Brendan outwardly agrees to Stu’s plan with a curt nod of his head. Deep within his eyes I can see his worry. It’s clear that he doesn’t have much faith in his henchman and I hope with every fibre in me that his concerns are warranted.
Mentally pushing aside what Brendan just did to me, I choose to focus on the fact that Mik now knows where I am. Smiling at the thought of their plans unravelling so quickly, I decide to taunt them. If I can further shake Brendan’s confidence, maybe I can give Mik an edge?
“You’re absolutely screwed; you know that?” I state with as much conviction as I can. “Mik’s going to kill you both.”
My recently damaged spirit has risen from its temporary defeat. My lethal fiancé will tear both men limb from limb for touching me. And that’s before my father and the MC gets involved. They’re in for a world of pain.
Stu’s head whips toward me in disbelief, but Brendan ignores my barbs, taking me by the arm and dragging me out of the room. I punch him in the chest, dropping to my knees and fighting him every step of the way to slow him down.
Mik is coming. I need to be somewhere he can hear me.
“Don’t even think about it, Lainey. He’s getting nowhere near you ever again. I’m your man. Always have been. Always will be. Your first man and your only man. He won’t even breathe the same air as you again. If he does, you’re not going to like the consequences!” Brendan warns me as he grabs a handful of my hair to put a stop to my delaying tactics.
Gasping at the stinging radiating through my scalp, I try my best to let his crazy speech wash over me. He’s as delusional as ever about our previous relationship. He still thinks he can tell me how to feel and control me with nasty words and never-ending threats. I refuse to let him do it again. Brendan gives up trying to drag me by my hair, instead slapping me and then swinging me over his shoulder. He strides into his bedroom with me kicking and screaming and pummelling his back with my fists.
Throwing me on the bed, he kicks the door shut behind us. I curl into a ball, keeping my eyes on him, ignoring the jolts of pain rocketing through my body as the bed bounces from my inelegant landing. Locking the door, Brendan pats his pocket when he slides the key into it. He smirks at me, knowing I won't willingly touch him to get the key. I want to slap the smugness right off his face.
Striding over to the window, he presses a button. A shiny silver electric shutter starts lowering down the outside of the window. I’m shocked to realise that it’s not quite dark outside. It feels like the middle of the night, not dusk. I’ve only been trapped here for a little over an hour. It feels like a freaking eternity. Regarding me with interest once the shutter has lowered, Brendan winks. His lewd intent is as clear as day. Knowing this look well, I struggle to sit up on the bed so I can stop him.
“Back off,” I tell him as he advances. “I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs if you touch me again. Someone will hear me.”
“Go ahead.” He smirks, stalking toward the bed despite my threat. “I had this room soundproofed just for you. We both know about your inability to keep quiet when you’re told. It was the cause of all my trouble last time.”
His reference to my screams bringing Mik and my twin Benji running into my bedroom to bring an end to our horrific last night together, brings the buried memories to the forefront of my mind. That night was the last time I’d seen him until this afternoon. His guilty plea spared me the ordeal of testifying against him, when his case finally made it to court, nearly two years after his final attack on me.
Try as I might, I can’t stop my mind returning to that horrible night—a night I try to never think about—and I shiver, my heart pounding as the awful memories overtake me. I don’t want to be anywhere near Brendan again. I’m much stronger than I was back then, but even the new me is going to find it hard to survive his twisted version of love.
I need to escape as soon as possible.
Brendan sits down next me. I scurry to the other side of the king-sized bed but he pulls me toward him by my ankle. Gently picking me up and placing me in his lap, he kisses me with tenderness.
Murmuring between kisses about how much he’s missed me.
Telling me that he still loves me.
Saying that he forgives me for sending him to hell.
Dragging my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them. Keeping my lips pressed together in futile resistance of the gentle onslaught of his tongue is the only defence I have. To be honest, I’m shocked at his sudden warmth.
It reminds me of the first time he kissed me, long before everything turned crazy.
“I’m heading out now. Everything's tidied away. Can you watch Lachie for me?” I yell at my pseudo stepmother, Wendy, as I dry my hands. I say pseudo simply because she’s been like a mother to me since my own mother died when I was ten, but she’s never been able to get my father to marry her. My mother, Alanah, was my father’s one true love. He’s happy to have a relationship of sorts with Wendy, but he isn't able to give her all of his heart because my mother took a fair chunk of it with her when she passed away. As I grow older, I’m stuck between sympathy for Wendy and pride at the depth of my parent’s love.
“Of course I can, Madelaine. Go and have fun with the rest of the kids...” Wendy scoffs at my question. Whatever else she was going to say is halted when she squeals in laughter, her delicate features lighting up as my dad walks past and slaps her ass. I roll my eyes at his antics.
Waving at Dad, I walk outside before he offers to escort me wherever I'm going. My small group of girlfriends are hanging around near the kitchen waiting for me to finish tidying up and watching my little brother.
I don’t need Dad’s overprotectiveness embarrassing me once again.
I live in a country town in Central Queensland, and tonight the entire district is ringing in the New Year at the town hall for the annual New Year’s Eve party. My family moved here six and a half years ago, after my mother died of cancer. We needed a fresh start after failing miserably in our efforts to function as a family without my mom. We’d spent half a year in a family home that had her stamped all over, failing to move past the tragedy. Moving here from Brisbane to a new house and a smaller town helped us heal as much as we could.
“I’ll meet you out front for the fireworks. I need to freshen up,” I tell my friends over my shoulder as I make a hasty exit. Dad’s looking my way again, a frown furrowing his brow as I walk off by myself.
I'm heading for the public restrooms when my twin brother Benji surprises me by throwing his arm over my shoulder.
“Why’re you wandering around in the bloody dark by yourself?” he questions. “You should be with one of us. It's not right for you to be out here alone.”
“For crying out loud, I'm going to the freaking bathroom.” I exclaim. Honestly, my brothers are becoming as bad as Dad. “I’m quite capable of doing that all by myself.”
Pushing his arm from my shoulders, I quicken my pace so I can put some space between us before I lose my temper. Jogging to catch up with me, he digs his fingers into my ribs from behind, tickling me. Squirming and trying not to laugh because I'm ridiculously ticklish, I'm forced to come to a stop when it becomes too much. Benji turns me to face him, equally red-faced with laughter.
“All right, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone for now. You know I'm right, though.” He winks at me, seeking a truce. Rolling my eyes in response to his bossiness gives me a small bit of satisfaction, diluting my irritation with him to a manageable level.
“What do you want, Benji?”
“I wanted to see if you're coming to Kyle’s tonight. It's gonna be wicked.”
“I'll think about it.”
Placated that I might make an appearance at his best friend's party, Benji jogs off backward.
“Make sure you do, Maddi. It'll be good for you to get your nerdy nose out of a book for once.”
After he turns away from me, I poke my tongue at his back. He's right. I should hang out with everyone for once. Scho
ol’s out, and I need a break from studying. I just need to wrangle permission from Dad first.
Our father is known as Beast, and is a senior member of a well-known Motorcycle Club. As his only daughter, I’m a protected species and off limits to most males. Most men will only look at me anyhow, because they know my father, brothers, and any other man belonging to the MC will kick their ass if they mess with me.
As well as my dad, I have four brothers. My twin Benjamin who was seventeen two weeks ago like me; a nearly sixteen-year-old brother Joel who’s becoming as overprotective of me as Dad and Benji; my nerdy twelve-year-old brother Matthew; and little ten-year-old Lachlan who I swear thinks I’m his mom. We all look out for each other, probably taking it to the extreme sometimes.
Dad’s over protectiveness toward me also stems from the fact that I’m nearly a carbon copy of my blonde-hair, blue-eyed mother. I’m taller than every woman I know, with curves to match my height. I’m not a fan of my height. One of my more superficial wishes is that I’ll miraculously wake up, one day, petite and dainty like Wendy.
When Benji wants to be an asshole—which is most of the time lately—he calls me Malibu Barbie. His teasing results in me beating on him, but he doesn't stop. Reaching puberty early, plus my height and curves, caused me a few problems since men assumed I was older than I was. They’d proposition me without realising my actual age—hence the overprotective father and brothers who feel the need to save me from everyone.
Nowadays, their overzealousness is more annoying than helpful since I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I was taught, years ago, how to defend myself by my father’s godson, and now fellow MC member. Mik is twenty-five to my seventeen, my best friend, and sometimes another overprotective brother to contend with. He’s a fellow Club brat; raised in the club like my brothers and I were.
Our parents were best friends. Both of our dads are second generation bikers. Mik’s mum died just before mine, and we bonded over that, plus our mutual love of all things Harley. Our relationship seems weird to outsiders—people constantly comment on it—but I’m mature for my age. The simple fact is that we just get each other. Although, I'm pretty pissed at him for not coming to celebrate with us tonight, and I texted him earlier to let him know just that.
Lost in my thoughts, and eager to get back to my girlfriends, I don’t notice the person crossing the path in front of me until I literally walk into them. Our collision knocks them over. As they fall, they grab my arm to steady themselves, pulling me to the ground with them. My breath rushes from my lungs as I land on top of them. Whomever I knocked over is nearly as hard as the concrete path they’d hit. I'm momentarily winded, forced to rest my head on their chest as I struggle to regain my breath.
“Please excuse me, I am so sorry.” A deep, velvety smooth voice breaks the silence. “I didn’t see you coming.”
Looking up from the chest I’m resting on, I’m greeted by the dark brown eyes of Brendan Taylor, our district’s most eligible bachelor and renowned manwhore. Wonderful, I think to myself with sarcasm. Mentally rolling my eyes, I chastise myself for knocking over the only man in this area whom I find remotely attractive.
Bracing my hands on either side of him so I can get to my feet, I stop when he puts his hands around my waist and holds me to him. My shirt has ridden up so his hands touch bare skin. My skin sparks and catches fire. I feel him draw in a quick breath underneath me, as if touching me affects him as well.
“Are you okay?” he inquires, concern evident in his gorgeous eyes. “We hit pretty hard.”
I wriggle in his grasp, letting him know that I want him to let go of me. Once he releases me, I roll off him and onto my knees, breathing in and out a few times before I stand and answer him. “I’m fine, are you all right?”
Reaching down, I offer my assistance to help him off the ground. He holds my hand in a soft grasp but doesn’t use my offered support to pull himself up. Once he’s standing, I’m forced to take a step back. He’s at least five inches taller than me, and standing so closely that I can’t look him in the face without dislocating my neck. His close proximity causes his cologne to envelop my senses.
It’s one of the most delicious scents I have ever smelled.
“I’m fine as well.” He laughs, still clasping my hand. I tug my hand away twice, but he doesn't let go, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles instead. “Or I will be, if you’d be kind enough to get this crap off my back for me.”
He finally let’s go of my hand when he turns around and presents me with his back. Leaves and small sticks are stuck to the back of his blue dress shirt. Standing on my tiptoes, I brush the debris off of him, starting with his wide shoulders and working my way down to his trim waist. I work as quickly as I can because touching him is making my stomach do funny things—backflips and strange fluttering.
“All done.”
I was aiming for a calm, matter-of-fact tone, so the breathy and higher-than-usual voice that leaves me as I speak two simple words comes as a surprise. Further sabotaging my attempt at cool are my wobbly legs. I don't know if I feel like this because of our fall or if it's Brendan’s proximity. My money is on the latter, even as I try to deny it to myself.
Brendan turns back around, grinning with thanks. Smiling at him, I give him a jerky nod goodbye, turning to walk away. I need to leave before I make a fool of myself. This wobbly, ditzy person is not me and, frankly, it's embarrassing.
I’m stunned when he grabs my upper arm with firm fingers to prevent me from leaving.
“You’re Madelaine O’Brien, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes staring straight into mine.
His penetrating gaze feels like he’s trying to delve into the inner recesses of my mind. I don’t examine why, but it makes me uncomfortable so I shrug my arm from his tighter-than-necessary grip. Letting go with obvious reluctance, he shoots me a quizzical glance.
After I nod my head that he has my name right, he continues. “You’re Benji’s sister?”
“That's me. I prefer to be called Maddi though,” I tell him straightaway.
I hate being called Madelaine. The only time I hear my full name is when I’m in trouble, Wendy being the only exception since she refuses to shorten anyone's name.
“I’m actually his twin, even though no one can tell.” I laugh.
It's true. My twin is as dark as I am fair. We look almost nothing alike.
It doesn't surprise me that Brendan knows me as Benji’s sister. Benji’s a talented Australian Football League player, apparently destined to follow in our father’s footsteps. Dad played at State level, never quite making it to the big time, and he's pretty tough on Benji because of it. He believes that Benji will surpass him and play at the national level if he knuckles down and quits partying. My twin’s something of a local legend where all the girls want him and all the boys want to be his friend.
By comparison, I'm the studious sprinter who keeps to her family and her small group of friends. No one outside of my family wants anything from me, and that's the way I like it.
“I’m Brendan Taylor. I’ve seen you around, but you don’t come to parties like Benji does so I’ve never officially met you. Even though I've been dying to.”
He holds his hand out for me to shake, a big sexy grin on his face. Is he flirting with me? I hope so because he’s hot as sin. His easy charm brings a smile to my face. Taking his offered hand, I shake it. The charge that I felt when he held my waist flares again, so I try to drop his hand the second it’s polite. He refuses to let go so I attempt to brazen out the situation by continuing our conversation as if it isn't awkward standing here holding hands when we've only just met.
“Nice to officially meet you. I don’t really party that often. I’m surprised you’re at the same parties as Benji. Aren’t you a little old for that scene?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. I couldn’t sound more judgemental and prudish if I tried. Heat travels up my neck, and I turn red in front of the one man I don’t want
to.
He laughs at me. “Yes, I suppose I am. I’m twenty-two. There’s not much for me to do around here since I’ve finished university. I actually organise most of the parties now that I’m living back here full time. You should come to the next one. I'll look after you any time you want. Give you anything you want.”
He winks at me, my face heating further. I'm not sure if I'm reading something into his words, but innuendo seems to be lacing his offer.
“I'll keep that in mind,” I tell him, deciding to take his words at face value. “Anyhow, it was nice to meet you, but I need to get going. It’s nearly midnight and I want to catch up with my friends before the fireworks.”
I really don't care about the fireworks. I need to get away from Brendan and my weird reaction to him. Tugging my hand from his, I don’t stop this time until he lets go. Before he does, he plants a kiss over my knuckles, finishing with a small bow.
Holy hell, I think he is flirting with me.
“It was a pleasure having you run into me,” he teases before he continues in a voice that’s deeper and smoother than usual. “I really hope you take me up on my offer. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”
Plastering a fake smile on my face, I pretend I still possess some composure. I’m still not certain if he’s flirting or being overly friendly. It really irks me that I’m behaving like this around him. Normally I’m cool, calm, and collected around the opposite gender, which would be expected considering I’ve grown up surrounded by them, but I can't get a read on Brendan's intentions.
“Have a good night, Brendan,” I say my goodbye, effectively ending the conversation.
I walk off toward the restrooms, and it takes all of my effort not to turn back around to see if he’s watching me.
***
Checking my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands, I find that I’m a little flushed and that a lock of my hair has come loose from the messy bun on the top of my head. Otherwise, I look as good as I can.
Amnesia, a Psychological Thriller (Centrifuge Duet Book 1) Page 16
