by Stacey Lynn
Daemon pressed his lips together and shrugged. “It’s not that fuckin’ hard, Ryker. Get your ass back here, join the club, and do what needs to be done.” He took a long pull from his beer while I gritted my teeth.
“It’s not that simple, man.” I shook my head. This was why I avoided him when he called most of the time. Five years hadn’t done anything to stop him from trying to get me home.
But fuck if he didn’t have a point this time. My head was so screwed up I had no idea what was right or wrong anymore or where my priorities were. My anger built until I kicked the railing on his deck so hard I heard wood crack.
Daemon’s sarcastic laugh rang in my ears. “You break my deck and you’re fucking fixin’ it.”
I laughed but it sounded weak. My little brother was a dickhead.
“She has to hate me.”
He inhaled from his cigarette and threw the butt toward a dirt patch just off the deck. “Probably does,” he agreed. “Does it really change the fact she shouldn’t be doing that shit in the first place?”
Asswipe.
“Fuck,” I said and raked my hands through my hair. “I can’t… I don’t… shit, I can’t think about this. Everything’s such a damn huge mess right now.” Meg. The rig. Jasper Bay. Home. Faith. Olivia. All the shit with the club that wasn’t my business, but I didn’t know if I could walk away from it all again. This damn town had a pull on me that I had never been able to completely shake, even when I tried to ignore it.
Daemon rested his ass against the deck and took a long pull from his beer. “Yep. Welcome to our life. It’s always been this way, but you’re the only one who can fix it.”
My head snapped to him and I glared at him. The earlier rage began a slow simmer. Why was all this shit my problem to deal with? The fight I’d been wanting with Daemon for hiding this from me in the first place began boiling in my veins again. I watched him clock my stance. He set his bottle on the edge of the railing and widened his legs, his fighter instinct kicking into play.
“How could you let her do this?” It was an irrational blame, and I knew it. She had been my responsibility to take care of, not Daemon’s. But it was someone’s fucking fault and I wasn’t ready to point my damn finger at myself yet. Even though I knew it was, and Daemon knew it, too.
He laughed once, loudly. “Cut the shit, man. We all had to do shit to survive after that night. You think she wanted this? You have no idea the hell she went through, and if you wanted her taken care of, you should have been man enough to step up. Instead, you ran off, so ashamed of shit when it was a fucking accident in the first place, and left the rest of us to clean up the damn mess.”
My hands balled into fists. His did, too. And I waited, both of us breathing heavily. Fuck Daemon. He had no fucking clue what it was like to know that, accident or not, I was the one responsible for killing my dad. But not only that… the responsibility of knowing had I showed up minutes, maybe seconds, earlier I could have saved Olivia and Cherry. My nostrils flared and my jaw clenched, ready to take the first swing and brawl all my rage out on my family’s deck. But I couldn’t. Something stopped me. I looked away from Daemon, grabbed my beer bottle, and flung it out into the yard. It smashed into the grass and shattered into pieces right next to the one I’d thrown earlier.
I was panting. An angry fucked up mess full of regret and shoulda-coulda-woulda’s. From behind me, Daemon laughed.
“You’re cleanin’ that shit up, you know.”
I laughed. And damn it, it felt good to do it, too. For a split second I was able to let all of it go. I let my rage evaporate into the air as I stared at the evergreen forest, knowing that Daemon had my back. Literally. He was younger and he was an asshole, but he would always be there for me. It helped me take a deep breath and, for a moment, chill the hell out and enjoy hanging out in the sun while standing on the deck and having a beer with my brother.
It only lasted a moment though before Faith’s cold eyes flashed in my memory. I sighed. “I don’t know if she’d want my help.” Turning around, I rested my ass against the deck railing to see Daemon turn toward the house and hit the door frame.
A wicked smile threatened at the corner of Daemon’s lips, like he had me caught in a trap. “This is Faith.”
Three simple words. They slammed into my chest almost knocking me off the deck. What the fuck was I thinking? Damn it. Meg would understand. Hell, Meg was always the one telling me I had to move on and how she hated that she felt like I got trapped by Byron’s forced promise. It was just one more trip to help the club get Faith out from underneath Black Death. Then she could do whatever she wanted.
I sighed and looked out to the forest of evergreens that surrounded the property. Free Faith. Head back to New Orleans. Take care of Meg. I could keep all my promises.
What a fantasy. I blinked and reality returned. “Faith hates me.”
Daemon laughed off to my side. I wanted to punch him in the mouth for finding anything funny about this. He didn’t know. “Probably, but there’s only one way to find out.”
My eyes snapped to him and I arched a brow, waiting.
He grinned and pushed off the railing, closing the gap between us. “Make an appointment, and go talk to her.”
Was he fucking mad? Or stupid? Make an appointment to see my ex-fiancée, the whore? Those two words rattled in my brain until I knew I only had one choice.
I had to free Faith.
“Make an appointment.” It came out as a whisper as it passed my lips. I shook my head, still disbelieving how much everything could change so quickly. And I knew as soon as that happened I would crave more. I would need revenge and justice for the men who had taken Faith in the first place. “You need help for that Sporelli bullshit in a few weeks?”
“Yup. You want in?”
I licked my lips and pressed them together in between my teeth. Simply asking the question changed everything. The answer was already obvious. “Yeah, brother. I’ll be here.”
I followed Daemon into the house. As I passed him, he slapped his hand on my shoulder, shaking me. “Welcome home, man.”
I snorted and went to the fridge for another beer. “One big happy fuckin’ family.”
Days after seeing Ryker and my head was still clouded by the recent memory of him. Why did he have to look so freaking good? His short black hair that brushed over the top of his ears, his muscular chest that had filled out over the years, and his dark black eyes that I still saw when I closed my eyes.
Damn him. Damn him for coming back to town. I wanted him gone.
He was messing with my head all over again, even though besides that one run-in, we hadn’t spoken. Not like I expected him to hunt me down and apologize for running out on me.
Or maybe I did. And the fact that he hadn’t? That he hadn’t tried to contact me despite the fact it’d be virtually impossible with Black Death watching my every move these days, it stung. It hurt.
I truly meant nothing to him. For years I hung onto the idea that Ryker would realize the mistake he made by running away. That he’d come back from the South, he’d beg for my forgiveness, and after being a bitch and giving him shit for leaving in the first place, I’d forgive him. We’d finish our happily ever after.
Now I was faced with the truth.
He didn’t love me.
Maybe he never had.
Emotions that had been so easy to keep buried were at the forefront of my mind since seeing Ryker’s scowl in the very entrance of Penny’s last week. I stared at the doorway, squinted my eyes, and pretended I could still see him standing there. Wishing I could ask the one question I had always wanted to ask.
Why did you leave me?
I remembered the night. The night I cried about my dad, my fear of my mom’s already shaky mental stability. The night he promised he’d do whatever he could to help my family despite my dad’s screw ups. And then I had heard nothing from him. Despite sending him hundreds of texts and voicemails over the course of the next f
ew days, I heard no response.
Until one week later when I got the simple message: Not coming home. It’s over.
That was it. I could see the words stamped in my memory as if I was still staring at the screen on my phone. It’s over. It’s. Over.
And now, he was so close, yet still so far away. I couldn’t do anything except ask the questions over and over again in my head. What had I done wrong? Why wasn’t I enough? Why did he leave?
I slumped over the bar, thinking that pounding my head against the woodened bar sounded like a great idea. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and fought against the memories, the loss, and the sadness that had crept into me and filled me so completely I hadn’t felt like I could survive. But my mom had needed me. She went practically catatonic after the Nordic Lords killed my dad. It was his own fault for even considering ratting out the club to the F.B.I. when the charges against him were false. He had caved.
My mother and I had paid the price. And then she had turned to Black Death for protection and to support her drug habit. In doing so, she had promised them the only thing Cain wanted.
Me.
She handed me to their club’s Vice President like I was her dowry. In return for my willingness to do whatever they wanted, they’d protect her. They’d supply her with drugs.
I should have hated her. I did hate her. But she was my mom, and under the hate was the realization that she was completely fucked in the head. Always had been, probably. She was also the only family I had left. I had no skills outside club life. No college education. No money. Nowhere to go.
So when she handed me to Cain, I went, even as much as I hated her for it. And when he chained me to a chair in his office at Penny’s, screwed me and licked me and finger-fucked me until my body finally began responding despite my best intentions to fight it, I wished my mom was dead.
I caved. With no options, I slowly began accepting my life and my place in it. It was never going to be good from the moment Ryker broke my heart. The most I had left was my own survival.
“Diamond.”
I slowly raised my head from my hands and glanced to the side. I sighed, seeing Cain at the end of the bar with a victorious look on his face. He knew this was killing me and he was excited that once again I was reminded about my place in the world.
“What is it, Cain?” I asked, pushing off the bar and facing him directly. He was a large man with broad shoulders, a butch haircut, and hazel eyes that never showed emotion. He had scars on his face and arms. The white lines stood out against the black ink on his forearms that I knew he’d had done during his multiple stints in the state prison.
He was big. He was mean. And he owned my ass until the day he decided I was worthless to him. By the look on his face, that day had not yet come.
“My office. We need to talk.”
I swallowed slowly. Sweat broke out against the back of my neck before I was out from behind the bar as I followed him. His office. A place where he’d kept me for weeks, for months, after he’d taken me. I hadn’t followed him into his office in years. There had been no need.
Whatever he had to tell me wouldn’t be good.
The first, cold tremors of fear hit me as I followed him down the dark and dreary back hallway. Pleasured moans of clients receiving some lunch hour benefits filled the thick and smoke-scented air.
“Sit.” He pointed to a plain metal chair in the corner as soon as we’d both entered the room. No way was I sitting in that chair with the handcuffs wrapped around the bottom chair legs. I knew exactly what waited for me in the chair.
I didn’t look at it. Instead, I kept my eyes on Cain’s, searching for anything that made sense about this. This was where he brought the new girls to see if they were any good. I had already proven that years ago.
My nose began to burn. “I’ll stand.” I cleared my throat, but it felt thick and dry. I tried swallowing, but I couldn’t get past the rock in my throat.
Cain arched an eyebrow. “You need a reminder on what happens when you disobey me?”
I didn’t. I remembered vividly and still had scars from his belt on my back. They began to sting at the very thought of them.
But screw him. Punishment would be worth it. I was so damn tired of submitting to these animals. Tired of getting pleasure from it when I wanted to bash their heads in.
I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. “What do you want, Cain?”
His eyes glinted with pleasure. As if the thought of beating me—whipping me—filled him with ecstasy. Finally, he blinked and tossed me an envelope.
My hands flew out and caught it before it smacked me in the chest.
I scowled at it, wondering what was in it.
“You have an appointment tonight, near the casino.”
“Who?” I asked as I peeked inside the envelope. My finger fanned across the stack of money. Someone had paid for me up front—and paid well.
“Ryker.”
My heart fell to my feet. He paid for a night with me? I shook the question out of my head. “I…”
“You’ll go,” he stated and stepped behind his desk. Once he was seated, he propped his elbows on the desk top and tapped his fingers together. “Say your good-byes and get him out of town. I don’t need him back here distracting you.” He paused, and his standard, greasy smile appeared as his eyes roamed my body. “Consider this a gift. A thank you for all your hard work.”
The lump in my throat grew to epic proportions. Ryker treating me like the whore I was. Some gift.
He waved me off, but as my hand hit the doorknob to leave, Cain’s sick voice stilled every muscle in my body. Looking over my shoulder, I flinched at his warning glare.
“Don’t forget what happens if you don’t follow through.”
I nodded as I stepped into the darkened hallway. The warning was clear—I disobey and my mother dies.
I arrived at The Pavilion Court thirty minutes early for my appointment, just like I always did. I may not have always been able to control what my clients did to my body, but if I arrived first, I felt a small sense of control at welcoming them onto my turf instead of walking onto theirs. It was all a façade, a ruse I played with myself to mentally prepare, but it was necessary. And knowing that I was going to spend an evening with Ryker made my façade more essential than necessary.
The clerk at the front desk didn’t give me a second look as he watched me carry my bags to the room. Not that he had any reason to. I wasn’t dressed like a casual whore. With my jet black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck and my navy blue wrap dress and red heels, I looked like any other guest at their hotel.
I ignored my wildly beating heart as much as I possibly could as the elevator rose to the sixth floor. Entering the suite I’d been provided for the night’s activities, I fought back the itchy, scratchy feeling that lined every inch of my skin.
In front of me was a small living area with a grey, leather couch, a simple black coffee table, and a small writing desk. To my left, I saw the doorway for the bathroom and directly passed it, a kitchenette area. Based on the instructions Cain had delivered to me in the envelope, I knew it was fully stocked. Through a doorway to the right, I caught a glimpse of an enormous king-sized bed with a bright white covering that was so bright and so fluffy it made me wonder if the hotel had recently renovated their bed furnishings.
This wasn’t the dump of a room where I typically entertained clients at Penny’s Boarding House. And even though it was nicer than any place I’d entertained clients before, discomfort cloaked me. All I could think of was that it was the type of place Ryker and I would have gone for a romantic weekend getaway had we ever left Jasper Bay.
I shut down the thought immediately.
If Ryker wanted a night with a whore, I’d give him the best damn show possible. I’d make it worth every dollar he spent for me.
I hoped like hell in doing so he’d leave town as fast as he’d shown up. And I hoped with even more force that my h
eart wouldn’t be shredded in the process.
One night with Ryker. I would take it. I would use it. I would wrap the memory of it into a steel encased memory box so that on the nights when the darkness and despair over what my life had turned into crept into my mind, I could peel open the box and have one damn good memory. Ryker’s hands on me all over again. The only man who had ever touched me in a way I wanted.
After I changed into lingerie more appropriate for my job, I fidgeted with a small glass of wine. My feet tapped the carpet while I nervously alternated between sitting on the arm rest of the couch and pacing the slowly shrinking room.
I would have done anything for Ryker. I would have gone anywhere with him as long as it meant we were together. And this could potentially be my last chance to ever see him again. To ask him why he left me all those years ago. To show him what that loss had done to me.
I was prepared. I was ready.
When I heard the soft click of the door opening, my teeth found my bottom lip and gently bit down. I pushed down the flutters in my stomach and nervously fidgeted with my black lace lingerie.
Reality smacked me directly in the face as soon as he hit the entry way.
I was the world’s biggest liar.
I wasn’t ready to see him at all. I wasn’t ready to be alone with him. I wanted to run and throw myself into the hotel closet and slam the door until I was fully covered. This was Ryker.
His eyes caught mine and I froze, my teeth still biting into my lower lip—although harder than I’d been biting before.
He still had one hand on the door, not fully entered into the room. He was wearing simple black denim jeans, black dress shoes, and a short-sleeve, white Henley top. I drank him in as if I hadn’t already tapped into a bottle of wine that had been stocked for us.
His black hair was almost as dark as mine. It hung almost to his ears, longer than it’d been before. Black scruff lined his jaw and cheeks. His eyes stared at me and froze me to the worn carpeted floor. His body was stronger, buffer than he was before, but still lean and athletic. He was mouth-wateringly delicious.
