Taken With You: A Fractured Connections Novella

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  I stiffened then and slowly angled my body a little bit more so they couldn’t see Meadow. Thankfully, none of the guys in front of me looked toward her. And even better, the woman beside them wasn’t looking.

  I knew her. Trace. Coby’s sister, his damn twin.

  And, if I remembered right, she was Cliff’s old lady. But that had been a while ago, and even though you didn’t poach women—one of the primary rules of being a brother—things happened.

  But hell, things were getting a little too intense. I needed to get them out of here and away from Meadow.

  “I don’t want any trouble. I’m out. You know that.”

  The Connollys all looked at each other, and I could see them out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. They weren’t the dangerous ones. No, the guys in front of me were.

  The ones who ran drugs and did shit that I wasn’t proud of.

  They weren’t like some who dealt in guns and other things. But they were the worst of the bunch.

  And I’d brought them right to my friends’ door. Sure, they might not have known that I was here when they walked in, but now they were trying to start something because I was.

  I needed to make it stop.

  “Come on, guys, you don’t need to do this.”

  “Yeah, maybe we do,” Cliff growled. I noticed that the others didn’t say anything, but they didn’t need to. With Coby in jail, Cliff was number one outside of the main circle.

  Coby had been the leader of his generation. And I’d followed him. Of course, then I’d become VP over him, and everything changed. Things had gotten worse. Coby found a woman, even though I hadn’t known who she was at the time.

  Coby always wanted more power. Because I didn’t like the man I’d become, I left.

  It hadn’t been easy. And I bled for it in the end, burned for it.

  I’d left, and Coby took my place. And Coby had gone to jail because of his own stupidity.

  I hadn’t paid for my crimes. And I knew Cliff, Coby’s BFF, blamed me for that.

  “Hey, I have the cops on the line, and I can get them here at any minute. So why don’t you guys get out?”

  I held back a curse as Sienna spoke, and I had a feeling the rest of the Connollys did, too.

  “You really going to let your bitch talk for you?” Cliff asked, and I moved forward, putting my hands on his colors. The leather felt soft and supple under my palms, but I twisted it until it cracked.

  “Just go. You don’t have any business here. This isn’t your place. This isn’t some TV show where you can fuck up a bar because you feel like it. Just go before you end up in jail again like your little buddy. You hear me? You’re not wanted here.”

  Cliff’s eyes narrowed, but when one of the other guys elbowed him in the side, I pulled away. Cliff growled at me.

  “Come on. You’re on probation, man.”

  “Come on, Cliff. I’m tired of this already. Let’s just go home,” Trace whined, leaning into her man.

  I ignored the other guy, my eyes on Cliff.

  “This isn’t over, Beck.”

  “It was over a long time ago, and we both know it. Go back to the life you chose. I’m making mine here.”

  “For now, asshole.”

  “No. Forever. Just go.”

  The guys grumbled, and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with my words. No, it was because of the men at my back and the fact that the rest of the bar had gone silent, even though some of our regulars, big men in their own rights, had also stood up, ready to do what they could to help.

  Only five minutes in, and the guys had made this place a biker bar. One where there’d be a fight and blood and broken glass.

  And it would all be my fucking fault.

  The members of my old club turned on their heel and left, but not before knocking down a couple of chairs and cursing up a storm as they did.

  Glass shattered on the floor as they knocked into one of the tables, but no one moved to pick it up. At least not right away.

  The others started talking, asking me questions, wanting to know what was happening, but I couldn’t listen. I didn’t have eyes for them. No, I could only look at the woman at my side, who hadn’t said a word. The one who didn’t want to draw attention to herself. And I knew why.

  I looked over at Meadow, my jaw tight as I tried to open my mouth to say something. But there were no words.

  She simply looked at me, her eyes wide as she blinked. “You knew them. You’re part of them.” Her voice was so hollow, like the one I’d heard when I first met her. Not the Meadow she was now.

  “Yeah. No use in lying. I was.” I paused. I knew I shouldn’t say the rest, but realized I probably needed to. “It was before you were part if it with Coby, though.”

  Her face blanched, and she took a staggering step back. “You knew. You knew?”

  The others looked at us, confusion clear on their faces, but I had to ignore them.

  “Yeah. I did.”

  I was prepared for the slap, ready for the shove, the punch, something.

  But I didn’t expect what actually happened.

  She looked at me, took another step back, and then turned on her heel, grabbed her bag, and walked out.

  I looked over at Cameron and gestured towards her. “Can you follow her? Make sure that the others don’t find her. She wouldn’t welcome my help.”

  “Yeah, we got it,” Cameron said, his voice low. “But then you’re going to explain exactly what the fuck just happened.”

  “Promise. Just make sure she’s safe.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Aiden said, following Cameron.

  And then the two were off to make sure Meadow got home okay in case the guys were out there waiting.

  I wanted to be there. I wanted to fix this. But I didn’t think I could.

  I looked at Brendon and the girls, and I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

  Instead, I picked up the chair and went to get a broom to sweep up the glass.

  I figured if it was my last day at the Connolly Brewery, I might as well clean up some of the mess I’d indirectly made.

  But I also knew that, no matter what, some messes couldn’t be cleaned up. Some stains would forever haunt the place.

  Just as they hung over me.

  Chapter 8

  Imperfections breed doubt. Or is it the other way around?

  ~Meadow, journal entry

  Meadow

  My fingers slid over the tattoo on my ribcage, the other on my hip, the morning light casting shadows along my skin. They were flowers and vines, two inconspicuous tattoos that had been for me, not for anyone else.

  The one on my other hip, however, had been lasered off.

  I had been stupid and young and not even eighteen when I had Coby’s name tattooed on my hip. He’d asked me to put it there, wanted his name on my flesh where no one else could see. That way, I would know I was his property. That I was always his.

  I could still see the scar, the marks. But I couldn’t see his name. And that had been enough for me. It had been healing.

  Because I no longer bore the name of the man I’d thought I loved but who really only wanted to own me. Instead, I boasted the scars of my decisions, not ones of ownership.

  Beckham had seen my tattoos, my scars. But he hadn’t said anything.

  Had he known that Coby’s name had been on my hip? Had he realized that the mark had been erased by a laser because I was ashamed of where I came from? Or the fact that I had actually done it so I could become myself rather than who Coby wanted me to be?

  Beckham had known. At least parts of it.

  This entire time, he knew.

  And I didn’t know what to think about that.

  He had been part of Coby’s crew, although he’d said that he hadn’t been part of it when I was there.

  But Trace had been. Trace had always been Cliff’s old lady, just like I had been Coby’s.

  And since Trace and C
oby were twins, she had been my sister. In a weird sort of way that had nothing to do with love but rather ties that no one wanted to break. That others constantly told me could never be broken or severed.

  I had hidden from her earlier at the bar, hadn’t said a word, and that was my shame. Far beyond what Beckham had said, or what he had done, I carried the weight of my own decisions and truths.

  I had hidden. I didn’t want the others to know I was there.

  I could blame part of that on shock. Surprise that they were at the bar and that they knew Beckham.

  Shock that Beckham had known things about who I was and hadn’t told me.

  I curled my fists at my sides, trying to calm my breathing.

  Why did it feel like such a betrayal? I hadn’t been honest either.

  And that was my issue.

  I’d been to countless therapy sessions and yet I don’t think I could pull anything from those to figure out the answers to why I hadn’t been honest. I’d found my self-worth, but I hadn’t been able to find my courage. Not all of it.

  Beckham had known about me, but I hadn’t known about him.

  And neither of us had said anything.

  We weren’t truthful—not at all.

  Instead, we had lived in this odd vacuum where we tried to make our own happiness that was pillowed on a cursed bed of lies.

  While neither of us had said anything, Beckham had known about me, while I hadn’t known about him.

  But what was worse?

  I didn’t know, so I couldn’t face him. I could barely face myself. But I was forcing myself to do that now.

  I looked in the mirror one last time and then reached down to pull my shirt over my head.

  I didn’t need to look at my tattoos to know they were there. But I always did.

  I didn’t have to touch my scars to know that they existed on my body. Because they had been woven through my soul long before they were etched onto my skin.

  And then I remembered the ink on Beckham’s skin and the fact that I had touched every inch of him.

  I remembered the scars beneath my fingertips, and I’d wondered where they came from, even though I had known they came from his past. Those scars had come from his club ink. The fact that it had been lasered off. Painfully. Perhaps even brutally. I hadn’t realized how intertwined our paths had truly become.

  And not only what was in front of us, but where we had come from as well.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I mumbled to myself and then shook my head. That seemed to be standard for me lately, and I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing. I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I left, although Cameron and Aiden had walked me to my car. I’d smiled, nodded at them in thanks, and then driven home.

  I’d locked the doors behind me, keeping my security system armed, and wondered if the club would find me.

  Not that they were looking. No one knew where I was. And I hadn’t thought my parents would mention it to anyone. Honestly, it wouldn’t have done them any good. They only wanted me for money. And if I were pulled back into that life, I wouldn’t have money for them.

  So, maybe they were smarter than I gave them credit for.

  The doorbell rang, and I looked over at it, frowning.

  If it was Beckham, I didn’t know what I would do. If it was someone else, someone from my past, I honestly didn’t know what to do there either.

  I looked down at my phone, at the camera on the security app, and let out a shuddering sigh of relief when I realized it was the girls.

  I didn’t know what I planned to say to them, though I knew I couldn’t lie.

  They would likely want to know why I ran, and not only because Beckham had come clean.

  Plus, I didn’t want to hide anymore. I was so tired of it. It just left me feeling like I was losing it when, sometimes, I felt like I didn’t have much of it to begin with.

  So I put my phone in my pocket and went to the front door, taking my time turning each lock as I did.

  It was as if I were getting closer and closer to baring my soul with each snap of the lock, and I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do it.

  Violet, Harmony, and Sienna walked in, hugging me tightly as they did.

  I smiled at them and then closed the door behind them, locking it tightly once more.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice soft.

  “Hey,” Harmony replied. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. You guys didn’t have to come over this morning.”

  “Yeah, we did,” Violet said.

  “And you need to tell us what happened. Maybe explain why you have those locks on your door. Why you looked so scared when those people came into the bar. And why you didn’t look at any of them straight on. Oh, and why you ran.”

  Violet and Harmony glared at Sienna, and I shook my head, a smile playing on my face. Of course, Sienna would be the one to cut right to the chase. But they all had to wonder. And I was tired of lying. Of hiding.

  “It’s a little too early for wine, but I guess once I’m finished, you might want a glass. I know I will.”

  “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” Harmony said quickly. “And even though Sienna’s the one that blurted that out, we didn’t mean to come over here and make you feel like we were attacking you.”

  “Hey,” Sienna said.

  “Don’t worry about it. I was thinking about how to tell you exactly what was going on anyway. You three coming over here made it easier for me and was so helpful.

  “So, hi. My name’s Meadow.”

  Sienna snorted. “Okay. We’re going to start with that. We love you, you know?” she said quickly.

  “Thanks.” I let out a shuddering breath, my heart beating quickly even as my body warmed at that.

  “We lost a friend because we didn’t ask the right questions,” Violet said softly. “And I know this is a completely different situation, but we’re here for you. Okay?”

  A tear slipped from her eye, and she quickly wiped it off her cheek. I nodded and then gestured for them to follow me into the living room. “Let’s sit down. I’ll try to explain. Just don’t hate me after, okay?” I added quickly.

  “I don’t think we could ever hate you, Meadow,” Harmony said.

  “You don’t know who I was.”

  I thought about the scar on my hip, the ones on Beckham. And I knew that scars dug themselves in deeply. The path you traveled left evidence behind. I needed to figure out where I was at the end of my journey, so while the scars might remain, I would still be able to figure out what I needed to say.

  “I knew the people that came in and recognized Beckham.”

  “Okay,” Violet said. “Did you know that Beckham knew them?”

  I shook my head. “Let me start from the beginning.”

  “We’re here,” Harmony said, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “We’ll always be here.”

  And that’s why I could say what I needed to. Why I could do this.

  I’d never had friends like these before. The people in my old life hadn’t been like this. Some in the club and on the periphery were able to form connections, but not me. I’d thought I had something with Coby, but that had been an unhealthy relationship that led to nothing but pain and heartache.

  The girls in front of me deserved more. And I needed to be better for them.

  So I’d tell them where I came from, who I’d been, and hopefully they could see who I was now.

  Even if I wasn’t always sure who that was.

  “I knew them because I was one of them once upon a time.”

  “You were a biker?” Sienna asked incredulously, and I shrugged.

  “That’s part of the culture. I didn’t have my own bike. I rode bitch. First behind my daddy when I was little, and then behind the boy I thought I’d fallen in love with.”

  “Oh,” Violet said, looking at me wide-eyed.

  “I know. That’s not who I am now. But that’s who I used to be. I gr
ew up in the lifestyle. My dad was the president of an MC. And I thought it was the most amazing thing ever because while there’re some TV shows and things that show MCs in a bad light with all the illegal crap and overdramatization, there are some beautiful clubs out there that give to charities and help with bullying and many amazing things. They’re truly a family who do their best to make sure that the people in the club are taken care of. And they give back.” I let out a shaky breath. “When I was a little kid, that was ours. I don’t know when it all changed. Maybe when I was about fourteen or so. But people needed money, and new blood came in. They started doing things they shouldn’t. They weren’t on the right side of the law anymore, and I knew there were drugs involved—only not as many as some other clubs.” I let out a shaky breath, and the others looked at me.

  “I’m sorry, Meadow,” Harmony whispered.

  “Me, too. But that’s not the worst of it. As I mentioned, I met a boy. From a rival club. But it wasn’t much of a rivalry, it was just an MC that was close by. Coby was the son of their president and wanted to be the vice president. I didn’t really know much about it because it wasn’t the club I grew up in. I fell for him hard. He was everything to me. I thought he loved me. And he treated me like I was the princess that everyone thought I was.”

  The girls looked at me, and I was grateful that they didn’t say anything. It was hard enough getting this out as it was.

  “My dad used to hit my mom. Not all the time, but enough that it scared me. But he’d always apologize, and they’d be fine afterwards. My mom would slap me and hit me and make me feel like crap and force me to think about my body in ways I shouldn’t, especially as a way to get men. And so, when Coby treated me like a princess, I fell for it all. Then he hit me once, and then again, and I couldn’t get out. The times I tried to leave, it was even worse.”

  “Oh, Meadow,” Violet said. She moved forward to sit next to me on the couch, and I was grateful. The girls sat next to each other on the loveseat, holding each other’s hands as they looked at me.

  “Anyway, Coby and his club were even worse than my dad. They did so many horrible things. Mostly with drugs. And then I ratted them out.” I let out a shaky laugh. “At least, I thought I did. Not completely, though. They didn’t need my testimony to put Coby behind bars because they had enough evidence without it. They didn’t even need me to get into the house. They didn’t care that I was broken and bleeding when they found me.”