MALICE (A HOUNDS OF HELL MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  I still remembered the agony of leaving her, and it was something I never wanted to live through ever again—or put her through, either. I’d taken more away from Lucy than just her virginity that night, and though her gesture was a comfort to me, I knew she hated me for it.

  I hated me for it, too.

  My host’s eyes in the rearview mirror confirmed my suspicions that the hatred of Leo Richards was a widespread phenomenon. But if the old man was no big fan of mine, then why all of the hospitality? I knew that there were some evangelicals out there who would open their home to a criminal, but I’d never once heard Delfino say a word about God, or even his faith.

  So then what was the motivation? Why was he doing all of this?

  Eight

  Lucy

  “We have some clothes prepared for you to use while you’re staying with us,” Delfino said to Leo as we filed into the house.

  It was still in the exact same condition and style that it had been following my brief stay in the hospital we’d left just moments ago. It had the air of a place plucked right out of time, stuck somewhere in the mid-nineteen fifties. I’d seen commercials and reruns that glamorized shit like this, hearkening back to a supposedly simpler time.

  “Your room is upstairs across from Lucy’s, should you need anything,” Delfino continued as I shut the door behind us. “And while I’m gone, Lucy will show you around the house.”

  “Gone?” I asked, my eyes wide at the implication of being alone with Leo so soon. “You’re not staying, Del—Father?”

  That was almost one hell of a slip, on my part. I was used to calling him by his name in private. There was no need to act like we were actually family when we were alone, vestigial blood ties be damned. But we weren’t alone anymore. Now we were with Leo. And, based on what I knew about recovery times for broken ribs, we likely would be for a while.

  Delfino seemed to be making a mental note of my near-faux pas. “I have a number of errands to run in town, as well as preparations to make,” he said coolly. “You will care for Mr. Richards while he’s here as I’ve instructed, is that understood?” He eyed me with a lift of one of his brows. “I trust you don’t need my supervision to do that.”

  “No. Of-of course not,” I stammered. “I just… I thought you might want dinner before you go.”

  Delfino smiled patronizingly, that knowing glint in his eyes as he shook his head. I could already feel my heart pounding with fury while I tried to maintain my pleasant outward demeanor.

  “I’ll make do,” he said, patting me on my shoulder. “But do see to Leo’s needs.”

  “Certainly,” I murmured, swallowing as I waved my hand toward the stairway, inviting Leo along as I took him on the promised tour of the house. My hands trembled. In a few moments I’d be alone with Leo for the first time in years. I tried to think of what in the world I could possibly say to him, what words could sum up the tempest of emotion that was swirling through my brain.

  “Your bed has already been made,” I said, trying to sound as formal as I possibly could on our way up. I didn’t want to give even the slightest hint that I was familiar with Leo. One slip and Delfino might as well know everything—and the last thing I needed, especially now, was for him to learn I’d been keeping secrets.

  The longer I disguised my feelings beneath a mask of placidity, the more I felt my anger rising, swirling like a thick, rancid smoke in my chest. I wanted to shout, to scream at Leo everything I’d felt since he’d gotten on that damned motorcycle and left me behind. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs about how badly he’d hurt me, but with Delfino just a floor away, I dared not utter anything in a tone louder than a whisper. And even at that volume, I was afraid my words would carry—that voicing them out loud, after all this time, would give them power. And the idea of having any kind of power, any control over my life, had become so foreign to me that I could do nothing except fear it.

  “You’ll sleep here,” I said, doing my best to put on a pleasant smile as I opened the door to the room across from mine. “Your bed is made, and whenever you’re ready for supper, I will have it waiting for you.”

  “Lucy, I—” he began, but before he could utter another syllable, I put my hand to his mouth to silence him. My smile slipped from my face as I withdrew, silently pressing a finger to my own lips to indicate that he’d best keep his mouth shut for the time being. It was like a sort of kiss—the residue of his mouth touching mine, albeit in a roundabout way. I wondered, if I licked my lips later, would I be able to taste him?

  “And if you need me for any reason, I will be just across the hall,” I said loud enough to ensure Delfino would be able to hear from the bottom of the stairs. “Day or night, you can ask for whatever you need. It’s our privilege to help you get back on your feet.”

  And then I waited. Or more accurately, we waited, Leo and I. We stood less than a foot from each other, a proximity I had never truly expected us to share again. Some magnetism coursed between our bodies, thrumming in the air like the resonance of a plucked guitar string. His gaze was trained on mine with a level of attention that threatened to carry me away, closer to him, to those arms that had once held me so tightly—that mouth that had once claimed mine—all the hard planes and steep curves of his body, his sculpted edges smooth and sharp as sheet metal and ten times as durable. I’d worked so hard to forget all this, to cast any fantasy of reunion aside in an effort to save myself the pain of hope. The moment we were close like this, though—just two people standing in a room—it all came rushing back more potent than ever.

  But I knew there was more than just a physical gulf between us. This was a space more vast than could be measured in inches and feet. Undertaking the journey to cross it would not be so simple—and frankly, I wasn’t sure it was one I should be embarking on anyway. And yet…

  It was all I wanted. And above all else—above the scent of him; the hungry, wanting look in his eyes; and even the sensation of his soft lips on my skin—the thing I’d forgotten the most was what it was like to want something. Anything. But especially him.

  “Come on,” I whispered so softly that even I barely heard the words leaving my lips. I was listening for the sound of Delfino’s retreating footsteps, wishing for the echo of the front door closing and locking behind him. “Leave already…”

  And just like that, thoughts of Delfino changed everything. Ruined everything, like they always did. Like he always did. There was no happiness with him in my life. Nothing good could ever remain in his presence—it would always be corrupted and thrown out like trash. After so many years of living with him, that was an influence I found difficult to escape. Unwanted, unbidden, fury twisted my hope into something dark and sick. My wanting withered into resentment. It wasn’t just that Leo had left me, it was everything that had happened since—all of the constant manipulation by Delfino, the total lack of any privacy, or even free will to so much as go to the college I’d always wanted after high school. I was as much a prisoner within the confines of my life as Leo was in that hospital room.

  And none of it would have happened if Leo had kept his promise and taken me with him.

  Hot, angry tears pricked the corners of my eyes like needles. I wouldn’t shed them, I decided—I wouldn’t give Leo that kind of satisfaction. But he must have seen their shimmer, because as the tears welled enough to veil my view of him, his brow furrowed and his face fell. He’d become a smudge to me, blurred by a grief I’d never been allowed to process, one I’d never spoken out loud or given name to except in my own head. The way he was looking at me was something I could feel, rather than see. There was a palpable nature to it, something tangible about his pity that added a burst of shame to my rage. How dare he, after what he’d done? How dare he look at me that way, make me feel these things I didn’t want to feel?

  And what was I feeling? It was getting hard to tell. Conflicting compulsions tapped like bird beaks at the inside of my skull. Hug him, they said. Sla
p him. Kiss him. Fuck him. Destroy him. There were too many desires to give name to them all, and in the wake of having so many options, I could not decide at all which of these held merit. Which rang true.

  At long last, I heard the familiar sound of Father closing and locking the front door to our house, followed soon after by the chitter and rumble of his Chevy’s engine. He was backing out of the drive; the low purr was growing distant like a storm sweeping out to the horizon. But I still felt the tension in the air, smell the burning ozone of an impending lightning strike.

  I wasn’t that far off. As soon as Delfino went from being an immediate threat to a mere memory, Leo reached out for me. I hadn’t blinked yet, too afraid that even the most fleeting closing of my lids would betray me and send tears spilling down my cheeks, and thus I stared in unyielding shock as he moved to touch my face. His thumb was lifted, surely meant to sweep across the high arch of my cheekbone, maybe up toward my eye to brush away those persistent tears. It would be a tender, charming gesture, I was sure. Something lovely and painfully sincere.

  But I was having precisely none of that. And as it turned out, it took only Leo making a decision to force me to make one, too.

  The visceral smack of my open palm against Leo’s face rent the silence, a peal of thunder that crashed through every room. It was as if the house itself had felt the blow, the floor tilting violently below his feet to make him stagger a step away from me, fingers clutching at the redness spreading like a fever beneath his stubbled cheek.

  “What the fuck?!” he hissed, ducking out of the way of another swat that glanced off his shoulder and arm. I’d blinked finally, and now, just as I feared, the evidence of my shame and hate and despair had gone careening down my face. “Lulu!”

  “Don’t,” I said, pursuing him until he hit the wall. “Don’t you dare call me that. Not after all this time. Not after what you did! What you didn’t do!”

  “Lucy, please,” Leo said, grasping my wrists tight enough that my fingers flexed open and went numb. Damn him. Damn him straight to hell. “I can explain. Just let me explain.”

  I wrenched away, and rather than risk hurting me, Leo let me go, allowed me to put distance between us again. I smeared my tears across my face with my palms and shook my head at him, a strangled breath skipping wetly in my throat.

  “No,” I said around a mouthful of disgust. “No, Leo. You don’t get to talk. You get to stand there and listen.”

  Nine

  Leo

  Lucy’s closeness had stirred old memories I’d nearly forgotten existed. I remembered the way she used to press her lips to mine when her father wasn’t looking, the way her hands felt sliding along the muscled ridges of my stomach and up over my chest. I remembered how she’d tasted so damn sweet, like honey dripping onto my tongue, the night before I’d left, and that alone was more than enough to arouse my long-harbored affections and bring them to a raging boil.

  It was hard to properly entertain those feelings, though, when you were trying to prevent yourself from being concussed. Damn, Lucy had one hell of a slap in her. I’d been hit far harder and by far more adept fighters than Lucy was, but the idea that this little thing could stagger me, a grown-ass man, had me in a state of shock. And admittedly, I was a little impressed. Even after all she’d been through, she still had a fire in her. She was still so scrappy. Despite the fear of God she was putting into me, I’d missed her.

  “Do you realize what you did to me? Do you have even the faintest idea?” she asked, face scarlet, cheeks streaked with tears that I imagined she had been holding back for a long time now. Part of me wanted to tell her that yes, of course I understood, that I knew exactly what she’d been through. But that would have been a lie, and one I don’t think she would have forgiven me for, regardless of my good intentions. “You lied to me, Leo!”

  “I never meant to!” I said, trying to keep my voice as low as I could muster. The last thing either of us needed was an audience—some neighbor peeking up over their hedges to see what all the commotion was next door.

  “But you did! Whether you meant to or not doesn’t mean shit!” She shook her head, tucking a few loose strands of her hair behind her reddening ears. “I woke up and you were gone! After all you said to me, after all we did…” She trailed off, as if those memories still had the power to stop her in her tracks. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing—her expression was distant and unreadable.

  I hoped she was hesitating because there was some part of her deep inside that believed we were meant to be together—a part of Lucy that could forgive me for what I’d done and maybe force me to forgive myself. But then she waved her hand, a gesture of dismissal, and my heart sank. Clearly, there was something darker in her heart right now.

  “You disappeared without a trace,” she continued, voice low and shaky, “and like an idiot, I waited for you! I even went to that… that pig sty you and the Hell Dogs were staying at—”

  “Hounds,” I said softly. She blinked at me, and I elaborated, “The name of the club is the Hounds of Hell.” The look on Lucy’s face made me immediately regret the interruption. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone scowl that fiercely before, or since.

  “Fine. The Hounds of Hell,” she said through her teeth. “I went to that seedy motel you were all staying at, and do you know what I found?”

  I did. I knew. But I wasn’t stupid enough to answer.

  “Nothing!” Lucy threw her hands into the air. “Just empty rooms. And not a single one of you had left a way to get in touch! It was like you just… disappeared. Like you were never even here at all!”

  I could imagine it so vividly—Lucy getting the key from the clerk at the front desk of that shithole the boys and I had stayed in during my last visit to Pleasant Lakes. Lucy walking down the outdoor hall toward the room, having already been told we’d all skipped town, but unwilling to believe it until she saw it for herself. She’d been so young then, so naïve. No way she could fathom she’d been left behind. No way she could bring herself to believe I’d abandon her, betray her, like that. She was still living in the world of heroes and fairy tales. A land of happy endings…

  The look on her face as she opened the door and looked inside. That dawning realization that everything bad anyone had ever said about me must’ve been true. The grief settling in over her angelic features as she remembered what she’d given up for me, given to me, a gift she could never take back. There were no receipts. There never were, when you gave your heart and body to someone. That’s what made love so damn terrifying.

  “I thought that maybe something had happened,” she went on, eyes glassy. I was glad she broke the silence first. I didn’t think I could manage to form words around this lump in my throat. “But I was sure that whatever it was, you’d find a way back to me. At least, that’s what I told myself for a while… but then I started to think that maybe the reason you hadn’t come back was because something bad had happened. Something you couldn’t get away from.”

  She held herself now, fingers clutching at her own upper arms. God, I wanted to be the one to do that for her, to pull her close and let her feel safe for a little while—but could I be that for her anymore? Or was the damage permanent, irrevocable?

  “Do you know what it’s like,” she whispered, looking away from me, “wasting years thinking that someone that you love is dead and that you’ll never see them again? But even worse, simply not knowing whether they’re dead or not? I had dreams, sometimes, of you riding back into town on your bike, the sun in your hair as you told me to get on… and then other times, I’d dream that you were a corpse, lying in a ditch. And to tell you the truth, Leo, I got to a point where I could no longer tell which one of those dreams was the real nightmare.” She squeezed her tiny frame as if to steel herself against a storm. “Hope can be so cruel.”

  I closed my eyes a moment, struck by a sudden sensation of falling. No, not just falling—plummeting, careening straight into the depths of hel
l. There was a black void waiting for me there, an obscene event horizon I would never escape from if I let myself think one more moment about Lucy’s pain. Pain that I had caused her. Wounds I had inflicted. I had promised her, that night I held her so very close to me—as close as two people could possibly be—that I would never hurt her. And then I’d asked her to trust me, and I’d made myself seem deserving of that trust. How many lies had I inadvertently told her? How deep did the rabbit hole of her suffering go?

  Yet I’d come here for forgiveness. I’d come here seeking absolution. From Lucy. From the girl I’d already taken so much from.

  You’re a damn fool, Leo Richards, I thought, opening my eyes again to watch Lucy pace in front of me. You really thought you were just gonna sweep her off her feet, put her on the back of your hog, and ride off into the sunset? Apparently, Lucy wasn’t the only one of us who put stock in fairy tales.

  I had been so selfish, then as well as now. I needed to stop thinking of myself as the hero of Lucy’s story. She’d already filled that role all on her own. She was the one who had struggled to survive, the one who had overcome excruciating odds. Me? I was the dashing rogue just trying to steal another treasure for himself. At least Delfino was unequivocally the villain.

  “I tried so goddamn hard to forget you, Leo,” Lucy whispered around a sob. Her shoulders shook with the effort she exerted to contain her anguish, and I hated that she felt like she couldn’t let it all out in front of me. I hated these barriers, this space, between us. “I prayed every night, hoping that I could just wish you out of my head forever, but the more I tried to stop thinking about you, the more you showed up in my dreams. And the more I dreamed, the more I felt responsible—because you were alive there, Leo.” Her voice cracked; her wide, innocent eyes were wild and pleading. “You were back. In my dreams, I brought you back. And then when I woke up… when I opened my eyes… I killed you. Every single time the alarm clock rang, you left me all over again.