But I worried Needy and Amity wouldn’t mesh. My mom doesn’t trust overly soft people. Aunt Immee acts docile, but it’s not her natural state. Needy and Immee grew up fighting to survive. Yet, they both learned to soften up their exteriors to make them pleasing to people, especially men. This is why my mother doesn’t trust soft people. She figures they’re hiding their true colors, just like she did.
Since she left Elko, my mom never had any real girlfriends. I was the only person she trusted. So, clearly, I had a good reason to worry over what she would think of Amity.
But I stressed over nothing. My roommate is super laidback and always submissive. She just wants people to chill and have a good time. For too long, Needy was trapped with a man who constantly berated her over every little thing. Her idea of a good day is to burp loudly and fart freely. If she also gets to listen to decent music and eat without counting calories, Needy considers life blissful. She and Amity get along easily. They’ve both happily lived the bunny life. Needy also understands Amity’s crap childhood made her weak.
“Life was too complicated too early for her,” Mom said one day when we were alone. “It fucked up her coping skills. Some people get hard and create a shell. Some never learn how to protect their hearts.”
“Were you hard?” I asked.
“For a while. I loved being a bunny because it offered all the fun and none of the responsibility. I never really wanted a man. I’m glad you found Conor, but I didn’t have it in me to open up like that with anyone. Until you,” she said and hugged me tightly.
I admittedly cried. Though I’m not usually emotional, I went from feeling alone in the world to being surrounded by my favorite people.
“I don’t like crying,” Amity says when she, Needy, and I are out for lunch at Bambi’s Bar & Grill. “It feels like people can poke at me since I’m defenseless.”
“Then only cry when you’re alone or with people you trust,” Needy says, stroking the brunette’s back.
Amity grins at me, and I’m hit by the loss of Zella again. Back in Minton, I dreamed of running off to somewhere warmer. Needy, Zella, and I could start over together. When the three of us were out shopping or at a movie, I’d imagine us living somewhere else. That dream felt so real.
And it sorta came true for Mom and me. Zella’s gone, but we have Amity. While Ohio isn’t the beach, it offers my dad and the sexiest man on the planet. Plus, Elko comforts my heart. I often hear the roar of motorcycles in the distance and find myself smiling. These are my people, and I’m home.
But I’m not untouchable in Elko. As we walk to my car, I spot fear in Amity’s eyes as someone approaches us from behind. Not so long ago, we stole Needy away from Dumpster, Kansas. Did that trouble find us here?
Swinging around, I’m ready to fight Francis’s assholes until the Executioners can show up and finish them off.
Except these dillweeds aren’t from Kansas.
“David Clive?” I gasp when I find my tall, beefy, dark-haired cousin grabbing for me.
“Don’t be a cow, eh?” he mutters as his meaty hand grips my arm.
Without thinking, I kick David Clive in the balls. “Why are you here?” I scream, shoving him away from me as he groans in pain.
“I shoulda wore a cup,” he mumbles to his approaching brother, Brian Clive.
Needy elbows the older McNamee boy and yells, “Run!” to Amity and me.
Before we can return to the restaurant's front doors, Brian Clive swings his big hand after us. He snags Needy’s loose hair, and my mom ends up on her ass at his feet. Hearing her pained grunt, I stop moving between the cars and return to help my mom. Unable to stop herself, Amity follows.
“Get off her,” I growl at Brian Clive, who rolls his eyes. I slap his face and then yank at his dark beard. “Leave us alone!”
David Clive stops comforting his balls and walks over to help his brother. His first move is to punch me in the side of the head. The world nearly goes dark as I come crashing down on the asphalt. Gasping in horror, Needy twists around on her butt and kicks David Clive’s legs.
“Stop being cows and just get in the fucking car,” David Clive mutters as he lifts Needy by her hair. “We don’t wanna pop you in the head.”
“You already hit your cousin!” Mom yells while throwing punches that he mostly dodges.
“She hit me first,” he whines.
Needy must remember where I hit David Clive because she immediately knees him in the balls.
“Block that shit,” Brian Clive growls at his little brother. “You’ll lose a cheese puff if you can’t dodge a lady’s knee.”
“Don’t hassle me. Just get them in the car.”
“I’m doing that,” Brian Clive says, dragging me toward one of Uncle Clive’s many black SUVs.
I wait until I have leverage against the vehicle before I turn to punch and kick at Brian Clive. My cousin rolls his eyes and slams me hard against the side of the SUV. My breath comes gushing out from the impact. Rather than inspiring me to submit, the pain sets off my temper.
“Stop rolling your eyes,” I mutter as Brian Clive opens the door and tries to shove me inside. “Chicks hate that shit.”
“Chicks love me,” he says, reverting to the version of him that must argue with me over everything. “They think I’m the bomb.”
“No, they think your wallet is,” I say, wedging myself against the doorjamb so he can’t shove me inside the SUV.
“Stop fighting.”
“Stop fucking with me, Brian Clive.”
“Get in the car!” David Clive yells so loudly that he even startles his brother. “Or I’m shooting this cow!”
First, I see Needy on the ground, hurt but still ready to fight. Then, I notice David Clive’s mouth is bloody from Needy’s punches. Finally, my gaze focuses on the way his gun presses against a passive Amity’s head.
“I will fucking kill her if you don’t get in that fucking car!” he screams, and I wonder if his damaged balls short-wired his brain.
“She’s Zella’s age,” I tell Brian Clive, who keeps my back shoved against the SUV as he studies his brother.
“Yeah, but she ain’t Zella.”
“Think of how much life your sister lost. Are you going to let him kill that innocent girl? She didn’t even hurt you. Threaten me, not her,” I ask, fighting tears. “Please, Brian Clive.”
Despite being the older, gruffer brother, Brian Clive is also a huge mama’s boy. He loves when Immee pampers him. The fucker is like a big kid when it comes to his mom’s tender touch. I think that’s why he’s got a soft spot for crying girls. Now, he sees me almost in tears and Amity whimpering as his stupid brother shoves a gun against her pretty head.
“Look,” he tells me, “we gotta take you back. That’s what Pa decided. You can get in the car and deal with shit, or you can let that innocent girl deal with it. I don’t have many options here. Now, what’s it gonna be?”
I look at Needy for the answer. Leaving Elko with Clive’s boys could seal our fate. He might just want us back under his thumb, and Conor can fix things later. Or we might end up dead as soon as we reach Minton.
I look at Amity’s timid face and imagine whatever horrors she suffered years ago. They’re dripping off her now. She’s just a girl wanting to feel safe. That gun is against her head because she chose to be my friend. I can’t let her die.
“Zella died with her eyes open,” I whisper, and Brian Clive tightens his grip on my arm. “She died afraid.”
“Quit talking about my sister.”
“Tell David Clive to stop pointing that gun at her head before he accidentally pulls the trigger. We’ll go with you. No more fighting.”
Brian Clive gets close to my face, doing that thing his dad does where he sizes up if someone’s lying. Except Clive McNamee is a smart guy with a natural bullshit detector. His sons are just watered-down versions of the man they want to be.
“Fine, get in the car,” he mutters, and I climb into the SUV. Once he
sees I’ve behaved, he says, “David Clive, ease up on the cow. Needy, get in the fucking car with your kid. I want to get out of this godforsaken state.”
Needy says something to Amity and strokes her cheek tenderly before hurrying over to me. Brian Clive binds our wrists with plastic ties before shutting the door. David Clive waits until we’re secured before he lets Amity go. She doesn’t even look back before hurrying toward the restaurant.
“It’s okay,” Needy promises me as my cousins take the front seats. “I told Amity to get a ride home from her husband, Conor.”
Nodding, I don’t smile at Needy’s signal to Amity. I play everything calmly. But there is no fucking way I’m behaving for a fifteen-hour drive to North Dakota. Somewhere between Elko and Minton, I’m kicking my cousins in the balls again.
However, my initial plan is to remain patient and wait for Conor to find us. The Executioners know Ohio. We’ll never get out of the state. My cousins were also stupid to grab us at the club’s restaurant. Soon, the Executioners will bear down on Clive’s boys. I just need to be patient while the local badasses do their thing.
Then, I catch sight of the highway overpass, which looms large in Elko. Despite my rational planning, I also sense my new life slipping away. Worse still, what will Conor feel when he learns I’m gone? Every morning, when he wakes up, he looks to make sure I’m nearby. Conor needs me, and my dillweed cousins are stealing away our future.
Rather than wait patiently to be saved, I lean over, rest my back on Needy’s lap, and aim at the window. Both feet make contact, shattering the glass and scaring the shit out of Brian Clive, who swerves the SUV.
“Fucking cow!”
My mother looks down at me, and we share a smile. Yeah, today will likely end badly, but letting our new life go without a fight isn’t an option.
Brian Clive pulls off the main road onto a smaller one and slams the brakes. I know he plans to tie us up better or hurt me enough to behave. I’m ready for him, kicking at his beefy face as soon as he yanks open my door. His dark eyes meet mine, and I feel the same rage as I see in his gaze.
Then, we both hear the roar of approaching motorcycles, and our moods shift to very different places.
CONOR
Last night, I enjoyed a nice meal out with Monroe, Needy, and Amity at Rooster’s. We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine. Needy reminds me a lot of her daughter, and Monroe’s my favorite person. Getting along with her is easy. Amity’s always been one of my favorite bunnies. I ought to feel weird having my former hookup spending all her time with my honey, but they get along so well, and neither seems weird about how they both know my dick.
I’m rarely at my mom’s house except to sleep at night. Barbie hasn’t warmed up to Monroe, who gives zero fucks about winning over my mother. They avoid each other. Most days, Mom is busy with her yard, working out, or visiting with Fairuza. Monroe prefers the Overlook. Our current situation will have to do until the new house is built.
“I saw your whore riding bicycles with Dunning all over the Woodlands,” Mom announced earlier when we ran into each other in Bronco’s kitchen. “She’s immature. Too young for marriage and a kid.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Monroe what you said. Then, we’ll laugh. Anything else?” I asked as she rolled her bright blue eyes.
“She’s trash, Conor, but she likes to fight,” Mom said and gestured toward the backyard where several club brothers stood with Bronco. “These are your people, but they might screw you over from time to time. And I can’t always be around to keep them in line. The trash whore can watch your back when I’m busy with shit.”
Cupping my mom’s face, I smiled at her. “I see what you’re saying. Monroe is your favorite person, and you’ve built a shrine to her in your bedroom. I’ll let her know that. Then, we’ll laugh again.”
“You’re awful.”
I hugged her to me. “We’ll name our first son after you. Barber Jessup sounds like a winner.”
Mom squirmed around in my arms. Unwilling to kick her boy in the babymaker, she couldn’t break free.
Irritated at her loss, she muttered, “You’ll make a terrible father.”
“That’s just your hatred of children talking,” I said, stroking her head as I kept her pinned to me. “You fear having a Devlin running around your house, wiping his sticky fingers on everything. But don’t worry your pretty little head. Monroe said she’ll never let our kids visit your cootie factory. So, your furniture is safe.”
Once I freed Mom, she fixed her tousled hair and flipped me off. “My grandkids can go wherever they want.”
“Yes, everywhere except your place.”
“Good. I don’t want them interrupting my orgies.”
“That’s what Monroe meant by cooties. Dried jizz, basically.”
Barbie Jessup undoubtedly hates Monroe, and she clearly thinks I’m a pain in the ass. Yet, she couldn’t help laughing at the thought of dried jizz all over her house. She gently patted my jaw.
“I look forward to you moving out of my place,” she said as her way of letting me know she understood that times were changing and Monroe wasn’t temporary.
“I’ll still be over for free food,” I replied as my way of saying I’ll always be there for her.
Sharing a few more moments of teasing, I felt the shift in her insults toward Monroe. Mom likes to shit on people. She does it with everyone. It’s her way of protecting her overly fragile heart. But I can tell when she truly dislikes someone or has no interest in them. Today, her Monroe insults lacked the heat they had weeks ago.
Mom’s ability to embrace change inspires me to meet Wyatt at a hot dog stand for lunch. We’ve spent our lives at odds. Our fathers were buddies, while our mothers battled constantly. Wyatt and I rarely argue, but the cold hostility between us never eases up.
“What’s this about?” he asks, sitting across from me at the small round table outside the hot dog stand.
“I’m wondering if there’s a way you can stop treating me like your loser little cousin.”
“But you are my loser little cousin.”
“Yeah, but I’m also the guy Bronco and the club founders tapped as the future president. That means you either treat me with respect, or you’re a liability.”
“Fuck off,” he spits out and takes a bite of his hot dog.
“This is me offering you a chance to get in line before the time comes when I show you the door.”
“You can’t do shit.”
“You aren’t stupid, Wyatt,” I lie as my voice remains chilly. “You know Bronco will never hand over control of the club to you. You also know you can’t beat him in a fight. He’s made his choice. The founders agree. In the future, I’ll have to decide whether family matters more than the club. We both know how that’ll work out for you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“If I strip you of your patch, then you’re not in the Executioners. If you aren’t one of us, you can’t live in the community.”
“You’re blowing smoke out your ass.”
Wyatt loves to wear people down with his circular insult-bullshit game. I refuse to play with him.
“Fatherhood might mature you. I’d prefer if you could play an important role in the club,” I explain, despite not believing Wyatt’s capable of more than low-level muscle work. “Until then, I’ll stick you in the back unless I need someone willing to catch a bullet with his face.”
Leveling his pretty blue eyes at me, Wyatt growls, “You can’t make me leave the Woodlands.”
“The Executioners can, and I’ll be running the club. Your mama can bitch all she wants, but my mama will bitch right back at her. Rooster will never go against the club. You know that.”
Wyatt sneers at me, falling back into his hotheaded asshole comfort zone. Yet, his overly expressive eyes give away the truth. He’s aware of how the Executioners are held above everyone else in his father’s mind. For Rooster, his wife and kids aren’t the reason he lives a good life. T
he club offered him a chance to provide a good life for his wife and kids. To do right by the club, Rooster will quickly burn his son.
Wyatt shifts from denial to negotiation. “If you’ll be president, I ought to be VP.”
“You’re too big of an asshole to handle the shit Lowell handles.”
“You’re the biggest asshole, motherfucker.”
Ignoring his raging face, I reply calmly, “Wyatt, no one will follow a man like you.”
“Fucker.”
“You can’t see outside yourself. If you want something, you figure everyone should give it to you. But you never stopped to notice the men you were demanding the presidency from. Someone like Rooster needs to be dealt with in a certain way, but you’re too stupid to learn how.”
“You think you’re so fucking great,” he hisses, unable to deal with even the smallest amount of criticism.
“There’ll be time to get your shit in order. Bronco isn’t handing me power right away. Before he does, you can prove your worth to me. If not, I’ll cut you loose, and the club won’t stop me.”
“I will never be pushed aside.”
“Right now, you’re only in the club because of Rooster and Bronco. They wanted to believe the best in you,” I explain before hardening my voice. “As your loser little cousin, I know you’re an irredeemable shithead. Times are changing, Wyatt. Either change too or find a new line of work.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “We’ll see about this.”
“Whatever, ass—”
On the road in front of me, a black SUV rolls past. Nothing interesting about that. People in Elko love their black SUVs. Then, the back passenger window shatters, causing the vehicle to swerve. Standing up, I watch the SUV make a sharp turn off the main road. That’s when I notice the North Dakota plates.
I don’t have to answer my ringing phone to know what’s happening.
“They’re taking Monroe,” I tell Wyatt as I rush past him to my motorcycle.
After I mass-text the SUV’s location to the club, Wyatt and I zigzag through traffic to get across the street. Monroe’s captors are headed in the direction of the Village, probably hoping to use the side roads to reach the next highway entrance.
Frost (EEMC) Page 24
