Zero Regret

by Autumn Jones Lake

  The hallway is still quiet, the sounds from the party slightly muffled by the distance.

  As I turn the corner, I bump into Shadow.

  Was he waiting there?

  Z already explained he couldn’t get rid of Shadow without cause. He needed more than manhandling a club girl who isn’t claimed by anyone.

  Something about that really pissed me off.

  Maybe I can help give Z the reason he needs.

  Let’s face it, at best, Shadow’s a rapist-in-training. At worst, he’s going to end up getting Z or one of the other brothers killed.

  With that in mind, I work my lips into a seductive smile and cock my hip.

  “Hey, sweetness,” he greets me, his gaze roaming over every inch of me.

  “Hey.” My legs tremble, but I force myself smile up at him. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in a bit.” I use my low, velvety voice. The faker-than-fuck one I used once upon a time to convince men they just had to have a lap dance or buy me a bottle of champagne. My seducing-men-who-disgust-me skills are rusty, but seem to work on Shadow.

  Nothing about my sudden interest trips an alarm in his brain? He really is dumb. Or he just assumes every woman he meets is a whore who can’t resist his dick.

  He’s blocking my way and the urge to push past him and flat-out run seizes me. I will myself to stand still. I’d rather not have our bodies touch.

  Z’s made it clear several times that I’m with him. Shadow’s the VP. After the last warning Z gave him, he’d have to be out of his mind to touch me, right?

  Life has taught me to always be on-guard because no matter what, too many men are waiting for their chance to degrade and take advantage of you.

  Shadow’s predatory gaze sweeps over me in a way that sets alarm bells clanging inside my skull.

  “This is nice.” He slides his fingers over my collarbones, left exposed by the wide scoop neck of my dress. “You’re a beautiful woman, Lilly.”

  “Thank you.” Somehow, I’m not reassured by his compliment. “If you’re looking for Z, I’m on my way to him.”

  “Nah, I’ll talk to the prez later.” He leans against the wall, caging me in, preventing me from running toward the party. I could probably sprint back to our room, but I’m too scared he’ll follow or push his way inside and…

  I force myself to meet his stare. “What’s wrong, Shadow? Tired of little girls? You need a real woman?”

  His eyes widen at first, then his expression slides into a laid-back smirk. “You know where I can find one?”

  I jerk my head toward the living room. “Out there.”

  “But you’re right here.”

  “And I’m with Z.” I’m done. I was an idiot to try and engage him. I slip around him and quicken my steps.

  Maybe I’ve grown complacent. Secure in my position as Z’s old lady. Too confident none of the brothers—even creepy Shadow—would ever lay a hand on me.

  Shadow’s grip around my bicep startles me. I’m airborne for a second and then my back thumps against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs.

  Holy shit.

  As I stare down at his hand on my arm, icy tendrils of fear wrap around my throat.

  He leans into me, using the solid weight of his upper body to nail me to the wall. “Your old man went a step too far,” he snarls. “Bitches should never come before brothers.”

  “Then talk to him about it.” My confident mask slips. I struggle to free myself, but he’s too heavy. He slaps his hand against the wall next to my face.

  “Where you going? I ain’t done talking to you.”

  Fear makes the hallway blur around the edges, but I answer loud and firm, “I’m done talking to you.”

  “Don’t act so high and mighty, girl. You may have cut off Z’s nuts but you’re still a whore desperately trying to prove you’re more than a dick motel.”

  Charming.

  I stop struggling and laugh. “How old are you, Shadow?”

  “Huh?”

  “How old are you? Running around calling women who aren’t interested in you dick motels? Sounds like fifteen, sixteen years old?”

  He grabs my hand and yanks it toward his crotch. “No, baby. I’m all man.”

  I pull away but he has an iron grip. “I’m sure you are.”

  “You want to find out?”

  Still stunned, I take a few seconds to respond. “Get your hands off me.” I issue the warning in a much more calm, confident tone than my racing heart suggests.

  My mind’s still swimming with disbelief.

  This isn’t supposed to happen here.

  This can’t be happening again.

  Not again.

  Never again.

  Too terrified and ashamed to protect myself, I’ve frozen until it was too late. Fear freezes me in place. Memories of that horrible incident and all the awful moments that followed threaten to drown me, leaving me weak and useless again.

  The world comes rushing back. I’m in danger. And I’d rather fight like hell than do nothing. I slap my hands against his shoulders, attempting to push him away. “Get off me.”

  Obviously, he’s not used to girls fighting back because I succeed in shoving him away enough to slip out of his grasp.

  Party. I need to run in the direction of other people. Maybe he’s just screwing around. Trying to scare me.

  I’m not sticking around to find out if he wants to have a hostile chat or laugh in my face.

  I’m jerked to a stop and yanked backwards, almost falling out of my heels. My back thumps into the wall again. A soft oof bursts past my lips. My head hits the wall with a painful thud. Stars burst behind my eyelids.

  Hostile it is.

  “Let go before I scream.”

  He wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes enough to terrify me into silence. “Go ahead.” He leans in and I almost puke when his lips brush against my ear. “The louder you scream, the harder I get.”

  Big shock there.

  Maybe the sheer terror makes me reckless, but I snort with laughter. “It’s not about how hard your dick is, it’s about terrorizing and using your strength to hurt someone.”

  He pulls back and frowns. “Huh?”

  Logic and reason are wasted on this dumbass, Lilly. Kick him in the nuts.

  I can’t work enough leverage to kick him, but I bring my knee up and narrowly miss smashing it into his crotch. He avoids the strike. Probably has a lot of practice avoiding kicks to the dick.

  He grins, gloating that I missed.

  Jake warned us about that, didn’t he? I should’ve taken a few more classes.

  Shadow’s not squeezing hard enough to cut off my air. Yet.

  The thumb is the weak spot.

  Which way is his thumb?

  Remembering Jake’s instructions, I push past my terror to jerk, twist, and duck, escaping Shadow’s hand.

  “Hey!” someone yells from the end of the hall.

  Nope. Not sticking around to assess whether they’re friendly or not.

  I want to touch Shadow’s junk about as much as I want to swim in a pool of sharks. But I’m still sort of crouched down when he reaches for me again.

  I pull my arms in, forming a fist with both hands, kind of like spiking a volleyball. I thrust up as hard as I can, aiming for his crotch.

  Gotcha that time, fucker.

  He screams and doubles over, backing away from me.

  “Bitch!”

  I scoop one of my shoes off the floor and whack him in the side of the head with it. They’re a solid pair with a hefty one-inch platform. It makes a satisfying thwack when it collides with his skull.

  “What the hell?” someone else yells. Footsteps pound over the carpet. Great. I don’t trust anyone now. What if they all gang up on me and drag me into one of the empty rooms? Z won’t know what’s happening until it’s too late.

  I turn and run and make it about five steps before colliding with Murphy. He automatically wraps his arms around me and I finally feel
safe. He’s bigger and bulkier than Shadow. Plus, I trust him.

  He tips my chin back, staring at my neck for a second. Lifting his head, he glares at whoever’s behind me. “Who touched you, Lilly?” His grave tone suggests someone’s about to die.

  Too scared to say much, I whisper, “Shadow.”

  Murphy growls. His gaze zips past me. “Don’t you fucking move, motherfucker!” he shouts. The rumble of his voice even louder with my face pressed against his chest. The soft, cuddly biker who builds swing sets for his baby daughter and makes bear sex jokes at family barbeques is gone, replaced by a threatening mountain of a man who’s ready to murder.

  I’m a huge fan of this scary-ass, violent version of Murphy at the moment.

  “What’s going on?” Teller asks somewhere behind us.

  “Get Z. Now,” Murphy says in a loud, even voice.

  Keeping an arm around my shoulders, Murphy shifts me to his left. Freeing up his right hand, in case Shadow comes at us, I guess. I hang onto him like he’s the best damn life raft in an ocean full of deadly jellyfish.

  More voices reach me. Whoever shouted at the end of the hall joins us. “I saw part of it,” someone says.

  “What’s going on?” Z asks.

  I wriggle out of Murphy’s grip and fly at Z, almost knocking him over.

  He wraps his arms around me and frowns. “What happened?” His gaze darts from my face to Murphy and then past Murphy. I bury my face against his chest. “Someone want to explain?”

  “Hold him,” Murphy orders.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Shadow yells.

  Z’s body vibrates and his hold on me tightens. “What. The. Fuck. Happened?”

  I can’t form any words and risk glancing up at Z. He’s focused on something behind me. His entire body pulsing with barely-controlled rage. “Start talking,” he says through clenched teeth. “Now.”

  Shadow lets out a high, strained laugh. “Your girl was all hot for my dick until Stitch walked up on us.”

  Stitch? Which one is he? The prospect? Great. I bet there’s some rule about his word not being as good as a full-patched brother or some shit.

  “That’s not what it looked like to me, Prez.”

  “Rooster?” Z lifts his chin.

  Oh, thank God.

  He’ll believe me, right?

  Chapter Thirty

  Z

  The guys who don’t know me might think I haven’t asked Lilly directly what happened because her story doesn’t count as much as a brother’s.

  They’re wrong.

  Something bad happened to her.

  Something that should never happen in my clubhouse.

  The only question burning in my mind is how many people do I need to kill?

  The scene I walked up on made it clear.

  Murphy with his arms protectively around my woman, looking like he was about to murder anyone who came near her. Lilly, barefoot and clinging to him like he just saved her damn life. The way she’s trembling all over.

  Those few observations told me all I need to know about what I walked up on.

  Shadow’s in for a vicious beating, one way or another. Simple as that. Hitting on a member’s old lady is grounds for a beat down in our world. Hurting one? I’m within my rights to gut the motherfucker.

  Do I want the backing of the brothers’ in the downstate charter before it goes down? Yeah, it’d be nice. It’s not necessary as far as I’m concerned. Let ‘em try to strip my patch.

  Rooster crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance, blocking Shadow’s only option for escape.

  “Looked like she was trying to get away from him, which is why I yelled out instead of pulling up a chair to watch.”

  I’m not in the mood for his jokes. I grunt at him and turn my gaze on Stitch.

  Stitch may only be a prospect, but he speaks up and shows no fear. “She punched him in the balls, Prez. Unless that’s his fucked-up version of foreplay, it looked to me like he attacked her.”

  “Fuck you, prospect,” Shadow spits. “She ain’t patched.”

  “That’s the excuse you’re going with?” Rooster shakes his head. “You do remember her being introduced to everyone in this clubhouse as his old lady, right?”

  “Nah, Shadow here thought he’d get even with me for telling him he can’t do whatever the fuck he wants to the girls around here, didn’t ya, bro?” I ask.

  The corner of his mouth curls up.

  “Too much of a coward to come at me directly, right?” I shift Lilly to the side and behind me a second before Shadow launches himself at my midsection.

  The hit to the gut drives me back a few feet.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Teller hustling Lilly away.

  Now it’s on.

  I shove Shadow back and take up a better stance.

  His fist comes flying at me and I easily duck it.

  “Get him, brother,” Murphy says from behind me, his signal that he has my back and no one will interfere.

  Confident this won’t take long, I throw some of my own punches. A sweet burn rips through my knuckles as I collide with Shadow’s cheek.

  Something crunches under my fist, but I don’t take a second to enjoy it.

  I weave in closer and take two more shots. One to his face. One to the chest.

  Shadow’s a bit smaller than me, but mostly muscle and a strong motherfucker. I don’t buy it when he stays down.

  A few seconds later, he comes at me, attempting to slam his skull into my chin. I avoid that hit, but the momentum takes both of us to the floor.

  Shadow lands a shot to my jaw and my head bounces off the rough carpet.

  That’s enough of that.

  Adrenaline rockets through my veins. Wrapping my legs around his torso, I twist and flip us where I can pound the ever-loving shit out of him.

  I might not have visited Wrath at the new and improved Furious Fitness for lessons recently, but years of that big bastard tossing me around the ring in the name of “training” doesn’t fade overnight.

  Blood sprays from his mouth and nose, coating my chin and dripping down the front of my shirt. Still, I don’t slow down.

  No, I’m just gettin’ started.

  No one touches my girl.

  Shadow twists to the left.

  Yeah, I’d duck these shots too.

  A flash of silver reveals he wasn’t attempting an evasive maneuver. Someone yells out and footsteps thunder closer to us.

  A line of fire sizzles over my thigh and while I’m processing the pain, he manages to roll us over.

  He pulled a knife on me! A brother. His president.

  Even though I’m on my back, I’m acutely aware of every movement. I block out the pain from the slash to my leg because I’m also aware that if he manages to take me out, Lilly and my brothers are in danger.

  He jabs forward.

  I catch Shadow’s hand an inch before he sinks the blade into my chest.

  Hanging onto his knife hand for dear life, I seize a hold of his wrist and angle the sharp steel away from my ribcage.

  Unfortunately for Shadow, I twist his wrist until the tip of the knife pointed at his liver. The fucker keeps coming at me, all of his weight bearing down.

  His wide, surprised eyes when the knife pierces his skin aren’t as satisfying as you’d think. My brain’s running on pure survival instinct as I shove harder.

  He grunts but keeps coming.

  Or the momentum carries him forward.

  Either way, he ends up impaling himself on his own damn knife.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Z

  Warm, slick blood gushes over my hand. Steer ends up pulling Shadow off me, throwing him to the floor.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he roars.

  Shadow rolls to the side, clutching his side while blood seeps through his shirt.

  Exhausted, I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling for a few breaths. Blood and sweat drip off my forehead and into my ha
ir.

  That escalated quickly.

  The sounds of the clubhouse come rushing over me. I tip my head back, trying to pick Lilly, Murphy, or Teller out of the crowd, but all I see are a bunch of dirty boots and jean-covered legs.

  I groan and sit up.

  Rooster offers me his hand and pulls me off the floor. “You all right, brother?” he asks quietly.

  “Better than he is.” I nod at Shadow.

  Steer turns and stares at me. “Your call, Prez.”

  I take in the shocked looks on the faces around me.

  In some clubs, this is probably no big deal. Too many men with no respect for brotherhood who think they’re top dog in one club. A fight like this could be just another regular Friday night.

  Not my club. We’ll spar with each other for fun and profit occasionally. Or to blow off steam. Hand out a beating when a brother’s earned it.

  But pull a weapon on a brother?

  Never.

  Not since Rock, Wrath, and I took over the upstate charter years ago.

  I need to make an example of Shadow. Every brother in this charter needs to understand challenging me or disrespecting me will result in harsh punishment. I also need to do it with a level head and with the support of the rest of the brothers so this doesn’t happen again.

  I could pull a gun and blow a hole in Shadow’s skull—which honestly is my preference at the moment. While that might make everyone fear me, it won’t necessarily make them respect me. It’ll only be a matter of time before someone steps out of line again.

  “Call the doc to patch him up.” I give Shadow’s injury a more serious inspection. “If he lives, we’ll vote on him immediately.”

  “Prez, everyone saw him pull the knife,” Hustler says.

  “Yeah, but Z jumped him.”

  I turn, seeking the brother who uttered that bullshit.

  My gaze lands on Smoke.

  Figures.

  “He touched my ol’ lady.” I growl out the words and consider punching Smoke.

  “Women don’t come before brothers. You can’t strip his patch—”

  “Are you drunk, old man?” Rooster says. He points two fingers at his eyes. “I saw him attack Z’s woman. That’s grounds for a beating every day of the damn week.”