I’ve been bettered. By fucking Beast. I thought I wanted to kill him before, now I want to stomp on his motherfucking scheming head until it’s a pulpy mess of brain and bone. I want to rip his insides out his fucking stomach while he’s still breathing. I want to—
Someone grabs my arm. I wrench it from their grip, swinging around to lay one on them when they try to touch me again. It’s like a slow motion replay is happening right in front of my eyes when I watch my fist heading straight for Lainey’s face. There’s nothing I can do; no fucking way to stop it. Her beautiful blue eyes widen, her mouth forming a perfect O. She sees what I’m about to do to her and she can’t fucking believe it.
Fuck. I can’t believe it either.
My hand hits hard. Lainey falls to the ground with a loud cry and it’s then that I see that I didn’t touch her. She’s on the floor, legs and arms tangled with Joel, who’s managed to get between my fist and his sister at the last second. Stark relief pulses through my veins, cooling the rage that’s been growing in me since I played silent witness to Beast outsmarting me this afternoon. The temporary reprieve from my actions ends when Lainey starts screaming. “Benji. Benji. He’s bleeding. Bring me something.”
Her twin is at her side in half a second with a clean rag. She rips it from his hands and stuffs it under Joel’s nose to stem the flow of blood. Smoke drops to his knees beside her, helping Benji sit Joel up. He’s conscious—and fucking angry at me.
“Screw you, Mad Dog.” The cursing is muffled, but I get the gist. “You needa sort yourself out. If you’d hit Maddi, I’d have killed you.”
His threat is met with grunts of agreement from everyone else. Grabbing my fresh beer from off the bar, I pop open the top and throw it on the floor. I’m outta here. Need to sleep—or fuck—away some of my resentment. The look Lainey gives me makes it clear that the latter option is off the bloody table. Yeah, yeah. I get the point. I’m the fuck-up and everyone is sick of me.
Unsteady on my feet, I ignore the pissed off looks everyone shoots my way. My shoulder glances off the doorway, making me growl. Shaking off the pain, I stumble my way to my room, draining my beer as I go, smashing the empty bottle against the wall. Once I’m in my room, I pull my T-shirt over my head, strip off my jeans and throw myself face-first diagonally across the bed. With a million thoughts racing through my head, I reach out for a pillow and pull it across my head to try to kill the noise. It doesn’t help; the racket is all in my head.
My mouth begins to water, but I’m too stubborn to give into the urge to spew. I’m on a mission to torture myself tonight so I use my favourite method. I clear my mind and concentrate on trying to remember how many times I’ve told Lainey that I love her. I swear it has to be into the thousands by now. As always, I start with the first time I can remember.
The night of her eighteenth birthday—the night that we made love for the first time—the same night her nightmare began with Brendan. It’s the best and the worst night of my life. The night I got my woman is also the night I almost lost her.
The second time—well, that wasn’t much better. I fucked her in my office at the workshop just to prove a point, only to have her grab my heart right out of my chest and crush it by going back to him.
Now, the third time, that’s where the fun begins. The third time I told her I loved her was during the ambulance ride to the hospital the night that Brendan beat and raped her within an inch of her life. I thought she was going to die and I was determined that the last words she heard would be mine—not his.
The fourth time, that was the day she woke up. Pale and scared, she’d been a shadow of herself when she finally shook off the remainder of the sedation she’d been under. My voice had been the first she’d heard, my hand the first she’d reached for, my name the first word on her lips. I’ll never forget the way it felt to hear her utter my name—
“Mik,” her sweet voice calls to me. I swear the alcohol is fucking with my head because it sounds like she’s here with me.
“Mik?” Lainey says my name again. I roll onto my back and force my eyes open. There she is—love of my life; the angel who’s burrowed her way so deep in my heart that I don’t know where I end and she begins—standing above me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What happened to your back?”
Her question makes no sense. Nothing’s happened to me. She’s the one who’s been hurt—over and over again. She’s the one who needs me to make it all better. I smile at her, remembering the words I told her the day she woke up, repeating them as I think them. “I’m promising you that every fucker is gonna know that if you hurt my woman, I hurt you.”
Thankfully, she didn’t turn the light on because the small amount coming in from the hallway is more than I can stand. Who the fuck manages to get the beginnings of a hangover while he’s still drunk. That’d be me. Just add it to the list of shit that cements my loser status.
“Mik, talk to me.” Lainey’s begging through her tears. “Who did that to you?”
Dragging in a deep breath through my nose, I jack-knife upright, grab her by both her wrists, and pull until she’s straddling my hips. “Stop talking, Angel.”
I lay back down, bringing her with me so she’s lying on my chest. I can feel her heart racing against mine, my shoulder dampening as she continues to cry. Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze so tight that, for one crazy moment, I think I might be able to meld our bodies into one. With a shaky hand, I grab the hair at her nape, tangle my fingers in it and bring her mouth to mine. Kissing her, my tongue forces its way into her mouth. I taste tears, love, and Lainey. She’s hesitant at first, then parts her lips and allows me access. Trapped in my hold, it’s hard for her to move. Stubborn woman powers through, wriggling until her hands are in my hair and she’s controlling our kiss as much as I am.
It feels like we kiss for hours; my cock swelling in my boxers as she rubs herself on my hardness. Dressed as she is in a tiny denim skirt that’s ridden up over her hips, I can feel her heat through the silk of her panties each time she slides over me. I’m hard as a rock, thinking about burying myself in her, when she stops our kiss and sits up. Shimmying down my body, Lainey pulls my boxers down, then sheds her panties, and sinks down over me. Holy, fuck. The feeling of her body opening up to take me inside is second to none. I could come from that sensation, alone. Instead, my sexy woman lifts herself up and repeats the move, again and again. I reach for her hips, ready to take over. She slaps my hands down, gripping my shoulders with a firm grip and digging her fingernails in. Pushing her weight against my upper body, she presses me into the bed and rides me.
“Fucking hell,” I groan when she squeezes me tight with her pussy and increases her pace. Lainey taking the initiative is not something that happens often—her head’s still a jumbled mess of Brendan’s nasty words and her own doubts. The feral glint in her eyes when she stares down at me tells me she’s working her frustrations out on my body, and I’d be lying if I said I had a problem with it. The fucking exquisite feeling of her body sheathing my cock, over and over, combined with the effects of all the alcohol I’ve drunk is playing havoc with my mind. I want to take charge, roll her on her back, and thrust myself into her until she’s screaming. But, I don’t give into my urge.
Laying back, I let my woman continue her sweet fucking torture until her thighs are trembling and she’s moaning from pleasure above me. When I feel her pussy spasm around me, I let go of the control that I’ve been barely holding onto and allow my own orgasm free rein. We come together, shouting each other’s name and holding tight as we pant, gasp, and moan our way through the final lightning bolts of pleasure.
Lainey slumps forward, sweaty and breathless, burrowing her head in my shoulder. I’m still inside her—hardly softening—so I wrap my arms around her and roll onto my side. With my face in her hair, breathing in the scent that’s uniquely hers, I hold her tight. Giving into my drunkenness and the feeling of her body still encasing my cock, I fall asleep.
CH
APTER SIXTEEN
MADDI
I feel guilty sneaking out of our bedroom at the Clubhouse without telling him so I take the time to stop and leave him a note. Professing my love and promising that he has my blessing to do whatever he needs to do to my father, I prop it on the pillow next to him, grab my shoes, and tiptoe out. But, not without one final horrifying look at the mangled mess that is his Black Shamrocks MC tattoo. The upper and lower rockers, the Shamrocks patch, even the small skulls he has surrounding it are a scarred mess. The sight of the words that were carved into his back to cause the damage is almost too much too bear. Their presence adds to the resolve I had yesterday. The gorgeous man currently sleeping like the dead on our bed is my number one priority and he has my blessing to do whatever he needs.
I hope that’s enough because what I’m about to do is going to annoy him. A lot.
Pulling the door shut, I have my head down typing out a message on my phone, when I head butt something unyielding just as I’m pressing send. Looking up, I find that it’s Timber. Rolling my eyes at the giant in front of me, I smirk and question him in a low voice. “You seem to be making it a habit to hang around outside my bedroom door.”
“Considering the way he’s acting; do you blame me?”
Gripping his shirt, I pull him away from the door and into the bar. It’s early, so it’s deserted, except for Benji, who was the recipient of my text. My brother approaches with a mug of coffee and a scowl on his face. “Do you know how much sleep I’ve had? Two fucking hours.”
He hands me the steaming cup, and tries to stretch out his lanky frame. “I’m telling you, drugs make life so much easier. Need to wake up, have a hit. Need to sleep, pop a downer. Simple.”
Laughing at my horrified face, he quirks his lips. “Settle petal, I’m just kidding. Although, you have to admit that I have a bloody point. This,” he points to his own cup of coffee, “Just doesn’t have the same effect.”
“Wouldn’t know,” I send him a pointed look, trying to tell him that right now is not the best time for joking. Nudging Timber, I try to allay his fears about Mik’s behaviour. “You need to cut him some slack. He’s struggling with stuff.”
Timber shrugs, then nudges me back. “I know he’s struggling. JJ thinks he has PTSD. Of course, Mad Dog thinks that’s shit. Until he gets his head back on straight, I’m gonna be keeping a close eye on him. Whether you fucking like it, or not.”
“You don’t need to babysit us. I’m about to sort it all out.”
“Princess, he busted your ribs up not even two months ago then he nearly punched you in the face last night. Do you know what would’ve happened if he’d done it in front of everyone in the fucking bar?”
“I know,” the words leave me with reluctance. “But, he didn’t. And, now that I know what’s wrong with him, it wouldn’t have mattered if he did—I’d still be standing by him.”
Benji spits his mouthful of coffee back into his cup, then shoots me a look filled with malice. “You’re fucking insane. If he’d punched you last night, he’d be dead. No questions asked.”
Timber snorts, “You’d have to get in line, brother.”
“She’s my twin. Just because you have a jones for her—”
“I know what happened to him so I know how fucked up his head is. You’re just talking out your ass, like usual.” When Timber says that he knows what happened to Mik, my temper goes from dormant to fully activated in an instant. Putting my cup down on the bar so hard that coffee sloshes over the side, I advance on him. He realizes his mistake instantly, backing up with his hands in the air. “Calm down. I only know some of it. Mad Dog invoked the constitution; I couldn’t fucking well tell you.”
Slapping his huge chest with my palms, I stand on my toes and hiss in his face. “I don’t give a shit what rule he pulled on you. You’re my best friend—that means you tell me what’s going on with. MY. MAN!”
My dad’s betrayal was painful, but, being let down by the man that I trust to keep it real with me is on another level altogether. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry at someone. My chest feels tight, like there’s a vice around it that’s trying to stop me from breathing properly. Tears of rage—and, hurt, if I’m honest—prick behind my eyelids. I want to yell; I want to scream in his face that I hate him; I want to pummel him with my bare hands for letting this get as far as it has. Instead, I satisfy myself with slapping him across the face. “He was hurting and you kept it from me. If I’d known, I would never have taken so long to give him my blessing. He would have had it from the start—no questions asked.”
Timber’s eyes glitter as he stares down at me, holding his cheek. “That’s why he didn’t tell you. He wanted you to choose him based on what had already been done.”
I feel like my head is going to explode. My arms are shaking, my heart is in my throat, and I want to run back into our room and tell Mik that he had my blessing before I saw his back. Because he did; I was just too stupid to realize. I should have told him yesterday after we saw Wendy at the hospital, instead of letting his bad mood scare me off. Looking at Benji, his sympathy makes me cringe. “Did you know?”
He shakes his head, eyes bugging out in his head. “Nah, I haven’t a fucking clue what you’re talking about. Just know that anyone with eyes could see something was going on with him. What happened?”
The mere thought of putting what I’ve seen into words makes me sick so I hedge with my answer. “I’m not exactly sure, that’s why I want you to come with me. There’s one person who holds all the answers.”
Glaring at Timber when he makes as if to follow us, I take a leaf out of Mik’s book and growl at him. “You’re not welcome. You can stay here. Tell Mik that I’ll be back tonight. I’m putting an end to this crap, once and for all.”
***
“Why are we here?” Benji wakes up when my car starts shuddering on the dirt road. For as long as I can remember, every time he’s in a car, he’s out like a light in minutes. He stretches then yawns, before poking me in the side. “Hello? Are you alive? Just asked a fucking question.”
“He has all the answers,” I say with absolute certainty.
“What are the questions? That is the question,” Benji quips, turning to stare out the window. The green trees that somehow survive in the dry, barren, drought-bitten land fly past his window. I imagine that it’s hard on him to be coming back here—it’s no picnic for me either, returning to where everything started. Pulling into the driveway that leads to the five-car garage, I steel myself with some yoga breathing. Demons galore haunt this place; monsters that I thought I had a better handle on than I do. Dad’s bike sits near the back door. Through the open door, I see him striding down the hallway to investigate who’s arriving unannounced.
“How’d you know he’d be here?”
“Overheard him telling Wendy,” I answer.
Shutting off the engine, I unclip my seatbelt and take a second to compose myself. Now I’m here, it all seems so real. The depth of his betrayal. The savagery with which he tried to take Mik away from me. The message he had carved out—literally—when he lost. Looking at my father has my thigh pulsing with the need to cut, which is ridiculous after what I saw last night. Reaching into my handbag with trembling hands, I unzip the inner pocket that houses my coin purse full of supplies. Tossing it onto my twin’s lap, I wait in nervous silence as he opens the bag and takes stock of the contents.
“You fucking promised you’d stop.”
Unable to meet his eyes, I watch Dad stride around the front of my car to my door. Swallowing, I answer him with more assurance than I’m feeling. “I have. Right now. No more.”
Our father stands with his hands on his hips staring at me through my window; however, I refuse to acknowledge him. My brother needs to get this off his chest so he can focus on what I brought him for. Moral support, and to use whatever it is that he has over Dad’s head in my favour. I watched our father yesterday; he’s wary of Benji, almost more than he is of
Mik.
“Yeah, can’t say I believe you,” Benji sneers. “Here I was, thinking that I’m the screw-up, when all this time you’re hiding a massive fucking secret while pretending to be the perfect princess.”
Forgetting about our dad for a moment, I twist in my seat and glare at Benji. “I never said that I was perfect. That’s a stupid mantle you’ve all shoved on my head. I hate it. It’s half the reason why I feel like I can’t talk to any of you about my problems.” Shaking my head and shoulders, I start mimicking some of the things they’ve said over the years. “It’s okay, Maddi will fix it. Ask Maddi, she’ll know what to do. Maddi, help me. Maddi, I need you—”
Benji punches the dash of my car, then jams his hands in his hair. “Okay. Fuck. I get it.”
My bottom lip wobbles, but I steel myself. “No. You don’t. You know the release you told me that you get when you’re high?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I get when I cut.”
“Don’t fucking say that,” Benji drops his head into his hands. Leaning his long body forward, he bashes his head on the dash in the exact place he hit a minute ago. “Don’t say that ever a-fucking-gain.”
Rubbing my hand on his back, I lower my voice because I’m scared of his reaction. “But, it’s true.”
Lifting his head an inch, if that; he turns to look at me. A deep well of misery that’s tinged with understanding is all I can see in his eyes. I know he can see the same in mine—after years of judging him for what I perceived to be his weakness, I finally get what he got out of his addiction. Control. Strength. One impossibly short moment where nothing else matters.
“Are you two gonna fucking sit in there arguing all day, or ya gonna get out and say what you’re here to say?” Dad reminds us of his presence with a curt knock on my window. Raising an eyebrow when we stare at him wordlessly, he asks again. “Well?”
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