“Male, dressed in black, face covered,” I announced to my men before looking to Missy and adding, “Large knife sticking out of his stomach. Blood everywhere.”
“I killed him,” she whispered, her lip trembling. “He came at me and attacked me. He kept talking about her.”
“Check the other rooms, then make the call to get this place cleaned up,” Bishop ordered as he slipped in beside Missy, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her toward him. Cain and Bounty instantly moved to the bedrooms with their weapons drawn. “Talking about who?” Bishop questioned, his brows raised.
I placed my gun on the counter, certain now the threat was gone.
“Kadey,” Missy answered, her tone much more solid as she talked about her baby. “He kept asking where Kadey was.”
I placed my palms on the counter and leaned in, my muscles tightening at the thought of this asshole being here for that little girl. What the fuck would he want with her? I didn’t want to think about it. “Have you checked on her?”
Missy sighed. “Yeah, I called Mrs. Dawson, told her not to worry, that I’d explain later. But she said Kadey’s fine. In bed snoring.” The more she talked, the more I could hear that tension leaving her body.
“You did good, baby,” I told her, her eyes meeting mine. She was petrified, scared as fucking hell, but she’d fought back, and she’d won. “You did fucking good.”
“I killed someone,” she whispered, a tear dripping down onto her cheek. “What about the police. What am I going to say? It will be self-defense, won’t it?”
I smirked as she rattled on, Bishop squeezing her shoulder in support, but his smile mirroring mine. “We aren’t calling the police. We’ll deal with this, don’t you worry.” I turned and crouched down beside the body while Bishop continued to chat with Missy. “What else did he say. Anything you can remember that could be important.”
Pinching the fabric that covers the guy’s mouth, I tugged it down under his chin so I could see his face.
“He said she was the chosen one.”
My heart stalled, her words hitting my ears at the same time I realized the dead guy on the floor wasn’t a stranger.
I knew him.
I’d grown up with him.
We shared DNA.
“Isaac.” I got to my feet quickly, staring down in horror at my biological brother.
Bishop was soon right beside me, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“They think Kadey is the chosen one,” I murmured under my breath. “They fucking sent someone from the militia to get her.”
The Valley had its own army. A group of men who were trained like military soldiers and basically made sure people were doing what they were told. They patrolled the edges of The Valley at night, and I’d heard plenty of fucking stories about what they do to people who tried to escape.
Even worse than what they tried to do to me.
I shook my head, attempting to figure out what the fuck would lead them to believe Kadey was some fucking chosen child. How did they even know she existed?
“Hawk?”
I broke away from Bishop, taking Missy’s good hand and leading her to the table. I lifted her onto it and spread her legs, slipping in between them. Unconsciously, her head dropped forward, her forehead pressing against my chest while she gripped tightly to my shirt. Her body was shaking, she was crashing, and I needed to get her somewhere safe.
But first, there was a question that needed answers.
“Does Kadey have a birthmark?”
Her entire body froze solid for a moment, her head slowly tilting up so she could see my face. “Yes.”
“What does it look like?”
Her frown was heavy, weighed down with confusion. “It kinda looks like a—”
“Cross,” Bishop cut in from behind us. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. How did you know that?” Panic twisted in her tone, her head jerking around looking from one of us to the others. “What the hell is going on?”
“Where is it on her? Who knows it’s there?” My brain was flicking through images of Kadey in my head. I hadn’t seen it, so it wasn’t visible when she was clothed. So how the fuck did anyone else know it was there?
“Uh, I… it’s on her sternum,” she stuttered. “We always said whoever protected us while she was being born gave it to her, so it would keep her safe. Hardly anyone knows it’s there. You can only see it when she takes her top off.”
That was it.
I saw your sister at the park today.
Fuck.
The conversation we’d had the other day at the club.
She’s sweet, came and chatted with me while Kadey played in the fountain. I had to strip her off to get her into some dry clothes, and then your sister just said she had to go and rushed back across the road.
“It was Grace.”
Missy’s grip on me tightened, and I reached up, my hand curling around her jaw. I dropped my forehead to meet hers, my lips brushing over her skin just lightly so I didn’t hurt her, letting her know it was going to be okay. “You did good, baby.”
“He said they would come.” She sniffled before clearing her throat. “Are they going to try and hurt her?”
The fire in me was raging. It was lit and burning hard and fast.
Missy and Kadey were in danger.
Because of me.
My gaze caught Bishop’s over Missy’s head, and the pure hatred and hell in his eyes let me know that he had my back in this. And I knew my brothers would too.
“Not while I’m still fucking breathing. Not while you’re mine.”
That was it. That was all they needed to hear, and the brothers who stood around me nodded in understanding.
Missy was mine.
She might not get it just yet, but she would soon because when a member claims an Old Lady, there’s nothing the men in his club won’t do to keep her safe.
And I just knew shit was about to hit the fan and spray all fucking over us.
I needed them to have my back.
So I didn’t lose her.
Or Kadey.
Because there was no fucking way.
No fucking way.
I hadn’t escaped that place for them to come back now and try to rip away my fucking happiness. Not in this fucking lifetime or the next. When you know, you know. And I could tell you since this woman walked into my life swinging that bat, I fucking knew.
The Valley thought they hated me back then, thinking the fires of hell burned inside of me and that one day they would be my destruction.
They were wrong because the fire only grew.
Bigger, stronger, and fiercer than they could’ve ever imagined.
And it wasn’t my destruction.
But in the end, it was going to be theirs.
The End… for now
If you enjoyed this book, you might also like:
Irrevocable (The Exiled Eight MC Book 1)
Our pasts were a part of us.
Definitively.
Irrevocably.
Mine hijacked my dreams every night, drowning me in guilt and staining my hands red.
It wasn’t just a part of me, it stole a piece of me—the piece that stopped me from letting people get too close.
And I’d become pretty damn good at playing the untouchable asshole card just to keep them away.
But apparently, Dakota Samuels didn’t get that memo.
From the moment she accidentally walked in on me naked, she began to demolish any and every wall I’d ever built.
She was sexy and tenacious.
And I was addicted to the way she looked at me.
To the way she fought for me.
To the way her body felt beneath mine.
We were both done with running from the demons of our pasts.
They were going to find us.
They were going to try and destroy us.
And they may have won before, but like hell
I was going to let them take her from me too.
Because if they tried, this time the blood I saw in my dreams would be theirs.
About the Author
Addison Jane is a born and bred kiwi girl with a passion for romance and writing.
When she gets the chance, she enjoys the little things in life such as reading, dancing, music, and Facebook, but her world really revolves around the little girl who calls her Mum. It’s an awkward balance between alpha males and Disney princesses, but it works.
Growing up on a small farm next to the beach will always make her a country girl at heart. But since moving away to a small town close to the city, she’s discovered a dangerous love for shopping.
Writing stories has been something that’s come naturally since she was young, and with the massive support of her friends and family, she finally decided to step out of her comfort zone and share them with the world.
She enjoys bringing her books to life with strong female leads, sexy, passionate men, and a rollercoaster of twists and turns that lead to the happily ever after that her readers desire.
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Scars of My Love
Chained Rebels MC Book II
Chelle C. Craze & Eli Abbott
1
Cobra
Fuck! Wait? Shit! Huh?
An unrelenting insufferable noise blared all around me that resembled an air raid siren—someone needed to put a stop to the shit. If I had to throw money on who’s responsible for these bullshit alarms, it’s probably gonna be Flint or Lathe. Those blue-collar fuckers still cared if they made it to work on time. Usually, I did as well, but right now, punctuality is not high on my list. I’m ripped from a deep sleep and refused to open my eyes, but my body is awake. The type of situation where all of my senses were flying high, yet I’m still aware of everything, but I refused to fully acknowledge the world around me. The lingering odor of stale alcohol and the stench of sex is unmistakable, and the fact that I’m not alone in my bed is clear by the warm bodies that were on top of me. Yet, how I got myself into this shitstorm is a mystery to me at this point.
Fuck me! Not again! The last thing I needed is Quinn throwing this shit in my face. It isn’t that I completely cared about the situation itself because I didn’t fully. It’s more like we had finally reached somewhat of a common ground. The bitching between us had settled for a few weeks, but then I wound up in this fucking mess. Far be it from me to think I’m no victim in this whole debacle. Hell, I probably instigated the majority of it. Once I am shitfaced and my inhibitions were at an all-time low, the “True Me” seemed to come out, but straight to hell is the only place that ever got me.
The blaring continued as I swatted into the air, motioning for the dumb fuck who set fifteen fucking alarms to promptly “Kill that shit!” I groaned, immediately pissed off that someone hadn’t already taken care of the annoyance.
“Baby, wake up,” an unfamiliar voice purred against my chest, and a weight lifted from the left side of it.
“Hey, Santana! I think that we wore this old fucker out!” Another female voice giggled while she rubbed a fingertip across my hips. There was a state party last night, and only slight portions of it were blurring through my memory. I remember riding immediately from the machine shop to the clubhouse, hauling some major ass. Our dickhead of a boss called a mandatory last-minute meeting, and it took up time I didn’t have. Club time.
I geared down, slowing my bike down the curvy one-lane road to our clubhouse. When my tires found the gravel parking lot, I put a little too much lean onto my handlebars and nearly dumped my bike. A fucking rookie mistake, but thankfully only a few club skanks, who were outside smoking, saw it. If any of my brothers would have been a witness, they would never let me live that shit down, considering I’ve been in the club longer than most of the youngblood wannabes, who try to prospect, have even been on this earth.
It’s then I see the redhead and blonde. Clearly, by the way their tits bounced and their asses cried out with invitation, it surely wouldn’t be the last time that I saw either one of them.
I mentally played connect the dots as I traced the occurrences from then to now, always coming up a little short. Whatever and however it happened didn’t matter. The realization that I’m going to be fucking late for work today, a day I’m supposed to be off, blasted its importance into the air, and it’s clear that these bitches had to be gone!
“Listen, honey—” had barely passed my lips, and I’m well on my way to giving them the boot when a slick wet tongue followed the same path as the previous fingertip had, and my words stopped completely.
“You know what! Greg can go fuck himself! Fuck the bullshit job I had at his shop!” I could feel my own smile darken the room.
I might regret this shit later, but right then, as her mouth popped down my cock and the spit drip down its length, I knew that it just isn’t going to be a day for regret. My eyelids flew open when a third hand cupped my balls and stroked them as though my dick is going to grant them three wishes. Both of those bitches seemed to be on point, and if my mind hadn’t been made up before this moment, it damn sure is now. Fuck being employed. I could easily get another job, but I’ll be damned if anyone were going to stop me from getting off now. Low and behold, Good Old Mr. Cobra is primed and ready for round two, or three . . . or five? Really, I had no clue how many times we did whatever we did last night, but I knew that it’s there by the slight soreness in my sack. Both of these patch chasers rode me as hard as a catfish fighting for their life on a trotline.
A deep growl rattled out of my dry throat as the redhead’s fingers adjust around my shaft, and she gagged, only to go back in full force. Her pierced tongue swirled my tip and my fingers knotted in her auburn hair. The blonde laid spread eagle, pulling my hand to her clit. Flashes of last night bounced into my head; there isn’t foreplay. The three of us barely made it out of the common area and into my room before the blonde’s skirt was up, and her panties were around her ankles.
I worked that bitch like a marionette for about five minutes, and then I was balls deep into her as the redhead dropped her pussy onto the blonde’s mouth. Holy Fuck! It’s true that we were in some fucked up vanilla caramel latte version of a ménage à trois, but I would have almost laid money on this being the wildest shit those crazy bitches had done to date. Either that or I’m soon to be crowned the ultimate bastard who had made their fantasies into a reality. It didn’t really matter to me. It never did. Another day, another pussy, or ten, but who knew? I’d lost count years ago and sure didn’t plan on breaking out the good ole muff calculator anytime soon. A bitch is a bitch; it’s that cut and dry. None of them deserved enough respect to be my old lady, and probably no one ever would again.
My balls were inching closer to the endgame, and if I were a gentleman, I would have warned her about what is next. Thankfully for me, I’m not one. The blonde ground her pussy against my palm, and I pumped her harder, sliding two more fingers in for the sheer hell of it. She screamed with excitement as her walls clenched around my knuckles, a sadistic smirk pulled up at my lips to the rhythm of the blonde’s increased speed. The redhead’s warm mouth let out a throaty moan, and that is all I needed. I shot my load into the back of her throat and flexed my hips upward as the blonde pumped herself harder and came against my palm.
I glanced over at the clock on the dresser and instantly remembered that it is time to part ways, and at this point, I’m not worried about sounding like a dick. I didn’t have the time to consider their feelings, nor were they worth the effort to do so. What is going on between us is straight fucking. Or at least they should’ve got that. This isn’t the first time they’d come to the club. Hell, I’m almost certain they were in Lathe’
s room last weekend, and Flint’s the week before that. Nothing came from them fucking either of my brothers and it damn sure isn’t going to come from me.
“Ladies, you’re masters of your craft.” I smiled. Laying it on thick like that, simultaneously giving them compliments every step of the way because they were. It’s never clear when I would find myself in another dry spell and need to call them up. It rarely happened, but on occasion, a man with stamina such as mine had to drag the bottom of the barrel just to get off. You do what you have to do when you’re an addict, and that is exactly what I am.
“But, ladies! Get your shit and get the fuck out! Maybe we can do it again soon.” I added a reassuring comment, nodding toward the door, and gritted my teeth.
The problem is, very few females understood what I didn’t tell them. I’m not looking for love or the soulmate almost every lovesick fool did. Of course, I did that song and dance once, and that is it for me. My ex-wife, Quinn, is the only one I thought could be for me . . . but I was young and dumb then. I would never be in that situation again.
“Oh, honey . . . I understand completely,” one flatly said, climbing from the stained sheets. I kicked my legs over the opposite side they occupied as my eyes scanned for some hair of the dog. There isn’t any reason to prolong this situation or to even try and distinguish which one had said what at this point. “Ladies . . . I got all I needed from the two of you for one day. But, maybe we’ll do it again . . . Now, fuck off!”
I stretched as they scattered around the room, gathering what clothing they could find, and walked out my door, slamming it behind them.
“Fucking pig,” one of them said as the door rattled against the frame.
“Forgot your dignity?” I laughed, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the makeshift milk crate nightstand, and chugged it for a second.
Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Page 50
