Clear (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 3)

by Notaro, Paige

  Clear

  Paige Notaro

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE-Meagan

  CHAPTER TWO-Vaughn

  CHAPTER THREE-Meagan

  CHAPTER FOUR-Vaughn

  CHAPTER FIVE-Meagan

  CHAPTER SIX-Vaughn

  Epilogue

  Thanks!

  Other Novels

  Copyright

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without the express written consent of the author. This book is licensed for personal use only.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ©2014

  Paige Notaro

  Cover Design:

  ©2014

  SilverLight

  Also by Paige Notaro

  Storm’s Soldiers MC:

  Black and White

  Grey

  Stand Alone:

  Uncaged

  I love hearing from fans!

  Here’s how you can reach me:

  www.facebook.com/PaigeNotaroAuthor

  PaigeNotaro@gmail.com

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my loving family who suffer through my long silences and then sudden bursts of excitement as I’m about to publish.

  It is dedicated to my friends and fellow authors without whom I would have never gotten half as far in twice as much time

  Most of all it is dedicated to my fans. Your support and sweet messages have given me more joy and pleasure than you can ever know. Thank you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Meagan

  Maybe I should have walked out right then. I could have just turned my back on the two men, one who had struck my body and the other who had hammered my soul.

  Vaughn stood panting in his dark jacket, looking like a giant doberman who knew he’d bit out at the wrong person. But I wasn’t his master. For once, I was the one confused, waiting for him to explain how I should react to the vileness that had erupted from his lips.

  Rico didn’t let that happen. He stood, rolling his round shoulders in his cashmere sweater and pleats. He started to gaze at Vaughn the same way I was - some twisted show of solidarity.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  I snorted. “What do I want you to do? Get the hell away from me. Nothing’s changed between us.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

  Vaughn’s lips curled with anger, but no bark came. He didn’t seem to trust his mouth.

  “I’ll be fine as long as you’re gone,” I said.

  Rico forced puzzlement, his glowing features all screwed up. What the hell went on in that head?

  “Rico, go.” I said again.

  He stepped toward me and suddenly Vaughn was up against him. His eyes did the talking, thin blue lines aimed down squarely at my ex. Rico withered by instinct and went clattering back into another table.

  “Alright, you deal with your friend,” he said, heading back to the cafe. “We’ll finish talking later.”

  “I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”

  He started a patronizing head shake, but his eyes fell on Vaughn and he pushed through the doors without finishing.

  It was just us two now. Vaughn finally dared open his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry for what, Vaughn?”

  “For what I said, what else? I didn’t mean it. It just came out.”

  “Sounds like you did mean it.” I smiled sadly. “Just not for me to hear.”

  I sat down at his table. Vaughn seemed to ballon with relief as he sat down next to me. It wasn’t deserved. I wasn’t in an absolving mood, just looking to see if there was any reason to not call this relationship quits.

  “I can’t control myself when I get pissed,” he started. “The prick was hurting you, and he didn’t even seem to give a damn. I was too busy trying to keep myself from clocking him to keep a rein on my mouth.”

  “So you’re saying that’s where your thoughts naturally go? To words like that?’

  “Shit. No. That’s not what I meant.”

  I spotted a cup. He’d been drinking a black coffee. My mind flew with the sort of racist nicknames they must have for that in his biker club.

  “You sure?” I asked. “You sure that’s not what you really think?”

  “I don’t want to think that way,” he said. “It’s just too many years of being around this shit.”

  His eyes were mired in his past, picking through some trail that had led here. He wasn’t lying, at least. His whole family was caught up in this stuff. Of course, they’d taught him the language of hate.

  Just cause he had a reason didn’t mean I wanted to be around it, though.

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “What about you?”

  I laid my arms out on the wooden table, soft dark bands against the frayed, cardboard-colored wood. “What words come to you when you don’t rein in your mind about me?”

  He took in the sight of that, confused. “I don’t understand. Pretty? Sexy? Fucking hot?”

  I battered any reaction to that out of my body. “Not me then. What do you think of when you see skin like this?”

  “I…” He shook his head. “Nothing, anymore. Just maybe that it’s dark.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, shaking my arms. “What about before? What words used to come to mind?”

  He rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “Nothing usually, otherwise some stupid shit.”

  “What stupid shit?” I demanded.

  He frowned into my face. “What do you want to hear, Meagan? That I come from a fucked up past? That I’m a racist piece of shit? I was. Maybe I still am. I’m working on it alright?”

  “That ain’t good enough.”

  “No? Well what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I’m trying but that doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna slip up here and there.”

  “Vaughn…the way you looked. The way you spoke. I’ve never seen so much acid in a voice. It’s like he was less than human to you. It was like you wanted that word to destroy him.”

  He’d started to sip at his coffee, but he slammed the cup down. “He is a piece of shit to me. He beat you, Meagan. You forget that? That’s why you called me here. Cause he’s subhuman garbage.”

  His entire face had gone dark with anger and I reeled back. “Fine, but not in the way that word implied.”

  “It was what I had locked and loaded. Did you forget that I was standing up for you? That I was angry for you?”

  “I know, but-”

  “You’re right, I would have loved to destroy that spineless yuppie asshole. I would have loved to give him a taste of his medicine. But instead, I came here and sat quietly sipping at this shitty overpriced coffee-” He crushed the paper cup and let the coffee stain him like blood. “I drank and I stayed quiet so you could have a nice friendly chat about moving next to him.”

  I snorted. “Really? You were listening and that’s what you got? Don’t tell me you’re the jealous type.”

  “Oh, sorry if I got a little overzealous when I see a man lay hands on my girl.” He snorted.

  “Stop changing the topic. I’m not angry cause you stood up.”

  “I raced over here, you know,” Vaughn said. “My brother needed me, but I left him because you needed me. That’s what I did for you.”

  Something in my mind hardened. “Well, you can just head on back to them now.”

  Vaughn’s mouth tipped down. “That’s cold
.”

  “What? I’m not taking you into my bed tonight. Isn’t that what you came here for?”

  His eyes crinkled. Sweet Jesus, why had I said that? I knew it wasn’t true. The silence ticked on though, and I couldn’t press the apology through my lips.

  “Alright,” he said. “I’ll head back. I came here to keep you safe, and now you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  He stood and shoved the chair in roughly. “I got what I wanted,” he said. “Did you?”

  I watched him pass through the two sets of doors, out and onto the street, until his dark jacket disappeared behind some cars.

  My eyes teared up. I sat blinking in the dimming light. Yeah, I sure got what I wanted. What a perfect fucking night.

  *****

  The gym echoed with shouts and muffled thuds. I sat on the bench, watching as a lanky kid half my brother’s size tried to land a gloved hand into his stomach.

  “Twist when you punch, Tyrell,” Darryl shouted.

  The boy punched again, but he was trying to beat down a wall. A couple of the other boys seated on the mat coughed foul names under their breath, and more snickered. Darryl stopped the practice and called up the two instigators. He made them practice on each other. They were no better than they guy they were making fun of - just maybe twice as insecure. That’s what it usually amounted to.

  Darryl paired the kids off to practice putting their hips into their punches then came and sat by me.

  “You ever worry that you’re just teaching them to be better gang members?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Na, not really. Street gangs are an alternative to discipline. Besides, maybe if they can throw a solid punch, they won’t go reaching for their piece instead.”

  “Teaching them to fight nicer. I guess that’s a start.”

  He played it off casual, but I knew he cared about these kids. This program had an effect and he kept a constant tab on his graduates.

  “You want to take a few shots?” Darryl asked, in between chugs of a sports drink. “I can lace up some gloves, get you in there.”

  “Pass.”

  “Damn, thought you had a change of heart coming here and all. You hate my gym.”

  “I don’t…hate it.” I forced a smile at the bleak windowless concrete walls and the tray lights swinging overhead. “It’s just not the sort of place I’d want to hang out.”

  “I told you we could meet up for dinner.” He chewed on his lips. “Don’t have anything to do until then?”

  “I finished my paper.”

  “Right, cause that’s what I was talking about.”

  I clenched the bench, stiff as a makeshift seat-back. I knew what he meant. Heck, even thinking about the paper reminded me of Vaughn and his not-tiny input. We hadn’t talked in a couple days. I didn’t think it was so serious, but the time dragged on and I couldn’t be 100% sure anymore.

  It didn’t mean I was ready to call him. He’d screamed out a slur then got angry and stormed out. Why did I have to apologize for that?

  “What happened?” Darryl asked. “Thought he was so solid the nazi symbols on him didn’t even matter?”

  “Well, turns out they did. It’s deeper than just ink on skin.”

  Darryl snorted and watched his students batter each other a bit. “Most of these kids already got tats. You think they do it for fun?”

  I gazed at the scrolls of ink racing down his arm: thorns and latin and sigils. I remembered the days he would come home with a new one. The ink would still be shiny and fresh, and his skin would be a purple badge around each mark.

  “I know he chose to bear all that,” I said. “I just figured it was cause of his family. Or his club family. I didn’t think it was him.”

  “What does family do other than rub off on each other?” He nudged my chin with a gloved hand.

  I shot my brother a look. “You didn’t rub off on me.”

  “Oh, no? Who taught you how to ride a motorbike?”

  “Pfft, there’s nothing to that but throwing one leg over either side.” My mind flashed an image of Vaughn and I shrank away in a bloom of embarrassment and heat.

  “Alright, alright.” Darryl shouted at a pair of boys, then offered instructions at another before turning back to me. “Where do you think you got that sharp tongue from?”

  “From you? I don’t go screaming at people.”

  “No, but I do. You learned to cut me down with your words when I got in my moods.”

  I rolled my eyes, but it was true. Darryl would come home seeing red some days, and I would sit there, slicing up the other dude in the ring - or sometimes Darryl - until he calmed down.

  “But that’s not the same. I complemented your personality. Vaughn was just parroting stuff his brother would say. Saying the exact same stuff.”

  “Yeah well, family can be like that too. They can push or pull. It’s like magnets facing the same way or opposite, but never nothing.”

  I dangled my legs like a little girl. I’d known what Vaughn was, or at least I’d told myself I knew. Maybe I didn’t quite get how deep he’d been with his club. But damn, did that excuse him? I wasn’t being a child here.

  Darryl’s hand landed on my shoulder. “You gonna me tell me what went down?”

  I glanced at him a couple times, before deciding what the hell. If it made him think Vaughn was even more trash, then at least I’d be in the right.

  I launched into the story, not leaving out a single detail of the night. Darryl’s face crunched to a scowl halfway through and stayed there.

  “Rico hit you?” he asked after a bit of silence.

  Oh crap. My mind wasn’t working straight. “Uh, yeah. Just the once. That’s why I left.”

  “Why didn’t you…What did…” He sighed like a hurricane and shook his head. “God, that fucking prick.”

  “Darryl, he’s gone. It’s ok. I’m ok.”

  He was still glowering as he met my eyes, but I rubbed his back till he unclenched.

  “So he went for you and Vaughn got him off, then told him off. Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He said ‘spic.’”

  I looked around embarrassed. “Jeez, some of these kids are part latin right?”

  “They’ve heard worse. Besides they can tell if it’s aimed at anyone.”

  None of the kids were paying us much attention. “I guess.”

  “So Vaughn got angry and he shouted a slur.” Darryl looked off at some corner then came back. “You ever consider that the reason he said what he said… was cause you remind him of family?”

  I nearly choked on my breath. “What?”

  “I don’t know how. Maybe cause he was protective like you were family. Maybe cause he felt comfortable around you like family. Either way, it let him let loosen up and say what came to mind.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. Mostly cause it seemed awfully close to the truth. I shook the thought from my head. “You would never say that.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. But I wasn’t a white boy raised by fucking Nazis.”

  I didn’t say anything for awhile, and Darryl looked out upon his class. After a while, he started to chuckle. It grew and grew, and then it was a full blown laugh. Some of the students were looking at him, but he kept on roaring.

  “It’s not that funny,” I said, feeling more childish by the moment. “I’m still not sure he was right.”

  “That’s what you signed up for girl. What do you want?”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that question. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought about it these past few days.

  But now I was starting to think I might have an answer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Vaughn

  I sat stuffed on a couch in the living room of what I’d once called home. One of Pop’s followers was up in front of about a dozen more, sweating all down his heavy body and running over his speech for the rally. Calix and I had honored seats, while the others crunched down ov
er metal chairs. Pop sat off to the side, watching and grading the speaker like a hawk.

  I let the words slip past my head, while I tried to piece together any more of my past. The walls were still baby blue and the crystal light on the ceiling was still the same delicate floral thing, but that was the last residues of my mother’s touch. Bit by bit, Pop had taken down the furnishings, the framed photos, the cheap and lively paintings that lined the wall. What replaced them was the new life her loss had driven him to.

  The walls lay blanketed in posters now. Like the one of a white family over the words “Will you stand up for your race?” Or another one that had “Raise the Gates” exploding over a US map being flooded over by mud. Even the TV was gone, replaced with more propaganda and icons.

  This place could rightfully be called Pop’s war room now. The dozen people here were all high up in his organization. That is, they had impressive titles and all. Truth was, there weren’t many more planning to join the rally than the ones here now. The Soldiers were twice the size of Pop’s little discussion club. Guess there wasn’t much interest in white nationalism unless it came bundled with fun like riding, drinking and shooting. Not that Pop took much account of the numbers. He ran this place like it was the beginning of a new constitutional convention.

  The guy up front finished rambling on about some injustice about the hate crime system or such nonsense, and the audience clapped and hooted. They sounded loud as hell in this little room, but it was gonna be a damn whisper out in Centennial Park where the rally was being held. The speaker might get a mic, but the audience sure wouldn’t. There was going to be a lot more people booing than us cheering.

  Us. Yeah, right.

  I’d never much cared for these things, but I’d been ok to stand silent forming the honor guard inside the cop line doing the real protecting. Silence wasn’t quiet enough now, was it? Just showing up was affront enough.

  Assuming there was still someone left in my life to be offended.

  Meagan hadn’t called and I had let it be. I had been a dumbass, but not on purpose. That was for her to see, not me to justify.