Viper: A Dark Alpha Motorcycle Club Romance (Road Kill MC Book 8)

by Marata Eros

  “Well, if you ever want to touch Candice in violence again, the only role you'll be playing is hurt. Same goes for him. You FBI fuckers beat the shit out of your own agents, women.”

  Viper's just put me on notice. “Fair enough. I know you want her for your property.”

  “Maybe more,” Viper admits. “If she'll have me.”

  “You haven't seen her in—what?”

  “Two weeks.”

  I whistle.

  Viper raises his forearm from his folded position and flips me the bird. “Said she needed time.”

  “She at Puck's?”

  Viper nods. “Yeah. Heading over there right now.” He frowns.

  I wait for him to tell me what the issue might be.

  “Said she has something important to tell me.”

  I grab my chin, finger-combing the mess of my beard. After the hard ride over here, it's blasted to hell.

  “I guess this means goodbye, Ren.”

  My head snaps to Viper's. “Probably, but I don't know what the final ruling will be. Not a lot of agents knew about my undercover status, and the criminals are dead or in jail.”

  “I'm lucky not to be.”

  I incline my head. But with me, Candice and Puck all vouching for Viper's motivation and having the same story, we saved his ass.

  Viper's not perfect, but he's about as real and decent as I've ever met. Of course, I never really had a dad, and the foster system doesn't breed good ones. Just greedy fuckers with an agenda for everything that's wrong in this world.

  Can't help my upbringing. Parents were killed when I was a baby. Never knew them. But I learned the hard lessons of life early.

  “Yeah, you're lucky not to be in jail,” I finally answer.

  Viper's lips quirk. “Love all you law folks, coming up with a story to save my ass.”

  I scowl. “Wouldn't have done it unless I knew you were trying to achieve the same thing as us.”

  “Very unprofessional, very unlawful,” Viper insists with a sardonic twist of lips.

  He's right, but sometimes, doing the right thing means breaking rules to see it through. For the greater good.

  Viper stares at me for a full minute. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a better brother than an agent for the FBI.”

  He's insightful. I'll give him that.

  “I can't answer that, but I know that being with you and the brothers felt natural, almost meant to be.”

  “I also know that the hate front you had toward women was honest.”

  Too insightful. “I didn't mean to hurt Candi that badly. Didn't know she was one of ours until I'd already fucked things.”

  He stands, coming off the seat of his bike. I do as well.

  “Appreciate what you did for me, Storm. And maybe what you did to Candice was excessive to appear genuine, but there's a part of me that doesn't believe it. The sweet butts don't lie.”

  I shift my weight. I do like topping the women. It's consensual.

  Barely.

  I only want to take. It's the only way I can get off. And I'm not going to analyze the why. Not dredging up pain. Not that kind.

  Don’t have an ounce of tenderness for females. Can't remember having any. One gave birth to me, obviously. A woman I can't remember because she died the day I was born. All the other females who came after were just assistants to the predators of my fucked-up childhood.

  I shove the train of thought away before it leads somewhere I'm not willing to give the mental real estate to.

  “I won't ever hurt her again. And Candi knows I fucked up. I already apologized.” I lift two fingers. Twice.

  Viper's stare narrows. “It'll take a while to earn my trust.”

  Because you're pussy-whipped. And I never thought I'd see the day when that happened. “It's between me and Candice, Viper.”

  His arms drop, hands fisting. “Depends on how you look at it. You patched in, undercover or not. You know what females mean to riders.”

  I know. I fucking identify with the lifestyle of a MC rider a hell of a lot more than an FBI agent. “That's why we're one percenters. Because we protect what's ours.”

  “Regardless of the cost,” Viper finishes my thought neatly.

  “There will never be a female that fills that space for me,” I say, tapping my chest where my heart lies.

  “Never say never.”

  I look down, regulating my breathing. I don't want to argue with one of the few men I've ever respected. After a few seconds, I look up. “Lay low. I'm saying this from the capacity of a federal agent.”

  Viper smirks. “Like I said, Noose can run the helm for a time. I've got a woman to claim.”

  “Claim?”

  Viper gives a decisive nod. “Yeah, if she'll have me.”

  Candice is a wild card . I don’t blame her or Puck for bowing out of their respective law-enforcement positions. Their lives were even more fucked up than mine, if that’s possible.

  Viper puts out a hand, and I shake it.

  “You going to be here when I get back?”

  I want to be. “Don't know. See what the Bureau decides for me.”

  Our grip holds a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

  Viper drops my hand and turns, swinging a jean-clad leg over the saddle. I watch him drive slowly away from the club until he's a speck in the distance, swallowed by trees that sequester our way of life.

  *

  Candice

  He's coming. My heart picks up beats as I think about seeing him—what I have to tell him.

  I'm not sure how he'll take the news. I'm not sure how I feel about the news that's nothing short of a miracle.

  Puck comes into the kitchen. “Viper's coming over?”

  I nod, setting my coffee down. “I'm nervous.”

  My brother walks over, placing both palms on my shoulders. “Don't be. No guy turns himself inside out and stabs our father to rescue us without having some strong feelings.”

  I laugh. “I don't know. He didn't declare his undying love or anything.”

  “Did you?” Puck asks quietly.

  God, no. “No.”

  “Well, maybe you should. You've been keeping him at arm's length since this mess happened.”

  I stand, and his hands fall away. Tears in my eyes, I turn to face him. I can't erase the ugly memory of our father attempting to rape Puck.

  “Why did he hate us so much?” I ask for the tenth—hell, the hundredth—time.

  Puck shakes his head. “I don't try to even come up with an answer.”

  I grip his hands in my own. “He raped you too.”

  Puck is silent. “It was a punishment when I interrupted his abuse of you.”

  “Oh my God.” My forehead taps his chest.

  He cups the back of my skull. “I'd do it again. I hated him hurting you. And remember, we know better than most, rape isn't sexual. It's control—it's rage. He didn't care about gender. He just wanted to use himself as a weapon of manipulation.”

  I know this. Intellectually, I'm very well versed in the why of rape. But being violated is always more than the sum of the words. It's a part of your soul they've stolen, that you can't get back.

  We turn toward the sound of gravel crunching.

  “He's here.” I pull away from Puck and run a nervous hand over my hair.

  “Don't worry, if he doesn't want to make it work after all this, I'm a horrible judge of character.”

  He's not.

  “I'm going to make myself scarce.”

  Puck walks off, and my eyes trail him, wishing that he could find someone to share his life with. To heal the hurts that we share with each other.

  Having someone who didn't live through the trauma, but can shoulder the burden, is a gift. A rare one.

  Slowly, I walk to the front door and open it. Viper dismounts, setting a black half-helmet on the seat, and turns. Tight jeans with a button-fly crotch hug every place that's hard and narrow. The inverted V of his hips top out at h
is broad shoulders. A hard face, chiseled by time and experience rounds out his pale-blue eyes, appearing almost white in the late-afternoon sunlight. Hair I know is a soft black color beginning to silver at the temples glows faintly, appearing darker than it is.

  He catches sight of me behind the screen, and his expression changes. Some slight tightness around his eyes relaxes. His cut hugs his chest as he walks the short distance to the front steps of my brother's farmhouse. “Candice.”

  I swallow hard, wanting him so bad, I can taste it on my tongue even as my nose picks up the faint smell of soap, bike, and the unique male smell that is Viper.

  Something's happened to change my perspective. A milestone bigger than all others.

  Viper doesn't spur me on, his expression neutral. I move around the screen, letting it snap shut. Viper comes up the steps, and I don't wait or play it cool. I run the few steps to him and throw my arms around him, sucking in a sob that feels like a torn piece of my heart.

  “Hey, babe,” he says, snapping his arms around me and lifting me gently. “I'm here.”

  “I know. I wasn't sure—” I choke back the flood of my emotions. “That you'd come, that you'd want to.”

  Viper leans his face back, a slight smile curling his lips. His thumb sweeps my tears, and he sets me on his boots, my bare feet on tiptoe so I can gaze into those glacial-blue eyes. “I'm not ever going anywhere,” Viper says. “I meant what I said before.”

  “You might not feel that way when I tell you what I have to.”

  His eyebrow sweeps up. “Doubt it. Have my heart set on you.”

  Heat rises to my face. “I'll show you instead.”

  Curiosity sweeps his features, but he laces his fingers with mine. “Lead on, babe.”

  I tug him behind me, feeling the warmth of our connected hands, the hope thundering away in my racing heart.

  We walk to the kitchen, where I've left the proof.

  Viper lets go of my hand, watching my face take in the only object setting on the center of the table.

  A white stick.

  He picks it up. Looks at the two pink lines.

  “Holy fuck.” He does a slow blink. “Does this mean what I think it means?” His body twists, two fingers holding the pregnancy test between us.

  I nod slowly. Terrified. Hopeful.

  Viper carefully sets it back on the table then steps forward, grabbing me by the waist and hiking me up so that my head is slightly higher than his. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I just did.”

  “God, Candice.”

  “Does this mean…?” I can't finish. Instead, I hold my breath, his hands low and warm on my body.

  “It means that I have two people to love instead of one.”

  I feel my face screw up in a frown. “You love me?”

  Viper slowly slides me down the front of his body, cradling my face with his big hands. “I loved you the minute I saw your picture.” He tucks my loose hair behind my ears, kissing my forehead and ducking to press his lips against mine.

  I kiss him back. Hungry. Ravenous.

  His mouth gives back everything I take.

  Chapter 30

  Puck

  Six months later

  The organic smell of freshly churned earth has always given me a good case of the feels. Not much does nowadays.

  Candi's found her happily ever after, the Bureau is a dim memory of forced slavery, and having Samuel Jerstad dead brings a certain kind of closure.

  Neither one of us could run from the past. It caught us. But my sister and the handful of people who are now aware of my once-hidden shame are too many. I can't move past their knowledge of my abuse.

  Candi's encouraged me to get counseling.

  Yeah right. I've been a part of Chaos Riders for long enough that the only therapy I can stomach is killing road. So I'm on my bike.

  A lot.

  There's some pleasure in watching her and Viper's house come together on my land—ours now. I had enough acreage, and Viper had been willing, the lovesick bastard, to have a brand-new place just for him and Candi with her brother only a stone's throw away. So I'd divided the land and given them a five acre chunk.

  Now there are two good men protecting her, and the worst one is gone forever. But I still like keeping her close.

  She'll be marrying a criminal. How's that for irony? But I'd rather have her with Viper than a man who looks good on the outside but is rotten within.

  Viper is walking toward me slowly. My sister isn't as nimble as she once was. The baby makes her more careful.

  A future nephew or niece. They're both waiting to find out the sex until after the baby is born sometime in early June.

  I grin even through the morbid turmoil of my brain. Candi having a baby, and Viper is making an honest woman of her. That’s all it takes to chase the shit back for a time.

  “Hey, Puck,” Candi says as she moves up to where I stand. She only pants a little.

  Viper tucks her head under his chin and draws her in close against his body, wrapping his arms beneath her breasts but above where her stomach bulges with their child.

  I don't reply to the greeting, and her expression turns from neutral to worried. Staving that off at the pass, I say, “Just admiring the ground getting torn up.”

  We all look at where the foundation will go.

  “I'm so excited,” she says with a thread of breathlessness in her voice.

  Viper's quiet. I've found that's his way. As is mine. Chatty men make me wary. I mean, what the fuck is wrong with them just being? Do they have to talk all the time? Agitating as fuck.

  Candi seems to sense my irritation and cocks a dark auburn brow. “Are you grumpy?”

  Grumpy. No. Lost. Yes. And that pisses me off on principle.

  I want to have a purpose. Something worth. But I can't find it. And my shame haunts me. Always has. But now that there are some who know, my sense of shame has deepened.

  Candi takes my hand, and I let her. “It'll be okay, Puck.”

  I nod silently.

  She doesn't know that I don't want to die, but I don't exactly want to live, either. Didn't think the end of my career and having freedom would make me suddenly become introspective.

  Looking down at Candi's engagement ring, I think of the weird turn our lives have taken. A single large rectangular diamond winks back in the mid-spring light. Set in white gold, the silver tone of the slim band complements her fair skin. Simple, like Candi wanted it.

  Viper and Candi live at his small homesteaders cabin out in Ravensdale until their home here is complete. Nice place. But Viper says he's ready for something brand-new. “A fresh start,” he said.

  I completely understand. After all, he probably doesn't want to marry Candi and live down in the basement where he'd planned to torture her.

  I feel my lips twist. Got to get my mind in gear. Perry said I can do consulting work, I think, and like a telepath, Candi breaks into my thoughts, “Did you get back with Perry on that consulting biz?”

  I shake my head. Perry doesn't call that much anymore. Probably because I never get back.

  “Sounds like it'd be up your alley, Puck.” Viper gives me a look over my sister's head.

  What he doesn't say is: it would keep me out of my head until I can stand to be in it. He's probably right. Maybe I will. I make a mental note to call Perry.

  But I don't want to jump from the frying pan straight into the fire. Perry knows my talent lies in saving the indefensible. The question is, do I want to get in the game again? Am I even solid enough to take on that role? Might be too fucked up to save anyone. Can't even save myself.

  “Let's go see what magic I've accomplished in your house, Puck.”

  Candi's been throwing herself into decorating all the rooms that are finished enough to decorate. She began with the one Jerstad tried to rape me in.

  I like seeing things altered. It's not the constant reminder it was. I'm not giving up this house because of my father tr
ying to defile me in it. Jerstad wasn't successful. He died. I lived. Period.

  We walk to the front porch, hiking up the brand-new steps. They're soundless, solid. A new front door mimics an antique, but with built-in security.

  Opening the door, we walk through the threshold, and the smell of new paint and drywall assaults me. Large sheets of recycled brown paper are taped off on the refinished floors, and it crinkles underneath our feet as we make our way to the back of the house.

  A small half-bath has been installed where a useless closet used to be. Bright white fixtures fill the space and a tiny window set high, fitted with old-fashioned glass block, allows in light. My eyes take in the fart fan that Viper and I installed.

  Candi thinks it's too loud. I told her it was better than the alternative. She rolled her eyes.

  We keep strolling through the spaces, and Candi points out all the changes from four days ago. The last time I got the tour.

  “Starting to look girly,” I say.

  She nods. “You'll thank me when you nab a serious chick.”

  Boiling shame rolls through me again. What woman is going to want a man who's been raped? By his own father, for fuck's sake.

  Candi's told me about one hundred fifty-two times that Jerstad's attempted rape was a bid to do the most psychological damage possible. To both of us.

  It's been successful. Too successful.

  The insta-hard-on and twice-an-hour boner is gone. In its place is noodle dick. My libido is on a leave of absence.

  Candi says the right girl will come along. Like the right guy came along for her.

  What were her exact words? Oh yeah—“If I can fall in love with my potential murderer, anything's possible.”

  We laughed until she cried. Shedding all the tears I can't. The ones I won't.

  *

  One month later

  “This third trimester is not fun.” Candi puts a hand to her lower back and twists slowly, trying to get the kinks out. She's such a tiny thing that the baby doesn't have anywhere to go but out.

  It's early May, and that's typically not a time for hot weather in the Pacific Northwest. But today has a cloudless blue sky of impending heat.

  “It's so hot,” she says, wiping sweat off her brow.