GRIZ: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (Chained Angels MC)

by Nicole Fox

  “I understand, but …”

  “But nothin’,” he says, silencing me. “Tanner, you are my only daughter. I’ve done all I could to keep you safe. This is your club, your home, and it’s well within my rights to hold responsible the club that took you. I don’t care if it was the VP or the lowest man on the totem pole who took you—the leader of a club is responsible for the actions of all of his men.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, sulking. These two do not listen to women, and they clearly think I’m still a child, to boot. “This is bullshit,” I say.

  “Stop pouting,” my father scolds. “We just want to keep you safe and keep our club territory intact.”

  “I don’t need you to keep me safe,” I say.

  “Clearly you do,” Kit answers for my father. “Which is why I’ve asked your father to expedite our marriage. If I marry you, you’ll be even further protected by the club. And I’ll be able to personally manage your security and welfare.”

  I gasp and look up at my dad, who nods in agreement. “No,” I say, my stomach sick. “No way. I don’t consent to that.”

  “Consent is irrelevant,” Kit says. “This is for your own good.”

  Think. Think. Think.

  “Well,” I say, pursing my lips, “You can’t marry someone who’s already married.”

  You could hear a pin drop in this joint. The two men are totally shocked, which is great because I needed something to keep them from further planning ways to fuck up my life.

  “What do you mean, you’re already married?” Draven asks.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Griz and I … we clicked. We love each other and we eloped the other day. So, you see, I can’t belong to you or Kit or the Grave Robbers anymore. I already belong to someone, and that’s Griz. I already have a club, and that’s the Chained Angels.”

  Both my father and his second in command are silent. The tension in the room is thick enough to touch. Finally, Draven says, “Tanner, please go to your room while Kit and I talk through this new information. I’ll come talk to you when we’ve decided what to do.”

  I want to argue, to tell him I’m not a baby anymore, that I have the right to make my own choices and that I choose Griz. I feel like walking right back out the door. But I don’t. Draven is still my father. Still a decent man. I owe him at least the respect of hearing him out, so I make the trek to my quarters, adjacent to his, and I wait.

  Chapter Eleven

  Griz

  My office is quiet now. It was just ten minutes ago when I had six members turn in their colors while they told me what a clusterfuck this club has become. I can’t say I blame them. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I started to realize just how toxic my VP has become and just how absent I have been, but here we are now and I’m six members down.

  Hank, the guy who questioned me outside when Spike came back shot, was the first in the door. He said, “This club ain’t never been for me. I thought seeing something new start from the ground would be exciting, but it’s like workin’ in a fuckin’ bank. Surrounded by spoils and unable to touch any of it.”

  “You get paid handsomely on every deal,” I say. “But I don’t want you here if you think that acting like a professional is so fucking hard. Turn in your colors.”

  He did, and then five other guys followed him. None of the others were quite as vocal, but they all expressed similar sentiments. They want action and excitement. This club is just business.

  Thing is, I’ve been in clubs that had drama all the time. Fighting, fucking, shooting, stealing—my father died in one of those clubs and I didn’t want that. I wanted to run something that we could hold up and be proud of, something others might follow. But now I see that might not be possible.

  Frankly, I’m half tempted to light a match, get on my bike, and let it all go. Get my kid and drive east, start something new. Something legit. However, I know I’ve got many more guys who feel as I do, I know it … that’s why I need to stay and see this through.

  I rub my forehead. This headache just won’t go away.

  Really, I should be glad that Tanner is home with her father now. Safe. Right? I mean, fuck, I only nearly stopped Spike from doing more to her than he already had. With him still around, still so volatile, the only thing to do was to send her away.

  Besides, I sure as hell don’t need another distraction and that’s exactly what she was, a distraction.

  Tell that to the guy who nearly threw up watching her leave with Dex. I felt physically ill letting her go with him, sending her away. How is it possible that I could have feelings like that for a woman who was literally bound and gagged on my bed just days ago?

  It was just sex, I tell myself. Just sex. Didn’t matter. Don’t need the distraction.

  So why does this feel so shitty?

  # # #

  Tanner

  “You’re goin’ back,” Draven says from the doorway to my room.

  I stand up and walk over to hug him. He returns the sentiment, but when I pull away, his face is grim.

  “Tanner, I don’t know what happened to you there, but if what you say is true, then rules are rules. You’re his now.” He swallows and looks around the room. “I know you didn’t want to marry Kit.”

  “But you would have made me anyway, because you thought you could keep me under your thumb,” I answer, sounding more bitter than I actually feel. “He’s like twice my age and he creeps me out.”

  “He cares about you and wants to keep you safe,” he snaps back. “Same for me. Ain’t no shame in that.”

  “It doesn’t matter that I’m not attracted to him? That if he had sex with me, it would be against my will?” I ask.

  Draven opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. Shakes his head. “It don’t matter now. He’ll take you back to Grisham’s club, and you’ll deliver a message. We don’t need war, but we do need blood. His second killed one of my men. We demand blood in return. Get your things together. The car’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  My dad isn’t one for big emotional displays. He’s always been fair but firm. My mom said he was too stoic. She needed someone more passionate. Which is why she slept with another club member, one my dad beat to within an inch of his life before granting my mom a divorce.

  I guess now, having seen the way Griz has handled things with his fists, that I understand my father a little better now. My mom calls him a psychopath, but I think I understand that this is just the way club business is handled. Bloodshed is part of the deal sometimes. I mean, the guy did sleep with the boss’s wife.

  Draven gives me a hug and wishes me luck before he loads me up in a black car with Kit. I meet his gaze and find him fighting tears. It makes me well up and he shoves me away before turning away and stomping off.

  The driver is not someone I recognize, which makes me uncomfortable. The fact that he had a car sent makes me uncomfortable. I mean, we have cars, but we rarely travel anywhere in them, particularly not when dealing with other clubs. I assume that my dad doesn’t want to make a scene by having us roll up on a motorcycle. Or maybe he wants the ride to be more comfortable. Either way, it makes me feel antsy.

  For good reason, I realize, when Kit sidles up close to me as we pull away. Great. So this was a way for Kit to get a few minutes to talk some sense into me. If we were on a bike, we wouldn’t be able to talk. Now, he’s got a good twenty minutes to lecture me on how I’m breaking my father’s heart or whatever bullshit he’s going to sling my way.

  We ride a couple of minutes in silence. He finally speaks up.

  “Last chance to tell the truth,” he says, inches from my face. I look away, ignoring him. “No fucking way that tight-ass Grisham would marry you. He’s all business, no play.”

  “You don’t know a thing about him,” I say.

  “I know he didn’t fucking marry you,” he says. “But the truth will out.”

  “You’re just a sore loser,” I say, meeting his gaze, forcing myself to be strong.<
br />
  “Maybe,” he says, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I would’ve been good to you.”

  “In your way, I guess,” I say. “But you want control and status. That’s not love.”

  “If you think Griz loves you, you’re mistaken,” he says. “He wants control more than I do. He’ll use you up and spit you out when you’re no longer useful to him.”

  I try to scoot as far away from Kit as I can. I realize, now, that he wanted this car so he could make one last attempt to change my mind. Maybe claim me back from Griz somehow. It’s odd, but I feel suffocated and I want out. I ask the driver to roll down the windows. He does not oblige. Now I really know this car and this driver were a setup by Kit, the rat. I swear I’m going to kick him in the balls the minute I get a chance.

  I could tell Kit that Griz hasn’t asked for a thing in return for me. That he stopped himself from claiming me several times. That is was my choice to sleep with him. But I know he won’t listen and, frankly, I don’t care what Kit thinks. Him being pissed has nothing to do with me, not really, not in any way that matters. He’s angry, because marrying me would have forever solidified him as the next leader of the Grave Robbers. He probably wanted to fuck me because he’s older and I’m younger and he likes the idea of a trophy wife. But he wanted to build a little dynasty and I was a big part of that plan. But no more. I’ve gone and screwed it all up for him. Now his leadership can only be solidified through actual leadership. And he may be a little short on supply.

  I’ve never actively disliked Kit. He creeped me out once he started sniffing around, trying to talk my dad into creating this arranged union for us. But I didn’t hate him. Right now, though, I’m starting to.

  “This is going to end badly, Tanner,” Kit says.

  I bite the inside of my lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of arguing with him. I can’t help it, though. “Kit, I think it’s already ending badly for you.”

  He raises his lip in a half-snarl. “Look, I only offered to marry you because your father asked me to. Skinny little sluts aren’t my usual type.”

  “Sure, sure,” I say, giving him a wan smile. “You can tell yourself whatever you want, whatever makes you feel better. You thought you’d marry the boss’s daughter, knock her up, make a little ascension plan for yourself. But now, oh, shit, you’ve lost that little card.”

  “You don’t know a thing about club leadership,” he snaps. “Little spoiled princess in a golden fucking tower. You think you’re going to go in and be a queen. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

  “Well, at least he wouldn’t rape me,” I say, eyebrow raised in challenge.

  Kit’s mouth opens in surprise. He shuts it and swallows heavily, turning away. “Sex between a man and his wife is not rape,” he answers quietly, tersely.

  “If she doesn’t consent, then it’s rape,” I answer back. “And there is no way, in any lifetime, that I would willingly sleep with you. So there you go.”

  He’s fast with his response, a quick backhand across my face that leaves me stunned and stinging. I lunge back at him, digging my nails into his cheek. He pushes me away, my head hitting the door.

  “Good fucking riddance to you,” he says. “Let Griz have you. What a fucking cunt you are.”

  “Yeah, and what a big fucking man you are, hitting a woman,” I growl. “Bet that makes you feel like a stud, huh? Fuck you.”

  His fists ball into tight fists and his jaw clenches, but he knows better than to take this any farther. We’re close now, and if he thinks we’re ready for war now, wait until Griz finds out he just hit me.

  As we pull up to the Chained Angels’ headquarters, two guards stop the vehicle and make us get out. They search us for weapons and take Kit’s handgun. He argues, saying he deserves to be able to defend himself, since he’s alone and “only returning club property.”

  I cringe at the word. I’ve insisted all along that I’m not property and while I’m slowly realizing how naïve I’ve been to the role of women in these clubs, I still don’t like being considered under the ownership of another person. I especially hate hearing it come out of Kit’s mouth.

  Unhappily, Kit puts his hands over his head as the guards escort us up the drive and to the main staircase. The place where Griz, just days ago, made me suck him off in front of an audience. I was so mortified, but also … turned on. Surprisingly turned on. This is why this whole situation is so confusing. For me, for Griz … probably for anyone around us both. I was kidnapped, left to be claimed. And he could have. A hundred other club bosses would have. A thousand of their brotherhood would have. Kit would have. Whether I liked it or not.

  This is the complexity of Griz. He’s rough, for sure. He’s got an awfully heavy chip on his shoulder, but he never took anything I wasn’t willing to give. And I was totally willing. I guess part of me wanted to experience something. Anything. No, it wasn’t fun to be kidnapped, and Spike’s a creep, but he gave me a gift. He gave me … .freedom. Even in confinement. And he led me to Griz. And now, I’m ready to be with Griz. In bed. In life.

  I just hope he feels the same way.

  As we approach the front entrance, chaos erupts. Spike comes out the front door, gun raised. The two Chained Angels that guard us don’t seem to know quite what to do as they pull their weapons. They know Kit is unarmed, but this is their vice president raising his weapon, and they’re not sure exactly who he’s aiming at.

  I drop to my knees as the shot goes off, diving to the side, hands over my head. The guy to my right yells, “Stay down!”

  The other guy is on a radio. I hear him say something about shots fired, rival club member shot. I turn just enough to see Kit on the ground, blood spilling around him at an alarming rate. There’s screaming ringing in my ears and it takes me a minute to realize it’s coming from me. I’m screaming.

  Spike scrambles down the steps and grabs me by the hair, pulling me up to my feet. He puts the gun to my head, dragging me halfway back up the staircase.

  “Hey there, pretty little thing,” he says into my ear. “Thought you’d be safely back in your father’s care by now. Good to see you back, but it’ll be better to see you on your back. And since I hear you like a show, I think we’ll start right here.”

  “That’s Griz’ girl,” one of the guards warns. “And you just shot another Grave Robber. Why don’t you drop that weapon before you make things worse, man?”

  Kit stirs, struggling to sit up. “What the …”

  “Kit, you’ve been shot,” I say. “Stay where you are.”

  I hear a commotion at the top of the stairs, then Griz’ voice, commanding and clear.

  “Spike, drop that weapon and step away,” he says.

  Spike spins us both around but doesn’t follow the order. “No,” he says, laughing, “I don’t think I will, boss. You sent her back and relinquished your claim. She’s open for business, now.”

  His breath smells of stale beer, and his eyes are wild, darting around. He’s having trouble focusing. I step on his foot and he howls, letting go just enough for me to get away, but he’s with it enough to catch up quickly, grabbing my foot as I race up toward Griz. I fall, scraping my arms and face, seeing stars as I hit my head for the second time this afternoon.

  “Careful now,” Spike says, pulling me back against him. “Found a way to get to ya, didn’t I, boss? Brought you this gift. You were supposed to use her—fuck her, claim her—use her to the advantage of your struggling little piece of shit club. But no. You went and fell in love with her scrawny ass. So now, I’m going to do what you couldn’t.”

  My vision is blurry but I manage to fight against him. “Griz, don’t let him bait you.”

  “Let her go,” Griz says, still sounding calm and assured. “This is between you and me.”

  “Ah, but see,” Spike says, tsking, his grip vise-tight for someone so clearly not totally in control of his own mind, “she’s important to the conversation. While I hold this gun to her head, you listen
to me. While you fear for this little cunt’s safety, I have some leverage.”

  The gun presses hard into my temple. I feel like I might throw up. Can’t stop sweating. Can’t see straight. I cry out a little, just a pathetic, pained mewl of a sound.

  “What is it you want?” Griz asks.

  “Leadership. You gone. A club that burns and pillages and takes what it wants.” Spike licks my ear and I can’t help but cry out. “This bitch, too.”

  Griz says, “That’s the last time you use foul language when talking about her. And you’ll lead this club over my dead body.”

  “That can be arranged,” Spike says, moving his gun from my head, pointing it at Griz.

  A shot rings out and Spike falls backward, letting me free. Griz stands with his gun raised, looking every bit like an avenging angel. I manage to half-crawl up to him, and he pulls me into his arms, a deep scowl marring his beautiful face.