Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology

by Knox, Elizabeth

  My dad only took me in through obligation. He thought it would make him look bad if he said ‘no’ to custody of his son, especially after everything I’d fucking been through with Mom. Sometimes it was a wonder how I didn’t turn out like them, both self-serving and disgusting humans.

  I guess I had my aunt to thank.

  She was nothing like my mom.

  Thank God she took me to the club and showed me what it was like there. How the men were so fucking strong. They stood up, they worked hard, and they did whatever needed to support the people around them. I was obsessed with how they had each other’s backs. How they didn’t just look after themselves. And how they were able to be that way but also show their vulnerabilities for their family. How they were able to still love and not let it seem like some kind of weakness.

  The rest was history.

  I tossed the towel to the side and stepped out of the bathroom, looking up just in time to see the shock on Phee’s face as she stood in my doorway.

  “Oh shit, sorry!” She covered her mouth, taking a step back, missing the doorway completely and bumping straight into the door frame. “I was just looking for a bathroom.” Her eyes were moving in all directions, looking anywhere and everywhere to avoid looking at me.

  “I’ve got clothes on.” I chuckled, shaking my head and planting my feet sturdily as I watched her squirm. “You just saw me shirtless downstairs.”

  “That was different, you were in swim shorts,” she argued with a frown.

  I took a step closer, becoming more amused by the second. “What’s the difference?”

  “You swim in them.”

  “And I sleep in these,” I countered, tugging at the loose-fitting gray cotton sweats I had on. They hung low on my hips, right where her eyes were being drawn as I moved closer again, just a few feet from her now. “There’s a bathroom just there, go ahead and use it.”

  She lifted her chin, pressing her back harder against the wall, her hands tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “It’s fine, I can wait.”

  I’d seen the fiery version of her downstairs. This one was a little shyer, a little more reserved, and I couldn’t figure out which I liked more.

  I held my hands up, letting her see them clearly. “I promise to keep these to myself. Go on.” I knew she didn’t like being touched or manhandled. So as much as I wanted to fucking push right up against her and run my fingers over those damn curves, I was well aware I could possibly suffer the same fate as Charles.

  And not just at the hands of Phee.

  But also her big brother.

  She swallowed, scooting slowly past me, her eyes focused on mine before she broke free and rushed to the bathroom. The door clicked, the lock next, and I grinned, shaking my head as I took a seat on the edge of my bed.

  I swore only a few seconds passed before there was a soft flush, the door opened, and she stepped back out, looking somewhat more comfortable.

  “So, this is your place, huh?” she questioned, her eyes searching the room. “You’re not a teenager. So, why are you throwing teenage parties?”

  “How do you know I’m not a teenager?” I threw back, leaning forward and bracing my arms on my knees.

  “The tattoos.”

  “Tattoos are not indicative of age.”

  “Do you just like to argue with people?” she asked, crinkling her nose like a damn bunny.

  That almost had me.

  I wanted to reach for her, run my finger across those crinkles until they smoothed out.

  “I like facts.”

  “Phee?” a voice called from the hallway, another face appearing in my open doorway. A stunning, tall blonde I’d seen out on the balcony earlier, narrowed her eyes on me before moving across to her friend. “Am I interrupting something?”

  I met Phee’s gaze, holding it with a smug grin. “Yes.”

  “No,” Phee countered sharply, shaking her head and finally rushing to the door.

  “Ah-huh,” the blonde noted, seeming slightly confused or maybe even suspicious. “Heath is gonna give us a ride to their place to watch a movie. Come on.”

  Phee paused in the doorway for a second, looking back at me. “I could have handled Charles on my own, you know?”

  “Oh, I know,” I agreed with a smirk. “But if I’d just left you to do all the work, I would have had to punch myself in the face for being a little fucking bitch.”

  She fought it, but I caught the smile she was fighting. “In that case, thanks,” she offered. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  Then she was gone, her and her friend’s chatter echoing down the hallway.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  5

  Phee

  I tugged on the rope, leading the beautiful white and tan mare back to her stable.

  Cedar was stunning, her coloring often reminding me of the horses from the old western movies my dad used to watch on his days off.

  The clip-clop of her shoes against the concrete floors almost drowned out the sound of the cicadas calling, a sound that wouldn’t last much longer as the sun was about to drop completely out of the sky and the shadows of the night set in.

  “Phee, you think you can finish up my last stall?” Mitch, my boss, called from the end of the row, bouncing on his toes and checking his watch. “I really have to get to this appointment.”

  His wife was pregnant, close to her due date, and if he didn’t leave now to make their midwife appointment, he was about to be cut out of the family.

  I stopped and waved. “Yeah. No problem!”

  Mitch’s shoulders slumped, and he quickly dashed away, leaving me to lock everything when I was done brushing Cedar down and putting her away for the night. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to leave early, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last, but honestly, it was kind of nice to have the space to myself.

  And I’d found my place here with the horses.

  The staff was good too. They knew how badly I struggled with anxiety. I think most of them had learned not to be offended when I made excuses to slip out of conversations or just forced a smile and backed away.

  I quickly finished mucking out the last of my horses’ stalls and then Mitch’s before I waved to a couple of the girls who were still teaching in the small arena outside. Tucking my headphones into my ears, I skipped out to the road. It was about a ten-minute walk to the nearest bus stop, but less than thirty seconds later, a car pulled up to the curb beside me.

  My first reaction was to step back, my heart leaping into my throat, but once my frightened brain cleared, it was easy to recognize the purple fluffy dice hanging on display.

  Fable rolled down her window, her smile beaming. “Hey, pretty lady.”

  I pulled my headphones out and grinned. “What’s up?”

  Her face dropped a little, but she managed to keep some semblance of a smile on her face. “Helen needs to speak with you.”

  A lump formed instantly in my throat.

  Helen was Heath and Braydon’s mom, but she was also one of Los Angeles’ most prolific lawyers, and since we all moved into Rest Eazy, she took over any legal matters for us.

  “Come on,” Fable urged, no doubt sensing the tension-filled storm swirling around me. “We can pick up a couple of blocks of chocolate or something on the way.”

  “I think I’ll need something stronger.” I sighed, feeling like I was going to puke as I climbed in the passenger seat.

  This time, her smile was a little tighter.

  She could feel it too.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  “Ethan Bailey was released from prison a couple of weeks ago.”

  I frowned, tilting my head slightly to the side in confusion.

  It was as if I heard the words, but my mind wasn’t processing them as a sentence. “Excuse me?”

  Helen’s face was a picture of pure anger, but like the amazing woman she is, she held it together. “He got early release for good behavior,” she ex
plained gently as if her tone was going to soften the blow somehow. Or as if she was expecting me at any moment to break down in tears. “They should have told me earlier, but even though you made a statement, technically you never testified against him, so you weren’t on the list of victims to be notified.”

  He had a fistful of my hair in his hand, forcing my head back, so I was looking up at him. “I don’t like it when people start asking questions, Ophelia,” he growled.

  It felt like he was tearing the hair from my scalp, tears were burning at my eyes.

  My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest, it was beating so hard and fast. He’d already struck me in the stomach as I walked through the front door, and every time I inhaled, it was like someone was stabbing me with a hot poker.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I whispered, trying to appeal to that obedient side he craved.

  Anything just to get me the hell out of that room alive.

  “Okay.” That was all I could muster.

  A single word with no emotion connected to it whatsoever.

  But I could feel my heart start to beat faster with every second that passed.

  “Okay?” Helen questioned with a frown.

  “Okay,” I repeated, but this time the word was a little sharper, a little tighter.

  “We need to make sure you’re safe,” she continued cautiously, reaching in and pulling a stack of papers from inside her oversized handbag. “We need to go down to the police station and get you a restraining order.”

  I couldn’t help it.

  What she was saying sounded so fucking ridiculous.

  A short burst of laughter shot from my mouth.

  Helen jumped a little like she was startled by the sudden and strange reaction to what she was telling me.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I chuckled, expecting her to break into a smile and say this was one big fucking joke.

  That Ethan Bailey was actually dead.

  That he was gone, and there was no chance of him ever hurting another little girl.

  That they were just going to dump him in a shallow grave and let the guys who work at the cemetery throw some dirt on him.

  I gripped the seat in front of me as the police officer sat down, his eyes sad.

  “There’s still no new news, Ophelia,” he explained softly. This had been the third time I’d been in this week, and every single time the answer was the same.

  Anna was still considered missing.

  Ethan was wanted for questioning over her disappearance.

  More and more girls were speaking up about their history with him.

  With the exception of me.

  I knew in my gut that Anna was never coming back. He’d gotten rid of her for good, determined not to have any proof of what he’d done.

  And she had exactly that.

  A baby in her stomach with his DNA.

  Everything else was hearsay.

  He was going to get away with it.

  He was going to get away with murder.

  An unnamed grave.

  That was all he deserved.

  Left to rot away in the ground like the scum he was.

  Helen’s eyes moved, looking to Fable, who I knew was standing a few feet behind me. I didn’t turn to see the look on my friend’s face.

  I couldn’t.

  “Do we need to talk about this?” she finally asked, moving back to focus in on me. “I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

  “You’ve read my file,” I huffed, my hands gripping the back of the sofa in front of me, using it to keep my legs from collapsing underneath me. It had been a long time, years probably, since I’d considered the prospect of ever seeing that man again.

  He hurt me in one of the vilest ways you could hurt another human being.

  I was groomed, I was manipulated, and I was violated.

  And if that wasn’t enough, I had to watch him do the same to every other girl who came in and out of that house, at the time too scared of what would happen to me if I told on him. He had me convinced that if anyone found out what we were doing, I was going to go to jail as well. That I was in the wrong, and no one would believe me if I tried to tell them otherwise.

  Sometimes I think I should have known better at fourteen, that I should have seen through those bullshit lies and been stronger. But I’d just lost everyone who meant anything to me. My parents were dead. My brothers both torn away from me. And Ethan knew exactly how to exploit those most painful pieces of my story and turn them against me.

  I still remember wondering whether I should just risk jail.

  I remember thinking maybe this life wasn’t meant for me.

  The pain was too much to bear.

  “I’ve read your file, but I’ve never heard your story,” Helen responded, looking me directly in the eye. There was so much warmth in this woman. She had the kind of soul that was just instinctually protective, and she definitely wasn’t afraid to be ruthless if she thought someone was coming for the people she cared about.

  I’d seen it with my own two eyes.

  I’d felt it.

  Fable walked around behind me, stepping into the small living room, one of the five they had here in this massive mansion. She took a seat on the sofa that my fingers were currently trying to tear to shreds, and reached over, wrapping her hand around my wrist. “Come and sit down.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

  One that I was pretty determined to ignore.

  “No,” I answered, my head shaking back and forth. It kept moving like it had a mind of its own. Back and forth, back and forth. I couldn’t face him again. I was in a place now where he couldn’t hurt me. I had people who loved me. I had my family back.

  I’d made peace with my demons.

  Have you really?

  “Just make it go away.”

  “Phee,” Helen said warmly, drawing my attention back to her. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get a restraining order. We’ll do whatever we have to, even if it means taking him back to court.”

  I snorted. “Because that’s going to change the hell he put me through? He murdered my best friend and her unborn child just to save his own fucking ass.”

  “And I wish to all that’s damn holy that I had proof he did so we could send him to hell for it, but honey, I’m working with what I’ve got here,” she answered, flicking through some papers, her eyes quickly scanning the information listed. “Why didn’t you make a statement?”

  “Because it wouldn’t have made a damn difference. He was gone. My best friend was gone. And nobody gave a fucking shit because she was in the custody of the state. There was no one but me looking for her, and I was only fourteen years old.” I could feel my body begin to tingle. Those memories I’d suppressed for so long were seeping back into my skin like venom. “She was just another kid who was forgotten about.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Fable cursed, leaning her head back on the sofa and covering her face with her hands.

  She knew what I was feeling at this point.

  Fable had all the evidence in the world that her father had been abusing her, tormenting her, threatening her life since she was little, and yet, the court still gave her back to them, time and time again.

  What we had to say was irrelevant.

  We were kids.

  Our words, our opinions, our feelings meant nothing against people who had power and standing in society.

  Or money.

  My stomach was beginning to ache, twisting and turning like someone was squeezing the life out of me. It had been a long time since I’d felt complete and utter helplessness. I thought I had gotten to a point in my life where I was unafraid. I had family, I had friends, I had people who were willing to fight with me and for me.

  I was willing to fucking fight for myself.

  I thought it would be a long, cold day in hell before I let another person break me.

  Yet, hearing his name, I felt like I was right back to being
that little girl.

  I felt like I wanted to go and have a hot shower and scrub my skin until it bled, something I hadn’t done for a long time.

  Isn’t it funny when you think nothing else can hurt you? You’ve already spent your time in hell, the burns still scar your skin, but you think that part of your life is over.

  It’s never fucking over.

  And in that moment, all I felt was the fires of hell begin to build around me, lapping at my skin, flickering happily at the thought of having another chance to burn me to the fucking ground once again.

  I turned around.

  It was too hot.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I’d fought too long to get through the past few years for this to be the thing that destroyed me.

  Voices called my name as I raced toward the front door. I threw open the large slab of heavy oak and rushed outside, inhaling deeply, fighting to keep the oxygen circulating through my body so I wouldn’t pass out. It was so hard, though. Just thinking about that horrible fucking monster caused the bones in my body to ache like every emotion, every injury I felt courtesy of his hands was fresh and new.

  My feet stumbled forward, my brain in a smoky haze, not able to give any kind of direction.

  I knew I couldn’t face this shit right now.

  I’d spent more than five years trying to forget about him and about what he put me through.

  And, of course, in true Ethan Bailey fashion, even after all these years, he was still determined to make me fucking suffer.

  6

  Phee

  The sun was setting, the orange glow almost blinding me as I all but ran down the street.

  I knew it wouldn’t be long before I heard Heath or Braydon’s SUV pull up behind me, positive that Fable was rounding up one of them at this very second. And you know what, I fucking loved her for it. There was no way in hell she was going to let one of us walk out, angry or upset, and not follow us.

  But right now, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be around someone who was going to try and comfort me. I didn’t want false comfort or promises that things would be okay. I didn’t want someone to tell me that they’d do whatever they could to make things right.