by Ker Dukey
Marching through the bar, I gesture with a head tilt for my brothers to follow me. We slip out into the parking lot, our bikes lined up, getting shifty eyes from passersby.
“We dealing with the Demon or what?” Kai asks.
“You’re like a fucking bloodhound,” Jameson scoffs.
“Bloodhounds sniff out blood. I want to bleed them. There’s a difference.”
“I thought a bloodhound was a dog who sniffed out prey,” Jameson grunts.
“You calling me a dog?”
“What’s wrong with dogs?”
“Shut up,” I groan, eyeballing the bike the Demon rode in on. “I want you to find out what you can about this guy. See if he’ll be missed.”
“Does it matter?” Kai grins.
“Yeah, it fucking matters. He doesn’t want to bring a war on his club over killing someone to appease his fucking ego. It’s why he’s the Prez and you’re not,” Halo growls.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“You’re not my type. I prefer more meat on my bones.”
“I’ll give you meat.” Kai holds up his arm, clenching his hand into a fist.
“Is it my birthday?” Halo taunts.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you. Be ready to move out when Drew does.”
Eighteen
Drew
An hour later…
It was reckless bringing Remy here. I shove his bag toward him and pick up my own. “It’s okay, Drew.” Remy stretches, kicking his legs out and leaning back on the rickety chair in the corner of our motel room.
“He’ll be coming here for me, Rem—and you can’t be here when he does. I can’t be here.”
“We can go to my club. You’ll be safe there.”
“No. I just want to get my car fixed back home and find somewhere else to be.”
“What happened with you and them?” he asks, coming over to me and grabbing my arm. When I drop my chin, he lifts it. “Well?”
“It’s a long story. We don’t have time.”
“If they were going to do shit, it would have already happened.” He jerks his head and walks over, picking up a bottle of Jack he took from the bar.
“Remy,” I warn. “You need to be coherent to drive.”
“Let’s just stay the night and leave tomorrow—”
The unmistakable roaring of bike engines split the air outside the window, sending my nerves bouncing around inside my body.
“Fuck,” Remy growls, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to call in my brothers.”
“And cause a war?” I screech, running over to him and taking his phone.
“Wren,” he warns, calling me by the name I gave myself after Kai discovered where I was a year ago. It’s a bird, and that’s how I feel most of the time—always in flight.
“I’ll talk to him, get him to give you safe passage out of here.”
“I can’t fucking believe you didn’t tell me you ran with the Royal Bastards. Do you know what fucking one of their bitches could get me?” he sneers.
“I’m not one of their bitches, and we ain’t fucking,” I snap, chucking his cell against the wall and smashing the screen.
“Wren!” he roars, grabbing me by the throat, much like Viking once did. I raise my leg, bringing the heel of my boot down on his knee, and jerk him backward, forcing his hand to release me. I’m quick, grabbing my knife from my boot. It has a serrated edge and is only three inches long, but it will hurt like a motherfucker plunged into his groin if he attacks. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” I hold the knife out, moving around him, grabbing the handle of the door.
“I’m sorry, Wren. I’m fucking dead if they come for me,” he pleads. Fuck him.
I slip through the door, closing it behind me and hitting a barricade in the form of Alec.
“Good choice,” he tells me, flicking out his tongue to wet his bottom lip.
“Let Remy leave,” I tell him, bending to slip my knife away.
“You been in his bed?”
My eyes narrow on him. “Is that your business?”
“Simple question.” I look around him to see the wall of bikers waiting for orders. “No, and we’re not like that. He’s a friend of a friend doing me a favor. My car broke down. I needed a ride,” I lie…kind of.
“You know you have a tell when you’re nervous or lying, right?”
“Alec, I haven’t slept with him, and I can’t have blood on my hands. Please let him go.”
“Why did you have a knife in your hands when you came out of the room?” His eyes track down to my boots.
“I’ll go with you if that’s what it takes,” I beg, ignoring his question.
“Fine,” he growls, jerking a thumb toward where he parked his bike.
I trail behind him like a naughty puppy, my tail tucked between my legs. When we reach his bike, I stare at my helmet attached to the back. He grabs it and hands it to me like the last eight years didn’t happen. How does he still have this? Tears spring in my eyes. My internal war has ravaged me, leaving me exhausted. “Before I get on, I need to ask…”
“I said I’d let the fucking Demon go.” He folds his arms, his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt. I don’t remember them being so big.
“It’s about my aunt,” I whisper.
“It wasn’t us.” His brows draw down, marring his features. “I looked into it. The police said it was a break-in gone wrong. Opportunist.”
“I heard there was a similar death to another woman…”
“Turned out to be domestic.” A breath flees my lungs. I bow my head and accept the helmet. My body quakes as I watch him straddle the machine, waiting for me to do the same. “It’s okay, Drew.” He assures me with a nudge of his head, and it shouldn’t matter. His words shouldn’t incite warmth and comfort inside me, but dammit, they do.
I latch onto his waist and shift onto the bike behind him. My thighs rest against his, my body leaning into him for safety, the helmet he gave me so long ago once again on my head like it never left. The engine roars to life and just like that I’m once again the girl on the back of Alec Walker’s bike.
Nineteen
Animal
A couple of hours later…
Thirty minutes I’ve been standing outside the clubhouse with Drew while she has a panic attack. She’s on her ass, head between her legs, heaving.
“No one will fucking dare touch you, Drew,” I remind her again—and a fucking again. “You spent half your life inside these walls.”
Her head whips up, her eyes glaring at me. “Didn’t stop me from becoming a target, did it?”
“My old man is fucking dead. What do you think he’s going to do—come back and haunt you?”
She gets to her feet and slaps me around the face, the sound ringing out through the courtyard. I grab her wrist, my teeth gritting, jaw ticking. “Drew,” I warn.
“Tell me what happened to my dad.” She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, they’re coated in tears.
“He was talking to a fed,” I remind her.
“Do you know why he would do that?”
“I don’t.” I shrug.
“You’re lying.” She shakes her head, her lips pulling in tight. “It’s because of your mother, right?” she accuses.
My mouth loosens. “What do you know about that?”
A shadow falls over her features, her head lowering. “They were having an affair. He loved her…”
What the fuck? No. “Wrong,” I grind out.
Her head springs up. “He left me a letter—an insurance policy. They were in love, Alec.”
“You’re wrong. He fucking killed her when she overheard him talking to his fed contact,” I bark out. She stumbles backward, a phantom slap rattling her foundation. She places a hand to her heart. “What did you say?”
Fuck, I didn’t want her ever knowing that detail. I run my hand across the back of my neck, tension
building there.
“She walked in on him in the kitchen. Her last words were his name.”
“No, no, no.” She shakes her head, her hair swaying around her shoulders.
“There’s a video, Drew.”
This stops her pacing. Pain etches across her beautiful face. A sob catches in her throat. “He wouldn’t…he said he was in love with her.” She bends over, gasping for air. This scene is all too familiar. My blood roars in my veins, desperate for the outcome to be different this time. “His letter said your dad would kill them both if he found out, so he needed a way out.”
“Drew,” I say her name softly. “You know the club law—you lived it. He was dirty.”
“Was it you? Is that how you got your patch?”
Memories of that day flood in, suffocating.
Eight years ago
“It’s time to make a choice, boy. Are you royalty or mundane?” My father’s deep baritone carries through the club as his heavy footfalls announce his arrival. The brothers part like the red sea, giving him a clear path to where I stand looming over the man who fucked over his club—my father—my mother.
Mitch Wells, Drew’s old man, someone I once respected and thought of as family. My father hands me a gun, the weight heavy in my palm. I’ve held many guns, shot targets and bottles for shits and giggles, but this time is different—this time will change everything.
The brothers close in around our Prez as he reaches for the cowering fool on his knees, begging for his life. All the brothers tilt their chin to their Prez, showing loyalty, respect, and glee in finding this traitor so fast.
I wanted that respect, that allegiance. My father was a fucking king to these men, and treason came with a death sentence.
“I just needed an out,” the rat pleads, reaching out to grasp my father’s jean-clad leg. As quick as lightening, my father brings his knee up, connecting with Mitch’s jaw. Teeth chip and break on a crunch.
He falls to his back, gurgling blood. “You’re a fucking traitor. After everything this club did for you, for your fucking kid…”
“She has nothing to do with this, Prez. Please,” he chokes out, spitting blood and one of his teeth to the ground.
“I’m not your fucking Prez. You forfeited that when you sold out your club, your brothers—me!” Another boot to the face. A couple more teeth fly from his mouth.
“If she wasn’t my son’s girl, I’d pass her around the brothers like a club whore and force you to watch while they defiled every hole on her body.” My blood runs cold at his words, my fists clenching. No one is going near Drew. They’d have to get me eat a bullet first. My teeth grind together with the effort to keep my mouth shut. He’s just letting off steam and trying to scare her father.
“Feeding feds information about our club—what’s the punishment for that, son?”
“Death,” I spit out.
“What?” My father holds a hand to his ear.
“Death!” I roar, gaining a round of cheering from my soon-to-be brothers. Rolling his head over his shoulders, my father pulls a knife from the sheath inside his jacket. “Death, but not a clean one,” he growls, grabbing Mitch by the scruff of his hair. Kai steps up, restraining Mitch’s arms, holding his body still against his own.
“And for killing my boy’s mother—my fucking wife?” My father grits his teeth.
“Death!” I holler, aiming the gun and pulling the trigger over and over.
Click. Click. Click.
Nothing happens. My old man turns to me, taking the gun from my trembling hand, a look of shock and pride overcoming him. “You make me proud—and your brothers proud. But this kill isn’t yours, boy.” He was testing me? Gave me an unloaded weapon…
“Joslyn…” Mitch cries out, breaking free from Kai’s hold, a gun in his hand. My eyes track the empty holster on Kai’s hip. Fuck! He turns the gun on himself and—bang!—blows his own brains out before anyone can blink. Brain matter and blood spray Rage’s face, who was standing a couple feet behind him.
Every nerve ending inside my body fires off, coiling my muscles and sending a spike of adrenaline through my veins.
“Motherfucker!” my old man snarls, stamping his boot down on the carcass.
Present
“He shot himself, Drew. He was surrounded by brothers all wanting a piece and knew it was either end it himself or suffer a painful death.”
“You’re lying to protect me from the truth. You got your patch. I know what it takes to earn a patch.” She waves her arms around, animated and hysterical.
I grab her arms, pinning them to her side, and stare her straight in the eyes. “I was willing to kill him. I was hurting about my mother and saw the video of him on the phone with the feds while she was fucking dying. The memories of her blood coating my hands…” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear the flash of images assaulting me. “I was willing to kill him, and that was enough to get my patch. But I promise you, Drew, he grabbed the gun out of Kai’s holster and shot himself under the chin.”
Tears leak to her cheeks, trailing down like raindrops. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry this happened, that we were ever put in that fucking circumstance, but why should we lose each other on top of everything we’ve already fucking lost?”
My hard breathing and her sobbing plays around us like the soundtrack to our lives.
“I need time,” she sniffles. “Just let me get some sleep, please. I need to just digest everything.”
“You can have my old room.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, letting the pad of my thumb stroke her cheek.
“Old room?” she croaks, her voice broken.
“I moved rooms. I couldn’t sleep in that room. It was consumed with memories of us.” I hold my hand out for her, sighing when she slips her palm into it. I open the door to the back hall—the one she ran down eight years ago—and lead her to my old room, unlatching the bolt I placed on it.
I couldn’t sleep in there, didn’t mean I wanted anyone else in there.
Pushing open the door is like stepping into the past. Nothing has been touched since we made love in the bed. Her boots still lay haphazardly on the rug.
“It’s like a museum.” She sniffles a laugh, swiping at her eyes.
“I can have clean sheets put on the bed. It’s probably dusty as all hell.”
“No, it will be fine.” She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. “If only we could rewind time with the knowledge we have now.” She moves inside, swiping her fingers over the dresser to collect the dust there.
“Would you save him knowing he killed my mother?” I ask, making her wince.
“I just don’t know why he would write the letters claiming she already knew about him talking to the feds and them planning to run away together.” She shrugs. “If your mom knew and was talking to them, would you have been able to let your dad kill her?”
My hands clench. “I don’t think so,” I tell her honestly.
“He was my dad.” Her shoulders slump as she sits on the bed, her eyes tracing over the rumpled sheets.
“When you told me back then I was safe, was it true?”
How can she ask that? I drop to my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “Yes. God, I would have killed everyone to protect you. How can you not know that? My old man knew we had plans to travel, that you wanted to go to school and see the world. He knew wherever you went, I’d go, so he made me promise we’d stay here—that I’d patch in and become a full, dedicated brother.”
I fucking hate the tears streaming down her face. They’re breaking my fucking heart. I want to pick up all the pieces of our broken story and stitch them back together.
Reaching up, I swipe the water from her skin, almost toppling over when she launches into my arms. Her face burrows into my neck, her body shaking with her sobs. Her petite arms clasp onto me for dear life as I wrap my arms around her, stroking up and down her back. It’s like taking the first gasp of air after nearly drowning. I pick her up an
d lay down on the bed, keeping her pinned against me. We’re fighting our demons, our mistakes and darkness, to get to the light again.
We could never do that alone. We need each other.
Twenty
Drew
Emotions drained me last night. Being in Alec’s arms, this room, hearing the truth about my dad… There are things missing, puzzle pieces we may never get to find the truth, but I’m so damn tired of running, being in pain, missing him, missing my life. It’s time to heal, forgive, and learn how to move past all the hurt.
I stretch my arms out, patting the bed beside me, knowing it’s empty. “I’m here.” His voice carries across the room from a chair in the corner.
“What are you doing?” I ask, drinking him in. He grew into a pure alpha male. I knew he would, but seeing it in the flesh causes my insides to squeeze in appreciation. I missed so much.
“Watching you sleep…I’m pinching myself to make sure I ain’t dreaming.”
“I didn’t realize how bad I needed that sleep,” I say, unsure where we go from here. “Do you have things you need to be doing?”
“I’m doing them.” He lifts his chin toward me.
Rolling my eyes, I pick up a pillow and throw it at him. He catches it and smiles over at me. “I don’t want you out of my sight. I’m scared you’ll run.” He frowns, vulnerability bleeding from his pores. Right now, he’s not Animal, the club president. He’s just Alec, the boy who lost too much.
I climb out of bed and go to him, taking the pillow and dropping it to the floor. Wrapping my arms around his head, I bring him to my stomach, stroking my hands through his hair. Strong arms squeeze around my waist. The sound of him inhaling me causes a tear to leak from my eye. I’m so sick of crying.
