Betrayed By Beauty (Heaven's Guardians MC Book 4)

by Ashley Lane

  Oakley cuts off the water and wipes her hands on her jeans, my gaze follows to the tight dark-wash denim that’s molded to her legs like a second skin.

  “Stay right here,” she orders. “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.” When she turns, my gaze that was on her thighs, slowly moves up to appreciate her perfectly round ass. Well, fuck.

  If there really was an Alpha Male handbook, I’m pretty positive I would break no less than sixty nine rules if I didn’t check out her ass. Every dude whose dick gets hard for a chick knows if a woman’s body is a 6 or higher on the bangable meter, you must watch her ass as she walks away. Yeah, guys are fuckin’ dogs, ladies.

  And yeah—almost 100% of the women who work at Corrupt are considered a 6 or higher… fuck, they’re really considered an 8 or higher. So if that’s the case, why haven’t I ever watched their asses? What the fuck is going on? I scrub my uninjured hand over my face.

  My thoughts are cut short when Oakley returns with the first aid kit. She wastes no time opening it up and sorting out the supplies she needs. Her fingers work quickly but delicately as she dabs the wound with an antiseptic cream.

  I watch, mesmerized by the way her fingers work deftly to clean, dress, and cover the slice on my hand. When she looks up at me, our eyes meet and the air surrounding us seems to come alive. It’s almost as though a spark of electricity connects us in one fleeting moment. For several moments we’re suspended in time. As her eyes bore into my own, I can’t help but feel as if I’m flayed open before her and she’s drinking in the darkest of my secrets.

  Down the street, a car horn blares, its shriek sound cutting through the silence of the night and we pull away the moment, broken. What the fuck is going on? You’re just missing, Jax. That’s all this is, Madd. I repeat the words to myself, hoping to find a semblance of truth somewhere within. But a gnawing inside my chest is telling me this is more.

  After packing away the first aid kit, Oakley hovers by the bar, looking around nervously. Finally, she opens her mouth.

  “Well I—”

  “You want to sit for a while… have a drink?” I interrupt her before she can make a getaway. “I can’t ride yet. I was going to wait until the throbbing in my hand dies down. Plus, I need to thank my nurse for her patch-up job.” Smooth, Casanova.

  She tucks a long strand of raven hair behind her ear on the opposite side to her scars, and bites her lip. “Yes. I mean yeah, that would be really nice, thank you.”

  Behind the bar we move in synchrony, each grabbing our own beer before we take a seat at one of the high top tables that has already been cleaned. “How’s it feeling now?” she asks, nodding toward my hand.

  I move my wrist and extend my fingers. “It’s not bad, thanks for cleaning it up.”

  She shrugs. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t do me any good to let my boss bleed out behind the bar,” she says with a giggle.

  “Oakley,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I want to apologize for earlier. I was an asshole and I’m not usually like that.”

  When she opens her mouth to cut me off, I raise my hand.

  “No. I had a shit night and everything was gettin’ to me. My mood wasn’t aimed at you, and you didn’t deserve that shit.”

  She leans back in the seat and visibly relaxes. “Sorry you’re having a bad night. At least it’s almost over.”

  “Yeah.” I murmur, looking down the opening of my beer as if all of life's answers are waiting for me inside.

  “I–um, I’m sorry about your boyfriend. That’s why you’ve been so sad, right? Anyway, I really hope you guys can work it out.”

  Guys..? Ahh. So she knows about me and Jax. I roll my eyes. Fuckin’ Tasha and her loud ass mouth, I know that’s where Oakley would have heard about me and Jax. Though she does live with Shelly, she’s a sweet girl who usually prefers to mind her own business. But Tash? If the woman could make a livin’ off yappin’ her trap, she’d be a goddamn millionaire.

  I look at Oakley, taking in her beautiful face. Her scars, though extensive and clearly visible only add another layer to her beauty.

  “Thanks, Oakley. I hope we work it out too, he’s a good guy. One of the best actually.” I smile at that, because it will always be true. Jax has a heart of gold. “But I’m not holding out hope. I’ve made some mistakes through the years and honestly, I don’t even know how to start to make it right.” Maybe it’s the beers or maybe it’s the low lighting inside the bar, but it’s startling how easy it is to confide in her.

  She gives me a sad smile. “I think most people would start with a phone call.” If only it was that easy, sweetheart.

  “How are the girls treating you here? Obviously they’ve pulled you into their circle and spilled all the Corrupt secrets.” I ask, changing the conversation.

  She scrunches her nose, then grins. “Yeah, I feel like I know a little too much about everyone now.” there’s a twinkle in her eye that makes me wonder what secrets she’s heard about me. “Not that I’d ever repeat anything I heard,” she adds as though she needs to make sure I’m aware of her loyalty. “I’m loving it here, thank you again for giving me a chance.” She tips up her glass and drinks the rest of her beer. “I really should go,” she says.

  I stand. “Let me get you an Uber. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Sure.” She nods and follows me over to the bar while I schedule a pickup.

  I wait with her on the sidewalk. It’s cold and when she shivers, I shrug off my leather jacket and drape it over her shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, pushing her arms into the sleeves.

  “Positive.”

  I watch from the corner of my eye as she grips the collar with one hand and drops her head, burying her nose into my jacket.

  I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

  When the Uber pulls up, I open the back door and Oakley slips past me and into the car with a finger wave goodbye. I close the door and pull my phone from my pocket and shoot off a quick text to Shelly to let her know that Oakley is on her way home.

  As I’m locking up, Oakley’s simple words float through my mind. “I think most people would start with a phone call.”

  Maybe you’re right, Oakley.

  Maybe you’re right.

  CHAPTER 12

  OAKLEY

  When I walk into the grocery store, I release a long sigh of relief. It’s not busy, which means there won’t be as many people around to stare at my face. Focus on the positives. Shelly’s little motto for me is beginning to sink in, but it’s difficult to undo years of ingrained behaviors and reactions.

  List in hand, I make my way up and down the aisles, filling the shopping cart with everything Shelly has requested. Of course, I contribute to the groceries but I’m sure Shelly is shortchanging herself, so I told her I’d add a few little extras she couldn’t afford before. Including a treat for Logan, which I ran by Shelly first.

  When I reach the aisle with the kids’ snacks, I pace up and down the length of it four times before I finally stop and glare at the bright, colorful packages. Everything is plastered with images of cartoon style characters calling out to kids around the world, telling them that their product is the best.

  I look down at the list.

  Goldfish Crackers – colors.

  How hard can this be? Making another trip down the aisle, I scan the shelves from top to bottom, searching for a colored fish. When I was a kid, there was one kind of Goldfish—Original. How many other kinds could you possibly need?

  On my search for the elusive fish, I find Animal Crackers, Teddy Grahams (which have also branched out on their flavoring), and Scooby Doo Scooby Snacks—I jerk to a halt. The hell? Well folks, there you have it. Now you can feed your kids graham crackers that are shaped like dog snacks. Poor children are going to accidentally eat a real dog treat one day and the parents will have no one to blame but themselves.

  As I look away from Scooby Doo and his snacks, I spot them… Whales… That must mean I’
m close to the fish. YES! I do a dance of excitement then quickly look around to make sure no one was watching.

  I pick up the box with the smiling fish who—and this is by far the best part—is wearing sunglasses. A stupid smile spreads across my face as I give the box a shake. My happiness is short-lived, though, when I look closer at the box.

  This is not a colored fish, and from the look of the box, colored fish are not included. I sigh in frustration before remembering my cell phone. With money coming in regularly, I was able to get a phone and after a convincing sales pitch by the guy at the phone store, I found myself with one of the more expensive cell phones on the market. The only problem is, after years of flip burner phones, I’m not the best with technology. Embarrassingly enough, Logan has been teaching me everything he can.

  After two failed attempts at unlocking it, I manage to get into my own phone and take a picture of the crackers. Next, I open up the text messages and start typing one out to Shelly.

  ME: Are these right?

  SHELLY: Is what right?

  I stare down at the phone.

  ME: The Goldfish. Are these the right ones?

  SHELLY: What are you talking about? LMAO

  Okay, I can’t tell if we’re both confused, or if Shelly is having a laugh at my expense. I glance between the Goldfish and the shopping cart and consider throwing them in. Maybe I could grab some Scooby Snacks in case they’re wrong.

  While I ponder my options, my phone chimes with another text.

  SHELLY: OMFG!!!!! You meant to send a picture of the Goldfish Crackers, didn’t you?

  I bite down hard on the inside of my mouth, my cheeks burning with embarrassment while I pray for a black hole to open up and suck me into its depths.

  ME: Maybe my phone doesn’t work inside the store…

  I’m such a liar.

  SHELLY: Sure, let’s go with that.

  SHELLY: Now, tap the little image of a photo then tap the actual photo… of the box.

  SHELLY: Then press send.

  ME: …

  SHELLY: …I’m waiting.

  ME: I sent it! I swear there’s something wrong with the reception. Maybe even my phone, I should go back to the store and tell the guy.

  SHELLY: You lying liar!!! LOL

  I actually laugh out loud at that.

  ME: Come onnnn. I’m ready to go. Are the regular ones okay?

  I ignore the liar text because let’s be real here, I lied. We both know it.

  SHELLY: No. He likes the colored ones. Keep looking, you’ll know it when you see it. It literally has pictures of the fish in rainbow colors.

  I return the poor, plain Goldfish Crackers to the shelf and look for the colored ones. No luck.

  ME: I don’t see them. What about dog snacks?

  SHELLY: Please never have children.

  I smirk down at my phone.

  ME: Why not? They’d be so well trained.

  SHELLY: I’m going to ignore that, LOL. Try the end of the aisle, sometimes they put them there when they’re on sale.

  ME: oh

  That’s my way of saying well fucking great, I just spent twenty minutes in the snack aisle.

  SHELLY: Find them?

  This texting is taking way too long, so I swipe out of it and bring up Shelly’s number to call her instead.

  “Are you okay? I knew I should have gone with you,” she says, concern in her voice.

  “Oh, I’m fine, just seconds away from finding the nearest bridge and going for a swim with the fishes,” I grumble, and Shelly lets out a howl of laughter.

  “Well I hope you can swim.” She laughs before sobering. “Okay, head toward the end of the aisle, down where the—”

  I cut her off. “OH MY GOD!”

  “What?”

  “Shelly, they have Mickey Mouse fish… Goldfish Mickey Mouses… mices, wait…” I shake my head, and Shelly’s laughter comes through the phone again.

  “No mouses or mice! We need rainbow fish, now walk.”

  I pout and stomp toward the end of the aisle.

  “What’s that pout for?” a deep voice asks.

  My eyes grow wide and with the phone still at my ear, I can hear Shelly giving me directions I blatantly ignore so I can stare.

  “Umm…” Oh my god. It’s the guy… the guy that checked on me in the alley several weeks ago. What was his name? John, Jack.. JAX! Wait… Jax?

  He smiles and a rush of lightheadedness hits me as my mind drags me back to my erotic fantasy with Angel and a faceless man. Only that faceless man has just been replaced with a tatted up Hispanic God. His skin practically glows a light golden brown, and those full lips.

  “OAKLEY?” Shelly’s voice screams through my eardrums, almost deafening me.

  “Found them,” I lie again. “Home soon,” I add before ending the call and shoving the phone into my back pocket.

  “Why are you sad, little one?” Jax says, taking a step forward and I’m sure my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

  I shake my head. “Sad?”

  “You’re pouting.” He grins as he looks around. “Though this is the kids snack aisle—more commonly known as pouting central, so at least you fit in.”

  I laugh and shrug. “I wanted mouse fishes but Shelly said no.”

  His eyes grow wide and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Mouse… fishes?” he questions.

  I nod. “Yep. Well, not mouse fishes. Fish mouses… mice… SHIT!” Since my word vomit makes no sense, I take a step back and point to the Goldfish Mickey Mouse box.

  “Ahh.. and you’re not allowed to have them?”

  I narrow my eyes and huff, planting a hand on my hip. “I don’t need permission to buy Goldfish mouses, okay.” Rude.

  Why is he laughing at me? And why is he so goddamn beautiful?

  “Mice,” he says. “Goldfish Mice. The plural of mouse is mice, not mouses. And I wasn’t saying you’re a kid. I’m sorry.” Now he’s pouting.

  My thumb itches to rub across his plump bottom lip and it takes actual physical force to keep it by my side. Oh my God. This is not happening. My neck and my cheeks are burning, and as the burn travels up to the tips of my ears, Jax stands there perfectly put together, grinning like the Cheshire cat as if he has a front row seat to every one of my inner thoughts.

  “Shelly is my roommate. The fish—crackers are for her son. Shit.” I hiss as the embarrassment of the situation sinks in. As if it will solve all my problems, I silently vow to never come to the grocery store again. “I really have to go,” I say urgently as I grip the handle of the shopping cart and zoom past him.

  My zooming is cut short when a gentle hand lands on my forearm. “Wait. Do you… Do you remember me?”

  I nod. I didn’t before. Not when his name was mentioned. But now that I’ve seen his face, I don’t know how I ever forgot him in the first place. And since I’ve paired him to the body that pinned mine between his and Angels in my fantasy, I know I’ll never forget him again.

  “Would you like to get a coffee… with me?”

  Cue the record screech. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. I’m not prepared for this. Not now. Not ever. I am not someone who gains the attention of men. Especially not ones who look like him. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what his play is. There’s no way in hell he’s asking me on a date, so what does he want?

  He looks hopeful, and every cell in my body is screaming at me to say yes.

  “Yes,” my mouth blurts out the single word before my brain even has a chance to get online.

  His eyes light up and my belly turns to mush.

  Well fuck.

  CHAPTER 13

  JAX

  Oakley. I can’t count the times the beautifully scarred woman has crossed my mind in the past several weeks. For all the space Angel takes up, the woman in front of me has occupied just as much and I don’t know why.

  My brain tells me it’s because she’s broken—and I don’t mean her scars. No, never her scars. They call to me like
the dying petals of a rose, they don’t diminish the beauty that was once there and is still there if you take the time to look within. I may not know why, but there’s no denying I want nothing more than to look within.

  Of all the places to run into her, it was the snack aisle while she was pouting—fucking adorably—over Mickey Mouse Goldfish. She has an innocence about her, a natural beauty who appears shy but has a sassy side I can’t get enough of. I caught a glimpse of it when she started ranting about not needing anyone’s permission, and I can’t wait to see more of it.

  We both finish our shopping and check out. Oakley triple checks her items as she loads them into her reusable shopping bags, making sure that “The Godforsaken colored fish” are in her bag. We load into my truck and head toward a small coffee shop not many people know about. It’s nestled behind a row of other stores, and when me and Maddox first found it one Saturday morning, he called it an oasis. And it really is.

  As Hideaway—the coffee shop—comes into view, Oakley gasps and her eyes grow wide. A pang of pain clenches at my heart when I remember Maddox’s reaction to seeing Hideaway for the first time. Fuck. Not now. I tell myself over and over again to let go of the past, to let go of Maddox, but he’s still inside me. His laughter, his smiles, the touch of his hands. They’re all there buried deep where I can lock them away and keep them safe.

  “It’s so beautiful.” Oakley says, still taking it in.