Tempting Fate

by Kylie Hillman

  He’s going to die. My dad is going to die at the hands of the club he betrayed—probably at the hand of the man whose bed I share every night. I knew it was coming—anyone with any common sense knew it was coming. I guess the respite that was granted by Mik being in jail lulled me into a false sense of security, letting me pretend that everything was going to be okay.

  “Pull yourself together.” I admonish myself out loud. Straightening, I stare at the mirror attached to the back of the door and practice smiling. The first attempt looks terrible so I try another. Satisfied with that effort, I quickly fix my hair and then push to my feet. Dragging in a deep breath, I leave the room and have another go at starting my day.

  Timber isn’t waiting on the other side of the door like I expected and my shoulders relax a little at his absence since he would have seen right through my act. My anxiety dissipates some more when gratitude at the small reprieve flows through me. Making my way into the bar, I almost run into someone for the second time this morning.

  “Whoa there, Angel.” Mik looks taken aback to see me. Smiling, he hands over the steaming cup of coffee he’s holding. “Timber said you’re awake. Thought I’d bring you your morning cup.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, raising the mug to my lips and taking a large sip. Mik chuckles when I moan and my shoulders shake as the smooth java flows down my throat. Taking another sip, I shoot him a grin over the rim and roll my eyes at his cheekiness. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

  “I’d say your moaning was a clear indication of that.” He winks, his double entendre clear. I’m in the process of drinking some more coffee when he replies so I have to swallow quickly in order to refrain from spitting it everywhere when I laugh.

  “Bloody hell,” Benji speaks up, dragging my attention from Mik and leading me to discover that the bar is filled with bikers. “It was bad enough listening to it last night. None of us need a reminder.”

  Plastering a smile on my face, I nudge a still-laughing Mik with my shoulder and make my way to a vacant barstool next to Timber. Lifting my eyebrows at him when my back is to Mik, I mouth “Dibber Dobber” at him. He smirks, confirming my suspicion that he sent Mik to our room with a cup of coffee so he could find me in the middle of my meltdown.

  “You good?” He asks in a voice that can only be heard by me.

  “Yep, it was—” I fall silent when warm hands run up the back of my shirt and around my waist. Mik pulls my back to his chest, enveloping me in his musky scent and his body heat.

  “Work clothes, Lainey?”

  “Yeah. The partners have a trial starting next week and need all hands on deck.”

  He swings my barstool around until my back is to Timber. Pushing my skirt up my legs until he can widen them far enough to step between my thighs, Mik pulls me to him. I gasp when his bulge presses against my panties then squirm when he pushes harder. He nuzzles my neck before running his hands down the outside of my arms to my wrists. When he gets to my right hand, he uncurls my fingers and drops something small into my palm.

  “I want you to put this back on.” I’m momentarily distracted from whatever I’m holding in my hand by his warm breath on my neck. Goose bumps break out over my skin and I shiver. “Please?”

  Looking down at my open palm, I find my old engagement ring in my hand. Without thought, my hand closes around the precious jewel, squeezing it tight. The gravity of what he’s asking hits me; heat rising up my neck and warming my cheeks. I look up at him in surprise and flinch when the full weight of his expectation hits me. Excitement shines, clear as day, from his gaze. My stomach drops, the infernal churning that plagues me constantly returning with renewed vigour. I drop my gaze from his, reaching for my cooling coffee and drinking the remainder is one go.

  “Walk me to my car?” I ask when I’m finished.

  Mik nods, confusion clouding his expression. He runs his fingers through his hair and follows me to the exit. I grab my handbag and car keys off the racks just inside the door and lead the way out. The door has barely swung shut behind us when he takes hold of me by my upper arm and turns me to face him; pulling me off balance. When I bring my hands up to brace my weight on his chest, the ring falls onto the concrete beneath our feet, bouncing twice before coming to a rest near the toe of my left high heel.

  We stare at it where lies glittering back at us. It’s an innocent object, yet to me it appears like a dark omen from the past. The memories attached to the ring are painful, wrought with hurt and ill-feeling; a token of our past failures. My mouth begins to water, the churning in my stomach too much to bear. I don’t want to enter into this conversation right now. Not on the back of Timber’s bombshell about my father.

  Mik breaks our standoff first, reaching down to pick up the ring. He holds it out to me. I look at his expectant expression and then down to his muscled forearm, my gaze running over his limb and coming to a rest on his hand. I step back from him, pressing my hand over my mouth and shaking my head. I want to cry. The hand that’s presenting me with a symbol of lifetime commitment is the same hand that could end the life of the man responsible for my existence.

  “Angel?” Mik breaks the silence. The one word he utters sounds unsure, questioning, and certain all at once.

  Taking another step away from him, I shake my head once more. “No.”

  He steps toward me, ring still extended.

  “No,” I repeat, stepping away from him. I slap the hand holding the ring away from me. His eyes narrow and he closes the distance between us.

  “Not yet.” I qualify my response, regret at my rudeness forcing me to soften my refusal.

  “Why not?” He’s too close. I can’t verbalize my reasons when I can smell his familiar scent and it reminds me of all the reasons why my answer should be yes. It’s impossible to speak the truth when I can see the new lines next to his hazel eyes—lines that weren’t there until my father had his freedom taken away from him. And the icing on the cake is knowing that I’m adding to the hurt he’s hiding behind the belligerence I see in his bearing with my silence.

  My backside hits the side of my car when I try to back away from him again. Mik laughs, without mirth, when my mouth drops open in surprise. Our chests meet once he takes half a step closer to me, the only part of our body that touches—yet it feels as if he’s consuming me whole. I don’t know where I begin and he finishes when he’s this close.

  “Why?” There he is with that damn question once more. Looking anywhere but his face, I weigh my options. Do I tell him the truth or do I evade? I guess the question is which option hurts him less.

  “I’m not letting you go until you tell me why.” Strong fingers grip my jaw, turning my head and forcing me to meet his eyes. There’s not an iota of doubt to be seen in his gaze. His expression is devoid of anger and filled with what seems like infinite patience. “I have all day, Angel. Whatever your reasons, tell me so I can deal with them. I guaran-fucking-tee that I’ll move heaven and earth to fix what you need.”

  Earnest words backed by sincere puppy-dog eyes work to minimise my reservations. I believe him. I always have; because, despite our issues, he continuously tries to do what he feels is best for me. It’s just that this time what I want is the height of selfishness. If he gives me what I want, it’ll put him at odds with the Shamrocks. If he refuses my request, it’ll drive a wedge between us. Hell, it could become our end.

  “Mik, it’s just too soon. That’s all.” I decide to hedge my bets by telling him the smaller of my problems with accepting the ring for the second time. Until I know how the vote goes today, there’s no urgency to raise my objections. Once I know when it’s going down—and I have confirmation that Mik’s the one behind the trigger—I can try to influence the outcome.

  “Bullshit,” Mik’s tone brooks no argument. “I know you’re lying. It’s written all over your beautiful face.”

  Pulling my chin from his fingers, I paste a smile on my face. Palms on his shoulders, I attempt to push him off me. My effor
ts are futile. Mik grabs my wrists in one hand and press my hands against my stomach. He leans into me and says with playful preciseness, “I told you that I have all day. Tell me the truth.”

  Maintaining my fake smile, I shake my head and laugh. “You’re being ridiculous. Now, let me go to work before I’m late.”

  “Nope,” he pops the end of the words as he says it. Moving until his hardening cock is pressed against my lower belly, he drops his head so he can run his nose along the side of my neck. “I’m quite comfortable right here. Be honest or settle in for the long haul, my Angel.”

  Straining, I try to dislodge his heavy weight. I get nowhere. My temper flares, growing more concentrated every time his cheeky grin widens at another of my unsuccessful escape attempts.

  “Tell me and I’ll let you go. Trust that I can fix it for us.” I push against him with one last-ditch effort. Once more, he doesn’t budge. He lets go of my wrists, reaches around me and pinches my ass. Hard. I squeal and he chuckles. “I’m waiting.”

  He thinks he’s being cute. Well, he’s not. All he’s doing is opening a can of worms that we’ll never be able to close. I know it’s necessary, eventually. But, goddamn it. Not now. Let us enjoy a few days of peace before the latest drama in our life comes along to ruin everything.

  “Mik. Just stop it.” I snap at him.

  The playfulness leaves him. He straightens and glares down at me. “Stop what? Trying to find out why you won’t take your ring back after we’ve spent five fucking months making plans for our life? I have a fucking right to know why the woman I love—the woman who says she loves me—doesn’t want to marry me.”

  I watch him draw in a ragged breath before he turns away from me and runs his fingers through his hair. I see the ring glinting in the sunlight from its spot on his pinkie finger. Swallowing my annoyance at his unfairness, I go to him and rub a hand down his back. “Please, just drop it. I don’t want to fight. I love you; let that be enough for the moment.”

  Shrugging off my hand, Mik swings back around to face me. His hands curl into fists and his face fills with potent rage. “No. I’m not dropping fuck all. Either tell me the truth or get the fuck outta my face. I spent five months locked up to save your ass and this is how you repay me. Fuck your love.”

  His vehemence turns my blood cold in my veins. Bottom lip quivering, my eyes start to prick with tears. Heart sinking, I back away from him. “You’re not serious?”

  Mik doesn’t back down. The coldness in his eyes remains, sending chills down my spine. The thought crossed my mind last night, but it’s driven home with his current behaviour. I don’t know this man anymore. He’s changed. Being locked up broke something inside him and it’s damaged his soul.

  “I’m deadly fucking serious.”

  Lip still trembling, tears threatening to spill, I make myself stand tall and proud. If he wants the goddamn truth, then he can have it. I hope he chokes on it. “It’s been illuminating to find out how many strings were attached to your stint in prison for me. I won’t waste your time by reminding you that I wanted to confess.”

  Mik flinches, then covers it with a sneer. “As if you would’ve survived.”

  “We’ll never know, will we? You took the choice out of my hands.” I shrug, fighting hard to maintain my feigned nonchalance. “Just like I’m taking the choice about our marriage out of yours.” I pause, giving him a chance to speak. To object to where I’m leading. To do something before this argument spirals out of control. Stubborn man doesn’t say a thing. He glares at me, lifting one thick eyebrow at my silence. His reaction puts my back up. Screw him. We’ll see how arrogant he is once I’ve laid out what I want. “You wanted the reason why I can’t marry you yet. Well, it’s because I refuse to marry the man who kills my father. Timber told me what you’re voting on this morning. I’m asking you to choose me instead of revenge. Now that you’re back; you’ll be President. I know that you can talk the Club into letting him live. I don’t care if I never see him again, but I can’t live with him dying.”

  The infuriating man shuffles his feet then puts his hand into his cut and pulls a pack of smokes from his inside pocket. He lights one up, drawing on it like it holds the answer to our problem. When the disgusting smoke wafts my way, I wrinkle my nose. Hands on hips, it’s my turn to glare at him. “God, that stinks.”

  “Not as much as your fucking ultimatum does.” He sounds calmer, however his tone doesn’t give any indication to whether he’s going to agree with my request.

  “Do you get why I didn’t want to talk about it just yet?”

  Nodding, he takes another drag on his smoke. After blowing three smoke rings, he looks me dead in the eye and asks the question I was praying he wouldn’t. “What happens to us if I don’t want to change the vote?”

  “Then, I can’t be with you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MIK

  “You’re a fucking meddling cunt.” I shout at Timber as I storm back into the bar. My heart’s aching in my fucking chest from watching Lainey drive off a moment ago. It felt like the end. Her declaration that she can’t be with me if I go through with my plan for Beast scares the shit outta me. Doesn’t she understand that she’s the motivating factor; my sole reason for seeking vengeance?

  Spying the dirty rat leaning against the wall near the entrance to the chapel chatting to Smoke, I barrel through the gathered brothers. Tunnel vision that’s centred straight on the deceitful bastard, I knock two bodies out of my way in the process. Jamming my forearm across his throat, I smash him into the wall. He’s taller and bigger than me but my anger gives me an edge. I punch him in the solar plexus and smile when his knees weaken and my arm is the only thing left holding him upright. It’s a cheap spot to target, although I have little regret for it. He fucking deserves it.

  “Mad Dog.” Smoke bellows in my ear. He tries to pry my arm off Timber’s neck. “Let him go. Fuck me, you know he’s not gonna fight you so ease up on him.”

  Timber grunts, apparently disagreeing with Smoke’s assessment. He pushes against me and I push back. The cockhead’s arms are free and he proves Smoke right when he doesn’t take a swing. I’m not so generous; driving my fist back into the same spot and letting him go. He folds like a cheap suit and hits the ground, landing on his knees before falling back against the wall.

  “Why’d you do that?” Smoke is like an annoying fucking mosquito that won’t buzz off.

  “Because he told Lainey what we’re voting on today.”

  Smoke peers down at Timber on the ground, then nudges him with the toe of his boot. “That true?”

  I shake my head when the lump on the floor mumbles something that sounds like an excuse. Fucking pathetic. Punching Smoke lightly in the arm, I tell him the rest of my problem once he’s looking at me. “It’s true. Now, she’s given me an ultimatum. Spare him or break up.”

  “Maddi drives me fucking insane, sometimes.” Benji steps into view with Lacey tucked under his arm. His nose is turned up and he doesn’t look happy. “Our father is the fucking devil. She should be happy that he’s gonna be no more.”

  Holding out my hand to him, I wait until he grips it and then pull him into me so we bump shoulders. “I’m hearing ya, but that’s what she said. Leaves me stuck between a bloody rock and a hard place.”

  Benji shakes his head, sadly. He knows, as I do, that calling it a rock and a hard place is minimising the situation. Choosing between the love of my life and the revenge that burns in my veins is much harder. The way it stands at the moment—either way, I lose. Letting go of his hand, I motion with my head toward the door leading to the chapel. “Time for church. Let’s get this shit sorted.”

  Benji clears his throat. “Ah, I’m heading for rehab this morning. Me and Lacey. I know I don’t get a vote yet since I’m a prospect so I’m not gonna say anything except that I have no problem either way. Above ground or under it; he’s still fucking dead to me.”

  He sounds resolute. I check him out and almost do
a double take. Looking at him—really observing him in depth—I’m happy to see that he looks like he has his shit together for once. Yesterday, in the parking lot of the jail, wasn’t a one-off, it would seem. Thank fuck. The only thing that worries me is how much influence the woman at his side wields. I know she’s not exactly the sweet and innocent little thing she appears to be—does he?

  “I’m proud of ya, brother.” Benji dips his head at my compliment, trying to hide the redness that’s running up his neck to his cheeks. “You take as long as you need to get your head back on straight and I’ll keep the fucking vultures off your back.”

  “It’s more than I fucking deserve, but I’m gonna hold you to that.” I nod at his declaration, eyeing Lacey to see what she thinks about all this. The sheepish smile she sends my way lets me know that she’s well aware of what I know. Lifting my eyebrows at her, I’m about to say something when my attention’s drawn back to Benji. “I’m heading out now, but I’ll stop in and talk some sense into my sister on the way. She needs to pull her head outta her ass so you can concentrate on cleaning this club up and getting it back to where our Grandpa wanted it. Undoing the damage our fucking father has caused is gonna take years. If she can’t see that then she’s not as smart as she thinks she is.”

  All thoughts of laying Lacey’s skeletons bare fly outta my head—they can wait until he’s properly clean—because I have much bigger fucking fish to fry. Avenging what was done to Lainey. To my Club. To me. Getting my headstrong woman on board with it takes precedence over any other shit that crops up.