Stepbrother Outlaw: The Novel (Dark Steamy Stepbrother Romance)

by Craft, Lana

  “Uh,” Eden said, feeling her confusion seep its way into her tone. “Sorry but what exactly am I supposed to do with all of this?”

  “Please,” Trent replied, waving a hand at her. “Just put it on.”

  “Could you at least elaborate?”

  Trent reached around to unhook the beeping machines she was connected to. Before another word could escape her mouth, he pulled the IV from her arm and wiggled the tubing from her nose. “Hey!” Eden exclaimed, approaching him as he paced across the room and peek out the blinds. “Jesus, would you just slow down for a minute?”

  “No time,” Trent said, shaking his head. “Please, just put on the clothes. I’ll explain when we’re out of here, I promise.”

  “What makes you think I would go anywhere with you?” Eden tapped her barefoot against the ground and eyed him with a crooked smirk, but Trent ignored her and started to untie her hospital gown.

  “I can do it myself,” she said, reaching for the clothing. “Just...turn around.”

  Trent snickered. It seemed ironic to him that the girl he had found passed out naked just a few hours prior would be so caught up in modesty, but he obliged anyway, turning to face the wall.

  When she was sure he wasn’t looking, Eden slid on each piece of clothing and was immediately taken aback by how well it all fit. “How did you know all of this would work for me?” she questioned, sliding her feet into flats.

  Trent shrugged. “Lucky guess.” He rubbed the scruff on his face as he looked out the window, eyeing the crowd of paparazzi who had started to gather outside of the hospital.

  How do you tell a woman you just met that you’re drawn to her? Trent wasn’t sure, but one thing was becoming pretty damn clear to him. He certainly wasn’t the only one.

  “Can I turn around?”

  Eden nodded and when she realized he couldn’t see her, she spoke. “Yes.”

  Trent took a step towards the door, peeking into the hall to make sure no one was coming. When the coast was clear, he extended his hand to her and Eden hesitated before taking hold of it. Wherever he wanted to take her, she figured there was no way it could be any worse than her current setting.

  When they got to the front lobby, Eden's worst nightmare awaited them. Paparazzi were flooded around every major exit, eagerly awaiting the moment she would come sauntering out. It was the most attention she had received from them in years but that didn’t come as much of a surprise. The world had a way of relishing in the fuck ups of celebrities...even the forgotten ones.

  “Come on,” Trent spoke up, taking hold of Eden by the wrist. “I know another way out.”

  They made their way down another hallway, through swinging doors as a stream of nurses and doctors bustled past them. Trent caught off to the side, throwing his large frame against a locked emergency exit and causing it to swing open to reveal a staircase. “Hurry,” he urged Eden, pulling her downwards just as a security guard scurried past them.

  When he was gone, Trent stood and Eden followed him down the long flight of stairs that led to a basement-level parking garage.

  “I'm right over there,” Trent said, nodding at his bike through the tiny glass door separating them both from freedom. When he was positive no one else was in the garage, he swung open the door and raced towards the shiny hunk of metal with Eden in close tow behind him.

  “I hope you don't think I'm getting on that thing!” Eden remarked, not getting a moment to catch her breath before Trent slid his helmet over her head and set her firmly on the leather seat.

  “Oh come on. Don't tell me you've never been on a bike before. What, with all your fancy movie roles and all.”

  Eden frowned. Maybe it was naïve of her, but up until that moment she hadn’t really considered the fact that he knew who she was. At least not entirely.

  “Those were stunt doubles.”

  Trent snickered and Eden reluctantly gripped hold of him as he took off through the dimly lit garage. When they finally hit the surface, the daylight nearly blinded them as they pulled onto the road ahead, just barely escaping the view of the paparazzi.

  Trent eased into the congested flow of traffic without any effort, past the swarm of people who lined the front of the hospital. Eventually they were nothing more than tiny specks in the distance.

  “Where are we going?” Eden called over his broad shoulders, but as usual, she didn't get a response.

  About a mile down the road, Trent veered roughly to the left. “I need to make a quick stop,” he explained over the loud honks of the people he had cut off.

  If there was one thing Eden knew for sure, it was that LA drivers had very little patience for motorcyclists, especially ones who seemed to feel as though the rules of the road were beneath them.

  Trent brought the bike to an abrupt stop in front of a convenience store just before the freeway and shut off the engine, reaching back to pull his helmet from Eden's head. “You coming?” he spoke up, but it was more of an order than a question.

  Eden followed him through the entrance, past shelves stacked high with every kind of alcohol imaginable. Trent snatched up a couple bottles of expensive liquor, stuffing them in his backpack without any hesitation.

  “What are you doing?” Eden hissed, looking back at the cashier, a Hispanic man who was completely absorbed by the magazine in his hands. She pulled out her wallet and held up her gold card. “I can pay for that you know.”

  “Nah.” Trent grabbed another bottle from a different shelf. “That takes all the fun out of it, now doesn’t it?” Before Eden could comprehend what he was doing, he handed her a cheap bottle of vodka and a crisp twenty, nodding at the man. “You wouldn’t mind going to buy that would you?”

  Eden sighed and made her way to the front of the store without protest. She could appreciate a man who took charge, but Trent was something else entirely. At the counter, she caught the cashier’s attention and he nodded at her, taking her money and ringing up the bottle without looking up from his magazine. “Have a nice day,” he said in broken English, gathering up her change and extending it to her.

  Eden thanked him and paused near the door long enough for Trent to dart out first with his stash. “So?” he asked when they were back at his bike. “Was he a big fan of yours?”

  Eden rolled her eyes and stuffed his change in his pocket, climbing on behind him and adjusting his helmet on her head. “Ha-ha,” she said in a stoic tone. “Look, are you going to tell me where we’re going and why you felt the need to steal enough liquor to intoxicate all of Orange County, or should I guess?”

  When Trent didn't respond Eden continued, gripping his back as he pulled back out onto the crowded road.

  “What, you think because you saved my life that means I’ll do whatever you want? That I'm permanently indebted to you or something?”

  Trent uttered a stifled laugh, signaling his blinker as he veered onto the freeway. The sign above the entrance ramp read Joshua Tree, and if Eden wasn’t worried before, she certainly was now. She was not about to leave the city with a man she didn’t know. It didn’t matter that he was the only reason she was still breathing.

  “Wait a second!” she yelled. “You didn't say anything about leaving LA!”

  “If you’ll recall, I never really told you anything,” Trent called out to her. “Now do me a favor and hold on tight.”

  Chapter eleven

  Eden snapped her eyes closed as Trent increased speed, too afraid to move. She couldn’t help but scold herself for leaving the hospital with him to begin with. She could have put up a fight, but it was too late for that now. Reason had gone out the window, and with it, any chance she might have had at escaping.

  Trent didn't have to say it for her to know. It was in what he wasn't saying. A simple look was all it took for her to know that he was the one calling the shots.

  “You're such a cliché,” Eden announced about an hour into the drive, gripping hold of him more tightly as they flew down the unpaved road even further aw
ay from civilization.

  “Oh yeah?” Trent countered, eyeing her in his mirrors. “And I suppose you’re not?”

  Eden started to respond but he revved down on the throttle before she could, adjusting his speed when they approached a particularly steep hill. “Well at least I'm aware of it,” she said once they had found flat land again. “I bet that’s more than you can say.” Trent smiled as the wind whipped through his hair and shrugged instead of refuting the statement. “You’re right though,” Eden said with a bitter laugh, talking more to herself than to him. “My entire life is one big fucking cliché.”

  “Yeah well…isn't everyone’s?”

  Eden nodded against him. Maybe that was why she felt such a strong connection to him to begin with, and why she had trusted him enough to leave with him. He seemed just as lost as she was, but they weren’t the same. Not by a long shot. Trent might have lived on the edge, but Eden only teetered there.

  He could take off and go at any moment if he wanted. He could live his life, really live it, however he saw fit. He wasn’t bound by the constraints of contracts and deadlines. He didn’t have the world looking on, eagerly awaiting to be impressed by him. He might not have been a rich man, but he had the two things Eden craved the most. Things she would have traded her entire fame and fortune for, or at least what small part of it she had left.

  Time and anonymity.

  “Maybe,” Eden said after a few moments, tensing against Trent’s back as he pulled off onto the exit ramp for Joshua Tree. A few miles down the road, he turned through a dense patch of trees and pulled to a stop in front of a fairly deserted looking home.

  At first Eden didn’t even see it. It was only once they had climbed off the bike and were a few feet away from it that she recognized what she was looking at.

  The house was small and almost completely isolated from the rest of the road. Eden pulled Trent's helmet from her head to get a better look, shaking out her hair as he lit a cigarette. “What is this place?” she questioned, stepping forward and pausing in front of the dilapidated porch. It wasn’t until then that the full weight of her exhaustion began to fully hit her.

  She needed to sit down. She needed a fix. She needed a warm bath and a meal. As it turned out, she needed a lot of things, but only one would be delivered…

  “Come here,” Trent called out to her, reaching for her hand. He offered her his cigarette and she took a brief hit off the end of it. “You know,” he continued, changing the subject and leading them up the rickety front steps. “I'm not entirely convinced that being cliché is a bad thing.”

  Eden frowned and raised an eyebrow at him, not following. When he opened the front door, she followed him inside, feeling suddenly uneasy in the darkness beside him. If she had to admit to any one fear, it would be the dark. There was something she found so unsettling about not knowing what awaited her in it, but luckily for her, Trent was quick to turn on a light.

  “I’m surprised this place has electricity,” Eden noted, her voice coming out more sarcastic than intended. She swallowed hard. On the ride over, she had started to sweat and to her complete and utter dismay, her breasts were showing through the fabric of her tank top, creating a wet t-shirt effect. With a sigh, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying her best to avoid making eye contact with Trent as he took her in. “Anyway,” she continued, licking her lips. “What did you mean by that? The cliché thing, I mean…”

  “Oh,” Trent managed, regaining his composure and rubbing his neck. “Right. I guess I just meant…shit. I don’t know. It’s just, that’s kind of the American dream isn’t it? To fit in somewhere?”

  Eden swallowed hard. “Maybe,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders. “The fantasy is always better than the reality, though.”

  “Yeah?” Trent shot back. “Is yours?”

  Eden started to reply but the inside of her mouth went dry before she could. He was good. Maybe too good. Before she could register what was happening, he reached for her hand and pulled her towards him, cupping her chin in his palm and forcing her to look him in the eye. His gaze was warm and electrifying, and Eden found herself at a loss for words, something that seldom ever happened to her.

  “Well?” he whispered, refusing to relent. “Is it?”

  “Why do you care?” Eden countered, but her voice came out shaky and uneven, exemplifying her anxiety. She waved a hand around the room. “And anyway, what about you? What's so great about your life?”

  Trent laughed and pointed his cigarette at her. “Well…that all depends how you look at it,” he said, taking a step back. “Am I rolling in cash like you are? No. Hell, most days I can barely even afford gas. But...I'm pretty happy, and as far as I can tell, I’m pretty healthy too. All that's gotta matter for something right?”

  Eden hesitated for a moment before nodding. She could feel her cheeks flush as Trent’s piercing eyes grazed her own, but she refused to react. “Anyway,” she managed, changing the subject. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here? What is this place?” There was definitely something about it that gave her the creeps, and it wasn’t just the fact that it had to have been at least a hundred years old.

  “This,” Trent spoke, waving his hand around the room. “Is my home away from home.” It might not have been the whole truth, but as far as he was concerned, it was all she needed to know at the moment.

  “Home?” Eden snickered. “No offense, but this place is hardly livable.”

  Trent shrugged and reached into his pocket for his lighter, lighting a candle on the living room mantel. Eden’s eyes adjusted to the added source of light as she scanned the tiny room. On one whole wall, the words ‘Savage MC’ were painted in chipped black paint above the anarchy logo. She recognized the name, but she was too exhausted to recall where she had heard it before.

  Eden jumped when Trent’s hand grazed her own, feeling a lump surface in her throat. “Trent,” she tried once more, feeling a strain in her tone. “Why are we here?”

  Trent clenched his jaw and hesitated, studying a spot on the ground. He wanted so badly to tell her, but the fact of the matter was, he didn’t know himself. Instead, he removed the bottles of liquor from his backpack and set them down on the kitchen table one by one. A good drink or two always did have a way of loosening his reserves.

  Too exhausted to continue begging him for answers, Eden went quiet as she took in her surroundings. The home was tiny and outdated, with peeling wallpaper and gaudy furniture that was covered in a thin layer of dust. She focused her eyes on a large family portrait that looked like it was taken decades ago. An attractive family was lined up based on their height, and all of them were smiling from ear to ear.

  Except for one person that is.

  Trent was much younger in the photograph, but Eden recognized him all the same. He stood in the very back of the line and was every bit as intense looking as he was now, but he didn’t look like he fit in with his family. Not by a long shot. It wasn't just his lack of a smile either. In a sea of blondes, Trent with his brooding features and dark hair stood out like a sore thumb. If there was ever a perfect case for the existence of a milkman father…this was it.

  “Let me guess,” Trent spoke up, following Eden’s gaze. “You're thinking...‘Just who is this perfect looking family and how did they end up with a screw up like him?’”

  Ouch.

  Eden shook her head in a weak attempt at rebuffing him but Trent only laughed. “It’s okay,” he countered. “No offense taken. That’s my mom’s second family. I haven’t seen any of them in years.”

  Well that makes sense, Eden thought, glancing at the photograph once more and taking note of Trent’s somber expression in it. She wanted so badly to pry, but she didn’t. Instead, she remained quiet, meeting eyes with him as he continued speaking. “I do have my dad to thank for this place though,” he continued, removing his leather cut and tossing it on the table. Eden briefly took note of the Savage MC patch attached to the back of it an
d slowly began to put two and two together. It was pretty obvious at this point that he had something to do with the club. “I inherited it from him when he died. I guess that makes it a family heirloom.”

  “Yeah,” Eden commented, feeling her usual sarcastic banter bubble to the surface. “It's a real lap of luxury.”

  Trent laughed, welcoming the change of air. The last thing he wanted to do was explain the intricacies of his fractured family to her. He approached the living room windows, reaching forward to pry off the heavy pieces of plywood that were nailed to them. Once they were off, natural light poured inside the room, bringing Eden's attention to things she hadn't noticed before.

  The entire room was covered from wall-to-wall with empty liquor bottles no different than the kind Trent had stolen back at the convenience store. Suddenly it all made sense. His slurred speech. The heavy stench of liquor on his breath. The glazed over look in his eyes. All of it.