Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas

by Natasha Thomas

  “Very reassuring, Aunt Bella. Thanks a bunch.”

  “Quiet down, baby baker, I have a plan. It may or may not make my brother lose his ever-loving mind, but it’s a sure fire way to pull his head out of his ass before his offspring makes its appearance. It just so happens, my good buddy Cash owes me a favor, and after I get done explaining the intricacies of my plan, I intend on calling him to trade in my marker.”

  This does not sound good, none of it. But in the end, what do I have to lose except everything?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~ Jonas ~

  “A push-up bra is like a bag of chips. You open it, and it’s half empty.”

  - Quotesaday

  Three weeks later…

  Shutting down the shop, I’d planned on meeting the boys at Hounds for a few beers, but now I’m done for the day I want nothing more than to go the fuck home. Alone.

  To say the last nine weeks have been easy is a vast understatement of the facts. They’ve been fucking torturous, but for the life of me, I can’t see a way clear of the dilemma I’m in. Half of me wants to go to Blaine and beg her forgiveness for being such a heartless asshole. But the other half wants to shake her and demand she explains why the fuck she didn’t tell me she was a virgin.

  The way things played out – the decision I made – her admission wouldn’t have changed anything, except the almost punishing way I fucked her that is. Had I known she was untouched, I could have slowed things down, been more gentle, and made it as good for her as it was for me. Or, at least, I would have tried to. But Blaine didn’t give me that option. Instead, she withheld the truth from me and assisted me in fucking shit up worse between us than I could have done on my own.

  My cell starts ringing in my pocket, and before checking the caller ID, I answer,

  “Yeah?”

  “Brother, you might want to get your ass down to Hounds, like yesterday, man because I swear my eyes are deceiving me right now,” Gage grunts down the line.

  “Hot piece of ass, or one of your boys doing something YouTube worthy again,” I ask with a grin.

  “Not even fucking close.”

  “Right. Be there in ten. Order me a beer, would you?”

  “Shit, I’ll order you a fucking keg, Jonas. I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna need it,” he returns sounding resigned and not at all amused.

  Walking the short distance to Hounds, I enter what’s got to be an alternate universe. It smells familiar, and it hasn’t mysteriously morphed into an underground rave club, but the sight of two individuals, in particular, leads me to believe I’m either hallucinating, or I’ve finally fucking lost it. Because there in front of me is Blaine and Cash, cozy as fuck, huddled together in the smallest booth known to mankind.

  Searching for him, I spot Gage is sitting on the opposite wall, his head tilts signaling me over before I can do something stupid like rearranging Cash’s pretty-boy face.

  Of all the Vengeance MC brothers, Cash is the one I know the least about. To be honest, he’s the one everyone knows least about. The dark horse so to speak.

  Marshall ‘Cash’ Collins and his younger brother (by eighteen months to the day), Patrick ‘Jump’ Collins had a rough start to life. Raised by a single Mom who worked her ass off, pulling double – sometimes triple – shifts, holding down two jobs just to keep her boys in clothes and food, Cash and Jump were left to fend for themselves more often than not.

  Their Dad abandoned them a few months after Jump’s third birthday, neither them or their Mom hearing from him ever again. He packed his shit, cleared out their joint checking account, and took almost everything of value one day when Marissa (the boys Mom) was at work and Cash and Jump at daycare. No note. No apology for leaving his family basically destitute. Nothing. Just there one day and gone the next.

  According to the little either of them has shared, their Dad, Carl, wasn’t a drinker, gambler, or a junkie. He was a regular Joe. Woke up, went to work, came home, ate, and went to sleep. He contributed his paycheck every week, which wasn’t a lot seeing as he worked as a timber processor at a local lumberyard, and little else.

  That’s the way Carl lived his life, and, in turn, his wife and kids had to too. Carl gave a little but took a lot. Nothing was ever enough for him, though, and if you were to ask my opinion I’d tell you; that’s why he took off.

  A man like that is always in search of greener pastures. Never settled, never complete. They’ll always want more than anyone has to give. Frankly, it’s a good thing the asshole left. He wasn’t ever going to be happy with the family he made, so it was for the best that he was gone before the resentment for what he’d never have set in. Because let me tell you, a man like Carl – man who felt trapped in a life he didn’t want – is a dangerous commodity. Trust me, I know.

  I’ve only ever met one other man cut from the same cloth, and at one time, years ago, I called him Dad.

  My Dad wasn’t gracious enough to simply take off, steal our shit, and disappear into the wind, though. No, that bastard stuck around long enough to fleece us of something a hell of a lot more precious than the family silver. He stole our fucking dignity.

  Leon Williams was once a good man; a pillar of the community. Everyone liked him, looked up to him even. As Furnace’s fire chief, Dad worked hard to earn his reputation as an upstanding man in a position of power.

  However, that all changed after the accident, and then, nothing was the same ever again. My sisters and I lost our Dad. My Mom lost her husband and partner. And the town lost their hero.

  I was old enough when the accident happened to recall every single horrific fucking detail. The devastation the fire left in its wake. Dozens of people who lost their livelihood, property, and jobs. And in a town of eighteen thousand people, that loss was felt and felt deep.

  It took years for those businesses to rebuild. Years for people to recover in the aftermath. It was a slow process, but the town rallied, and eventually, things went back to the status quo. All that mind you, without the help of my Dad.

  The old man went off the rails after losing one of his men to that fire. At first, my Mom and I believed he’d snap out of the depression he’d sunk into, but as weeks slipped into months, with no end in sight, we began to give up hope. That’s when his drinking escalated.

  In the beginning, Dad was self-medicating with alcohol, drinking to excess but only sporadically. By the end, it was an all day, everyday occurrence. If we ever saw him without a bottle in his hand it was only because he’d passed out, it slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor. I swear on all that’s holy, our house, even years after he left, still smelled like stale booze and reeked of cigarette smoke.

  So needless to say, I understand what it’s like to have a non-existent father figure and an even shittier male role model.

  Cash, however, didn’t turn into the man he is today because his Dad was a piece of shit and left him when he was barely old enough to remember him. No. Cash became the man of mystery when he had to step up to the plate and go into hiding – taking Jump with him – as a newly turned seventeen-year-old.

  Dying under what were considered suspicious circumstances due to a drug overdose, Cash and Jump were left with no other living relatives, no way to contact their wayward father, and no options.

  Foster care was not on the cards for them as far as Cash was concerned, so with that in mind, he took his brother, what little money he had, and ran. Where they went, what happened to them, and how they ended up in Furnace is anyone’s guess. It always will be. Because the only man who knows, Boss, wouldn’t share their history even if he was under threat of torture.

  Not that I blame the brothers for being closed mouthed about it. It’s clear for everyone to see that they went through hell back then. It’s written all over them. And whatever it was that led them to Furnace and Vengeance, couldn’t have come soon enough.

  Circumstances like theirs were can mark a man, and while Jump hides it well, that is no less true for him. Cash, t
hough? Cash is darker than his brother. Harder. Angrier. Whatever eats at him is closer to the surface.

  At thirty-seven, Cash has been Treasurer for Vengeance MC for a decade. Smart and gifted with numbers, he was the obvious choice for the position when the old Treasurer stepped down and retired. Cash doesn’t look like a CPA, though. Far from it.

  Six-foot-two, built like a boxer, Cash looks more like an athlete than he does a paper pushing desk jockey. His dark hair, short and spiked, dark gray eyes, multiple piercings, and a scar running through his eyebrow have women’s panties melting everywhere he goes. Cash doesn’t play the field, though. Sure, he takes women to his bed, not often but regularly, but it’s not him who makes the approach.

  Cash doesn’t do commitment. Or, at least, I assume he doesn’t. I’ve never seen him with a woman unless it’s escorting her from his room at the clubhouse or out of Hounds. He doesn’t do repeats, and he never dates. If a woman thinks she’s going to get a drink, a meal, or a second sighting of him, she’ll be sorely mistaken. That’s why seeing him cozied up to Blaine has me reeling.

  This is so far from his M.O. it’s not funny.

  “Take a fucking load off and think first, brother,” Gage orders.

  Sliding into the booth opposite from him, I don’t hide the fact I’m watching what’s going on across the bar.

  “What the fuck is that?” I question incredulously.

  “Fucks me, but I can tell you what it isn’t.”

  “Do tell,” I growl, drinking half my beer in one gulp.

  “A date,” Gage grins widely.

  “You say that, but it looks an awful lot like one from where I’m sitting.”

  Reclining against the backrest, Gage crosses his arms over his chest.

  “That’d be because you weren’t in here twenty minutes ago when your sister started looking this way all but desperate for me to call your ass and get you down here. Shit. She was practically telepathically ordering me to pick up my phone.”

  I narrow my eyes at Gage, spitting,

  “Not sure why she’d want me here, man. I’ve barely spoken to her in weeks, and the last time I saw her at Mom’s, she grabbed her shit and took off without even saying hello.”

  “She mightn’t be talking to you, brother, but she’s communicating with you loud and clear tonight,” he replies cryptically.

  Swallowing the last of my beer, I signal one of the three waitresses working tonight over and order us both another. By the looks of it, one drink just isn’t going to cut it.

  Blaine throwing her head back and laughing long and hard at something the bastard says has my eyes riveted to the sight. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back free and unencumbered. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are dancing. Fuck me. I haven’t seen her look genuinely happy for weeks.

  The few times I have seen her in passing, Blaine kept her head down and her distance. I wanted to grab her, drag her somewhere to talk to her, but she managed to evade me long enough to disappear before I could. At the time, it was probably a good thing too. I had no idea what to say to her. There was so much, there is so much I need to apologize that I don’t know where to start.

  For hurting her. Not only her body but her feelings too. For taking something precious and making her regret the decision to share that part of herself with me. I need to apologize for leaving her when I should have stayed. For not calling, seeking her out, even fucking texting her to try and explain myself. Not that explaining would help, but maybe if she knew where my head is at she might see her way clear to forgiving me one day.

  Because in the end, that’s what burns the most. Knowing that Blaine hates me, that I’ll never have her in my life the way I want her, or at all, is killing me. We were friends first, good ones at that, and now we’re nothing more than strangers.

  She was the one person I could go to with anything. Blaine isn’t judgmental; she just takes everything in and then gives her opinion. A well thought out one. Intelligent, empathetic, and sweet, Blaine knows exactly how to get her point across without turning into a screaming harpy. There is no discrimination or condescension from her. No. Just advice.

  Focusing on my drinking buddy for the night, I ask,

  “And what’s she trying to communicate with me; that I’m an asshole? Because I’ve heard that one, so it’s time to change the station, brother.”

  Gage shakes his head, the corners of his mouth dipping down into a scowl.

  “If you want to sit here and feel sorry for yourself that shit is okay with me. I’m more than happy to drink till I can’t walk straight and listen to you bitch about your life, but that’s not gonna fix your problem, Jay.”

  My eyes flick from Gage to Blaine, to the man seated with her and back again, but before I can ask what Gage is referring to he goes on.

  “It’s not a secret you’ve got something going on with Blaine, Jay. Or, you did until you did what you usually do and fucked it up. That girl has been sweet on you for years and hasn’t hidden it. I’m pretty sure you know that and if you didn’t, you’re fucking blind. I doubt I’m wrong when I make the educated guess that what she feels for you goes both ways. And I’m fucking positive those feelings you’ve got for her have been there a hell of a long time,” he surmises.

  Interrupting, I snap,

  “Not sure how this is your business, Gage.”

  At that, he thumps one large hand, palm down, on the table between us and snarls,

  “It’s my business because that girl over there,” he says, gesturing to Blaine, “is hurting. She might be laughing, but that shit isn’t reaching her eyes. Those fuckers are dead. Blank. And that’s seriously wrong, brother. Not once have I seen them like that, not even after Avery came home. She watched her best friend, her fucking family suffer every day for months, but still managed to light up a room with her smile. Now, she’s faking it. Sure, she’s putting on a good show, but that’s all it is; a show.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I fucking well do. And if you believe for a second I wouldn’t do everything in my power to fix it, you’re wrong.”

  “Bullshit,” Gage scoffs. “If that were the truth, you wouldn’t have waited this long and you sure as shit wouldn’t be sitting here with me while your sister uses my brother to play you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Wake. The. Fuck. Up,” he commands. “Cash would sooner date me than Blaine, Jay. Your sister orchestrated this scenario. She wanted you to see your girl with another man to make you step up and fucking fix whatever is broken between you two. This shit isn’t rocket science, brother. It’s a simple matter of women’s screwed up logic. She figures if you see another man honing in on your territory you’ll make moves to protect it. In this case, that means Blaine.”

  I don’t want to admit it to myself or him, but I wouldn’t put it past Bella to do exactly that.

  My little sister, the second of three, has always been the instigator in the family. Whether that’s because she was the middle child, or simply because she’s a holy terror by nature, I don’t know. But regardless, Bella is the wildcard in our family.

  Melanie, older than Bella by five years, is sweet and agreeable to the core. She hates confrontation and will go out of her way to avoid it at all costs. Closest in age to me, Melanie married her high school sweetheart just months after they graduated and settled into the life as a stay-at-home Mom like a duck takes to water. She loves it, and so does her husband and two kids.

  My youngest sister – the baby of the family – Jessica is cut from the same cloth. Quiet and pathologically shy, Jessica doesn’t make friends easily. In fact, if it weren't for Gage, I’d think she was incapable of caring about anyone outside of my Mom, me, and her sisters.

  Gage and Jess’ friendship is an odd one, to say the least. How they met. How they formed a bond at all, is anyone’s guess. They couldn’t be more different, but somehow it works for them. Their bond is such that, if anyone
said a single word about Jess that Gage deemed hurtful, he would without a doubt fucking annihilate them.

  Bella, though? If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was adopted. She is nothing like Jess or Mel. Not that that’s a bad thing, she’s just different. Louder, more opinionated – obnoxiously so – there hasn’t been one altercation in her thirty-one years that Bella’s shied away from. So much so, bar brawls should be re-named Bella smack-downs in her honor.

  Too many times to count I’ve been called to drag her ass out of Hounds because she’s gotten mouthy and taken on a man twice her size. We call her half-pint for a reason, you know.

  At barely five-foot-two, Bella is lucky to see over the counter when she’s on shift at Hounds serving drinks. And if it wasn’t for the heels she professes are as essential to her as breathing, I doubt you’d spot her in a sparsely populated room.