Split - Coffin Nails MC (Contemporary New Adult Erotic Dark Romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 7)

by Merikan, Miss

  Lucky looked up from above a magazine. As long as he didn’t talk and move, he looked like a regular headbanger, maybe a little young. He was wearing a Megadeth T-shirt, tall combat boots, and ripped jeans, not exactly what Hunter would expect from a gay guy. Maybe there was a flower-printed G-string somewhere under the denim, but Hunter wouldn’t let his thoughts linger on that idea. Somehow, he doubted it.

  Lucky put down the magazine and casually pointed his index finger at Hunter. “Wait, you’re one of the new patches, right?”

  Hunter held out his hand. “Yeah, I’m Hunter.”

  Lucky introduced himself as well, but his eyes quickly skimmed over Hunter’s face in a way that felt uncomfortably like petting. “Are you here for a shave?”

  “My hair’s getting shaggy. I heard you’d know how to make it better.” And it’s good to meet the prez’s son and all that, since I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

  Lucky’s eyes twinkled, as if the perspective of touching a man’s head was making him giddy. And sure enough, as soon as Hunter was in the seat, Lucky’s fingers dove into his hair, pulling on it gently and separating the strands as they talked. Turned out Lucky’s real name was Lucifer, and that seemed to be a theme in that family, considering Astaroth’s own name. Lucky’s mouth wouldn’t close for a minute as he talked about options to help with Hunter’s imaginary problem. The mission to suck information out of him was failing so far.

  “Is Priest really a Satanist?” Hunter was surprised to feel so at ease around Lucky, since he’d never met an out gay guy before. Both his religious side of the family and the outlaw one always pushed the idea that homosexuality was wrong, sinful. But after running away from home at sixteen, Hunter generally thought people should do whatever they damn well pleased, as long as they had the balls to back it up. Not that he’d have ever mentioned that to his late uncle, unless he wanted to get a smack.

  Lucifer pulled a comb through Hunter’s hair and nodded. “He is. Dolly, his wife, always thought it gave him an advantage in the lifestyle he chose. You know, that the Dark One would protect him.”

  Hunter closed his eyes, but as soon as he did so, that night at the church with Astaroth appeared under his eyelids. “Does he do, like, rituals? Do the other guys in the club participate?”

  “No, I think it’s more like a philosophy to him. You know, each person is their own god, and so on. But Dolly was a real demon worshipper. She looked the part too.”

  “Oh, did she? Like your sister?”

  Lucky looked up, and his bright eyes met Hunter’s in the mirror. “Why, did she talk to you about it at the party?”

  “No, just thinking out loud. Nuns, they save themselves for Jesus, right? So, does she only love Satan, or something like that?”

  Lucky blinked and then burst out laughing, squeezing his hands on Hunter’s shoulders. “What? Why? Do you want to lure her out into the light? Maybe you should just ask for her number.”

  Hunter couldn’t help a grin. “You think she’d be up for that?”

  “Maybe,” teased Lucky, wiggling his eyebrows. He was clearly eager to set his sister up, with or without her approval.

  “What’s the type of guy she goes for?” Hunter asked.

  Lucky grinned and gently massaged Hunter’s shoulders, sending him deeper into the chair. “You know, long hair, hot, tall ...”

  Heat rose in Hunter’s face, as he had no idea how to get out of this without offending Lucky, but the bell at the door saved him, and the warm hands were gone. But when he looked in the mirror, relief drained out of him like oil from a damaged bike. Tooth’s powerful presence filled the barbershop the moment he opened the door. Long dark hair and a thick beard framed the stern face of the Coffin Nails vice president, making him look like a wild caveman dressed up in cotton and leather. His boots thumped against the floor as he scrutinized the two of them with a deep frown. Hunter didn’t like that look from someone whose nickname came from his proficiency in torturing people by working on their teeth.

  “I didn’t expect you here,” said Tooth and sat in the other barbering chair, as if it was reserved for his use.

  Hunter gave Tooth a nod. “Thought I’d check out the neighborhood since I’ll be staying here for a while.” He was not about to be intimidated.

  Lucky gravitated toward Tooth and stroked his shoulder before walking over to the coffee machine.

  Tooth leaned back in the chair, his gaze pinning Hunter to the seat. “Weren’t you guys against the patch over because of me? And now you’re visiting Lucky?”

  “I wanna understand the way of the gay.” Hunter snorted but neither Tooth nor Lucky laughed, so he coughed and went on. “I mean … Not all the guys were against it. I wasn’t. I was actually going to ask Lucky how you two met.”

  Tooth glanced at Lucky and accepted a steaming cup from him. “He’s the son of my club president. There isn’t much secret to it,” he said, leaning his head back to look at Lucky as the same hands that earlier made Hunter so uncomfortable slid under Tooth’s jaw and into the beard.

  “We just hit it off,” said Lucky with a smile.

  “Why are you asking? You don’t know us,” added Tooth, sending Hunter a glance so full of mistrust that it was surprising the Nails had Hunter and Ray stay at their headquarters in the first place.

  Hunter groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Just making conversation. Fuck me, you’re touchy. We can change the subject. So, Priest is fine with his kids dating? He’s not some weirdo dad who tries to claim his kids as his precious?”

  Tooth exhaled, letting his body slump as Lucky moistened and soaped up his beard. “Are you after Astaroth? Because Priest will skin you if you lay one finger on her. She’s everybody’s little sister here, so if I were you, I’d stick to hangarounds.”

  Lucky’s mouth pressed together, and he must have pulled on the now foamed-up hair, because Tooth blinked and gave him a mean glance. “She’s an adult woman. Priest can’t tell her what she should and what she shouldn’t do.”

  “She looks grown up to me,” Hunter muttered, but he got serious the moment he saw Astaroth in the mirror behind him.

  She looked like a goddess even out of the church, away from the strange markings on the floor and candlelight. Her pristinely pale skin made her soft, delicate features pop, and the skinny jeans and a tight shirt showing from underneath a black crop top stressed her lithe figure. Seeing her again only made Hunter’s memories of having her underneath his body come alive again.

  “Are you talking about me?” she asked in a low voice, and Tooth immediately looked at the mirror and scratched his nose, as if he hadn’t participated in the discussion.

  “You’re Priest’s daughter, Astaroth, right?” Hunter gave her a polite smile and turned around in the chair despite his hair being slightly damp. “I’m Hunter.” He held out his hand.

  “Didn’t you two talk about the occult yesterday?” asked Lucky before pulling Tooth’s hair back and pushing him forward so he would lean over the washing space in front of the chair.

  Astaroth scowled, and even that looked attractive with a mouth as pretty as hers. “No. We didn’t,” she said and gave Hunter a short nod. Her gaze went everywhere but to his face.

  “I hear that your dad flays your potential dates, is that true?” Hunter pushed on despite lack of answer, drawn into her tangled web yet again.

  “Yes,” she said without blinking. “And we feed their meat to the goat.”

  Tooth smirked, but Lucky didn’t let him say anything and started washing the soap out of his beard.

  “She’s not always this rude,” Lucky said and squinted at her.

  “Nah, it’s fine.” Hunter waved his hand and got up, never taking his eyes off her. “I think that’s kinda hot. Can’t get more naked than being flayed.”

  Asty crossed her arms on her chest. “Good luck. I hear they still do that in some places. Maybe you should emigrate?”

  Lucky grinned. “The sense of humor runs in the f
amily.”

  Hunter’s smile widened, and he nodded at Astaroth. “Just think what our kids would be like.”

  Tooth grumbled through the water Lucky was still splashing into his face. “That’s enough.”

  “I’m busy,” said Astaroth, and contrary to what she was saying, she walked up to the coffee machine.

  “Don’t be, maybe you two could hang out at that cafe nearby. Hunter was telling me he’d like to talk to you about cards. He wants his future foretold—” started Lucky, but his boyfriend cut him off.

  “That’s enough,” hissed Tooth, and he sat up with water streaming onto his shirt from the wet beard. “You don’t want to be on my radar.”

  Truth be told, Hunter didn’t, but he’d still risk it to fuck Astaroth again. In a way, the sex was magical. When they connected, she made him feel like he could conquer the world.

  Hunter looked at his phone when it beeped and was annoyed to see a text from Ray, which read, “Come over to the Vanilla Lounge, I got some important shit.”

  “I’m good. I know my future. How much do I owe you for the treatment?”

  Lucky shrugged and moved a longing stare between Hunter and Astaroth. “It’s on the house. I barely did anything.”

  “See you soon,” said Tooth, wiping himself with a towel, and it sounded just as threatening as the promise of Hunter being on his radar.

  Hunter nodded at his new VP, and as he passed Astaroth by the coffee machine, he discreetly put the tarot card he stole from her a few days back on the table. The Lovers.

  That was his future.

  Hunter

  Hunter parked his bike in front of the cream-colored building with tacky columns and pictures of women in lingerie painted under plaster arches. With its fresh colors and bright neon signs depicting pole dancers, the Vanilla Lounge looked like it had been recently renovated. There were only a couple of vehicles in the parking lot, but Hunter wasn’t surprised considering it was barely past mid-day.

  He wasn’t too fond of strip clubs, as it always irked him to think women would be paid to do sexual stuff with him. Sadly, they were also among Ray’s favorite places, and so from time to time, Hunter found himself entering a dark room with a brightly lit stage where girls who weren’t even his type danced for a bunch of geezers and creeps.

  He spotted Ray at a little plastic table by the stage, watching a peroxide blonde shake her fake tits. The sight immediately made Hunter think back to Astaroth’s big brown eyes and her dusky nipples.

  “Over here!” Ray yelled from afar and waved despite Hunter already approaching.

  Hunter looked at the blonde, who winked at him before leaning back against the pole and sliding all the way down, spreading her knees to expose a strap of fabric that dug in between her pussy lips.

  “What’s up?” asked Hunter as he sat next to Ray, focusing his attention on his cousin’s face. He hated how these places were always so thick with cigarette smoke that it felt like entering the seventh circle of hell, where the violent were burning in fire and blood. The stench was so prominent it made him want to kick his own habit, though those resolutions only lasted until the need for a smoke struck Hunter again.

  Ray grinned and took a swig of beer, watching the stage like a sated tiger. “I thought we should talk. Come up with a plan, you know.”

  Hunter raised his eyebrows and ordered a drink from a waitress in a skimpy red dress. “Like, how not to die this year?”

  Ray laughed, and his voice carried even through the loud beat of the electronic music. “We need to think how to approach that sonofabitch who killed our own blood. All those traitors in our former club can go fuck themselves if they’d rather be Coffin Nails than act loyal.”

  Hunter groaned and leaned over the table, as he took his time to answer, stealing a glance at the blonde. Yep, Astaroth was hotter.

  “We need to be rational,” he finally said. “Take this slow, get to know the enemy …” He hoped that taking their time would make Ray cool off. “Head was the one to antagonize the Nails, went behind the Hogs’ back. No wonder the guys aren’t all that eager to start another war. No one wants to die. No one wants to kill.”

  Ray stilled with his eyes on the girl, but a second later, they darted to Hunter, sharp as razors. “It’s your uncle and my father we’re talking about. I want to feel their blood on my face for what they did. And for what? For a fucking pervert!” he spat out, leaning toward Hunter, already tense like a cornered bulldog.

  Hunter shook his head and took a deep breath, not ready for this conversation after quite a nice, if awkward, morning. “Listen to yourself. You really want to kill some of these guys? There’s no going back from that. There’s a reason it’s one of the biggest sins. If you can avoid it, you should. It will weigh on you. They will then retaliate, and you will die. To be perfectly fucking honest, no, I don’t want to make a plan for killing anyone.”

  Ray stared back at him, not even paying attention to the stripper anymore. He kept silent as the waitress came back with Hunter’s beer, but the moment she was gone, Ray shifted so far into Hunter’s personal space, it was making him uncomfortable. “Sins? Are you stupid?” hissed Ray, grabbing the front of Hunter’s shirt and pulling him forward. “Don’t you remember anymore who took you in when your fucked-up family chose Jesus over you? They deserted their own kid, and somehow the sky didn’t fall on them. My dad fed you, gave you a home, and you will just let this go? He’d be so fucking ashamed of you!”

  Head also beat Hunter black and blue whenever he felt it was “necessary,” forbade him from going back to high school, smashed his cello, and pulled him into a life around the club that wasn’t all pussy and roses. Hunter had done quite a few things he wasn’t proud of because of Head, and a homophobic vendetta against the Coffin Nails was the least of them. Sure, Hunter could have ended up homeless after he told his family he didn’t feel there was a God and they staged an intervention that was basically an ultimatum of: “you can’t stay under our roof unless you accept Jesus into your heart” and a lot of crying on his mom’s part. And it wouldn’t have been easy to be on the streets of Detroit at sixteen, especially in winter. Hunter’s cello wouldn’t have saved him, and he would have turned to a life of crime anyway.

  With Head and Ray, he at least had a lifeline—something to fall back on and someone to depend on when shit hit the fan. And then the other Hogs were a kind of support as well. Someone would always know someone who was a mechanic, or a doctor, or someone who had a dentist daughter who would see Hunter in the middle of the night after he’d had his tooth broken in a fight. It wasn’t safe to be alone.

  Hunter took a deep breath. “Don’t you ever wonder though? About hell? Isn’t it better to be on the safe side and at least not kill people?”

  Ray snorted, his eyes cool as ice. “You’re a fucking coward. Must run in your side of the family. What next? You become a priest yourself? Stay celibate?”

  “It’s not cowardly to think things through, you asshole. You have a death wish or something?” Hunter hissed and leaned back, wrapping his arms on his chest. He wouldn’t waste his breath on someone who didn’t have enough brains to question the world around him.

  Ray shrugged. “I’m not stupid. They’re not gonna suspect it was me, so the plan needs to be foolproof. Doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but I am gonna break Priest’s neck and sprinkle his blood over Head’s grave,” he muttered and downed his beer in a few chugs.

  “We’ll need to make sure it’s a good plan,” Hunter said, even though he didn’t feel particularly eager to join in. Despite having rejected the idea of God in his teens after growing up in a house as religious as his, there was still that flicker in him that asked, “what if?”

  “Yeah. We have time to regroup and think of something in the meanwhile.” Ray looked up at the stage and tapped his empty bottle. “His daughter would be up for a tape after some convincing. Just think of how humiliated he’d be if that kind of shit came out.”

  Hunter
stilled, surprised by how visceral his own reaction was. He had to hold back his fists to not bring too much attention to the fact that he didn’t want to see Astaroth hurt. And he didn’t want her on tape either. He wanted her naked and moaning his name.

  “How about you stop distracting yourself with pussy and think of some actual plan?”

  “That would only be the beginning. All we need is some booze, and she’d go with it. It’s not rocket science,” said Ray, rolling his eyes.

  “You’re not going there,” Hunter growled, looking back at Ray. This wasn’t a game anymore. Ray’s idea was filth, and the thought of treating a girl that way made Hunter cringe. And not just Astaroth, any girl. But to do it to a girl so focused, and so set in her ways, seemed like a double insult. Hunter enjoyed the challenge she presented and wanted to find out more about the ritual he’d taken part in, but not like this.

  “Are you gonna tell on me?” Ray mocked him, and Hunter took a drink of his beer to keep his hands busy. He had always known Ray was a self-centered dick, but this was too much. At least now he wasn’t a sixteen-year-old Catholic school boy against a nineteen-year-old meathead. No, he’d toughened up, been in his share of fights, and in the last few years, when he’d gotten into scuffles with Ray, he’d won most of them to the dumbstruck surprise of his “born and bred Rabid Hog” cousin.

  “No. You go anywhere near her, and I’ll smash your face in.”

  Ray stared at him. “Fuck. Did that skank bewitch you, or something?” At least his resolve to hurt Asty wasn’t nearly as primal as that to kill her father.