Jayce (The Chaos Chasers MC Book 2)

by C. M. Marin

  Instantly, chairs scrape the floor in a wave of resounding screeches before silence falls over the room for a couple of seconds, until Nate addresses Bison. “Looks a lot like you’re forgetting you’re the one who wanted us to meet. Let me tell you, you’re going about it the wrong way if your goal is for us to agree to a truce. If you can’t control your boys, you should rethink your decision to run that club. We’re done here, and I suggest you think about whether you want us to be on good terms or bad ones. You know my conditions,” he states, not allowing the fucker to put in a comment before he turns to me. “J, we move.”

  His command comes out calm and low, but also firm enough to let me know I’ve screwed up. I already figured that one out though. The son of a bitch handed me a carrot, and like a stupid rabbit, I jumped head first to grab it. But hell if I even care. These pieces of scum don’t want an agreement of any kind. The vice in their eyes is clear enough to understand that they’ve followed right in the footsteps of Rod. I don’t know what they had in their minds wanting to meet with us, but it can’t be anything good. They didn’t come here for a truce, that much is obvious.

  “I also suggest you watch your back, kid,” I tell the fucker I haven’t taken my eyes off of.

  “Is that a threat?” he muses like this is all a game for him.

  Why the hell did we even come here? This was a fucking waste of time. I’ve got better shit to do than come hear their fourth-grade bullshit.

  “It is,” I confirm coldly.

  My eyes never leave his smug face as careful steps move me backward.

  Mimicking my movements right beside me, Ben adds, “The fact that we took out so many of your men a few months back means you need some allies. That way, if you piss off someone again, it won’t be as easy for them to kill you off, too. Just saying,” he ends his comment dryly.

  If they were one hundred percent certain some of them wouldn’t also earn a bullet or two in their bodies, they’d try to kill us right now. But instead, they follow me and my brothers outside, every one of them keeping their guns on us even after we get inside the two SUVs waiting right where we left them on the roadside with Brent leaning against one of them. He stayed behind to make sure no one messed with them.

  Even though Bison can’t get to us inside the car, Blane speeds up toward Twican, Cody driving on his heels.

  “The last thing those guys want is an agreement between our clubs. Not sure what they had in mind meeting us but asking for a truce sure as hell wasn’t it,” Blane says once he crosses our town limits.

  Damn right, and I’m fucking glad someone agrees with what I’ve been careful to keep to myself. Where the Spiders are concerned, most of my brothers―if not all of them―tend to believe that my opinions are biased. Though I understand their doubts, they’re wrong about that. Even though the Spiders’ former inner circle murdered my dad, granddad and uncle on the same night a bit more than a year ago, I see things clearly. Did I want to believe in the possibility of them building a new club with members knowing the definition of decency and humanity? I did. But was I stupid enough to believe that the men who spent years being Rod’s lapdogs would be those members? I wasn’t. And that was a fucking objective opinion.

  “Yeah, that meeting had a purpose,” Ben steps in. “Just wish I could think of what that purpose was. I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with their business?” he asks absently.

  “No doubt that they took over, at least,” Nate says. “Bison would have denied it straight away if not.”

  “Or he didn’t want to look weak in front of his men,” Liam suggests as Blane shuts off the car inside the warehouse―that’s what we call the basement-level of the club, where we build and store the bikes for our illegal business. “Thanks to Jayce, we haven’t learned shit.”

  His voice bursts with reproach and bitterness. But my instinctive move back at the bar isn’t what this is about. My rash reaction is just an excuse for him to finally let go of some of his resentment.

  Liam has been keeping some distance with me for the past year. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve always had each other’s back, but his anger toward me has been brewing for a long time. And since I know why, I also know it’s warranted.

  As I get out of the car, I retort calmly, “At least we didn’t have to listen to their bullshit. That’s for the best. Don’t really care about what lies they wanted to spoil our ears with.”

  I really don’t.

  “And nearly triggering a blood bath was for the best, too?” He slams his own door, but way more forcefully. “Maybe you don’t care about dying either.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you’d cry your eyes out if that happened,” I point out.

  If he’s in the mood for a confrontation, then I can put myself in the mood, too.

  “Believe what you want, but maybe it’s time you stop being a selfish dick. You don’t care what happens to yourself? Fine. But I have a sister who still cares about that. I honestly don’t fucking know why, though. No less than three days ago, I had to listen to her cry again because of you,” he barks.

  “It’s been more than a year,” I drawl dismissively as I walk toward the stairs, acting bored even though picturing Alex’s red eyes makes me want to rip open my own ribcage for being the reason for her tears. “And I’m a big boy, I don’t need your blessing to make my own decisions.”

  “You’re a fucking loser, that’s what you are!” he roars, proving that he’s right behind me.

  Swirling around, I get in his face. “Then you should be fucking thrilled your sister’s not with me,” I taunt him as the guys still stand near the cars, letting us sort our shit out but being prepared to step in if they have to.

  My words were meant to provoke him, but even though he doesn’t take a step back, I don’t feel his fist make contact with my face either. And despite his eyes staying narrowed in anger, he shakes his head as if he’s disappointed.

  “I’ve kept my mouth shut all this time because I hoped Alex would move on and build a life for herself in Dallas,” he starts, but I can tell he’s not finished. “But now she’s back, so you’ll either have to get your shit together if you still love her or talk to her nicely if you don’t. Either way, you’re going to do something because she needs to let the past go. She’s wasting her life away. You’ve been too selfish to notice anything about her, so I’ll sum things up for you. She isn’t happy, and that’s on your shoulders, bro.” He steps aside and walks past me to run up the stairs as he adds, “But you probably don’t care about that either.”

  His footsteps thump on the stairs like he’s taking his rage out on them. Me? I’m frozen in place as my brothers start making their way upstairs, too.

  She’s back. But when? How? Why?

  Brent pats my shoulder as he passes me, but I can’t acknowledge him.

  I only stop staring into space when Nate speaks, my gaze flicking to him. “She’s renting an apartment in town. Liam helped her move in three days ago, the day after Thanksgiving. And he told me he isn’t sure she’s happy with that decision. Thinks she’s kind of lost.”

  A growl is mixed with my response. “Already feel like shit. No need for more lecture.”

  “That’s the thing, J. Maybe you do. And I’m going to say this, even if I earn a solid hook. Connor, Isaac and Billy loved Alex like she was their own. Connor thought of her as his own daughter, and he’d beat your ass if he could for what you’ve put her through.”

  He’s right. He deserves a damn generous hook. Or two. The only reason I spare him is because he’s also right about my family. They loved Alex. The three of them would be ashamed of me and what I did. And I’m not going to lie, I am, too.

  Without punching Nate or even answering him, I stride up the stairs and go straight to my room.

  She’s back home. I can’t believe she’s back home.

  The day she left for college four years ago, agonizing dread implored me to give no fucks about what she wanted. All I could think about was what
I wanted. And what I wanted was to lock her up in my room for-fucking-ever. So many things scared me back then. I was afraid she’d be an easy target to anyone wanting to mess with us, and I was afraid she’d meet some preppy student and never come back to me. But I knew I had to let her go. I suffered like hell Mondays through Fridays, my unstable mood only cooling down once I had her in my arms every weekend. It lasted three years, until I told her I didn’t want her in my arms anymore. Fear was still gnawing at my guilty gut thinking about her being so far away, but after my family was targeted and shot like fucking animals, I knew she’d be safer away from me. Not that I didn’t keep a close eye on her though, playing the stalker more times than I didn’t. And Blane put a software on her phone to allow me to locate her at any time. Since she’s always been at a loss when it comes to new technology, she never noticed anything. But even if she had, she wouldn’t have been surprised, most likely thinking Liam had asked Blane to do it. Which he also did, actually.

  That was thirteen months ago, and now she’s back. She’s going to be around just like she used to be. But why did she decide to come back? When she graduated six months ago, I waited days, then weeks, to see her come back. But instead of seeing her crossing the front door of the club, I heard that she had gotten a job in Dallas. The irony is that it crushed, me knowing that she had no intention to come back to Twican. And now I can’t help hoping that she came back for me. That the girl who once looked at me with love and admiration is still inside her somewhere. But I’m such a bastard thinking that she did it for me. I’m a bastard because it wouldn’t change anything. I couldn’t possibly change anything. I’ll have to keep my distance no matter what. It’s gonna be even more of a challenge since she’s going to be around a lot, but it is what it is.

  Dropping onto my bed, my eyes locking on the ceiling, I try to wrap my head around this shit. She’s back. Fuck, how am I going to be able to pretend I’m not dying inside without her if she’s here for me to see every damn day? Her beautiful blue eyes, her thick, dark brown hair, her bright smile… How am I going to be able to pretend I don’t want it all back? And at the same time, another truth is that I can’t wait to see my girl back where she belongs.

  Chapter 3

  Alexia

  With a loud exhale full of serenity, I let my relaxed body fall back on the mat with a light thud. My eyes glue themselves to the white ceiling as I breathe in and out quietly before my gaze roams around the room.

  This is my favorite room in my new apartment. Every time I’m in here, I tell myself that I don’t regret opting for a bigger place than the one I had in Dallas. I needed my own yoga room. Literally needed it. You wouldn’t believe how many women frequenting the gym confuse a yoga session with a gossipy coffee break. I mean, what’s even the point of paying a monthly membership at a gym? I’m pretty sure meeting at a coffee shop once a week is cheaper. And hell, what’s the point of taking part in a yoga session if you spend the entire hour running your mouth? Just totally useless if you ask me.

  Anyway, I love this room. A large beige mat occupies the center of it, covering more than half the surface of wooden floor, and a treadmill is set near the window overlooking a small, green park. That’s for when I feel like running a few miles, because you won’t ever find me running outdoors, especially when the scorching Texan summer shows up. And it’s not like Liam would be comfortable knowing I was out alone at dawn or when the night has already fallen. He’s kind of overprotective. It’s understandable considering the life he lives, and I have to admit that I’m careful myself. It doesn’t mean that I don’t like giving him a hard time about it every now and then.

  After sitting up, I take in my sweaty state as I look around in the mirrored wall I was adamant to have. The rest of the walls are painted in a very light shade of blue that inspires peace and quiet. Peace and quiet have been what I’ve needed the most this past year. It has done wonders to help me think straight and keep my mind from going crazy with all sorts of heart-rending emotions, such as grief, loneliness, and sorrow. Or with the anger directed at the person I had an unconditional love for. A person that, at one time, would have rather died than be away from me. When I’m in yoga mode, I forget all of that. Just for a little while, but I forget anyway. It helps take my mind off the pain. It’s most likely the reason I haven’t gone insane since I was thrown into a hell I never thought I’d set foot in. But I’m not sure it’ll be enough now that I’m back in Twican. I guess I’ll just have to wait to see about that.

  My everyday life would also improve if yoga could tame one’s sexual frustration. Believe me, being horny all the time can be exhausting. My vibrator has become my best friend for my everlasting lonely nights, but the poor overused thing can only help so much.

  Leaving my peace and quiet behind as I stand up and walk out of the room, I go straight to the bathroom and step into the shower. I wash and dry myself in a flash, and I go back to my room to put on a pair of jeans and a white shirt. I don’t waste any time because I want to put some words down before Liam comes to get me. I still want to buy a desk for the living room since it’s bigger than the one I had back in Dallas, but I’m used to writing without one. So, once I’m dressed, I head to my comfortable gray velvet couch.

  As soon as I’m sitting, I prop my feet on the white coffee table, I settle my eyes on the screen of my computer, I graze the keyboard with my fingers, and then… I breathe out a long sigh full of despair and frustration. And the frustration is not sexual abstinence related this time. Just like every time I’ve tried to put one sentence together in the past three weeks, my brain has just gone blank. Hence the reason I started having doubts about my decision to come back even before I left Dallas. Damn psyche. It’s becoming less and less probable that yoga will be enough to keep my head straight when it comes to Twican.

  My dad used to say that the human brain is as amazing to explore as it is complicated to figure out. But he was a neurosurgeon, so regarding the former, I can’t say that I share his opinion. I definitely wouldn’t be as excited as he was to plunge my hands into gray matter all day. As for the latter, I gave up on trying to figure out people’s minds a long time ago. Asking yourself the same questions over and over again comes with an exhaustion that will leave you dead to the world in no time, believe me on that. I can’t help but wish that my dad was still here to help me see through Jayce’s mind, even though the wish is ridiculous when I know that I wouldn’t be in need of decrypting his mind if my dad hadn’t died all those years ago. If a heart attack hadn’t taken him from me and Liam, I wouldn’t have met Jayce in the first place.

  And the thing is, despite the hell he’s made of my life by breaking up with me, a reality where he doesn’t have any existence is a hard one to contemplate. It’s painful to imagine. His tender smile, his soft, green eyes, his lips twitching when he sees me, his laugh thundering when I make a stupid joke, his deep voice whispering how much he loves me against my ear… I think that what people say is true. It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. My heart shatters into thousands of pieces or is squashed by an invisible, merciless force every time my thoughts wander to him, but I still can’t imagine a world where I don’t know him.

  I was thirteen when my dad passed away, but the little girl who is still somewhere inside of me ten years later has never needed him more than she has this past year. If he were still here, he would call me his princess and engulf me in his strong, protective embrace until whatever had me upset stopped hurting. Though I highly doubt that even the tightest hug from my daddy could mend my heart after being smashed by the man I loved.

  The man I love.

  People are also right when they say that love and hate are close friends. Every single time I remember how much I love Jayce, a scorching anger follows closely in my stomach. I hate him for what he did to me. For what he did to us. I blame him for what my life has been lately. For how lost I feel, and for how I can’t seem to be able to figure out where my place is an
ymore. I love what I’ve made of my apartment. It’s cozy and welcoming. I did everything I could to make this place a home, and yet I can’t deny that everything I did isn’t enough. There’s still this pull I feel toward the club. Toward Jayce’s house, too. It’s like some part of me never gives up on trying to push me toward the only two places I’ve felt completely home since the day Jayce and I got together. I miss how comfortable I felt there, and my heart knows that. But at the same time, my heart knows that I’d feel just as alone there now as I feel here. Spending a few days at the club before my apartment was ready proved that to me. It simply proved me that where I am isn’t what matters. Jayce is what always mattered. I felt home at the club and at his house because he was there. Being with him has always meant being home.

  God… Here I am again. Torturing myself. Why can’t I just remember that it’s over? Done. Why can’t I just move on? Maybe because I kept my hopes high for an entire year. I kept believing with such conviction that Jayce would come back to me eventually. Grief can take a long time to fade, and he had lost not only one, but three members of his family at once. The last family he had, at that. His father, grandfather and uncle were all ripped away from him on the same awful night, and that night left him more than broken. It left him scarred. Destroyed. Lost. But I still thought that time would do its healing job and give me my man back at some point. Whatever scarred version of him that was. There had never been any doubt in me about that. But time kept flying and widening the gap Jayce’s despair had created between us. And this past summer, I finally understood with limpid, heartbreaking clarity that nothing would ever be able to narrow that gap. Not even slightly. Our story is in the past. Now I know that. We’re done. It’s just that being back here messes with my head.

  And now I’m once again angry with myself for not being strong enough to tackle down my thoughts of him, as well as the damn writer’s block that I hold him responsible for.