Laken (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries Book 2)

by Addison Jane

  I couldn’t do that to them.

  I couldn’t do that to Myth.

  Not after everything they had offered me and what they’d done for Kennedy and Brook.

  They didn’t deserve that.

  So I had to fight the pain in my heart which urged me to lean on him, to let him take some of this fucking load that felt like it was slowly forcing me into my grave, and instead, I was going to continue to play the part. And keep this image intact.

  So the innocent act was out the window.

  Defenses were up.

  “It’s none of your business,” I threw back, trying to keep my heart from racing as it pushed with force against his chest, and at the same time twisted away, slipping from his hold and making a beeline for my bedroom door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I held it open, my nails digging into the wood and my knuckles going white as I tried my best to focus on keeping my shaking legs underneath me.

  Myth walked toward me slowly, deliberately, his jaw clenched, his eyes on fire like he was ready to burn the world down around me to get answers. “You want me to leave?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t even care at that point, that it was the least convincing ‘yes’ I’d ever heard. I just wanted him to step back. I needed space between us. I needed to find my feet again and steady them before they got too used to having him near.

  I wasn’t ready to add another name to the list of people I would never survive losing.

  It was already becoming too long.

  The air was still for a few seconds—a few seconds that felt like an eternity.

  Myth moved toward the open door, his shoulders back, his body tense, and just when I thought he was going to step outside, he stopped.

  And so did my heart.

  “Meet me downstairs tomorrow. Three-thirty in the afternoon. We’re taking a field trip.”

  I frowned, looking up at him and shaking my head like I didn’t understand.

  “Don’t make me come up here and get you.” He stepped out, his heavy, angry footsteps echoing down the hall.

  “Wear sneakers,” he called back, making my body jump and my stomach begin to swirl.

  This was a bad idea.

  A fucking horrible idea.

  I was screwed.

  MYTH

  “Boarding school?” Rylan growled, folding his arms across his chest. “What the fuck?”

  I snorted, slightly amused by the way he was fighting his outrage, trying to stop himself from storming across the lot to where Brook was chatting with Avery and sweep the girl off her feet. The funny thing was, if he finally found those fucking balls and decided to show her that he gave a fucking shit about her, I think she’d stay.

  At this point, he wasn’t even trying to hide how bad he wanted her.

  Every asshole here knew, including Repo, who had somehow managed not to kill the kid.

  Yet, Ry was determined to put his Exiled Eight patch first.

  He wanted his colors.

  A mistake I always thought he would regret, but maybe that regret was going to come sooner rather than later.

  I shrugged. “She sat down with Repo and Kenz yesterday,” I explained and took a long swig of my beer. “She’s only got a year left at school. If she wants to finish it somewhere else and get away from this brand of crazy for a while, that’s up to her.”

  I sat atop my ride, holding it steady while Crush looked over a couple of things. Today I’d helped Crush change everyone’s oil in an attempt to keep my shit busy, so I didn’t spend every second in the ring and end up burning myself out. Because I would. That was a part of who I was. I got obsessive, especially at times like this when the stress was really weighing heavy.

  Working on motors was another way to ease my mind. Keeping my hands busy would keep my thoughts focused on something else. We had our bikes checked and serviced at least bi-monthly. It was a club policy. If we were riding and your bike was choking and spluttering or blowing black smoke, you were sent back to the fucking clubhouse.

  The MC wasn’t all badasses, tattoos, and drinking.

  The Brothers by Blood expected you to respect your physical appearance and keep your body fit, but they also expected you to respect the image of the club by keeping your ride clean, your colors tidy, and your shit together.

  Not only were cops looking to pick at anything, so were other clubs.

  So you kept your shit together.

  Showed your brothers and your colors some respect.

  Or you got the fuck out.

  “You don’t just turn your back on your family.” Rylan’s jaw was clenched tight—he still didn’t fucking get it. Ry saved Brooklyn from Crow and his bastards, but she didn’t owe him fucking anything other than a thank you. Yet, I could see that feeling of betrayal was already festering inside Ry like a disease.

  And there it was.

  “She ain’t turning her back—”

  “She’s putting the club second.”

  “No,” I argued, shaking my head, feeling my agitation starting to show. “She’s putting herself fucking first. There’s a huge difference, and you damn well know it.” I wasn’t exactly familiar with Rylan or his history. I knew he had a strong connection to The Exiled Eight MC. They were his family. Those were the people who had his back, and in his mind, he couldn’t ever contemplate wanting anything other than the brotherhood they offered.

  It was the same for a lot of us.

  The club was a part of who we were. It was a piece of your heart, a part of your soul, and there was no way in hell I could ever imagine walking away from it.

  But this was the life I’d chosen for me.

  It was a choice I’d made.

  For Brooklyn, it was Kennedy’s choice that brought her here to the club. It was Kennedy who decided whether this was a life she wanted to live and that her love for Repo meant being a part of the club. Brook, she came as part of a package deal.

  Now she was making her own choices.

  And I was kind of fucking proud of her for it.

  “It’s fucking stupid.”

  “It’s fucking life.” I swirled my finger around in the air. “Believe it or not, this isn’t everyone’s choice of a good fucking time.”

  Rylan huffed out an angry breath and scuffed his foot against the loose gravel before stomping back inside the clubhouse like a child throwing a tantrum. The man was hurting, I fucking got it. But at some point, he was going to have to pull up his big boy pants and realize Brook isn’t waiting around for him to earn his patch or figure out what the hell he wants.

  She’s about to walk her own path.

  And she’s going to do it with or without his dumb ass.

  “He’s got it bad, right?” Ripley chuckled, ducking around the furious teenager as he came toward me.

  “He’s still in denial.”

  “Well, I sure hope he can swim.” Rip grinned, shaking his head.

  “You hear back yet?” Shotgun and Huntsman joined Rip as he walked across the lot toward me.

  The place was like a beehive, trying to make sure everything was ready for Dynasty’s opening tomorrow. It was fucking chaos, but that seemed to be the fucking normal recently.

  “Not yet,” I responded tightly, wiping across my forehead with the back of my hand, knowing instantly there would be a streak of black grease across it if the color of my hands were anything to go by. “I’m calling everyone I can think of. Apparently, no one really knows who Jester’s manager is, or if the crazy fucker even has one.”

  Huntsman leaned back against the wall. “You think he’s going to wanna head underground for this one?”

  My muscles clenched, the veins in my forearm protruding slightly. “I don’t know. If he does, that’s a different fucking story. We may need to look into what we can do before then.”

  Shotgun’s head bobbed up and down. “You know I don’t want you locked in a cage with him where we can’t get to you if we need to. So this fight is eith
er legal, or we cut it off before it can even get off the ground.”

  “We could do that anyway,” Crush noted from where he was lying on the ground, his head not even popping out from beneath my ride.

  “We could,” I echoed. “But I’m not sure at this point what kind of insurance policy a guy like Jester will have put aside. He may be crazy, but I guarantee he will have something or someone backing his ass, so we can’t just be done with him that easily.”

  Huntsman nodded, his eyes meeting mine. “Be smart about it.”

  “Trying,” I groaned, noting the way my fingers were beginning to itch. “I’m not as quick as I used to be.”

  “But you’re just as smart,” Shotgun argued, folding his arms across his chest. “You know you’re good. And that ain’t being cocky, it’s being real.”

  I was good.

  Was.

  I hadn’t fought in a real fight for years, even when I went underground after my ban.

  A tingle tickled at the back of my neck, and I looked past the boys catching sight of Laken chatting with Avery inside by the bar.

  Sneakers on her feet.

  “You done down there, man?” I asked Crush as he rolled away from my ride.

  He got to his feet, dusting himself off with a grin. “Yeah, you’re good to go.”

  “Great.” I propped my ride on its stand and climbed off. “I’ve got shit to do at the gym.”

  “This gonna be a thing with her?” Huntsman prodded with a smirk, his gaze following mine.

  “I dunno,” I answered, and it was the fucking truth. I felt like I knew nothing about Laken, and at the same time, I felt like I knew her inside and fucking out.

  There was something else about this fucking woman I couldn’t fight, couldn’t leave alone. It wasn’t that young, sassy, bright personality she flashed left, right, and fucking center like she had a switch that turned it on and off. And it sure as hell wasn’t that practiced princess smile or the way her makeup and her hair were always perfect and beautiful.

  It was the broken part.

  The girl I saw staring at a stranger in the mirror.

  The one who looked like they could use someone in their corner.

  “You feeling something?” Huntsman asked curiously when I didn’t reply.

  “She’s Kennedy’s best friend,” I answered, knowing it was a shitty response the second he snorted out a laugh. “She ain’t got fucking no one else.”

  Shotgun didn’t look so amused. “Hear me when I say that girl has some serious demons to work through,” he told me pointedly, then pursed his lips like there was more to come, but he was forcing himself to keep it contained. “Demons that have already won once before.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Shotgun meant.

  And suddenly, I realized why Repo had been quiet the times when I’d asked questions. “Where’d you find her?” I questioned through gritted teeth. My muscles tightened, and my hands clenched tightly into fists.

  “Psych ward in Salt Lake City.”

  Fuck.

  I knew her past had something over her head. But this?

  I could feel Shotgun’s eyes on me. He was waiting to see what I would do, to see my next move. “What do you think, Myth?” he prodded.

  “I think she’s stronger than you give her credit for,” I answered, not a shred of doubt present. “You should probably know better than to underestimate the broken.”

  He laughed. “Broken can be glued back together. I’m starting to think she’s more like completely shattered, and I don’t know if we have that much fucking glue, brother.”

  What may have been meant to separate me from the instinctual need to chase after this girl, only fueled the need.

  “Not everyone is meant to be fixed,” I called, my legs already moving.

  I respected my brothers’ opinions, and I knew no matter what, they’d always respect my choices.

  Choices that it seemed had already been made for me.

  I spent years and fucking years wondering why the hell I was put on this earth with these fucked-up problems with my head. I wanted to be fixed and be fucking normal like every other kid out there. Like my brother and sister who were treated like crap, but who were never called dumb, or stupid, or slow.

  I didn’t know if it was something other kids had, I didn’t know there were other people who had the same problems I did. Not until I got older. Not until the beatings didn’t work. Or the medication. Or the fucking therapy.

  Not until I learned how to live with myself.

  Broken.

  Something it was obvious Laken was struggling with.

  MYTH

  I had to admit I was a little disappointed I didn’t get to storm up the stairs, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her out of here. “You ready?”

  Laken pressed her lips together and wiggled her nose like a little rabbit. “I’m not sure. Are you gonna make me run or something ‘cause I’m telling you now, I haven’t run anywhere since high school.”

  I nodded toward my ride. “That’s good. At least I know if you try to escape, you won’t get very far.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Looking back over my shoulder, I held a serious face. “Am I laughing?”

  She jumped off the stool, holding something out to me as she came forward. “Sorry, should have given this back to you yesterday.” It was my hoodie, folded neatly and hooked over her arm.

  I turned away before she could get too close, calling back to her. “Put it on, the air’s cold today.”

  I didn’t want the piece of clothing back. Seeing it on her had stirred things inside me I had never imagined before. I’d seen plenty of men take old ladies. Some fucking horrible women who were only out for money, status, and power, and then others like Kennedy and Meyah who were sweet as hell, but you know for a fact would take measures into their own hands and do whatever they had to do to protect their men and the club if it ever came to that.

  I knew Laken was the latter.

  She was the type of woman who constantly put herself second, who tried to escape her pain by protecting others by doing good for them.

  She would protect the ones she loved fucking fiercely, but she didn’t see herself as worthy of the same fight.

  So I was going to do what I did best.

  I was going to poke the bear.

  Throwing my leg over my ride, I started my baby up with a roar, letting the motor ease to life underneath me. Laken stepped up beside me, tugging at the sleeves of my hoodie. The sweatshirt far too big for her, and yet as far as I was fucking concerned, it fit her perfectly.

  “Come on,” I urged over the rumble of the motor.

  She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth for a second before she surged forward, one foot firmly on the peg before swinging the other over the back.

  Laken’s hands went to my hips, her body pushed back slightly, far too close to the rear for my liking. I grinned as I reached around behind me, my hands grabbing both her ass cheeks and pulling her forward until she was pressed securely to my back.

  She got the memo.

  Her hands soon snaked around my waist, one tucking just inside my club cut and grabbing my shirt while the other held my belt buckle, her fingers brushing awfully close to my quickly hardening cock.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  I held my breath for a second, trying to stop myself from saying fuck it to my plan and carrying this woman back into the clubhouse and straight to my goddamn bedroom.

  She was a club girl.

  That’s what they were for.

  But it was also the last fucking thing I wanted Laken to think I saw her as.

  And I knew if I didn’t figure out what the hell this feeling was now, then I was going to have to deal with watching my brothers taking her to fucking bed.

  Growling under my breath, I pulled my bike up and kicked the stand back into place before roaring forward toward the gates, gravel kicking up behind
us.

  Laken tucked her face into my back, but I could feel her laughter, and it was almost disappointing not to be able to turn around and see the way her smile lit up her face and how it completely transformed her into this different person.

  A person who was full of life.

  Not fighting for life.

  Our bodies moved together as we took to the streets, her arms squeezing tighter as we surged forward and relaxing against me as we cruised.

  It was easy.

  Because she didn’t fight my movements.

  She trusted me.

  And that was the first step.

  It wasn’t long before we were pulling down the alleyway between the buildings. She sat back, sitting tall, looking around as I pulled right in the back and waited as she climbed off before I set my ride on the stand.

  “What is this place?” she asked the second I turned the key, and the deafening throb of the motor went silent. She was carefully studying the run-down looking building in front of her. It wasn’t much to look at, that I could admit. There were weeds growing through the cracks in the concrete and climbing up the old, chipped brick walls.

  That was how I fucking liked it, though.

  “My gym,” I answered as I walked toward the disheveled space. We were on the bad side of town—not even the good part of the bad side of town.

  This was the streets.

  Where some of the houses looked like they should be condemned because of the number of windows and walls missing. Where kids didn’t play out on the streets for fear of being gunned down by gang members.

  If you grew up here, you weren’t a person, you were a fucking statistic. And not a good one. No matter your race, your home life, or your associations, around here, you were more likely going to end up fucking dead or in jail than being a contributing member of society.

  I should know.

  I grew up only a few blocks over.

  My old family house long destroyed to make way for cramped apartments.

  Laken was too curious to stay back for long, and after a few seconds, she jogged up behind me, her eyes still taking in everything around us.