“What the fuck…?” Brax looks at me, his nostrils widened, and his brows drawn together.
“Well, he kinda made some really gross suggestion and I’m worried it freaked Izzy out a little. She’s okay. I’m still with her. I mean she’s in the bathroom right now, but both of us are still at the office. Anyhow, I just thought you should know. I think she kinda needs you right now. The things he said brought back some pretty awful memories…”
“I’m on my way,” he says ending the call, revving the engine and shifting into drive. Gripping the steering wheel, his fingernails dig into the material. “I’ll take you to the clubhouse. But we continue this another time, got it?”
“Sure,” I reply, grabbing the handle on the door as he swings the car out into the road, speeding like a madman.
“So tell me.” Brax glances at me momentarily before turning his focus back to the road. “Why doesn’t your father have an old lady?”
“He did. Jan was his old lady for a long time. But she didn’t like the fact that my father would fuck whores. I guess the illusion of being in the MC didn’t quite match the reality. She stupidly thought she was the one who would make my father loyal. Once the thrill of flirting with danger wore off, there was nothing left for her. She didn’t get the respect she expected from the other members and decided to leave. Only, my father was never going to let that happen.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles.
“Yep. No president is ever going to allow his old lady to just walk away. Never been anyone else since,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “Now he just has whores on tap. Women throwing themselves at him, desperate to be the prez’s next old lady.”
Brax’s eyes jerk in surprise. “Not sure they’d want to if they knew the truth. Seems no one gets out alive.”
“Not unless my father kicks them out. That’s happened a few times.”
He chuckles. “Lucky for them.”
“Hmmm,” I hum in agreement. “Listen, drop me at the end of the road. I have no clue how this is going to go down. You know, since I’m being watched and all.” I exhale heavily.
“Nate,” Brax breathes, pausing for a second before continuing. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I feel like you need to know.”
“What?” I glare at him, waiting for him to reply.
“Davo.” He lowers his voice as if we are in a room and he’s worried someone will hear. “He’s working for me. I have him reporting everything back to me. He’s looking out for you, without drawing too much attention to the fact that he’s a rat.”
“Davo… he’s your informant? What? For real?” I ask in a voice just above a hiss.
“He’s a Savage, first and foremost. But I have an agreement with him. I have to know that you’re alive. I need information from inside. You’re under the spotlight, so I needed it to be someone other than you.”
“I had no idea.”
“Well, good fucking job really. But what I’m trying to say is this. He’s your man should you need to get a message to me.”
The car slows and Brax pulls over on the side of the road. “Thanks, man.” I reach for the handle of the door, making my way out. Dipping my head, I look at Brax, nodding to him before closing the door and making my way down the road to the clubhouse. I put one foot in front of the other, clenching my teeth together as I try to breathe through the pain in my legs. Pushing my hands into my jeans pockets, I make my way through the gate and to the front door. Dipping the handle slowly, I glance up, a face appearing immediately in my line of sight. Resting my hand on the side of the wall, I try to steady my rapid heart rate. I’m not out of shape, but I’m a fucking mess right now.
“Boss wants to see you. NOW,” Angelo informs me. I nod my head in acceptance. “Need a hand there, man?”
“I’m good,” I dismiss him, grabbing the front of my cut and straightening it. Striding toward the living room, I push open the door, my eyes quickly scan the room. The overpowering smell of cigars hits my senses. My father smiles at me and there’s no hiding the smug look on Silver’s face. The man I despise with every ounce of hatred I have.
“Nate,” he says, holding out his arms. He wears a huge grin on his face and has a cigar clasped between his fingers. “So glad to see you’re alright. Unfortunate what happened to your legs.” He points down at my shins, wavering his finger at the burns he can see through the clear wrap strapped around my leg.
“Unfortunate,” I repeat, unable to believe this shit. There are so many things I want to say. So much shit I want to throw at the motherfucker glaring at me like I’m something he’s stepped in.
“You’ll heal,” he says, closing the space between us. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, taking a huge drag on his cigar before blowing the smoke into my face. I drop my head to the side, coughing a little as the smoke stings my eyes and floods my nostrils. “Come sit with us,” he instructs, guiding me over to the couch, sitting me beside Silver. My skin crawls to be sitting beside him, the anger inside bubbling to boiling point. I peer hard at Silver, his eyes returning my glare. I hold it there. There’s no way I’m backing down from this son of a bitch.
“No hard feelings,” he says, offering me his hand with a smirk.
“Fuck you, Silver,” I spit back, venom lacing my words.
My father grabs hold of my chin in a viselike grip, jabbing me in the ribs. “Listen here, boy,” he snarls. “You got yourself into this shit. You disrespected me. I’m not just your father, I’m the fucking president of this damn club.” Squeezing harder, saliva flies from his mouth as he loses his shit. “I give the fucking orders and you follow. Got it?”
I don’t reply, I just nod my head.
“You’re my son. The one who should set an example to everyone else here.” Loosening the grip on my chin, he thrusts it to the side. “Nothing but a disappointment,” he growls. “You need to remember where your fucking loyalties lie.”
Not with you, I reply mentally.
“You should go rest. We have an initiation ceremony tonight,” he informs me, sliding down into his seat. Resting my hand on the coffee table just in front, I look at him, trying to hide the hatred in my eyes.
“I’m going to give this one a miss.” I glance down to my legs. “I need to rest. My legs are fucked up.”
His face blanches, his hand covering mine and instantly he applies pressure. Grabbing his cigar cutter, he lines it up at the end of my finger.
“What the fuck… get off of me,” I yell, fighting to release my hand from his hold.
“I gave an order.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” I roar, looking him deep in his piercing blue eyes. The same eyes I see every time I glance at my reflection. There’s no denying I’m his son. Our eyes are the exact same shade of blue, but that’s where the resemblance ends. One thing I know with absolute certainty is that I’m nothing like my father.
Holding the cutter at the tip of my finger, he continues to stare at me.
“I’m the fucking prez of this club. I have to have order. That patch." He points at the emblem sewn onto my cut. “That fucking patch means you’re part of this club, whether you like it or not. And you will follow the rules, Nate.”
“Fuck, alright,” I say with a nod. “You want me there, I’m there. I just thought I’d be able to pass tonight, you know, my legs and all.” I glance down at them, hoping to get him to see sense. Releasing the hold on my hand, he drops the cutter to the table, stepping up from his seat.
“Main room. Seven p.m. Don’t be late,” he orders, bringing his cigar to his mouth, taking a huge drag and blowing circles of smoke into the air.
“No problem,” I reply, hoping to appease the asshole.
“Good.” He reaches down, patting me with a thud on my back, before turning and storming out of the room. Only Silver doesn’t leave. He remains in his seat and I glance at him wondering what this fucker wants.
“He’s too soft on you, asshole.” Silver’s face is as hard as stone, his eyes burni
ng into mine. But I don’t reply. I jerk to a stand, turning my back to Silver.
“No fucking respect.” He spits his words at me, and I glower at him from over my shoulder. Lifting my knuckles, I run my fingers over them as the anger boils like an unwatched pot inside of me.
“Respect?” I turn to him, cocking my head to the side. “Did you come clean about Harlan, huh? Jeffries knows his other son has been burnt to a crisp after you hacked off his hand that night at Alvrez’s place?” I lift my brows, my voice low, but the meaning behind my words anything but.
“I was following your orders,” he stutters out as he shoots up from his seat.
“How’s that work then, Vice President?”
“Fuck you, Nate. You ain’t blackmailing me, you scrawny motherfucker. You know we would both be fucked if he found out.”
“Seems to me we should be sticking together, Silver. Or am I a threat to you? You worried that after all the years you’ve dedicated to the Savages and this whole club that you won’t get your chance at being prez, huh? Is that it?”
He sneers, “As if anyone would vote you in.” He continues to laugh, a little maniacally.
“And they want a fucking psycho running the club?” I counter his comment and the smug look on his face drops. “You’re unstable, not fit to be a leader. No one respects you, Silver. They fear you—”
“Fear means respect,” he cuts me off, his voice rising as he tries to assert his authority.
“You’re so wrong, Silver. So very fucking wrong.” I palm my chin, staring at him. The look of panic in his eyes is hilarious. I spin on the spot, walking out of the room with a sense of satisfaction. I make my way upstairs, digging into what’s left of my jeans and grab the key to my room. As I reach it, I unlock the door, walking in and leaning back against it. I thud my head back against the door a little as frustration courses through me. Sick waves in my stomach at the thought of Tara. I’m scared for her, but it's not just that. I’m not afraid to admit my feelings for this chick, well, at least not to myself. But the feelings I have for her are eating away at my soul, destroying it a little every time I have to admit that I will never be able to have her in my life. I’ve never really given any thought to love, and that’s maybe because, growing up, I never really felt love. I hadn’t experienced it to know what it truly felt like. But being with Tara, the way she makes me feel, fuck, it’s foreign to me. But now I know. And the pain of coming to terms with what I have lost is too much to bear.
Placing the key in the door, I lock it, stumbling over to the bed to lie down. Thinking of her is like a punch in the gut. It takes my breath and my head pounds. But somehow, I just can’t accept this fate that I’ve been handed.
I want her, and I have to make her mine. I want her in a way I’ve never wanted anything in my life. Like she’s the ultimate addiction. The feeling she gives me can’t be matched by any narcotics. It’s something completely different. More addictive, more satisfying, totally overpowering.
Although I know in my mind there is only one way that can happen.
I have to fight my father to have her in my life. And fuck, it might cost me mine. But I have to try. Because dying for her seems better than dying inside because I can’t have her.
Having a taste of Tara has unleashed something in me. Something I can’t even begin to understand. It’s made me someone I never imagined I’d be. A man willing to kill his leader, his own father, just to have her here with me. In my arms.
Emptying my pockets of the meds the nurse gave me, I fall back on the bed, allowing my eyes to flutter shut. The pain in my legs will eventually stop, the tightening of my chest every time I think about Tara will never leave.
Not until the day I have her back here with me.
* * *
Hammering on the door startles me awake. I rub my knuckles across my eyes as I try to work out what the hell is going on.
“Nate, open up,” the voice bellows and I know it’s coming from the door. Trying to clear my dry throat, I swing myself off the bed, grimacing at the pain that throbs in my legs.
“Just a minute, man,” I reply gruffly, stalking slowly toward the door. Turning the key, I brace myself on the wooden door, peering through the gap. Eyes hard on me, a serious look on his face, he says, “Prez is expecting you at church in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there, Jimmy,” I reply with a nod, exhaling hard as I attempt to close the door. But I can’t. My eyes glance toward the floor, his foot jamming the gap, stopping the door from closing.
“What the hell, Jimmy?” I growl. “I said I’ll be there.”
“Prez wants you to know we are expecting guests. A new joiner and a pretty little ass just arrived. He says get down pronto!”
“Sure thing.” I shoot him a fleeting smile, widening my eyes, indicating he should move his foot.
“Oh, sure.” He backs up, sliding his foot out of the way and I slam it shut. Rolling my eyes, I head straight over to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. Sliding off my leather cut I drop it down on the bed. Stripping myself of the remaining clothes, I slip the clean shirt on. Pulling on my cut, I reach for the jeans, dropping down on the bed, slowly pulling them over my tender lower legs, while rushing to get ready. I have to please Dad, remove myself from his radar. If I play the part well, it will buy me time. Time to work out how I’m going to take him down. Pushing my keys, phone, and wallet back in my pockets I tip the cigarette packet out, grabbing one between my teeth and lighting it. I push the packet and lighter in my pocket as I make my way out of the bedroom and to the main room. The faint sound of music does nothing to hide the loud voices. It’s clear that whatever is happening is in full swing. Strolling into the room, I take a drag on my cigarette, my eyes finding my father propped up against the bar. Jenny, a regular biker whore, is hanging from his arm. In front of him is a guy. A guy I don’t recognize. I tilt my head a little, resting against the frame of the door as I people-watch. Suddenly, I feel a body bang into me, catching my attention.
“Steady there,” I say, resting my hands on her elbows, positioning her straight.
“Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry.” She looks up at me through huge lashes. Raking my eyes over her barely covered body, I know she’s new here.
“You’re not one of the usual whores we have here,” I say with a flick of my eyebrows.
“I’m not a whore at all actually.” She snaps her elbows from my hold, crossing her arms across her chest as if trying to hide all that she has on show.
“Then tell me.” I tilt my head, grabbing my cigarette between my finger and thumb. “If you’re not a whore, what are you doing here? Not the kind of place an innocent girl just hangs out.”
“I came here with him.” She points her finger at the guy talking to my father. “He picked me up on the way here. Told me he was coming to hang with you guys and invited me along. I thought it could be fun.” I blink rapidly at the unsuspecting girl standing in front of me. She’s stunning. Long red hair hangs down to her ass. She wears a pair of shorts that would probably fit a six-year-old and a tank top that shows off her tits perfectly.
“Follow me,” I whisper, tugging on her arm a little. Shrugging, she follows me out of the room and into the hall. “Listen, you need to know what you’re getting yourself into here.”
“I just came for some fun.”
“This is a clubhouse. Being here and having fun means obeying the orders of the president and any other fucker that might want to lay their hands on you.”
A twinkle of excitement flashes in her apple-green eyes. “What about you?” she asks, pressing her hand flat against my chest. “You seem nice.”
Grabbing her hand, I remove it from my chest, gently letting it fall beside her. “I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”
“You’re easily the hottest guy here,” she replies, pouting her lips a little before her tongue darts out, wetting them.
“What do you know about the MC life, huh? Of what is expected of
you if you stay here? Because let me tell you, those guys in there will eat you alive. You are fresh meat. Really tasty fresh meat.”
“What if you claim me?”
“Wouldn’t make a difference. I have to obey the president, just like everyone else here.”
“Emily,” my father calls to her. I look past the girl in front of me and at my father as he approaches. “I see you met my son, Nate.”
“Sure did, sir.” She smiles widely at my father.
“Hey, go fetch him a beer, will ya?”
“Of course,” she sings, clapping her hands together, turning on the spot and marching back into the room. My father’s eyes never leave her ass, watching as she sashays over to the bar.
“Surprise!” he says holding his hands up, glaring at me as if waiting for my reply. “Isn’t she a peach?”
“Who? The redhead?”
“Of course. She came in with Ozzie.”
“Ozzie is the guy you were just talking to at the bar, right?”
“That’s right, kid. He could be a real asset to the club. Known the guy for years, now he wants in the club. Said we’d let him in and see how he goes. If he proves himself, then we’ll patch him in.”
“And the girl?” I ask, my voice quiet but my eyes on her as she stops and chats with Roach, his eyes practically fucking her neat little body.
“Stray he picked up along the way. I reckon she’d make a great old lady. What d'ya think?” he asks, as if he genuinely wants my opinion.
“I reckon she has no idea what she’s getting into.”
“I’ll get the others to show her the ropes. She has forty-eight hours to prove she’s got what it takes to be in. Lucinda, Jenny, and the rest of the girls will lay it all out on a plate for her. Will be my decision if she stays or goes.”
“Fair, I guess,” I say to my father, his arm wrapping around my neck, landing and squeezing my shoulders. But I know there’s no going back for her. Once she stepped through those clubhouse doors, she was an accessory. My father never lets anyone out once they are through that door.
The complete scars series: Books one-four Page 50
