Aiden: The Lost Breed MC #8

by Ali Parker

  And wanted more.

  I gave my hair one last good spray before leaving the curls to set. I turned off my curling iron and walked, high heels clicking all the way, to the kitchen to check the full chicken that was roasting in the oven. I’d smothered it with an apple sauce and cinnamon and cloves, so the sweet scent poured out of the oven.

  Vince was going to love this meal.

  I checked the time on the stove. Dinner would be ready in twenty and Vince should be home in fifteen. My timing had worked out perfectly.

  Popping up to the bedroom, I changed into the dress I’d laid out on the bed. I’d gone and bought it for myself yesterday after being cooped up in the house all week. It was black with a sash around the waist. The low cross over neckline showed off my cleavage, which I knew was Vince’s favorite body part of mine, and the knee length hemline hid the parts of my thighs I wanted to disguise and made my legs look a little longer than they were.

  I checked my reflection in the full length mirror beside my dresser and pulled my curls apart to soften the ringlets. Satisfied with my appearance—well, as satisfied as I could be at least—I went back downstairs to sit and wait for my man’s return.

  Tonight, I would show him an especially good evening. I would remind him how good we could be together. How good we both wanted to be.

  And I could put everything that happened last weekend to bed.

  Permanently.

  No more dreams about the sexy biker. No more wondering what might have happened if we’d stayed in the bathroom a little longer. No more wishing he’d lifted the hemline of my dress a little higher and slid his hand into my panties.

  I gave my head a shake.

  “Pull yourself together, Cheryl,” I muttered. Then I slid off my bar stool and poured myself half a glass of wine. Just a splash.

  And I waited.

  Dinner was ready before Vince came home. I pulled the chicken out of the oven, glazed it one last time as the recipe said to do, and finished all the other odds and ends like mixing the salad, tossing the veggies, and adding a sprinkle of salt to the baked potatoes.

  And still Vince did not come home.

  I waited another fifteen minutes before putting the meal back in the oven to keep it warm.

  More time passed. Half an hour. Forty five minutes.

  I drank another glass of wine and discovered my teeth were stained purple. I went upstairs and gave them a scrub and stared at my reflection. My cheeks were rosy. I’d indulged a bit too much. Hopefully Vince wouldn’t notice.

  When I went back downstairs I cleaned my wine glass and poured myself a glass of water. Then I continued to wait.

  My stomach was growling an hour and a half later when I heard the front door open. I’d moved into the living room where I was sitting in my favorite corner of the sofa reading a book. My heels were off and tucked up against the edge of the plush area rug, and when I heard the door close I swung my legs over the side of the sofa, slipped my feet back into my shoes, and got to my feet, smoothing out the skirt of my dress. I tousled my hair a bit just to give it a bit more volume and turned to find Vince standing in the hall between the entrance foyer and the living room.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. His suit jacket was open, his tie loose, and the top two buttons of his white shirt undone.

  “How was your meeting?”

  Vince turned back to the foyer and made for the stairs. I followed. “Good. Had a couple drinks with the boys. Sorry I’m later than I expected.”

  “That’s alright. I kept dinner warm for you in the oven.” I wasn’t going to spoil this. Not after I’d worked so hard and how badly I wanted things to feel right between us again.

  “Oh,” he paused with his foot on the bottom step. “I already ate.”

  I swallowed and nodded. He started to ascend. “Okay. Well, we have leftovers then I guess. Nothing wrong with that. I suppose it’s too late to eat anyway,” I said, following him up the stairs. “I shouldn’t eat so soon before bed. You know. The calories won’t burn off if I’m just sleeping. Right?”

  “Right,” he said. But he didn’t seem all that interested or like he was really listening.

  Then I spotted it. On the back of the collar of his white shirt. The pristine, perfect imprint of a pair of red lips.

  “Vince,” I said.

  He reached the top step and turned back to me, casting his eyes to the ceiling in annoyance. “What, Cheryl? I just want to get in the shower. Then you can tell me about whatever it is you did or didn’t do today, or whatever you ate or didn’t eat. Okay?”

  “You didn’t have a business meeting tonight, did you?”

  His exasperated stare darkened.

  I bit my bottom lip.

  My toes hurt in my heels. My pulse fluttered in my two burned fingertips. The shaper I had on under my dress pressed into my gut. Dinner was probably going to be thrown away.

  All this work for nothing.

  “Why do you keep doing this to me?” I whispered.

  Vince turned and walked into the bedroom.

  My first reaction was to go back downstairs and let him cool off. I could pack up dinner and freeze it for another time. I could clean the kitchen. I could pour myself another fucking glass of wine to deal with the fact that no matter how hard I tried, Vince was always going to screw other women behind my back.

  And he was going to make me feel like it was my fault.

  “Is this really better than the alternative?” I asked myself. I could hear Vince opening the closet in our bedroom.

  Were the nice house and the shiny car really worth how terrible I felt?

  I finished climbing the stairs, stomped into the bedroom, and kicked off my high heels. Then I rounded on Vince who was standing in our walk in closet hanging up his suit jacket. I jabbed a finger in his direction. “I asked you a question. Why do you keep doing this to me, Vince? Tell me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you.”

  “You’re cheating on me! You’ve been cheating on me for years! And I’ve sat around racking my brain trying to figure out why the hell nothing I do is ever good enough for you. Why I can’t be the girl you seem to want. Why the dinner parties and full course meals and clean house and—”

  “You’re rambling, Cheryl.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You like hurting me.”

  He scoffed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who let yourself go. You’re not the same girl I fell in love with. I don’t want to have sex with this,” he gestured at all of me.

  It was like being punched in the gut by a UFC fighter wearing brass knuckles.

  “Fuck you,” I whispered.

  “What did you say to me?”

  I lifted my chin as he came out of the closet to stand in front of me, staring down the length of his sharp nose, his lips curling in an angry snarl. I didn’t blink and said it again. “Fuck you.”

  Vince grabbed my shoulders and gave me a rough shove backwards. I stumbled over my own feet, lost my balance, and tumbled into the dresser at my back. The corner jabbed into my shoulder as I fell and I landed on my ass as the contents sitting on top of the dresser, mostly pieces of my jewelry, some perfumes, and a picture frame, rained down on my head.

  Vince bent down and pointed his finger at me. “You will never speak to me like that again. Do you hear me? After everything I do for you, you have the fucking nerve to—”

  “Everything you do for me?” I asked, my own anger boiling over now. I hadn’t felt like this before. Not ever. This fury was unbridled, furious and burning hot. I grabbed the handle of the dresser and pulled myself to my feet. “You don’t do anything for me, Vince. You do things to me. You hurt me. Belittle me. Make me think I’m going fucking crazy for thinking you’re off fucking some other girl, when you and I both know that’s exactly what you’re doing! Screw you for making me the villain. For making me the one who sounds cra
zy. This has been you from the very start and I—”

  “You what, Cheryl?” He hissed, stepping in close. I could smell her perfume on him. Whoever she was. It smelled like cotton candy and honey. She must be young. Very young.

  I glared up at him.

  “You what?” His snarl was pure hatred. If I said something he didn’t like he’d do worse to me than push me into the dresser. I knew it as clearly as I knew what I had to do next.

  I hung my head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s what I fucking thought,” Vince said, shoving me aside and walking into the bathroom. He slammed the door closed and locked the handle. I heard the water in the shower turn on. The door opened and closed.

  And then I scrambled to find the biggest bag in my closet that I could and filled it with everything I could put my hands on. A pair of sneakers. Sweats. Jeans. Shirts. My phone. My wallet. My passport. The picture of me and my parents on my nightstand.

  I threw on a jacket and raced downstairs to bolt out the front door. When I hit the end of the driveway I turned right, not knowing where I was going as I fished my phone out of the bag to call Ellie.

  Chapter 17

  Aiden

  My phone was ringing. It cut through the dream I was having about a pretty blonde in a pearl white car, leaving me disoriented when I woke up and rolled over to look at it lighting up on my nightstand.

  A quick glance at the clock made my stomach roll with nerves. It was just past midnight. The only calls I ever got at this time of the night were to give me bad news, and bad news when you were part of a motorcycle club usually meant some real bad shit went down.

  Someone was in trouble.

  Or worse, someone was dead.

  I swiped the phone up and lifted it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Aiden, it’s Ellie.”

  “Ellie. What the hell? Why are you calling me? Are you okay? Is Axel alright? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. I could tell by the hum in the background that she was in a car. “Nothing. I’m sorry Aiden, I didn’t mean to scare you. Everyone is fine.”

  I let out a relieved sigh and slumped against my headboard, dragging my hand across my brow. “Fuck.”

  Ellie let out a nervous laugh unlike anything I’d ever heard come out of her. “I’m with Cheryl.”

  “Cheryl?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I licked my lips. “Alright. And?”

  “And she left Vince tonight and has nowhere to go. We’ve been driving around for almost two hours talking, but we’re tired. I would take her back to my place but with the reno project going on I don’t have anywhere for her to sleep. The kids are in the living room already. She said she would be comfortable staying at your place, if you’ll have her.”

  “What?”

  “Aiden, wake up. Seriously.”

  I rubbed at my eyes vigorously. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah, she can stay. I’ll make up a bed for her on the sofa. How far away are you guys?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “Jesus. Alright. The front door will be unlocked just come on in.”

  “See you soon,” Ellie said, and then she hung up.

  I stared at the wall at the opposite end of my bed and took a deep breath. Alright. This was definitely better news than finding out someone was dead. But it was overwhelming nonetheless.

  Cheryl had left Vince.

  And she was coming to stay with me.

  Apparently she’d forgiven me for the little stunt I pulled showing up unannounced at her party. Or she just had nowhere else to go. The latter was more likely.

  I ripped the blankets off, pulled on a pair of sweats and a T shirt, and hurried out into the living room where I made up a bed out of my spare blankets and pillows. Luckily my sofa was a pull out so it would be more comfortable for her than just crashing on the couch.

  By the time the bed was made and I’d managed to pick up the few empty beer cans that were lying around the place, the front door opened. I hurried into the hall to greet Ellie who came inside first and held the door open for Cheryl, who lingered outside.

  “Come on in,” I said, hoping I sounded more inviting and less like my usual patronizing self.

  Cheryl licked her lips and came inside. She never looked up at me.

  I held out a hand to take her bag, but she didn’t hand it to me, so I reached out and took it from her. She let it go and finally lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was weak. Her eyes were puffy and pink. So was the tip of her nose. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips a little swollen.

  She’d been crying.

  Really crying.

  I showed her and Ellie down the hall. Ellie had been here two times before with Axel and a few of the other guys, so she knew her way to the kitchen, where she poured Cheryl a glass of water. She brought it to us where we settled in the living room and handed it to Cheryl, who drank thankfully. I noticed that her hands were shaking as she lowered herself down on to the edge of the sofa bed. “Thank you.”

  Ellie gave her a reassuring smile. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here? I can stay if you like. All I’d need to do is call Axel and give him a head’s up.”

  Cheryl glanced at me and then back to Ellie. “No. It’s alright.”

  “I understand if you’d like her to stay,” I said.

  Cheryl looked back at me. Her bottom lip trembled and I watched, terrified that she might start crying again, as she distracted herself by drinking the rest of her water. She shook her head once. “No. I’m fine. Ellie you can go whenever you need to. Thank you for coming to get me. And for driving around with me while I—well. You know.”

  Ellie put her hand on Cheryl’s shoulder. “You did the right thing tonight, Cheryl. The hard thing, for sure. But the right thing. You’ll thank yourself for it later.”

  Cheryl nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Ellie gave me a sad smile before heading to the door. I followed her to lock up and she paused in the doorway. “I’ll check in with you in the morning. Don’t pressure her to talk to you, Aiden. Just make her comfortable and maybe give her some space. Unless she asks for something else. Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Got it. I’ll keep my hands and my opinions to myself.”

  “Good man,” she said, patting my cheek. Then she turned and headed out to Axel’s truck that was parked in the driveway. I made sure she got in and drove off safely before closing and locking the front door.

  I slid my hands into my sweat pant pockets and went back down the hall to join Cheryl in the living room.

  She hadn’t moved an inch. She was still perched on the very edge of the bed. She had both hands wrapped around the glass of water and one of her feet was bouncing anxiously. Had there been any water left in the glass it would have sloshed all over the place.

  I nodded at the cup. “Can I get you another glass?”

  She shook her head. “No thanks.”

  I took it from her and set it down on the table beside the sofa before sitting down on the arm chair across from her. “The bathroom is the third door on the left down the hall there. Clean towels are in the closet on the right hand side. If you need anything just ask. If you wake up before me help yourself to coffee in the morning and whatever looks good to you in the fridge.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I studied her. The way her shoulders were drawn inward. The way her eyes continuously glassed over as she held her tears at bay. The way she tried to disguise her sniffles by holding the sleeve of her shirt to her nose.

  She was devastated.

  “I’m sorry, Cheryl.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have—I should have left a long time ago. I should have left before we moved here. I was such a fool.”

  “You’re not a fool.”

  She laughed. It was a harsh and bitter sound that contrasted against her sad beauty. “Oh, believe me. I am. I ignore
d all the red flags just because I wanted a fresh start. Because I wanted to forget.” She shook her head at herself and raked her fingers through her hair. “I should have known I could never forget.”

  I frowned. “What were you trying to forget?”

  Cheryl rubbed her eyes, smearing makeup across the tops of her cheeks and into her hairline. “Everything. My home. The life I had in Georgia. My mom and dad.”

  “Did you lose them?”

  She nodded. Her bottom lip trembled. Then she looked up at the ceiling and a tear escaped, tricking down the line her makeup had made from the corner of her eye toward her ear. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. They’d be so disappointed,” she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and then she buried her face in her hands and a sob escaped her.

  I stood up and moved to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. I put my hand on her back and tried to stay a safe distance away. I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea, but it was impossible for me to just sit there and watch her cry without trying to offer some sort of comfort. “I know what it’s like to want a fresh start, Cheryl. I know what it’s like to chase it like hell itself is nipping at your heels.”

  She lifted her head and sniffled. “You do?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t lived in New York City for long either. I moved here from Chicago after my cousin was murdered. He—”

  “Murdered?” She blinked.

  “His name was Max. He was older than me. More like a brother than a cousin. And he gave his life protecting someone else who was important to both of us. It took me a long time to come to terms with that and to understand why he’d be willing to throw it all away for someone else. And having this city and the Lost Breed gave me a second chance. A clean slate. I still miss him but the pain is duller now. More bearable.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sat up a little straighter. “You must think I’m such an idiot. Crying about a stupid boyfriend when you lost someone. Like, really lost them.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”