Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5

by Ames, Jessica

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m going to kill Jem. When he said my brother was ‘fine’, that he just got ‘knocked around a bit’, what he failed to mention is that he had the top portion of his ear blown off after being shot nearly in the head.

  Yes, shot.

  In. The. Head.

  It’s two weeks after that phone call and my brother finally invited me up to Kingsley for Weed’s birthday party. I’m not sure why I warranted an invitation, but it’s been so long since I last saw him, I could hardly decline. Besides, I’m itching to meet his mystery woman, Paige. Jem’s been filling me in about her, so I have details, but I want to see the girl who has ensnared my big brother so completely. Being around Jem and not able to touch him is going to be tough, though. I’m used to having him in my space and in my arms. I know we should just come clean already, but we’re still figuring things out. The distance means in reality, we’re still very early doors in our relationship. I’m not sure either of us are ready to reveal yet that we’re together. I’m not sure we’re ready to put a label on what we mean to each other yet even. I like him, he likes me. We have fun together, but is there something long-term here? I don’t know. It would mean one of us moving—me, most likely. He’s deeply rooted in Kingsley.

  Could I live here full-time? Honestly? Give up restaurants and culture and fun for… whatever this is?

  This party has to be one of the strangest events I’ve ever attended in my life, and I’ve been to my share of events over the years—galas, black-tie events, fundraisers. Josh’s welcome home do after he was released from the hospital was tame in comparison, although I did find it a little odd. During that they presented him with his kutte like some sort of trophy and then tried to out drink each other while practically beating their chests like apes as if it was a challenge.

  I could be tucked up on my sofa with a glass of Pinot watching Sex and the City re-runs with Cami, or snuggled up in bed with Jem having divine sexy time. Instead, I’m listening to Beth and Liv talk about ‘tit tassles’ and ‘vajazzles’. I’m assured things are not usually so vulgar, a point that is immediately contradicted as a thong is fired across the room like a slingshot. I want to crawl under the nearest table and hide.

  My brother’s world and mine are poles apart—there’s no denying it. This party is a classic example of where our lives dichotomize. My last birthday was a grand event, with ballgowns and tuxedos—although the only person I wanted there was Cami. The rest were invited by my parents. Josh’s friend, Weed, is celebrating his coming of age in the Club’s strip bar, Lace. At least it’s not called Jugs or Bazookas, or something equally crass. This is also the bar Josh now manages with Paige, who is so sweet. I love her.

  Despite the name there’s not a hint of frills or dollies anywhere. It’s more like a dungeon. Oddly, they’ve closed it down for the evening and decorated it as if it’s a community hall with banners and balloons. There’s even a buffet table with finger food, but that isn’t the strangest part. It’s the fact the women know they have to leave in a few hours, so their boyfriends can watch scantily-clad pole dancers put on a show for them.

  And not one of them has kicked up a fuss about it.

  I can’t wrap my head around it. Despite the fact I’m not talking to him, I want to bodily drag Jem out of here, but that might raise some flags, so instead I’m gritting my teeth and drinking the bar dry.

  This world is so different from mine, it might as well be Mars.

  Then again, not one of these women seems remotely insecure about their relationship. Beth, Liv, Sammy and even Paige—who is practically my sister-in-law despite only being with my brother for a few months, (yes, really; somehow she’s achieved more than Jem and I have in less time)—all seem confident their men would never cheat on them, so I suppose they don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to leaving them alone with half-naked women. Personally, I’m a step from throwing the tizzy to end all tizzies, which Jem seems to find adorable, if the looks he keeps shooting my direction are anything to go by. This is not what I signed up for when I decided to get to know my big brother—or to date Jem. I thought there would be more walks around the park or days out at the beach, cocktails in bars. Maybe not the last one, given they are bikers, but certainly not parties at strip bars.

  I take a sip of my wine and try to focus back in on the conversation between Beth and Liv, but my attention wanders. Glancing around, seeing the men and the women interacting, the easy smiles and hugs and familiar touches, it’s obvious to see—dare I say it—the love in the room. It’s dysfunctional, so dysfunctional any psychologist would have a field day with it, but it is, in its own weird way, a family of sorts.

  “I’m so glad you could make it this weekend,” Beth says, pulling me back into the conversation.

  “Oh, yes.” I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass, not sure I’m so glad to be here at all. “Me too.”

  I take a long sip of wine, letting the taste explode on my tongue. My eyes scan the room, finding Jem. He’s talking to Ghost, and he looks so divine tonight. Keeping my hands off him is going to be difficult. If it wasn’t for the fact I’m currently not speaking to him, I’d march over to him, drag him somewhere quiet and kiss him senseless.

  But I’m ignoring him.

  Because he’s an arse.

  A lying arse.

  I need more alcohol.

  “I’m getting another drink,” I declare. “Can I interest anyone else in another?”

  Beth’s lips quirk as she casts a glance at Liv. “Easy, girl. I have no objection to holding your hair while you puke, but Wade’s giving you stink-eye. You may want to dial it back a notch before he comes over here and starts playing the big brother card.”

  I twist to glance over my shoulder and see that my brother is, in fact, standing over at the bar, and that he is glaring in my direction.

  Well, bugger him.

  He invited me here to his biker party. Did he expect me to sit in the corner quietly drinking lemonade?

  Besides, I’m still pissed off at him. He was in the hospital—again—and didn’t think to let me know. If it wasn’t for Jem, I wouldn’t have a clue. Josh told me he didn’t want me to worry, but I don’t need protecting. I just need honesty—I know, ironic, considering the stinking fat lies I’m telling everyone in my life, but I am still upset that Josh kept this from me.

  So, I’m no longer talking to my brother for not telling me he was shot, or Jem, for failing to disclose how bad things were.

  Shot in the head...

  By Dylan…

  What kind of life do these people live where this is considered normal?

  And how many times does Josh need to be hospitalised before he realises this lifestyle is far too dangerous?

  How many times do I need to nearly lose him?

  I don’t even know how I feel about this. I don’t want to blame the Club, I don’t, but I’m finding it hard not to put this firmly in the ‘cons’ column. I’m terrified this Club may be the death of my brother, and I’m terrified there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Paige (who is lovely, and I understand why my brother adores her) seems on edge about the whole situation, too, but she hasn’t demanded he give up the Club—even though she would be well within her rights to. I’m not in a position to demand anything. I’m his estranged sister, and the last time I asked him to choose between me and the Club, I didn’t win that battle.

  So, all I can do is put up and shut up.

  If I want to know my brother, I have to accept this part of his life, even if I don’t like it or agree with it.

  And now I have Jem to worry about as well.

  I know he will never choose me over the Club. His entire family is deeply entrenched in the Lost Saxons—his brothers, sisters, mother. Can I deal with these things when they happen? If Jem was shot in the head, could I shrug it off? I’m so conflicted. On the one hand, I have my family in Manchester who wear suits and gowns, and are seen as respect
able members of the community, but they’re as crooked as the criminals they’re fighting to keep off the streets. On the other, I have my brother and his family, who are upfront about their dealings, but the constant worry is a drain. Yet, for the first time in my life I feel like I belong somewhere with these people, and that is a heady feeling.

  I force a smile at Beth, realising I haven’t responded to her yet, and mutter, “I’m not scared of my brother.”

  This is almost true. Josh is intimidating and I don’t really know him that well to know what he’s capable of. He’s never done anything to make me fear him but I don’t doubt he could be violent if the situation called for it. I don’t doubt that about any of the men in this room. They seem at ease now, laughing, joking, drinking, but I know that can flip on a dime.

  “Besides,” I continue, “this is a party, isn’t it?”

  “Piper’s got a point,” Liv mutters, rolling her wine glass filled with orange juice between her fingers. “I’d be drinking if I could.” She glances down at her baby bump and smiles. “The first thing I’m doing as soon as I have this baby is drinking a full glass of wine.”

  Beth snorts. “That’s what you’ve missed, wine?”

  “That and being able to pee like a normal person.”

  I blink at this complete overshare, but Beth sniggers. This is one thing I have learnt about these ladies in the short time I’ve known them; they have no concept of inappropriate. They tell each other everything, and I mean everything. I know more about their husbands and partners than I should. To the point where I’m not sure I can look some of them in the face without blushing.

  “That does sound terrible,” I say slowly. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, they don’t tell you this crap,” Liv says, her voice turning dark. “This kid isn’t even that big, but it’s sitting on my bladder all bloody day.”

  I’ve never really thought about children and if I want them. After my own upbringing, I don’t think I should ever be responsible for another human being. The whole idea scares me half to death.

  “Right.” I smile. “You don’t know what you’re having?”

  The last time I was here, Liv was barely three months along. She’s far more rounded now, but she keeps referring to the baby as ‘it’. She doesn’t strike me as someone who is not emotionally attached to her child, so it seems bizarre to me, unless she doesn’t know.

  “Nope. At the scan the little bugger was hiding. We couldn’t see if it was a boy or girl, so we’re completely in the dark. It’s killing me not knowing.”

  “Yes, I can imagine it would be.”

  “I hope you don’t have a girl,” Beth says.

  This statement makes me frown.

  “Why would you hope that?” I ask.

  “Because Dean’s going to cut the balls off any bloke who looks sideways at his daughter.”

  “Oh.” I laugh. “That seems extreme.”

  Beth snorts, tossing her dark hair. “Have you spoken to any of these men? They’re all about the extreme.”

  This is true, which makes me worry about what my brother will do to Jem when he finds out about him and me…

  If he finds out.

  I haven’t decided if I’m forgiving him yet for lying to me.

  “I definitely need a drink,” I mutter. “Same again?”

  Beth grins at my blatant conversation change.

  Liv shakes her head. “I don’t think I can stand another orange. It’s giving me heartburn.”

  “I’ll have another wine,” Beth says with a shrug. “Why not?”

  As I head over to the bar, I notice Josh is no longer standing against it, guarding the alcohol like a dog. Thank God. I don’t want to get into a discussion with him about how much I’m drinking, especially when I’m not even close to drunk. I’m barely even tipsy, but he takes the big brother act to the extreme at times. This is annoying, even though it’s endearing. I don’t need him controlling my life; I had enough of that growing up.

  I slip behind the bar, which is laid out so we can all just help ourselves to whatever we want, and scan the rows of bottles and cans for the wine I’ve been drinking all evening.

  “Raiding the bar while Wade’s gone? Smart move.”

  I jolt at Jem’s voice at my back, like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar, and snap my gaze up as he leans over the top of the bar, grinning at me. A shiver of pleasure rolls through me, and it takes everything I have to stop the moan from escaping from my mouth at having him in my space. I’ve missed him and I want to touch him. Hell, I want to devour his mouth, even though I’m annoyed at him.

  Right, I’m still annoyed…

  “I’m just getting a drink. My brother is not my keeper.” I sound tetchy, because I am.

  He moves around the end of the bar and ducks through the hatch, coming around the serving side. He moves in behind me, his hands coming to my hips and his nose goes to my neck for the briefest second, inhaling my scent before he pulls away. We’re slightly concealed from the room, but not enough. It’s risky, but also thrilling.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Are you crazy?”

  “For you, angel? Absolutely.”

  “Josh is wandering around. If he sees you—”

  He grins at me. “I don’t care if he sees.”

  I give my attention to the rows of wine bottles. “Well, frankly, I don’t care if he castrates you either right now, but once I’ve calmed down, I may do.”

  He moves in beside me, careful not to get too close, but his hand rests on my hip. “You’re still pissed at me?”

  I push his fingers off my side without pulling my gaze from the wine bottles. “Absolutely.”

  “I didn’t want to freak you out. Telling you he took a bullet to the head would have done that, and he was okay.”

  “You still should have told me.” I pick up a bottle of sparkling and examine the back, not really seeing it, but just needing to keep my hands busy.

  “Piper, stop fucking looking at the wine and look at me.”

  He takes the bottle from me, and I turn to meet his gaze, my jaw tight, my gaze resolute. “You lied to me.”

  “I did.”

  The admission steals my thunder a little. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I know.” He takes my hand, hidden by the bar, providing privacy from the rest of the room. I have to admit, I’m soothed by his thumb swiping back and forth over my hand. “I tried to protect you from being hurt. I’ll always try to protect you. It’s natural instinct. I’m sorry. I should have realised you’re stronger than that.”

  I study his expression, seeing the sincerity in his face. Considering I’m lying to him about so many things, I don’t have it in me to keep berating him about it. I squeeze his hand back.

  “Just… don’t lie to me about things that are important.” I’m such a hypocrite, but I justify it by telling myself that my issues with my parents are not a big deal.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, you can make it up to me later,” I mutter.

  He gives me a look that has butterflies flapping around my stomach. “I wish we could get out of here right now, so I can make it up to you.”

  Tingles fire through my body and I swallow hard.

  “Me too.”

  He glances at the wine bottle in my hand. “Are you really drinking that cheap prune-juice?”

  I stare down at the wine bottle I’m clutching. I wasn’t planning to drink it. I just grabbed it for something to busy my hands with, but his statement amuses me.

  “What do you know about wine, Jem?”

  “Well, you know what they say about books and covers and judging.” He bends at the waist and stage-whispers, “Don’t do it. Nothing good comes of assumptions, Pip.”

  He leans across me to grab another bottle, his warm body inches from mine. It shouldn’t make my heart twitch, but it does. I swallow hard as I breathe in his aftershave and the faint tang of beer he’s been imbibing before he pul
ls back, a different wine bottle in his hand. I don’t recognise the name, but I know enough to know it’s not some off-the-supermarket-shelf brand. Not that I care. My entire focus is on the man in front of me. This is a different kind of torture. I want to drag him somewhere and have him inside me.

  I have to suck a breath in so I don’t exhale loudly.

  “Try this one.”

  I take it from him and note it is a decent brand. “Okay, I’m impressed. Where did you learn about wine?”

  “I run a bar—not willingly, angel—but I do run one. I have to know about booze.”

  Of course. He’s running Venom at the moment while Josh manages Lace. Although he spends such a lot of time at mine, I forget that he does. I know the bar has an assistant manager, who I think is getting the brunt of the workload in his absence. I wonder if his brothers have noticed his evening flits, or if they care.

  “I need to fuck you, angel. I’m missing your pussy.”

  My face heats at his dirty words.

  His hand moves to my thigh, my skirt suddenly seeming like a bad idea—or possibly a great idea—as he skims up towards the apex between my legs. I should push him off. Anyone could see if they round the bar, but I don’t. I widen my stance and when he cups me, I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. He strokes over my underwear, drawing pulses from my core.

  “I want to be inside you.”

  “I want that as well,” I tell him, breathlessly.

  “Come to me tonight?” He strokes back and forth over my thong, tracing a finger through the slit of my pussy. I quiver beneath his touch as he nears the bundle of nerves that are electrified with need. I want him to push the material aside, but he continues to torture me instead, making my underwear uncomfortably damp.

  “Where?” I gasp out.

  “My house. Can you get away?”

  “Josh’ll be busy with Paige, so probably.” I don’t even want to think about what he’ll be busy doing.

  He pulls his hand away and I moan at the loss of his touch.

  “Come and find me later so I can see to you.”