Shane (The Mallick Brothers Book 1)

by Jessica Gadziala

  And then there, walking a little too confidently out of the shed a few yards back, was Shane. It was Shane straight out of a horror movie really. I’d seen him coming home bloody before, but this wasn’t bloodied. This was like he got a bucket of blood poured down at him at the prom.

  His eyes were on me, a little guarded, a little haunted, just a bit different than they usually were.

  “Shane?” I heard myself ask. I caught movement behind him and, like I predicted, the rest of the family was coming in. Why? I had no idea since not one of them seemed to own a gun.

  His lips tipped up ever so slightly as he got closer. “I met your ex,” he informed me as he stopped a few feet to my side, jerking his chin back toward the group of confused and armed bikers.

  “Lea babe…” Shep started again, brow raised. “The fuck is this?”

  Deciding that maybe the truth was the best bet, I started to open my mouth to give it. Only to find myself interrupted by Shane.

  “This is me putting an end to her fuckwad of an ex threatening her.”

  I heard a gun cock and turned fully, looking for the carrier, finding the road captain and cocking my own gun and raising it. “Try it, Micky. Not only did Rick teach me to ride, he taught me to shoot too. And if you guys remember, he was a damn good shot.”

  “Lea,” Shep tried again, his voice patient as I usually found it. I guess it had to be if he was constantly dealing with hot-headed Ross. “Explain.” He paused, letting me. When Shane opened his mouth to speak for me, his eyes cut to him. “She can speak for herself,” he told Shane who went a little rigid beside me.

  I swallowed hard, biting into my cheeks for a second, then met his eyes and refused to break contact as I went on. “I got a little sick of being raped every single night of my life, Shep,” I said, noting a slight tensing around his eyes at that, finding that show of humanness comforting. They weren’t all complete monsters. “So I left.”

  “I get that. Who the fuck you think talked Ross out of tearing this country apart looking for you?” he asked, shrugging. “Explain why you’re back with these fucks and why that one looks like he slaughtered every pig in the state.”

  “I moved on. And I got involved with him,” I said, jerking my head toward Shane. “And he wasn’t too happy to find out Ross was threatening me still.”

  “So he came here to send a message,” he guessed, eyes going to Shane, looking him over. “That message,” he started, addressing him instead of me then, “I am assuming it was of the first and final variety.”

  “Yep,” Shane answered.

  First and final?

  Final?

  I turned suddenly to Shane, mouth open, as I looked him over again. Shep was right. There was no way all that blood came from a body that lived through the beating. “You killed Ross?” I asked, my voice an airy, disbelieving sound.

  “He had it coming,” Shane said, his tone a bit defensive. “You didn’t hear the shit…” he started, then shook his head.

  “Yo,” Micky called, ever the shit-starter. “We just gonna stand here like a bunch of pussies? He killed the fucking pres!”

  There were curses and agreement and the air, I swear, filled with testosterone.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Shep growled. Growled. All the years I had known him, I had never heard him speak above a normal register.

  I wondered then, watching him, seeing the way his eyes were active, his mind was working, if maybe he had just been patiently waiting for this day. He had been made road captain under Ross’ father, Rick’s, reign. He was more qualified than Ross in every way for the role of power. Honestly, I think the old man would have preferred Shep too. But, dying as suddenly as he had, he never got a chance to make that clear.

  “This isn’t some turf war shit,” Shep went on, half turning to the men, tone reasonable. “The fuck we gonna do? Kill some family without having…”

  “We have good reason,” Micky insisted, waving a hand toward Shane, moving a threatening couple feet forward as he did so. “That fuck is covered in the president’s fucking blood!”

  I felt my lip curling, remember the way that meaty hand of his once slid under my skirt to squeeze my ass. I was all but sixteen at the time; he had been old enough to be my father.

  “Keep coming, Micky,” I said, aiming the gun toward his heart. “I only have so many bullets in this gun, but so help me God, I will use every last one of them to take out as many of you as possible if you don’t back the fuck down.”

  There was a tremble of worry in his jaw for a second before he turned to Shep. “You can’t fucking let that cunt talk to me like that! Fucking bitches overstepping…”

  “That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” my father broke in suddenly, moving out from the middle of the crowd to confront Micky.

  “Little late to be the big man now, don’t you think?” Shane asked, drawing my father’s attention. “Now that I took care of the real threat, I mean. It’s cool for her to be raped and dragged around by her hair for years, just can’t call her a bitch? That’s how you’re playing this?”

  “You’re not helping,” I snapped at Shane, whose eyes cut to me for a short second.

  “I don’t care,” he said back. “He needs to hear it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re,” my brother started to break in, moving in beside my father.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Shep said, looking up at the sky for a second, like looking for just a bit more patience to deal with all the men.

  Just then, I heard a voice that I had momentarily forgotten was even present. “What’s your name?” Charlie asked, moving forward, talking to Shep.

  “Shep. And you are?”

  “Charlie Mallick. These are my sons. That,” he said, giving me a small smile, “is my son’s girl. I’ve known a lot of bikers in my time and I know one thing, you guys understand that when something belongs to a man, he protects it. Lea belongs to my son.”

  “She belonged to Ross,” Micky insisted.

  At that point though, everyone was ignoring him.

  “I get that,” Shep agreed. “But your son came onto this property and killed the man who runs things here.”

  To that, Charlie’s smile went a little wise, a little amused. “I think everyone here knows who really runs things around here. No empire, least of all a criminal one, can survive with a hot head at the wheel. You’ve been quietly controlling this place for years, I bet.”

  There was a few grunts of agreement from some of the old timers, who had always known Ross wasn’t meant for power. There was some feet shuffling from others who obviously knew it was true, but didn’t have the balls to admit it, despite Ross being dead.

  “So you’re telling me that you did me a favor by coming here?” Shep asked, but I could tell the harshness in his voice was for show, to make the men think he was showing at least a little anger at having his boss murdered.

  “I’m saying it all worked out in the end,” Charlie said with a shrug. “We could let this get messy. My count says there are eight guns on your side with maybe one man stupid enough to want to use it over this. The rest, what, maybe some knives? We may not look like much, Shep, but let me tell ya’, we can take a bunch of half-bombed, mostly old and out of shape bikers any day. All for what? To prove a point? For what purpose? We aren’t a threat to your club. We live and work on the other coast. This was some personal shit; it’s handled. We’re fine letting it be done at that. I have a feeling you would too.”

  “Like fuck,” Micky started.

  I’d never seen Shep in action before. He was always a talking man, talking Ross down, talking sense into everyone. Always talking. Up until that moment, I couldn’t imagine him moving like he did.

  One arm moved out, grabbing Micky’s wrist with the gun, twisting it, and directing the muzzle toward the ground. The other arm cocked back, swung out, and landed with a sickening crack to Micky’s jaw, making his body immediately go slack and fall. Shep pulled the gun free, twir
ling it once before sticking it into the waistband of his pants. “Anyone else got an issue letting shit be handled? I know for a fact half of you were sick of Ross’ shit. Especially over the last couple months when all he did was bitch about Lea. He hasn’t handled shit business-wise. All of our pockets are a little lighter than we’d like them. That’s over now,” he said, again, getting rumbling approval and some shuffling.

  “So, what, you’re stepping up?” one of the younger bloods asked, brow raised.

  “He’s vice,” one of the old timers said. “That’s how it works, dipshit.”

  I almost wanted to laugh at that, finding the comfortable animosity the old timers had for the young blood familiar and somehow comforting.

  “So that’s it? We’re just supposed to go on like some fuck didn’t come in here and kill our president?” the kid pushed.

  Shep looked at me, shaking his head a little, like he was sharing his frustration with me. “Someone get that kid a bitch to get rid of some of that testosterone. I think he needs a good fuck if he ain’t getting a fight.” With that, there were chuckles and agreement. A few of the men patted Shep on the shoulder as they moved back inside. “Ross was bent,” he told us when there were only a few of us on each side left. “Fucked in the head. Always was. Don’t know how Rick let him come into power like that.”

  “Lea…” my father started, watching me.

  “No,” Shane snapped, making me jump it was such a vicious bark.

  “No?” my father asked, brows drawing together.

  “No,” Shane affirmed. “You don’t get to talk to her. You don’t get to feed her some bullshit sob story about how you had no choice. You don’t get to play the mother fucking victim. You don’t get to take this opportunity to justify your behavior and try to lessen your guilt. This is on you, you stupid fuck. Live and die with that on your shoulders. You earned the weight of it.”

  “Shane,” I tried, voice quiet, attempting to calm him down. I swear the air around him was charged, vibrating with anger.

  “They don’t get to do that to you, Lea,” he said, eyes on me, intense, protective, angry for me.

  “I know,” I agreed and, right then, I did. Because I saw what family was supposed to mean finally. I saw it because it was all around us. It was Charlie intervening, being the patriarch, being the voice of reason, trying to de-escalate a situation that might turn bad. It was in his brothers who had dropped everything to drive across the country to help him… and me. And if Charlie failed and the situation got ugly, they would have fought it out with us. That was family. Family did whatever was needed to take care of one another. They didn’t think selfishly. They thought and acted as a unit.

  The only family I had ever known had made every single decision based on what was best for them, what kept them safe.

  Shane was right; they didn’t deserve my loyalty. They made the choice, day after day, week after week, year after fucking year, to not step in, to not help me, to let me suffer.

  He was right. Love wasn’t unconditional. It had to be earned.

  They had done nothing to earn mine.

  “So they don’t get to gloss over this,” Shane added.

  “I know,” I said, smiling a little. “But I get to be the one to tell them off, you ass,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

  To that, his lips tipped up, his eyes losing some of their horror. “Guess you earned that. Give em’ hell, baby.”

  I turned back to my father and brother, both having the good sense to look a bit sheepish, the cowards they were. “This is it for us,” I told them. “You’re not going to be calling me and I won’t be sending Christmas cards. When I make an entire litter of black-haired, blue-eyed boys,” I said, feeling Shane stiffen beside me, knowing how big that was for me, “they are going to know the grandfather they deserve, the one who drove across country and stood with me against my enemies… not stood with them.”

  “Lea, honey…”

  “And when they know their uncles,” I said, looking at my brother, “they will know that they will always be there to protect them. And they will show them how brothers are supposed to act. They won’t even understand the concept of selfishness, of standing by while wrong is being done and not stepping in. We’re done,” I said, looking at them both hard, feeling that sensation down to my bones: done.

  “Lea,” Shep’s voice broke in, drawing my attention. When I looked at him, his eyes were kind, kinder than I remember seeing them. But, then again, I was always looking for the ugly in all the men. “I don’t expect to be seeing you again, but you don’t have any enemies here. Not anymore,” he said, his tone firm, giving me closure.

  I was free.

  Fuck.

  Finally, finally free.

  “Breathe,” Shane demanded and I realized he was right, I was holding my breath. I had been holding it for years.

  I sucked in air, nodding.

  “Lea,” Ryan said behind me, touching my elbow. “Come on. Let’s get back to the car.”

  “No. I’m not leavin…”

  “We’re right behind you,” Shane promised, but I planted my feet.

  “What would your mother think if she knew you were trying to shoo me away so you can handle ‘man business’?” I asked with a brow raise that managed to make the whole lot of them smile.

  “We need to talk about the body,” Shane said, making me stiffen a bit, only because I didn’t like the idea that he had needed to do that, that he needed to kill for me.

  Shep raised a hand. “Let me handle it. I know where the bodies are, ah, buried,” he said, with an eye roll at his own comment. “You guys don’t know your way around here. You’re more likely to get caught. And, trust me, if anyone finds Ross’ body, the DEA will be all over our shit. They’ve wanted to take us down for years. Finding him dead will bring them here to investigate. They’ll find shit. We don’t need the heat. I will handle it.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Charlie said, voice firm, the kind of firm that I imagined had made lesser men cower away, “I’d rather Shane were in on the clean up. Just to make sure things go right. Me as well,” he added, a certain edge to his voice that drew my full attention.

  It was right then that I realized something. Shane wasn’t the only Mallick man to have taken a life before; Charlie had too.

  Shep looked at them and nodded. “Alright. But we need to handle it now.”

  “Agreed,” Charlie said with a nod.

  They turned back to us, Shane giving me a look that I swear managed to say: don’t be a pain in the ass about this and just go with the flow for once in your life.

  “Go with Ryan, okay?” he asked, moving to touch me, then seeing the blood on his hand and arm, and dropping it. “As soon as this is handled, I’ll come find you.

  Knowing I really had very little choice, I nodded.

  “Yo, you two,” Shep called, meaning my father and brother. “Your asses get to carry the body for us. Go get a tarp.”

  He gave me a small smile as Ryan took my elbow and started to lead me away.

  “What?” I asked when Ryan stopped behind a dumpster and raised a brow at me.

  “Give me the gun,” he said in a bored-sounding tone.

  “What? No. It’s mine.”

  “Where did you get it?” he asked, eyes knowing.

  I huffed, rolling my eyes, and handing it over. He took out the clip, holding it by a freaking handkerchief he had in his pocket, and rubbing it clean, tossing it into the dumpster. He walked another couple feet to the other dumpster, wiped the outside of the gun off, and tossed that too.

  “Alright, let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, leading me over to the SUV as Hunter, Mark, and Eli walked up as well.

  So then we went back to the hotel.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And freaking waited.

  NINETEEN

  Lea

  The door didn’t open until well after one in the morning, making Ryan shoot up in the cha
ir where he had been sitting and me sit up against the headboard where I had been staring at the TV screen, not really seeing anything, lost in my own thoughts.

  Like what it meant for me that I was free.

  I honestly think I forgot what the meaning of that word was. While I had gotten away from Ross and gotten a small amount of freedom in not being raped and yelled at, demeaned, and made to do things, I still hadn’t been free. I had been living in fear and had the weight of my past as an ever-present anchor.

  Every decision I made, I made with the knowledge that Ross was still around and could find me at any time.

  I had moved where he wouldn’t look for me.

  I had kept my head down and not made connections.

  I had done what I needed to do to get away.

  But I had never been free.

  But that night changed everything. Shane had changed everything. While the idea of him having to kill someone when he had gone his whole life and career managing not to do so didn’t sit well with me, made me feel guilty, made me worry about how he would mentally handle it, it put a stamp of finality on the whole situation. I would never have to look over my shoulder again. The sound of bikes wouldn’t make me sick. I could put down roots. I could put my name on documents without worrying about the trail that left. I could make friends.

  I could love Shane.

  Love.

  Almost everything in me rebelled against that word, wanted to fight it, wanted me to accept that it was too soon for that, that it was stupid and illogical.

  But there was no denying that was what was happening.

  Maybe I wasn’t the type to fall into love. Maybe my past made me too hesitant for that, too careful. But it seemed like I had dipped my toe, tested the waters, and was slowly but surely stepping in.

  That, in and of itself, was a scary concept.

  But, at the same time, not.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that, about the swirling feeling in my belly mixed with the swelling sensation in my chest. Because I knew it was right. I knew that, after all my bad decisions, all my stupid choices with men, I had finally made the right one. Albeit quite begrudgingly and almost against my will, but I had made the choice to let Shane in.