Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2)

by Hayley Faiman

  I don’t even want to think about Bates doing something illegal for me. Something that could take him away from me. I wouldn’t survive it. God, I am so pathetic and needy. I can’t allow myself to feel this way—ever again. But I don’t know how to stop it.

  I quickly shower and pack a small overnight bag before I dress in a pair of cream shorts and a dark blue tank top. I feel lighter today than I have since I was a teenager. I can feel Scotty’s heavy cloud of doom lifting away from me, and it makes me smile as I style my hair in the mirror.

  Having Bates in my life again is a wonderful thing. Even if nothing ever develops between us, I’m just thankful to be away from Scotty—to have Stella away from that horrible man. I hope that whatever this attorney says today, I can have some reassurance that Stella will be safe. In the end, she’s the only one that truly matters to me.

  I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder before walking into the living room. I expect to see Stella sitting in front of the television watching a movie and Bates in the kitchen, maybe. What I don’t expect to see is Stella and Bates sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and talking.

  “I wike your big muscles,” Stella whispers as she stares at Bates’ bulging bicep in awe.

  Jesus, I like his big muscles, too. In fact, I’d like to trace them with my tongue.

  “Thanks, malyshka,” he murmurs gently.

  “How much do you eat to have muscles that big? Mama says I have to eat to get stwong,” she explains. I put my hand in front of my mouth to keep from giggling at her question.

  “A lot. I eat a lot. It took me a long time to grow,” he explains to my sweet girl.

  “Wow,” she says, still in awe.

  I take a step toward them and Bates’ head pops up to see me in the kitchen. His eyes soften as they graze over my body. I feel the heat from his gaze touch all of my exposed skin, as if his fingers are touching me instead of his eyes.

  It’s too much.

  The lingering looks are already driving me into sexual overdrive, and I’m only on day two of living with him. I can’t let this happen between us. I’m not the same sweet girl I was at fourteen; and by the haunting look in his eyes, he is nowhere near the boy-man he was back then, either.

  It will never work between us. At one time, he was the only man I ever knew. He wouldn’t want me now if he knew the truth, if he knew how many men I have been with since he left me. Maybe I’ll tell him so that he can get rid of this infatuation he seems to have with me.

  “Ready, babe?” Bates asks, breaking me of my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I murmur as I take a step toward Stella. “Time to get dressed sweet girl.”

  I take Stella by the hand and lead her into the brand new princess bedroom, which Bates went over and above on, and I dress her quickly. I can’t look at the décor in this space. The gestures are too sweet, too soft, too perfect. If I even think about the kind hearted way he took us shopping last night, or the way his eyes lit up every time Stella got excited about any little thing in the store—I’ll throw myself at him.

  Once I dress Stella and pack her a little overnight bag, we walk hand-in-hand into the living room to wait for Fury and Kentlee. I hold my breath as Bates steps toward me, his big body crowding my space, making my stomach quiver with want.

  God, I want him so badly.

  I want him more than anything I have ever wanted in my life, but I know one taste will never do. I’ll want to keep him and then he’ll break me again. I’m destined to be the girl who is forever broken. I don’t deserve his kindness, his lust, or his affections. If he only knew. If he only knew the truth.

  I jump when there is a loud pounding on the door and watch in shock when Bates pulls a gun out from the waistband of his jeans. He holds his finger in front of his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. I squeeze Stella’s hand and look down to see that she is staring at Bates with awe. I tip my head to the side and watch as Bates looks through the peephole. His shoulders immediately relax.

  I let out the breath I had been holding with relief when the door swings open and Fury’s huge body fills the space. For an older guy, he’s smokin’ hot. Scary as shit, but smokin’. Less than thirty seconds later, I watch as my sister squeezes past him and starts to run toward me.

  A peace washes over me as Kentlee’s arms wrap around me.

  My big sister.

  A hug from my big sister.

  Timeless and epic all wrapped together.

  “Brent,” she whispers as her body shakes.

  She’s shorter than I am by at least five inches, but she’s comforting, soft and warm—and home.

  My big sister was my best friend for so long when I was little. I’ve looked up to her my entire life. I wanted to be exactly like her and failed miserably at every single turn. She is the best, bravest woman I have ever known.

  “Kent,” I murmur relishing in her hold.

  “We gotta go,” a gruff voice says from across the room. I lift my head to see Fury standing, uncomfortably, still in the doorway.

  “We’re going to get through all of this, Brent,” Kentlee says, ignoring her husband’s command to leave.

  “I hope so,” I say, not convinced in the slightest that I will survive this split from Scotty.

  “We are. These big assholes won’t have it any other way,” she says with a wide smile.

  I can’t help myself, I break out into a fit of giggles at her words. I hear both Fury and Bates grunt from the other side of the room, but that only makes us laugh harder. The situation isn’t funny by any means, but what’s the saying — laughter is the best medicine.

  I need that medicine like you would not believe.

  Sniper

  Brentlee takes my breath away on a normal day, but when she’s laughing — speechless. I watch as she reunites with her sister. Years in the making. Beauty surrounds them. Not only are they gorgeous women, but this reunion is beautiful as well. I readjust myself just to make sure my cock is still attached, because apparently I’m turning into a woman with all this estrogen that has surrounded me the past two days.

  “We need to jet now,” Fury grumbles beside me. I lift my chin.

  “Girls,” I say, loud enough for them to hear me.

  I focus on Brent and dip my chin. Her back straightens and she solemnly nods before taking Stella’s hand in hers and bringing her a step forward.

  “Stella, this is your Auntie Kentlee,” she announces. Stella looks up at LeeLee in awe and then launches herself at Kentlee’s thighs. She wraps her little arms around Kentlee tightly before she speaks.

  “Thank you for saving my mommy,” Stella whispers.

  Beside me Fury clears his throat and I follow suit. To have Brentlee give thanks is one thing, but to see this tiny malyshka prove her understanding of the situation is a completely different story. It just proves to me that their situation was beyond horrific. It was probably exactly like my own childhood.

  I could be pissed at Brentlee for bringing a baby into that environment, or I could praise her for leaving—something my own mother never did. I could hold my own shit over her, but I wouldn’t do that, not when it’s my fault she was even in that situation.

  Had I never left her, had I come back for her, had I been strong enough to keep her as mine — none of this shit would be happening now. She would have never married that prick. She’d have always been mine. She would have never been hurt and her baby, it would have been my baby, not that piece of shit’s.

  Fury and I gather the girls and put them in his big ass SUV. Normally, I wouldn’t let anybody drive me, anywhere; but I know Kentlee and Brentlee need some time together, and I didn’t want to split them up between vehicles.

  Once we take off down the road toward Boise, I chance a glance back at the girls, at my girls.

  They are mine.

  Stella’s little blonde curls and sweet smile.

  Brentlee’s long, straight, dark hair and lithe body.

  Mine.<
br />
  “You’re fucked, brother,” Fury murmurs beside me. A fact he’s already pointed out to me, just last night.

  “Yup,” I admit.

  “Magic fuckin’ pussy, I swear to Christ,” he chuckles.

  I ignore him. Brentlee’s already made it clear I won’t be getting in there anytime soon. I don’t want to push her, but I don’t want her to friend-zone me either. Something I could easily see her trying. No, I’m giving her a few weeks then I’m stakin’ my claim on her body, and she’s not going to have a fuckin’ choice. I only hope she comes willingly to me. It’ll be a fuck’ve a lot easier than me forcin’ the issue.

  “He’s had someone watching our place. You cannot come over to visit,” I hear Kentlee whispering to Brent in the backseat. It doesn’t ease my mind on the Scotty issue. I want that fucker buried and gone.

  “He won’t give up,” Brentlee says. I can hear the fear in her voice.

  I wish I could tell her to stand up and believe that she’s strong. She is so fuckin’ strong. Her walking out of that door and asking Fury for help, getting herself and her daughter out of that environment, it shows that she has more strength than most women. More strength than my own mother, that’s for fuckin’ sure.

  “Let him come at us guns blazin’,” Fury barks loudly.

  “Pierce,” Kentlee hisses.

  “I ain’t walkin’ on eggshells, baby girl,” he announces. I almost laugh at his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.

  “Well, maybe not in front of the kids then,” Kentlee mutters.

  “Stella knows what she’s seen. She’s not dumb. Just proved that shit not an hour ago. That fuckwad wants to come at me and my family, he’ll get exactly what he’s beggin’ for. No bones about it. Brentlee and Stella are under our protection. They’re family,” he states.

  “Fury,” Brentlee chokes out.

  I can’t look back at her. I can’t see the tears that I know are streaking down her cheeks. Not because of that piece of shit. Not because she has to rely on people for help. Not because she’s penniless and alone. Not because I left her and created this life for her. But because I’m the reason all that fuckin’ shit happened to her. The guilt of it all bubbles inside of me.

  It’s all my fuckin’ fault.

  Every bruise he ever gave her is my own goddamn fucking fault.

  Brentlee

  Everybody is asleep in the car except for Fury and me. Even Bates is passed out with his head against the passenger window and his mouth slightly agape. He looks younger when he’s asleep, softer. Like he hasn’t been through hell and back.

  “You’re teetering on the edge there, darlin’,” Fury rumbles.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, looking down at my hands.

  “You’re thinking about running from him.”

  “I am running from him, you’re helping me,” I say, confused at his words.

  “Not the piece of shit. Sniper. You’ve got it written all over your face. I know the look. I fuckin’ saw that shit in the mirror every day for three goddamn years,” he explains. I exhale shakily at his observation.

  He’s completely correct.

  Bates scares the shit out of me.

  “It would be better if he discovered I wasn’t the one for him. He’s living in the past,” I coolly remark, not believing a damn word of it myself.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bullshit, Brentlee. You’re scared shitless, as you should be. Snipe ain’t the same kid he was before the Marines. I never met that version of him, but I know the man he is now, and sometimes he’s fuckin’ terrifying. You should be scared. But he ain’t gonna let you run from him. You gotta know that, right?”

  I don’t answer him. I can’t. Fury is right. Bates will never just let me run from him. He’s already made it perfectly clear that he wants me, wants a relationship and wants a family. He knows Stella is part of the package and he’s accepting of that, accepting of her, and accepting of us. Pushing him away is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

  “I am scared, but not of Bates. I’m scared of myself,” I admit.

  “Are we there yet?” Bear’s tired voice calls out from the back of the SUV. He’s sleepy and groggy and ready to get the hell out of the car.

  I’m thankful he woke up before I confessed just how scared I truly am for myself. How I fear that once Bates discovers just how I behaved when he left me, he won’t think of me as his sweet Brentlee anymore.

  He’ll discover the disgusting, weak woman I am. The dependent woman. No man as big, strong, and capable as him wants some weak, broken woman at his side.

  “Yeah, buddy, we’re here,” Fury says from the front seat. I watch as everybody rustles around, stretching and yawning with the news.

  We’re in Boise, and now I’m to discover my fate and the fate of my daughter. Will the attorney tell me I’m a lost cause? That I am destined to be under the control of Scotty? And my Stella? Will she be ripped from me and given to that sick fuck?

  “I’ll go with you,” Kentlee offers as we pull in front of the attorney’s office. It’s a big, tall building, and that in and of itself is intimidating.

  “I’m goin’,” Bates announces immediately.

  “No,” I practically yell. “I need to do this on my own.”

  Fury’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and I see what must be his form of pride, possibly, looking back at me. Kentlee wraps her hand around mine and squeezes gently. Bates doesn’t say a word. Instead, he gets out of the car and opens my door for me. He’s too fucking nice. Way too nice for a person like me.

  “Bates,” I say once I step out of the car and close the door. I don’t need anybody else to hear me. I don’t want anybody else to hear me.

  “You ain’t doin’ this alone, Brent. That’s the end of the discussion,” he growls wrapping his hand in mine as he takes a step toward the doors. I plant my feet firmly to the sidewalk and tug my arm back.

  “This is my shit, Bates. My problem. I caused it and I’m going to deal with it by myself,” I yell.

  I look like a crazy person yelling at this bad ass biker in the middle of the sidewalk. He’s in boots, tight jeans, a tighter t-shirt, and his leather cut—I made the mistake of calling it a vest while shopping in Target, and he put me in my place on the proper name for it.

  “This was your shit, you’re right. But you’re mine now, so it’s our shit,” he announces.

  “I’m not yours, Bates,” I counter back.

  I don’t sound convincing, I probably never will when it comes to him. I’ll never convince myself that I don’t belong to him, because I’ve belonged to him since I was fourteen years old.

  “You’re mine. Been mine since I laid eyes on you over ten years ago. I gave you your first kiss, your first orgasm, and I popped your cherry Brent. Ain’t no other woman on this earth that’s made for me but you, tigritsa,” he murmurs as his nose slides alongside mine.

  Fuck, I have no will power. None. Not when he’s close, not when he slides his hands to grab my hips and hold me. Not when his scent surrounds me and his breath fans my face. I melt close to him, pressing my chest against his and tipping my head back to look up and into his eyes.

  Fuck.

  Those eyes.

  Those beautiful, haunted eyes.

  “Okay,” I say breathlessly.

  “There’s my girl,” he murmurs before he takes his thumb and sweeps it across my bottom lip. I almost touch my tongue to it, just for a taste, but I refrain.

  One taste wouldn’t be enough.

  “Now, let’s go and get this shit done with. Fury and LeeLee are going to take the kids out for some food then we’ll all crash before an exciting day at the fuckin’ zoo tomorrow,” Bates grumbles. For some reason, picturing him and Fury at the zoo makes me giggle.

  They’ll be at one with their animal brethren.

  “C’mon,” Bates mutters, throwing his arm over my shoulders as we walk toward the big glas
s doors of the attorney’s office.

  Walking inside of the building makes me all too aware that I am not dressed properly. Scotty would be furious if he knew I was out in public, let alone walking into a meeting wearing shorts and a tank top. I should care, I really should, but I don’t. I’m a mess from the inside out. I don’t have to pretend to be anything I’m not anymore.

  Maybe I’ll just allow myself to be a mess for a while.

  We walk up to the receptionist’s counter and the perfectly coifed woman behind it widens her eyes in surprise. She must not see bikers and disheveled homeless looking women in here too often. She opens her mouth to speak, but Bates is faster.

  “Here to see Stan Jones,” he grunts. She presses her red painted lips together with suspicion.

  “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Jones?” she asks.

  “Nope. But Brentlee Johnson does,” he says.

  “Brentlee Corbin,” I correct before I hear him grunt next to me.

  “I’ll call Mr. Jones and let him know you’re here,” she murmurs, picking up her phone.

  I step back from the desk and walk over to the reception area. I can’t sit down, I’ve been sitting in the car for hours, but I can’t stand still either. So I pace.

  “Mr. Jones will see you now,” the receptionist calls out. Bates stands quickly, wrapping his hand around mine.

  “Calm down, tigritsa,” he rasps against my neck before placing a gentle kiss there.

  We walk toward the elevator and I hold my breath all the way up to the fifth floor. Once the doors open I see — Family Law — printed in bold letters on the wall. I never thought my life would come down to this. Hiding from an abusive piece of shit and visiting an attorney halfway across the state in secret.

  An older, clean cut gentleman with a neatly pressed suit is waiting as soon as we turn the corner. He has gray hair and kind, rich brown eyes. I watch as he smiles and brings his hand out to greet us.