with me for a while give me a quick nod. TJ’s familiar devious smile stretches across his face. Ronan, the newest patched member of Ravens Ruin, beams at me with something akin to hero worship. Briar is going to have to keep a close eye on him if he’s still looking at me like that after what he witnessed tonight.
“Gang’s all here,” TJ snaps. “Let’s go find some pussy.”
Excited, Chains leads our group toward the door of the bar.
Thankfully, only a handful of people are inside as we make our way to a back corner. Chains and TJ can’t hide the disappointment on their faces when they realize that there are six guys, not counting Briar, in our group and only three women, one of which is already passed out with her head on the bar top.
“What can I get you, boys?” The waitress makes her way over to us before we are even settled. Her eyes scrape over us, our cuts, and tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the PRESIDENT patch on my cut for a long moment before she looks up to meet my eyes.
“Whiskey,” I grunt. “Two fingers.”
“Surely a big guy like you can handle three fingers.” She winks. “I know I can.”
“Nice,” Chains says with a smile.
I ignore all of them as they place their order, and I pay her no attention when she returns with twice as much of her tits showing than when she first walked up.
Giving up on me, she tries her luck with Briar, only moving on when she realizes he’s not buying what she’s selling.
She settles on Chains, holding his hand and guiding him toward the ‘Employees Only’ door within twenty minutes of us sitting down.
“Patch whore,” TJ grumbles as he watches them disappear.
“Not all hope is lost for you,” Briar says with a chuckle, pointing in the direction of the woman at the bar.
Waking up from her nap, she lifts her head and smiles over at our group. TJ doesn’t bat an eyelash when we realize that her dentures are still on the bar top. Our laughter follows him across the bar.
My mood fractionally lifts as the guys chatter around me. I’ve missed the sense of brotherhood while trying to acclimate to being the leader. I’ve kept my distance, creating a barrier between my men and myself, the same way a CEO of a major corporation would. It’s not working for me, and telling by the gleam in their eyes as I joke right along with them, it hasn’t been working for them either.
“It’s good to have you back, Prez,” Briar whispers when the other guys at the table get distracted by two blondes walking in the front door.
I nod.
“Glad to be back.”
Chapter 32
Candi
Hearing that the guys were leaving for an extended period when we got back from the mall a week ago was the only thing that kept me from rushing upstairs and packing my shit. Since I have nowhere to go, Lynch’s absence was a blessing. The roar of motorcycles a few minutes ago, however, had me sprinting through the clubhouse to his house.
“What are you doing?” Molly asks, standing in her doorway. She’s breathing hard, and her cheeks are flushed like mine, making it clear she rushed after me.
&
nbsp; “I need to get out of here. I can’t be here anymore.” I stuff clothes, the very ones I left behind at school that magically reappeared one day, into a trash bag.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
My eyes snap up at the husky voice. For Lynch to be standing here this quickly, he must’ve jumped off his bike before the damn thing stopped rolling.
“We need to talk,” he adds when I don’t say anything.
“Don’t,” I beg when Molly turns to leave.
She holds her hands up, looking between her brother and me. “Work this shit out.”
Her command is directed at her brother as she walks past and leaves me alone with the devil himself.
I’m trembling, my hands twisting the fabric of my favorite shirt as he just stands there watching me. Does he know about the visit from my dad? Is he here to hurt me? To make me pay for betraying him?
“I want to talk about last week.”
“I don’t want your apologies.” Just the idea of rehashing all that shit has me snapping back into action. I continue to shove clothes in the bag, not wasting time to see if they are mine or Molly’s.
“I’m not here to apologize.”
I snort. Of course, he isn’t. The man does no wrong and doesn’t have a single fucking thing to apologize for.
“I’d like for us to go back and erase all of it.” My eyes snap up to his. “I’ll forget about Ronan, if you forget about Cherry.”
He’s lost his damn mind. The redhead, Cherry as he calls her, sucked her way through the entire clubhouse. It shouldn’t bother me, but it’s bothered the other girls. She had no loyalty, hadn’t even tried to be friends with any of the other women here. In fact, she went out of her way to try to pit us against each other. She only lasted four days before she was given her walking papers. She upset the clubhouse so much, even the guys didn’t get bent out of shape when she left.
“I saw the real you,” I remind him as I continue packing. “I don’t imagine that’s going to change anytime soon.”
“You aren’t leaving,” he snaps, walking up to me and pulling clothes out of my hands.
“Fine,” I huff as I angrily shove the half-empty bag to the ground before staring up into his green eyes.
If he were a dragon, he’d be breathing fire right now.
His head leans in, short breaths puffing from flared nostrils. “And if you touch one of my guys, I’ll kill them in front of you.”
There’s the Lynch I’ve come to know. His threats seemed empty before, but after the run-in with my dad and the fire blazing in his eyes, they seem all too real. His warning strikes a chord.
“That’s the difference,” I tell him, taking a step back to create a little distance. The manly scent rolling off him is intoxicating, and I’ve vowed to not put myself in a position where I wouldn’t be able to resist him. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
His eyes soften, and the bricks around my heart threaten to implode.
“Can you say the same?”
He doesn’t answer. His lips don’t move. His hands don’t reach for me. He remains statue-like and immobile.
“Exactly,” I hiss before shoving past him and heading down the stairs.
“Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Molly says, pointing the remote control at the huge TV in the den. “I was just turning up the volume to drown out the sex noises.”
I cringe, sitting down on the sofa beside her. We don’t spend much time in here. All of the action is at the clubhouse, but we know what’s happening. The girls are taking care of the guys that just got back home and won’t be available to hang out for the next couple of hours. Yet, Lynch is here, still upstairs, rather than fucking or getting sucked off by some chick next door. Refusing to let my mind wonder what we’d be doing if I’d accepted his offer, I chuckle at my friend.
“How considerate of you, but it would’ve been more likely that he’d be carrying my dead body over his shoulder than making me moan in pleasure.”
“I seriously wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she mutters.
I shrug. “It’s not like I was giving all the sordid details away.”
“Not that,” she says, setting the remote down between us. “Stop joking about him killing you.”
She’s right. I’ve mentioned, at least a handful of times the last week about her brother hurting me, and not just through heartbreak. I’m tense, on edge, wondering what’s going to happen. I want to be gone, a million miles away before he finds out what my dad did, what my dad is forcing me to do. He won’t forgive me. According to the loose-lipped girls in the clubhouse, he’s not exactly known for leniency.
“Are you sure you want to hang out in here?” Looking around, I see it’s nothing like a civilian den. There aren’t family pictures or hard-earned trophies from grade school. There isn’t any décor meant to soften the place up like I’m used to seeing in family dens, but the motorcycle memorabilia scattered around and adorning the walls fit in perfectly, considering where we are.
“Here’s fine,” she mutters distracted with her gaze focused on the curtain-covered window. The clubhouse is on the other side. Briar is over there. He had to have arrived with Lynch, and everyone knows he’s the one guy who wasn’t pining for pussy like the others the second they hit the kickstands on their bikes.
“If you want to see him,” I whisper since I’ve discovered the walls have ears. “I can think of a way to distract your brother.”
Why in the ever-loving hell am I offering to interact on any level with Lynch?
“I bet you can,” she snorts comically before her eyes turn serious and focus on me. “You need to stop mentioning Briar. Don’t bring him up in conversation. Don’t try to help me out where he’s concerned.”
“You love him,” I urge.
“I can’t,” she insists.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
She’s hurting. I’ve seen it each and every day since we arrived. The only time she’s able to breathe a sigh of relief is when he’s gone, and even then, I can see the worry in her eyes, as if she’s terrified that he won’t return. It’s almost as strong as her worry that he will.
“Fine,” I agree. “I won’t bring him up again on one condition.”
Her eyes narrow, and even though I know I’m wasting my breath, I still whisper my ultimatum.
“You have to help me get out of here.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head violently. “That’s as dangerous as bringing Briar up around my brother. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t even know why I’m stuck here to begin with,” I argue. “Do you know something I don’t know?”
“Lynch knows about Andover, which means he knows about the fire.” I consider the information. “If he’s making us stay here, it’s for our own safety.”
“Nobody died in that fire,” I remind her.
We’d spent hours scouring the internet the day after we got here, and for days after, looking for information.
“We weren’t even listed as suspects.”
My father knew about it, but even as much as he scares me, I know deep down that he’d never let anything happen to me.
He put you in the middle of a one-percent MC.
I shake my head to dissolve those thoughts. Dads protect their children, right?
I know that’s not true. Molly’s dad, by her own account, was awful.
My younger sister, the one I like to pretend doesn’t exist because of everything she’s been given, all of the same things I shunned growing up, has a good dad. My stepfather, William, is a good man. He never looked at me funny or raised his voice at me, not like my own father did. Life with them was too perfect. It’s the main reason I accepted when my dad teased me with the idea of boarding school.
“It doesn’t matter. If Lynch wants you here, here is where you’ll be.”
I let it drop. There’s no point in arguing. Things are perfect. Other than being able to leave, I get to do wh
at I want. I’m not harmed or starved. I’m not mistreated or disrespected. Not counting the way Lynch has treated me, I’ve got a pretty good thing going, but all of that will change soon. I can’t tell Molly what’s going on. When put to the test, I know her loyalty will lie exactly where it should, with her family.
Chapter 33
Lynch
The odd, jovial mood that filled my lungs when I returned home two days ago was knocked out of me the second I found Candi upstairs packing her things. It was replaced by an acrid taste in my mouth, one that tried to force me to spill my fucking guts, to tell her how I feel, to whisper all my worries.
It taunts me, burning my throat as I watch her across the room as she laughs and drinks with the other girls. She’s fallen right into place in the clubhouse, sliding in like a puzzle piece that no one knew was missing until she arrived.
I keep my eyes on her. I haven’t been able to pull them away since I sat down. She’s the opposite of every other woman here. She’s a messy bun where they’re blow-dried waves. She’s teasing every man in the room with the yoga pants she always wears, whereas the others are dressed to impress in short skirts and high heels.
Frowning when I finally notice Molly’s wearing a skirt shorter than usual is the only time my eyes even stray from her. Candi and Molly didn’t give the three new girls flitting around a second glance, and they sure as fuck aren’t interested in the action going on two cushions down. She’s my only damn focus, and the smile on her face as she sings and dances with my sister and Vixen is the only thing keeping my ass rooted to the couch cushion.
I want to smile at her playfulness. I enjoy seeing her have a good time, but then I catch the tremble in her lip every once in a while, and I know it’s all a show. The other girls are having fun, so she pretends to be doing the same.
Her eyes don’t catch mine. She doesn’t look in my direction, but I know she knows I’m here. The only blessing, I guess, is that she didn’t leave when I walked into the room, which she’s done a dozen times over the last two days. She’s freezing me out, and I’m letting it happen. I don’t reach for her when she brushes past. I don’t carry her to a room and insist that we work things out. I wouldn’t even know where to start with all of that shit. No taller than five foot four and maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds, and she’s done what no other person walking this planet has been able to do.
