Laken (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries Book 2)

by Addison Jane

  I opened my eyes just in time to see the asshole climbing to his feet as though he wasn’t even stunned. His eyes locked on me through the tiny slits in his mask, the threat of violence obvious.

  Get up.

  Get to your feet.

  But I wasn’t fast enough.

  He stood over me, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of my shirt, using it to lift me off the floor. I struggled, fighting against his hold as he pulled back his fist.

  I did the only thing I could think of at the time—I reached up and grabbed his face, pressing my thumbs into his eyes with as much pressure as I could muster.

  He dropped me, yelling as he stumbled backward, falling against people in the crowd who screamed at the flailing man. I scrambled to my feet, rushing over to Brooklyn and wrapping my arms around her waist as she cradled her stomach.

  “Who the hell—”

  The masked man found his feet again, his hand reaching inside his tailored jacket. People were running, screaming, the crowd turning to chaos within seconds.

  I gasped, my heart stopped right there, and then he pointed that dark, endless metal barrel at me.

  A sight I already knew too well…

  Gunshots were still ringing in my ears.

  I just wanted them to stop.

  My body was numb, my lungs struggling to draw in every single breath, and my heart rate was beginning to slow.

  I was running out of blood.

  It was spreading all over the concrete.

  It should have scared me, should have absolutely petrified me to know that any breath right now could be my last, but all I could think about was whether this was going to leave a stain.

  Is that what it would take to make my father finally change?

  His daughter’s blood marring the perfectly white concrete outside?

  Or would he just order extra-strength bleach?

  My heart stopped.

  It felt like every little bit of air had been sucked from the room, and no matter how deeply I inhaled, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.

  Because that’s what happened when you got shot.

  Your lungs got punctured.

  Then they started to fill with blood.

  You suffocated.

  Through the little slit in his mask for his mouth, I could see him smiling as he backed away, delighted with my reaction. He pressed into the chaos but continued to stare me down for a few extra seconds before he suddenly turned and took off running, plowing his way through people and knocking them off their feet.

  And all I could do was watch.

  My chest heaved as I fought for every damn breath, pain shooting through my stomach, each as sharp as a knife, almost bringing me to my knees.

  I felt Brook’s body being pulled away, shocking me from my system as I reached for her, grabbing at her to try and protect her. I couldn’t let someone take her.

  “Laken, it’s okay. We’ve got her,” someone screamed in my ear, finally ripping my hands away.

  Who are they talking to?

  My head was in the haze in that fuzzy zone where you go when you’re fighting to protect yourself. Nothing else matters. Survival instincts kick in.

  “Laken!”

  They grabbed my arm.

  I threw my elbow back, connecting instantly with someone’s ribs before spinning on my heel and stumbling back, almost landing on my ass like I was drunk.

  “Leah!” Myth yelled, holding his hands up in the air.

  Surrendering.

  My heart stopped.

  I shuddered.

  Leah.

  She was a person I knew once.

  A gorgeous girl with long blonde hair, a perfect tan, and her nails always immaculately manicured. Leah had a lot of friends too. Everyone wanted to spend time with her and be seen with her. She was charismatic, outgoing, and beautiful.

  She was also fake, spoiled, and ignorant. She chose to ignore what was going on around her because then she didn’t have to acknowledge something was wrong. She was just so determined to punish those people who hurt her, and as a result, innocent people she loved and cared about got hurt.

  Not just hurt.

  Killed.

  The haze was gone.

  There I was, standing in Dynasty, the music had stopped, and every single person on the dance floor was looking at me.

  “Get her out the back,” Huntsman ordered as he stepped up beside me. “And get the music started.” He placed a hand on my back, and I twitched, my body still fueled with adrenaline.

  Huntsman, though, he wasn’t afraid.

  That man was never fucking afraid.

  “I’ll take her,” Myth interrupted, reaching out for my hand. I let him take it, my fingers lacing around his and holding tightly. “Come on, let’s go before someone gets a good look at you.”

  “You think someone’s gonna give my description to the cops? But I was just protecting Brook,” I protested, tilting my head and looking at him in confusion.

  His eyes met mine, and there was something different there. “It’s not the cops I’m worried about.”

  He called me Leah.

  Damn! He knows who I am.

  Fuck.

  MYTH

  I pulled her out of the room while my brothers fought to control the situation.

  The asshole in the black mask was gone, fucking missing in the chaos.

  Turned out Jester wasn’t bluffing, and I was now acutely aware of how devious the fucker was and the dirty lengths he would go to not to lose another fight. Unfortunately, to add to the fucking circus, because this bastard made his show in front of hundreds of fucking people, we’d had to call the cops.

  If we’d actually find the guy who attacked Brooklyn, I wasn’t so sure.

  But in this whole fucked-up situation, he wasn’t the biggest concern at that moment.

  Laken had just made a fucking entrance and drawn a shit load of attention—attention I was starting to realize wasn’t just bad for the club.

  It was bad for her too.

  Because I now knew exactly who she was and why the last week or so I hadn’t been able to stop the feeling in my gut that told me I knew her.

  Repo, Shotgun, and Ripley followed closely behind us as we made our way out the front of the nightclub area and into the gentlemen’s bar next door. This part of the club wasn’t open as we were still finalizing staff and supplies.

  I slammed my palm against the swinging doors, throwing them open with force, the loud bang of them hitting the walls and rattling the shelved bottles behind the bar.

  “Watch it,” Dakota warned from her place behind the bar, shooting me a hard glare.

  “The fuck just happened?” Rip demanded.

  “I found Jester at my meeting with Connor Lint,” I tried to explain while attempting to wipe some of the dried blood from my face. “Lint was dead. Jester was waiting. We fought. I got the upper hand, then he conveniently let me know if he didn’t walk out, he had someone on Brook.”

  “You let him walk?”

  I clenched my teeth, trying to cool my anger. “Yeah.”

  “Then why the fuck did that guy still come for her?” Repo snarled, twisting his hands. “I told you, we can’t trust this bastard. You get in the ring with him, he’s gonna play dirty.”

  Laken pulled away from my side, my attention instantly following her as she braced her hands on the nearest table, her head hanging between them. She was fighting to catch her breath and struggling bad, though as far as I knew, she hadn’t actually been hurt apart from the fall.

  I placed my hand on her back. “Breathe.”

  Each breath was short and sharp like there was something stuck, and she couldn’t quite get past it.

  “Laken, you’re okay,” I tried again, my hand rubbing up and down her spine as I leaned down into her space, my other hand reaching up and pressing the hair back from her face.

  Her eyes were open.

  But they were just staring, her pupils flicki
ng back and forth as though she was watching some movie no one else could see.

  “Dakota,” I called as I cradled Laken’s face, my thumb caressing softly over the ball of her cheek. Each moment she struggled to inhale made me a little more concerned that she was going to hyperventilate, and she was going to pass out. “Can you throw me some ice?”

  Dakota scooped a pitcher of ice from the cocktail sink and jogged around to the table, setting it down with a couple of hand towels before taking a step back and sliding her arms around Ripley’s waist. “She okay?”

  “We’ll see in a second.” I grabbed a handful of ice. “Sorry ‘bout this, Rocky.” Lifting the back of her shirt, I tossed the ice inside and took a step back.

  The gasp she took was huge, her body shooting straight up as she sucked in the longest breath, followed instantly by a whole-body shudder. Two bright, shocked eyes turned to face me, still seeming a little dazed even as she continued to breathe normally.

  “You back?” I questioned, moving a little closer.

  Laken swallowed before her tongue swept out across her dry lips, and she nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” She blinked a couple of times, trying to fight through the haze and get her eyes to focus. I knew the moment they did because her brow knotted quickly, and she took a step forward. “You’re bleeding,” she announced, her fingers reaching up to touch the no doubt messy looking gash on my head.

  I caught her wrist in my hand, my entire body cringing at the idea of someone poking and prodding at it. It had finally clotted, and the blood running down my face had dried, the sharp pain now becoming a steady ache. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s fine he says as his brains leak out onto the brand-new wooden floors,” Laken mocked tiredly, shaking her head and forcing the corner of my mouth to turn up.

  “Sit down, nurse smart-ass, you need some ice on that knee.” I directed her to the chair and helped her slide into it with a painful cringe on her face.

  “Dammit,” she sighed, massaging it softly.

  “That two-story drop will get ya every time.” Dakota chuckled softly as she stepped forward and tipped some ice into one of the hand towels and twisted the end before placing one over Laken’s knee.

  She cursed under her breath but forced a thankful smile.

  “Think maybe we should get it looked at,” I suggested, pulling the chair beside her a little closer before I sat down, but she was already shaking her head.

  She snorted loudly. “Says the guy with his head cut open. I don’t need to be looked at. It’ll be fine.”

  Laken was tough, I had to give her that. But knowing what she’d been through and where she’d come from was honestly no surprise.

  “Is it because you’re scared something will be broken, or because you’re scared of having to give the hospital your real name?” I slipped the photograph I’d taken from Connor Lint’s apartment from my pocket and slid it across the table, so it was directly in front of her.

  Her fingers gripped tightly to the edge of the table. She didn’t even have to take a good look, she knew what it was. Hell, she fucking should, she’s in the damn thing. She slowly turned her head and met my gaze dead-on, and for the first time, I was one-hundred percent sure of the emotion sparkling in them.

  Just like pain, this emotion was hard to disguise.

  Fear.

  “Where did you get that?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  Repo, Shotgun, and Rip finally came forward, all pulling out chairs at the table and taking seats. I had yet to mention this bonus information I’d found, but they were about to hear it firsthand. Laken sat a little taller suddenly on the defensive with people she considered allies.

  “I think we deserve an explanation,” Shotgun announced calmly, looking between the two of us before eyeing the photograph. “Either you tell us, or Myth does. It’s your choice.”

  “And if I just walk out right now?” she asked cautiously, but I was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  Shotgun leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “You won’t.”

  Laken pushed the cold compress to the side, the ice spilling across the floor as she shot to her feet. She stood tall, the strength inside her that had kept her from crumbling for so long filling her again.

  She could run right now.

  And if she walked out that fucking door, in a few hours she’d be somewhere else.

  Someone else.

  I knew it, Shotgun knew it, and so did Laken.

  She obviously had the contacts to make it happen.

  But we’d be the ones left with the shitstorm that was about to follow.

  “The past is a hard thing to face when you’ve been running from it for so long,” I encouraged, getting to my feet and slowly moving in close. Her eyes, sparkling with tears, followed me, the weight of years of lies she’d been attempting to balance was crashing down around her. When I got close enough, I reached out, my fingers brushing over her cheeks as I took her face in my hands. This woman was fierce and had the kind of strength that even she couldn’t see.

  She’d been beaten and battered for so long, her mind and body were so fucking exhausted it made her feel weak.

  But she was wrong.

  Strength wasn’t about how easily you were knocked to the ground, it was all about getting back on your feet after. And she had yet to take a blow and be kept down.

  “You have to trust us,” I murmured, repeating the words I’d been trying to make her hear all week.

  Her hands reached out, her fingers hooking through my belt loops, using them to steady herself as she looked up at me.

  “We’re not your enemies. These men will have your back if you’re just fucking honest with them.”

  I could see the moment that hard façade began to fall.

  She knew I was right.

  Laken cleared her throat, inhaling a deep breath before she took a step back, her eyes continuing to hold mine as she spoke. “My real name is Leah Clarke.” The air around us stilled. “Trenton Clarke is my father.”

  I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

  That familiar feeling in my gut had been so strong.

  “Trenton Clarke,” Ripley repeated, narrowing his gaze as if he were waiting for the dots to connect. “State Senator, Trenton Clarke?”

  “The one and only,” she answered dryly.

  “The one whose daughter went missing a few years ago,” Shotgun groaned, shaking his head and swiping his hand over his face. “You do realize people think you’re fucking dead, right?”

  Her nose wrinkled, and she slumped back down into the little wooden chair at the table. “Yeah.”

  Rip started to laugh while Repo and Shotgun both looked at each other. Different reactions to the information, but they all knew what this meant. We were all about to be put on the map and for all the wrong fucking reasons.

  I could see the headlines now.

  BIKERS KIDNAP SENATOR’S PRIZED DAUGHTER

  AND TURNED HER INTO A WHORE

  The door swung open, and Tyler rushed inside, his body tense, letting me know the news wasn’t good. “The video of Laken leaping off the second story onto that guy is already online. And trending.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Ripley cursed with a laugh as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll let Dad know that things are about to get a little more exciting around here.”

  “Fuck!” Shotgun cursed, shoving away from the table, his chair crashing to the floor.

  Laken flinched, her shoulders hunching over.

  I shook my head.

  This wasn’t good.

  Worse than that.

  It was fucking bad.

  Repo didn’t move for a few seconds, his eyes glued to Laken. “Kennedy know?”

  Laken jumped like she’d been physically shocked, her nails digging into the wooden table. Kennedy and Laken had been best friends for close to six years. They’d lived through hell together with the Red Riot MC, protecting each other through everything th
ey had fucking thrown at them.

  “No. She doesn’t know.”

  Repo nodded. “You best tell her before your shit hits the fan, and she gets sprayed,” he ordered as he got to his feet. It was a harsh warning, and there was a small part of me that wanted to step in and fight for her, but I knew my brother was right.

  This wasn’t just her hiding from her asshole father anymore.

  This was our club harboring the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country.

  This was the spotlight on us.

  And it just happened to be the one spotlight, in particular, she wasn’t the only one running from.

  LAKEN

  Walking inside the clubhouse, Myth’s phone buzzed.

  He quickly whipped it out and swiped the screen, holding it to his ear. “Yeah?”

  I made my way toward the stairs, heading for my bedroom with a solid plan in my head.

  Pack my shit. Get the hell out of here. All before my dad shows up and puts the club on the fucking map for all the wrong reasons.

  He would because that was his thing—placing the blame on anyone else. Anything to make him look good, to make himself seem like the victim and not the villain.

  And there was no way in fucking hell I was going to let him make the club the villains.

  Not even if I had to take him on myself.

  Myth followed me up the stairs, staying no more than a step behind me.

  “Call me if something happens.” He hung up just as we reached my door.

  “Is Brook okay?” I asked, twisting the handle and pushing it open.

  Myth hummed softly as if he weren’t really sure of the answer. “They’re doing some X-rays and stuff. She seems fine, but they wanted to keep her overnight to be sure.”

  I made it through the door, barely, my body exhausted, and my knee aching. “Good,” I murmured, flinging my wardrobe door open and reaching for the backpack I’d stashed inside. I tossed it onto the bed, my body moving unconsciously toward my set of drawers.