Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2)

by Hayley Faiman

  This is the first time I have ever seen Bates resemble his father. It’s terrifying. I don’t want that. Not again. I’ve been there; except Scotty didn’t have an excuse. He didn’t drink, he was just a douche in general.

  “Pax, can you take me home?” I ask.

  “You sure you want to go back there?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

  “He can’t even walk straight. He won’t be coming back tonight.” If ever, I think.

  I promise Kent that I’ll call her in the morning and I leave with Paxton. We don’t speak the whole ride home. I look out the window, watching the darkness fly by, catching a glimpse of a tree every so often.

  “If I could have stopped him, I would have. I hate that he treated you like that,” Paxton says.

  I shake my head. If Paxton was passionate about his feelings for me, he would have stopped him, but he isn’t. Which is fine. I don’t want him to be. I’m not passionate about him, either. He’s my friend, nothing more. Well, he’s a friend I fucked once when we were young, nothing more.

  “It’s fine. It’s your world and your rules.”

  “It’s not fine. He didn’t need to be such a damn dick,” Paxton growls. It makes me laugh.

  “I have a thing for dicks,” I shrug.

  “You really need to pick better men, babe. I’d like to say I wouldn’t be a dick, but let’s be honest here,” he laughs.

  “Thanks for the ride; and thank you for everything last night,” I say softly. Pax wraps his hand around my neck and squeezes lightly.

  “You deserve the best, babe,” he murmurs.

  “So do you,” I whisper.

  “It ain’t you?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

  “No, it’s not me. I’m a damn disaster. I need to get my head on straight before I think about anything. Plus, I have this crazy bastard that thinks he owns me. He’s even tattooed his name on my body,” I smirk.

  “Crazy fuckin’ bikers,” he grunts. I kiss his cheek and thank him for the ride.

  Paxton waits while I walk inside of the house and lock the door behind me. I lean against the door and sigh heavily. What a fucking horrible couple of days. I can’t even wrap my head around everything that has transpired.

  I don’t even want to think about Bates’ crazy, jealous, drunk rant. What a dick. I don’t need that shit in my life. I definitely don’t need it in my daughter’s. Maybe it’s good that I saw it now, rather than later. When he said he’d changed, he was not wrong. Hard liquor is not his friend, and I have no desire to be around him when he’s like that.

  Once I’ve cleaned my face of my thick makeup and have taken a hot shower, I change into a pair of panties and an oversized shirt that smells way too much like Bates. I crawl into bed and I look around at the room. I can’t be around his things and in his home. It will only give him more of a hold over me. I need to be as free of him as possible.

  I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.

  I need to rest.

  I need a few hours of nothingness.

  I need for my brain to shut down. I need a few hours just to breathe.

  The future terrifies me.

  I have no clue what’s coming, and it seems like something new is being thrown at me at every single turn in my road.

  Sniper

  I blink my eyes open and look around. Fuck, it’s daytime already. I grab my phone and try to focus on the numbers. It’s noon, on a Friday. Too bad it’s a week later than I thought it was. I’ve lost a whole fucking week, and I have no clue what happened in that timeframe. I scrub my hand over my face. My beard is longer and my hair is probably a fucking train wreck.

  I stumble into the bathroom down the hall from my room and step into the shower. I turn the water on cold. I need to sober the fuck up. I wash quickly then get out.

  I walk back to my room and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before sliding my cut on. I’ve probably missed at least one church meeting, and god knows what the fuck else. I don’t give much of a fuck. My hand itches to grab the bottle of Jack on the floor, and that’s how Fury finds me after he slams my door open.

  “My office, now,” he barks. There’s nothing friendly in his tone. He’s fuckin’ pissed.

  I follow behind him quietly. I know when to shut up, and now’s the time.

  “Sit the fuck down,” he barks as I walk through the door. He closes the door behind him and flips the lock.

  “What’s up?” I ask, knowing damn well what’s up.

  “You’re a pussy,” he says, his gray eyes focused on me. They’re swimming with anger and it pisses me off.

  “Fuck you, man,” I say. In this office, in this conversation, this is my friend—not my president.

  “You fight like hell for her and then you bounce? What the fuck man? Don’t even get me started on that shit that happened at the BBQ. Do you know how long it took me to talk Kentlee out of barging into your room and sawing your nuts off with a dull knife?”

  Instinctually, I grab my balls at the thought and hiss.

  “She don’t need me,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

  “But you don’t want her with anyone else. That makes perfect fuckin’ sense.” He rolls his eyes and anger creeps up my neck.

  “It’s complicated. I killed her husband. In front of her. No hesitation. I didn’t even fuckin’ blink. And you know what? I haven’t even thought twice about it. That piece of shit deserved to die. But all that did was show her what kind of monster I am,” I say, looking down at my boots.

  “So you’re making decisions for her, then?” he asks, repeating my words from year ago. I look up to him and he grins. “You need to get your head on straight. You think I deserve Kent? You think Vault deserves sweet little Rosie? Fuck no, we don’t. But pushing her away—you ain’t a martyr, man. Don’t make yourself and Brent miserable because of some fuckin’ pedestal you have her on.

  “And if you’re really done with the bitch, cut her loose. Torch wants in there somethin’ fierce, but he ain’t gonna step on the brotherhood—on you. He respects you too much for all that shit. You can’t keep her at arm’s length, it ain’t fair to you, to her, or to Stella. And for fuck’s sake, if you want her back you better go back crawling, that shit was not cool.”

  I look at my friend. Fuck, I’m a prick. I’m the biggest kind of prick. I’ve abandoned not only Brentlee, but Stella, too. Because of my own issues. They didn’t do one thing to deserve any of it. Not one thing, except love me.

  “I see it’s sinkin’ in how much you fucked up, brother.”

  “I fucked up. Fuck, the way I was at the BBQ? I acted just like my old man,” I confess. Fury nods.

  “You did. But you didn’t do anything you can’t apologize for later,” he says. I grimace.

  “The fuck did you do?” he asks.

  “Made sure Brentlee saw Star suckin’ my dick,” I begin. Fury clears his throat. “About twenty minutes after I blew her husband’s brains out,” I finish.

  “When you fuck up, you do it big,” he whistles. I nod. “It might take you a minute, but you’ll get her back. Before you even try, sober the fuck up, and make sure she’s exactly what you want. I can’t survive any more family fuckin’ drama. My woman’s been way too involved in this shit, and she’s stressin’ me out about it. I honestly don’t give a fuck what you all do, but Kentlee does, and I want my baby girl happy—so fix this shit,” he barks. He then lifts his chin toward the door, signaling that our meeting is officially over.

  “I’ll fix it, brother,” I murmur as I leave the office.

  I walk into the clubhouse and instead of going toward the bar, I detour to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Fury’s right. I need to sober up. I don’t want to become my father. I’ve worked way too fuckin’ hard to be everything he isn’t to throw it away now. I hear footsteps enter the room. I turn around and see Torch standing a few feet away.

  “We cool?” Torch asks as I remove the cap and take a gulp of the cool liquid.

&nbs
p; “You gonna try to fuck my woman again?” I ask.

  “You gonna cut her loose?” he returns, arching a brow.

  “Fuck no.”

  “You gonna fight for her, get her back?” he asks, smirking.

  “Fuck yeah,” I admit, returning his smile with one of my own.

  “Go get her. She’s hurtin’. Don’t give up without a fight,” he says, shaking his head once before he turns to leave.

  “Why’re you bein’ cool? I was a dick to her, and you,” I admit.

  “Don’t get me wrong. You fuck with her again and I’ll get in there so fast, your head’ll spin. But she loves you and I know you love her. Make that shit right, you two look damn good together,” he mutters before he leaves.

  I stand in the kitchen, alone and sober for the first time in at least a week. Maybe longer. I really don’t remember how long it’s been. It feels like a fuckin’ month.

  I’m just tired.

  So fuckin’ tired.

  I miss my woman.

  I miss my kid.

  I miss my house in the country.

  Brentlee

  I look at my phone for probably the tenth time. Every time I try to call my brother, I cancel the call. He doesn’t need my shit showing up on his front porch. I haven’t even talked to him since leaving Scotty. He’s broken away from our dysfunctional family, and I should just leave him alone and let him live his life.

  I shake my head and continue folding laundry. I’ve never cleaned so much in all of my life. Bates’ house sparkles, and every piece of laundry is clean and folded, aside from what I’m working on and what’s on Stella’s and my body.

  I sigh as I load the clean, folded laundry in the basket and pick it up to head down the hall to Stella’s room. She isn’t home. Kentlee took one look at the dark circles under my eyes this morning during our coffee date and snatched my baby from me.

  I’m supposed to be taking a nap, resting, per her orders, but I can’t do it. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I see Bates and the look of indifference that crossed his face. I don’t want to think about him, but I can’t help myself. When I close my eyes, he’s all I see. I hate it.

  I hum as I put Stella’s laundry away, trying not to think about the clusterfuck that is my life. I need to move soon. I can’t stay here at his house. Though he hasn’t been back, I just can’t be here. I can’t see his things and smell his smell without going completely crazy.

  Once I have her clothes put away, I turn around and scream bloody murder. Not that anybody would hear me, there’s nobody around for miles. The basket falls to the floor and my eyes collide with the gorgeous face I have been dreaming of and dreading to see again.

  “Brentlee,” he rasps.

  I don’t move.

  I can’t.

  I want to run to him, to wrap my legs around his waist and bury my face in his neck. But I can’t.

  I’m too fucking broken.

  “No,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.

  “I fucked up,” he practically moans. It breaks my heart.

  I look into his eyes and see nothing but devastation there. It breaks my heart, but not enough to welcome him back with open arms.

  “Yeah, you really did,” I whisper. His eyes shoot to mine, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenching beneath his thick beard. He looks rumpled and unruly, but thank goodness, sober.

  “Tell me how to fix it,” he demands, though his voice is low and even.

  “You can’t. You turned your back and walked away from me again. You embarrassed the hell out of me.”

  I shake my head, unable to look away from him. Memorizing his face, his strong jaw, his furrowed brow, the way his nose slopes and his lips—god his lips, so tempting.

  “You aren’t leaving me,” he grunts, taking a step toward me just as I take a step backward.

  “I wasn’t the one who left,” I say. He stops in his tracks and gives me a slight nod before he opens his mouth to speak.

  “You don’t know where my head was at, baby. Let me tell you. Let me explain,” he pleads.

  I don’t say a word; I walk right past him. I can’t do this in Stella’s room. I can’t look at her gorgeous furniture and bedding and have the memories of how sweet this man can be surrounding me. If I do, I’ll make a decision based on emotion and not based off of what I know. I hear him following behind me and I stop in the middle of the living room and turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. I need protection, and my arms are all I have.

  “Explain. Explain turning away from me when I needed you; explain why Star was sucking your cock two seconds later; explain why you humiliated me in front of your friends? Because from where I stand, there’s not a damn excuse good enough to warrant all you’ve done.” I demand.

  Bates looks at me, regret shining in his eyes, and I’m glad; but it doesn’t change a thing. He did all of those things. He can swim in regret—drown in it for all I care.

  I’m angry, hurt, and sad.

  Nothing he could tell me would make me change my mind at this point. Maybe after I calm my racing heart. Maybe after I think about whatever it is he’ll explain. Maybe after I miss him a little more. But right now—I hate him.

  “I killed a man in front of you. I covered you in his blood, Brentlee. And you know what? I didn’t feel a fuckin’ thing when I pulled that trigger. Not remorse, not sadness, not adrenaline, not anger, not regret. Not a single fucking thing. I never do. Killing means nothing but the end of the man breathing my air. How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I? Do you really want my blood soaked hands all over you?” he shouts before he runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends.

  “I made you dirty, baby. You watched as I ended a life. Doesn’t even matter who it was, you should have never seen that shit. Not ever. I’m going to hell when this life is over, there’s no hope for me. You’re too fuckin’ good for me, and that’s the truth of it. Whores like Star are what I deserve. I was letting you go, saving you.” He groans.

  Obviously his head and heart are at war with each other, and all I want to do is wrap him in my arms. But I can’t. Not when I still have questions that I need answered.

  “Then why humiliate me?” I ask.

  “Because no matter what I think is best for you, my jealousy and my heart never want to let you go. You’re my tigritsa,” he murmurs.

  “I can’t just let you back in, Bates. You devastated me. You did exactly what I feared. You let me go. Without a backward glance, you just walked away,” I whisper as the tears that have been building in my eyes finally fall.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. I shake my head.

  I can’t. It’s too late. I don’t know if there is anything he could do to make up for how he walked away— the way he so callously grabbed a warm body minutes later, and then the way he humiliated me.

  “No,” I whisper.

  I gasp as he takes the few steps toward me to close the distance between us. His hands are cupping my cheeks, his eyes completely focused on mine and nothing else.

  “I love you, baby, please,” he begs.

  I can’t stop the tears. Even if I wanted to, they continue to fall. A sob escapes my lips as I shake my head and pinch my eyes closed tightly.

  “I’ll win you back, my tigritsa. Swear to fuck, I’ll win you back,” he vows as his lips crash hard against mine, taking me in a bruising, owning kiss.

  “Just don’t,” I sob.

  “Never letting you go. Never walking away again. You could deny me for years, and I’ll be right here, waiting, trying, and begging for you, baby,” he says.

  My shoulders shake with my sobs and his hands drop from my face only to wrap around my back and pull me into his chest.

  “I’m so tired,” I admit.

  “I know, baby, me too,” he confesses.

  My hands fist in his t-shirt when he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. A bedroom we shared just weeks ago. He lies me down on the pillow, but doesn’t join me. I
nstead, he places a gentle kiss on my forehead and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Sleep,” he murmurs as he stands. When I blink, he’s gone.

  I stare at the bedroom door as I hear the front door open and close. My mind is spinning a million miles an hour. I don’t know what has just happened. His vows don’t mean anything without action.

  Can I forgive him? Can I accept him back in my heart? Can I trust him ever again?

  I don’t know the answer to any of that. But his promises of never letting me go, I’d be a liar if I didn’t think it flattering and almost sweet. However, the proof is in the pudding. I’ll be watching and waiting.

  Sniper

  I leave Brentlee alone. It takes everything inside of me not to lie next to her in bed and show her just how much I want her, only her. She isn’t ready; and frankly, neither am I. I need some time. I need to stay sober for a while and get my shit together. I need to work it all out in my head, get shit straight before I really dive in deep. Right now—right now I want to see Stella. I’ve abandoned her and it was a dick move; not my biggest dick move, but a dick move nonetheless.

  I pull up to Fury and Kentlee’s house, knowing this is probably exactly where the little curly blondie is at, since she wasn’t with Brent. I park my bike and walk up the front steps of the little house. Knocking, I wait.

  The door opens and a pissed off, curvy blonde stares back at me. She narrows her eyes before she steps aside and wordlessly lets me walk past her and into the living room.

  “How may I help you?” she curtly asks. I want to laugh. The Johnson girls, full of piss and vinegar when they need to be.

  “Cut the shit, LeeLee,” I say.

  “You better not come in here saying that to me, Bates Lukin,” she growls, putting her hands on her hips.

  “I messed up. I get it. I’ve sobered up and I’m fuckin’ sick over it all,” I admit.

  “Have you told my sister that?” she asks.

  “I have. I just left her. She’s not forgiving me anytime soon, as she shouldn’t. I’ll work for it. I’ll work my ass off to get her back; but what’s going on between us is between us,” I say.