by Jc Emery
I shove the folder back in the third drawer down and sneak toward the partially open door. Holly’s voice trails from the living room but is soon overshadowed by several deep, masculine voices that are undeniably familiar. Uncle Wyatt’s baritone bark demands a beer from Dad, who then redirects, asking Holly to grab beers for the guys. My palms grow slick as my heart rate picks up. Nervously, I eye the old refrigerator in the corner of the garage where Dad keeps his expansive supply of cold beer for when the guys come by.
“Sure thing,” Holly says. Her high-heeled boots make pointed little clicking noises that get louder with every step she takes closer to the garage. Once she hits the hallway, her steps falter. “Are we expecting anyone else?”
“Baby Boy should be by any minute,” Wyatt says.
Dad makes an unflattering noise. “Babe, keep Chey in her room while the guys are here. Last thing I need is her distracting the kid any more than she already does.”
“Fuck if that ain’t right,” Duke says. “She blows up his phone, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. Doesn’t hear a word I say either.”
A blush covers my face at the thought of Jeremy wanting to hear from me.
Holly gives him a snort and a little laugh. Well, I’m glad she thinks this is funny. If Dad has his way, I’m going to die a freaking virgin. She takes a few more steps and wraps her hand around the door knob. Scrambling backward, I nearly knock into the bike Dad’s been building for the past few months and give away my location. I don’t want Holly catching me in here. Not that I’m not allowed in the garage, but without an explanation and feeling as guilty as hell like I do, I’d bet they’d have me singing like a canary before Dad got the question out.
“Right, you don’t want any… distractions. Sure. Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with you trying to keep her a little girl forever, could it?” she says a little too sweetly.
“Beer. Now,” he says. His tone darkens slightly, something he always does in front of the guys. I really hate when he acts like this. It’s not happened often, with how Holly’s only now slowly leaving her near catatonic state, but the better she gets, the more he starts to act like his old self—and that is most definitely not a compliment.
Turning away from the door and running to the tall red tool chest, I dart behind it, duck down, and hope I’m not visible from the other side of the room. The door swings open, and in trots Holly with frustrated steps that slam against the concrete floor. Her face is red, her chest is rising and falling in quick succession, and she’s counting to herself. He pissed her off all right.
As she crosses the garage and swings open the door to the fridge she mutters, “Keep being that bossy, Sterling, and you can suck your own dick tonight.”
My throat constricts as my stomach rolls, and I start gagging. Gross.
Holly reaches into the fridge and grabs as many beers as she can safely carry in her arms before trotting out of the garage and letting the door slam shut behind her. I give it a few minutes before heading toward the door and peeking out. Deep voices sound from the living room, a mixture of grunting and barking out what sounds vaguely like disagreement among the brothers. Not that I’m surprised. Those guys can’t seem to ever get along.
I creep down the hall and peek around the corner at the sight before me. Dad is perched on the arm of the couch, something Grandma hates. She always says his “big ass” is going to destroy every stick of furniture we have. Anyway, he’s sitting there with one hand on his knee and the other holding a beer. His shoulders slump and then shake as his eyes dance with mischief. In the middle of the couch with his hands folded in his lap like the good little boy he certainly is not is Jeremy. His face is a mask of indifference, but his body language tells me he’s nervous. Across the room is Uncle Wyatt. The muscles of his broad shoulders constrict and flex as one hand clenches in a fist and the other welcomes it into the palm of his hand. His brown hair sweeps across his shoulders, and his chest heaves. Uncle Wyatt is normally one of the calmest of the brothers, so it must be bad if he’s this upset.
A guilty part of me is looking forward to seeing what this little impromptu meeting is about. I might get some information out of this that will prove useful to my investigation.
“It’s bullshit,” Dad says with a nod, his eyes firmly fixed on Wyatt. “Kids will do that to you—fuck you up.”
I bite back the urge to throw something in his direction. He’s one to talk. If he thinks having me as a kid is hard, then I should let him know he’s no freaking picnic either.
“They’re not fucking kids, man. They’re goddamn adults,” Wyatt says.
Dad just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Your kids are your kids for life. Jim’s a fucking hard-ass, sure. But he’s a father. He’s got two sons at each other’s throats over Junior and Princess. Can’t be easy, trying to decide whose needs are more important—Ryan wanting to beat the shit out of Junior to protect Princess, or Ian trying to keep Ruby happy. Personally, I’d side with keeping the woman happy, but ya know…”
Wyatt just grumbles something and turns toward the fireplace, where he places his hands on the mantle and lets his head hang low. Duke’s voice sounds from around the corner from me where I can’t see him. My heart leaps in my chest, and I suppress the feminine squeak that would give away my location if anybody were paying attention to me. Duke must be in the recliner near the fireplace on the other side of the wall I’m hiding behind. I’d peek around to see him if I didn’t think I’d be spotted.
“Yesterday I came home to find Trigger fucking terrorizing Junior,” Wyatt says almost too quietly for me to hear. “Had to move him to Ian’s.”
Dad nods. “Good. Trigger isn’t stupid enough to fuck around at Ian’s house.”
“Told Jim. All he had to say was he thought that was a good move,” Wyatt says.
“He’s slipping,” Duke says loud and clear. All eyes swing to where Duke must be. Jeremy’s are wide and fearful, while Dad’s are solemn. Wyatt’s head is turned in Duke’s direction, but other than that, he hasn’t moved. I don’t know the exact details of what happens when a member challenges the presidency, but it’s a big freaking deal. It’s not just a big deal, but it can completely destroy a man or an entire charter, depending on how it’s handled.
“And who’s going to tell him that?” Dad asks of Duke with a prodding gaze.
“Fuck you, dude. I ain’t telling him shit. Pop’s the only father I got. I say we just ride it out and try to reason with Trigger and Sin.”
“Sin?” Jeremy asks. He unfolds his hands from his lap as he repositions himself on the couch, much more relaxed. A smile plays at his lips, all signs of tension now gone. Dumbass has been around the club his entire life, and he’s never learned Ian’s nickname—as stupid as it may be.
“Ian,” Duke says. Jeremy’s head tips to the side like a confused puppy, and it’s so freaking cute I can’t help the blush that rises on my cheeks and makes me hot under the collar. Seeing him sitting among my dad and Uncle Wyatt in his prospect cut looking so confused and young and like he’s trying so hard to fit in is freaking adorable and sexy in ways I don’t know if I can verbalize. Duke was just as cute once, but then he got a little too old for me, and now that he’s with Nic, I force myself to quash every thought that he’s attractive. Besides, once I nail Jeremy down, Duke’s going to be like my brother-in-law—which brings me to another thought. Duke and Nic’s baby is going to be like my niece.
Well, first things first. I need to get Jeremy to ask me out, and then I can figure the details out later.
Cheyenne Whelan.
“Stop it,” I tell myself quietly. Sometimes I hate myself for being that girl who gets so into a guy that she imagines his last name with her first and strategizes ways to wiggle into his life in a way he’ll never want to let her go. But then I look at Jeremy, and a happy sigh escapes me and I forget what I was thinking about.
“How the hell did he get a nickname like that?” Jeremy asks, but Dad shakes his
head.
“You have to ask, you don’t deserve the answer,” Dad says. “And I don’t know if you realize this, but prospects aren’t supposed to ask questions.” His tone is light and he’s almost… smiling? But the message is clear—shut the fuck up.
“But Duke told me—” Jeremy starts up, and Wyatt swings around from his position at the mantle, and his bulking frame strides toward Jeremy on the couch. He shuts up immediately—something he should have done before he opened his mouth that one last time. He’s cute and got a great smile, and I’ll bet a solid heart, but he’s got some learning to do if he doesn’t want to be Ryan’s butt-buddy.
“Shut your fucking mouth, prospect,” Wyatt snaps. His deep baritone strikes me in my soul. I’ve never heard him sound so angry or so serious. His arms shake with fury as he places his hands against the back of the couch on either side of Jeremy’s head and closes in until they’re nose to nose. Jeremy’s perfectly still under Wyatt’s thundering voice and intense physical presence. “My patch reads Vice President. I don’t give a fuck who tells you what unless their patch reads President. Got that? Don’t fucking look at me, don’t fucking breathe on me. Do not talk back to me, and don’t ever let me catch you forgetting your place.”
“Wy,” Dad says in warning. I can barely see him beyond Wyatt’s bull-like frame, but I catch the telltale clink of his now-empty beer bottle on the end table as he stands from his place on the arm of the couch. He doesn’t approach and makes no move to break it up, but he’s at the ready if he needs to be. The brothers don’t usually stop a patched member from banging up a prospect, but this is Butch’s son. Dad won’t ever admit it, but I think he likes Jeremy, which bodes well for our future relationship.
Wyatt huffs heavily into Jeremy’s face before he pushes back and walks back to his place at the mantle.
It’s a long moment before Dad speaks. “First up, we need to find that prick Scavo. Had the balls to approach me on Forsaken land and take my woman. Asshole needs to pay for that shit.”
“Agreed, but finding the Italian is kind of hard when our intel guy is tied up babysitting his half-brother and keeping Trigger from fucking killing him, all the while avoiding Princess,” Duke says with slight humor in his tone. “This is so fucked up.”
“You’re think you’re having trouble with it? Jim’s got his hands full,” Dad says with a nod. “But soap opera shit aside, I want that Italian dead.”
“Bad move letting that shit with your woman cloud your judgment. I still think the Italian can be useful,” Duke says, his voice rising slightly. “Junior trusts him, and I’m starting to trust Junior. Plus, that prick could have hurt Sweets, but he didn’t. It was a fuckin’ scare tactic.”
“Scared my old lady,” Dad says as his voice lowers into a timber.
“Pissed you off—I get that. But he could be of use to us. Junior swears Leo is more interested in finding out the truth than he is in causing real trouble.”
“Still want him dead,” Dad gripes. He’s a hard-ass, sure, but the way he’s so protective of Holly makes my stomach do crazy weird butterflies. For a long time I was pretty much convinced that Grandma and I were going to be the only long-term women in his life—and that’s just sad.
“Okay, let’s say Scavo isn’t of use to us—how do we go about that when we don’t even know where he is? What about Jennings? Can’t find him either,” Duke says.
“He’s close,” Jeremy says quietly. His eyes are fixated on the floor, his brows furrowed, and he seems to be speaking more to himself than the men in the room.
“Heh?” Duke says, his voice showing his confusion. Dad and Wyatt both turn their attention to Jeremy as they wait for him to speak.
“He found the safe house, he knows our routines, and he even found Miss Priss at school. He knows who we are, he knows your kids, and he knows our weaknesses, even if we don’t. Scavo went after Holly and Mindy before you two were together, and he went after Cheyenne when he could have gone after getting Alex and Michael back,” Jeremy mutters as his attention shifts to Dad.
“He can’t get to them. They’re protected,” Duke says adamantly. I know he’s smarter than that—there’s always a way if you’re determined—but he doesn’t want to think about it. Considering that Alex isn’t totally safe reminds him that neither is Nic and their baby. He can’t handle going down that road, and I get it.
“Cheyenne was protected,” Dad says. “And the safe house was invisible for over thirty years, but he fucking found it.”
“Baby Boy’s right,” Wyatt says as he grabs his beer off the mantle and finishes it off. “Scavo is close. We just have to find him.” The men around him nod and murmur their agreement as they all seem to stretch their muscles at the same time and stir in place. They don’t like to sit still for too long.
CHAPTER 6
December
16 months to Mancuso’s downfall
The room falls silent, except for the faint sound of slurping. Everything else the brothers seem to be able to drink quietly, but not beer. It’s like some kind of big event every time one of them brings a beer bottle to their lips.
The alarm sounds at the front door, startling everybody in the room. They each jump to their feet, draw their guns, and train them on the front hall. The telltale click clack of high heels grows near as Aunt Ruby flies around the corner. Her eyes are wide, her face is pale, and her hair is a total disaster, as if she’s been pulling at it relentlessly for the past hour. Each of the brothers relax and lower their guns before returning them to the back of their waistbands.
“Sorry, big fucking problem,” Aunt Ruby says. I highly doubt that. But this is Aunt Ruby, and she’s a major badass, so she gets a certain amount of wiggle room that the rest of us don’t.
“Where’s Pres?” Jeremy asks, obviously not in the know.
“Transport mission. He’s got Trigger with him,” Wyatt says. The president’s old lady running into a room and addressing the brothers as though she’s one of them means there’s not just trouble, but big fucking trouble. And this is what being voted in means—it means your problem is the club’s problem, and they won’t think twice about having your back. It’s the closest any woman will ever get to wearing a Forsaken patch.
“What’s up, Ma?” Dad says.
“Is the room secure?” Ruby asks.
Shit. The last thing I need is for them to come peeking around the corner to make sure. Dad may yell and scream, but Aunt Ruby is sure to tan my hide. The only times in my life I’ve ever been spanked have been by that woman.
“Yeah, it better be,” Dad says. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but with that comment, it almost seems like he knows I’m listening.
“Gloria called, and she said Leo Scavo showed up at her house asking questions about me and Mike. He wanted to know what our history is, if there is even is one, and if she knows the real reason he was sent out to California.”
I know enough about Alex’s aunt Gloria to know that this Italian guy showing up at her house is bad news. Gloria is the one who orchestrated Alex’s escape from New York and transport to California. She put her neck on the chopping block to keep Alex safe, and that’s something that Forsaken won’t forget.
“He hurt her?” Dad asks. His brows furrow together, and his expression is grim.
“No, she’s fine. He just wanted a little bit of history. Which, by the way, she gave him. I’m fucking worried because I don’t know how long she has until somebody else starts sniffing around and asking the kinds of questions that could get her killed.”
“It’s fucked up, I know. We’re going to do everything we can to keep her safe,” Wyatt says.
I hate to say it, but the way everything’s going lately, that doesn’t mean a hill of beans to me. Nobody is safe, especially not Gloria.
“How did Scavo react to the history lesson?” Dad asks.
“Like he believed it. Told her on the way out he had some shit to think about,” Ruby says.
“Okay, enough of thi
s shit,” Dad says. His eyes cut a little too close to my direction as he focuses in on Duke. Quickly, I slide to my left to ensure I’m hidden behind the wall and hope Dad didn’t see my movement. “You and Nic figure out what you’re having? Holly keeps busting my nuts about buying baby shit. She needs to know—pink or blue.”
“A little asshole, judging from its parents,” Wyatt says. I peek back around in time to see him focus in on Dad as he smirks at Wyatt.
“Don’t know yet. Nic wants to be surprised,” Duke says. “But it’s fucking killing me. I just want to know already.”
“Sweets going on about baby shit is trouble for you, brother,” Wyatt says with his eyes on Dad.
Dad just shrugs like he doesn’t care, but I want to think he’s just putting on a front for the guys. “Best way to keep your woman happy is to give her what she wants. You might have one if you’d learned that lesson, Wy. Besides, she gets knocked up, I’ll just be busy when the kid cries. Worked with Layla when we had Chey.”
“How is the ex?” Wyatt asks. Ruby scoffs.
“Fucked up but breathing, which is about all I can ask for these days,” Dad says.
A smile finds its way to my face for a brief moment before a sinking sadness overcomes me, and I decide that I’ve heard enough. It’s not that I can’t talk or hear about my mom. It’s just that it reminds me that she’s not here. And even worse, I don’t even want her here. She doesn’t ride my ass about homework, she doesn’t watch movies with me that I know she hates, and she isn’t here for me to talk to about Jeremy and every screwed up thing that’s happening around town. She’s not a mom, but she’s all I had. Until Holly.
