Butch (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 3)

by Kylie Hillman

  “Um, thanks?”

  It’s my lucky day—the siren goes immediately after I pose what should be a statement as a question. Brian smiles at me, a knowing tinkle sparkling in his emerald irises, but I’m saved from making a bigger moron out of myself by the elated surge of students who come out of the school and crash around us with all the finesse of waves on a hurricane riddled beach.

  Grace’s squeal cuts through the crowd. She launches herself at Brian, circling her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. I look away from them, a strange sensation overcoming me at the sight of Brian’s hands closing around Grace’s tiny waist. Alanah trails along behind her until she stops next to me. The displeasure that pinches her face proves my initial gut instinct right.

  Flirting with Brian would have undone all the work I did today.

  “Yuck,” I mumble loud enough for the two of us to hear.

  “Indeed,” she replies.

  We exchange looks—her eyes conveying the same kind of humour as her brother moments earlier—and she nudges me to follow her.

  “Bri,” she interrupts Grace’s cooing. “Me and Anita are going to the library. I don’t need a ride today.”

  A heavy weight has grown in the pit of my stomach after witnessing Grace’s over-the-top greeting and Brian’s easy acceptance of it. It dissipates when I see that he only laid his hands on her to aid his efforts to extricate himself. His hands are big, his wrists wide, leading to muscled forearms that are exposed by the pushed-up sleeves of his leather jacket. They move and flex as he maneuvres Grace out of his space.

  Shooting his sister a pleading look, he seems to struggle to find the words to say next.

  “Paddy’s, ah, occupied,” he ventures in a halting manner. “I was sent to grab Grace and take her home.”

  The dark-haired beauty jumps up and down on the spot, clapping her hands with delight. My fingers tighten into fists and the image of the knuckles of my right hand glancing off her high cheekbone hits me hard. Mentally shaking myself, I walk away from them toward the bus that will take us to the city library.

  Something about Brian Kelly gets under my skin and seeing Grace act like a fool around him sends shards of annoyance shooting through my entire body. It’s not a reaction I’m used to, especially around boys I barely know. My brother’s club is filled with young, good looking new patches. Some of them are even better looking than Brian, as hard as that is to believe, yet I’ve never ridden a rollercoaster of emotion and found myself fantasising about punching another girl in the face just because she gave them a hug.

  With the mission I’m on firmly planted in the forefront of my mind, I refuse to allow myself to entertain the reasons why I’m feeling like this. I’m at this school for a reason. Grace and Alanah should be my focus, not Brian Kelly.

  “Hey, wait up,” Alanah yells after me. “I’m still coming.”

  I stop, mentally telling myself not to turn around and look at them.

  My body doesn’t listen.

  Twisting around, I look back at Alanah over my shoulder and will myself to keep my attention on my new friend. My feet do their own thing, and my eyes have a mind of their own; I’m heading back in the direction I just came to meet Alanah halfway.

  The whole time my gaze is on Brian and Grace. He’s bent down talking to her, yet his emerald stare pins me. I can’t blink. I can’t swallow. I can’t think.

  All I see is him.

  A Harley burst to life. My eyelids close over my dry eyes. When I reopen them, Brian is passing by me with Grace on the back of his motorcycle. The boulder in my stomach drops back into place. My hands curl into fists. I press my lips together and watch them pass.

  Brian tips his head at me, a grin lifting his lips, then he blows me a kiss and speeds out of sight.

  Grace’s long black hair blows behind her. I screw my eyes shut and try my hardest to ignore the vision my brain conjures of me snatching her off the back of Brian’s bike by her silky tresses.

  “Are you all right?” Alanah asks when she reaches me.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her in a weak voice.

  She frowns, clearly not believing me, but she lets it go. Taking hold of my hand, she drags me back to the bus stop and onto the bus we need to catch. After she’s skipped her way to the back seats, I take advantage of her excitement and let her chew my ear off the whole way there, intent on ignoring what just happened and concentrating on earning her trust.

  All thoughts of Brian Kelly are banished from my head with ruthless intent. I lock them away in the vault at the back of my mind with everything else that I refuse to think about—my mother’s desertion, my father’s denial, my brother’s expectations.

  Brian Kelly isn’t worth another second of my time.

  After all, he wears a Black Shamrocks MC patch, and that makes him my eternal enemy.

  NINE

  Brian

  “Grace,” I say her name with warning. “Back the fuck up.”

  Paddy’s little sister is as bull-headed as her brother. I’m not sure if she’s deliberately ignoring how uncomfortable she makes me or if she’s truly as oblivious as she appears. What I do know is she needs to stop hugging and kissing me before one of her brother’s see and, quite rightly, mashes my face to a pulp for me.

  I wouldn’t let Alanah behave like this with my friends. Not that she would, since she’s much more mature than her best friend, and she’s capable of acting appropriately. Which is something Grace O’Brien has never been accused of. They’re both Black Shamrocks MC Princesses, yet Grace throws herself around with all the finesse of a highly paid whore.

  “But, Bri,” she uses my little sister’s nickname to address me and that ends up being the final straw. “You know you like me.”

  Kicking down my bike stand, I dismount and approach her with menacing steps. Her eyes widen, fear darkening the blue depths momentarily, before she smiles and lays her hand on my chest. Circling her thin wrists with my fingers, I yank her away from me and march her up the front steps of her house.

  After we’d finished following Quinn and his enforcers to learn the ropes of our new role with the MC, me and Cole had separated to fulfil our next tasks. Cole had to pick up his girlfriend’s little sister from school and I was dispatched to pick up Grace form the high school. Her father wanted her home, and I hadn’t minded being the errand boy because I’d decided with the infinite wisdom of my coked-out brain that catching up with Paddy alone was a good idea.

  Now, straight and almost sober, I’m questioning that decision.

  Grace is a burr in my side. She’s had this idea of creating a family dynasty by marrying me, the VP’s son, since before she truly understood what marriage was. Being over five years older, I’d humoured her childish conjuring’s until she’d become more blatant in her interest over the past few months.

  Now, it was bordering on inappropriate and I needed to nip it in the bud.

  “I. Do. Not. Like. You.” I pronounce each word firmly. Grace struggles in my grip, hurt flaring over her face. “I’m your brother’s best friend, you’re his annoying little sister, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

  Part of me knows that I’m pushing it too far, yet I can’t stop. Grace is copping all of my pent-up rage and I’m raining it down over her head with the intensity of a bulk artillery fire. She twists and turns, trying to dodge the nasty words I fire at her like bullets. The residual effects of the coke I snorted earlier buoys me, promising me that I’m doing what’s needed. Tightening my hold on her wrists, I keep her in place so she can’t avoid the home truth I’m serving.

  “Stop it, Brian,” she pleads. “Please. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Something in her voice breaks through the haze coating my brain and I let go of her wrists immediately.

  “Grace,” I call after her when she runs up the front steps and inside the house.

  Whatever I was about to say—sorry, maybe—dies on the tip of my tongue when Paddy emerges from the same doo
r his sister just entered.

  “Butch,” he greets me by my road name. As usual, it stops me in my tracks for a second. The whole road name tradition is new. Lenny wasn’t given one, and I don’t think I’m the only person who thinks that’s unfair. “What’s up Grace’s arse?”

  I feel bad for taking it too far, so I decide to answer him honestly.

  “Just told her to stop flirting with me all the time.” He chuckles at my succinct summary; however, I notice that the humour doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s been pestering me a bit lately. Might’ve been a bit too rough on her.”

  This time when he laughs, it’s genuine. “She’ll get over it. Bout time she learned her place, anyhow. There’s no space for little bitch feelings in the club. If she can’t take the truth, that’s on her.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say. He’s right, in a way. It’s just this black and white view of the world he has is what makes him unsuitable for the President’s patch when it becomes vacant. “Hopefully, she’ll stop now. Made me feel like a pedo when she wouldn’t let up. Everyone knows little sisters are off limits.”

  Paddy’s face is pretty bruised from his fight with Lenny. One eye is almost swollen shut and his top lip is split. The damage does nothing to hide the squirrely look he gets when I mention little sisters being off limits.

  A few times already, I’ve warned him away from Alanah. Not because I think he’d stand a chance with her, but to pre-empt any ideas he might get in the future. When he’s drunk, he doesn’t care who he chases. As long as she has a functioning pussy and a heartbeat, he’s keen. I don’t want Alanah in that sort of situation.

  It’s the last thing she needs and not one bit what she deserves. I have plans for my sister, and they don’t involve sticking around the Black Shamrocks longer than necessary. Alanah’s going to live a big life; filled with love and success and smooth sailing.

  Deep in my marrow, I know that Paddy’s not going to get in the way of that.

  If anyone has the power to distract her, it’s Vic.

  Which leads me back to why I thought it was a good idea to come here alone today.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Paddy smirks. “Better than Lenny, that’s for sure.”

  “It was pretty fucked up,” I reply, ensuring my voice holds no censure. “Huge mess to clean up as well.”

  His smugness knows no bounds. The smirk morphs into a shit-eating grin. He takes a seat on the top seat, patting the cement next to him. I sit, folding my fingers together while I wait to see what he has to say.

  “Dad wants me to succeed him,” Paddy tells me in a conspiratorial tone. I nod, already privy to this knowledge. “He wants Lenny out of the club with Vic’s dad and Vic. They’re not Black Shamrocks to the core, and I’ve agreed to help him.”

  “What?” My shock is palpable, clearly expressed by the speed of my reply. When Paddy sits back, his expression closing off, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. “Why Vic? He loves the club…”

  Paddy doesn’t seem inclined to give me the answer I seek so I trail off and search my mind for a safer subject to talk about. Nothing springs to mind until I remember the gorgeous brunette I met at Alanah’s school just before.

  “Man, you should have seen this chick at the high school,” I say with a snort. His face loses the pinched look it had gained, and he smiles. Paddy’s favourite topic is, and I imagine always will be, hot girls. “Short. Brunette. Big eyes. Big tits. You know those girls that are skinny but curvy? She was one of them.”

  “Did you get her name?”

  I wrack my brains. “Yeah, Anita something.”

  “Does Grace know her?”

  His keen interest sets my nerves on edge and I begin to regret mentioning her to him. She was beautiful. A little nervous; she’d blushed when I’d first spoken to her. The pink had rushed from the top of her cleavage up her tanned neck to her perfectly symmetrical face. There was something about her—an inner turmoil that called to my own.

  Anita had intrigued me from the moment I’d parked in front of the school until her bizarre decision to walk off without saying goodbye.

  Smiling to myself when I replay the look on her face at the kiss I’d blown her when I’d ridden past with Grace over in my head, I decide to lie to Paddy.

  “Nah, I don’t think she runs in the girl’s circle.”

  “Pity,” he replies. Pushing to his feet, he nods toward the front door. “Wanna come in for a beer?”

  His question doesn’t register properly. My thoughts are consumed with Anita. It was a strange encounter. She’d been talking to someone on a bike when I’d turned the corner onto the street the school is on, and she’d seemed to recognise me even though I’m sure we’ve never met before. I’d enjoyed flirting with her—despite my dissolving coke buzz—and blowing her the kiss has been a spur of the moment decision.

  She’d been shocked, but she’d definitely liked it.

  “Earth to Butch.” Paddy clicks his fingers in front of my face. “I said, do you want a beer?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Your loss.” He seems miffed that I’m leaving so soon.

  Punching his upper arm lightly, I offer him a smile of consolation. “Gotta get home to Alanah. You know how our mum gets at this time of the day.”

  His eyes light up at the mention of Alanah, setting the hair on the back of my neck on end. I tamp down on the desire to punch him harder and broaden my grin instead.

  “Catch up soon, hey?” I say. “We need to talk about the changes your dad wants. I think I can help.”

  The lies flow from my tongue, smooth as molasses. I haven’t decided which side I’m on, but he doesn’t need to know that. Lulling him into believing that I’m on the O’Brien side of this underhanded plan is self-preservation at its best.

  “I’d appreciate that,” Paddy responds quietly. He glances at the front door then back at me. Coming down a step so he’s on the same level as me, he stoops low and speaks in a whispered murmur. “You and me, we’re the right bloodlines. We come from the men who started the Shamrocks. We’re the future and I know we’re the best the club has to offer. The others are merely soldiers; cannon fodder if needed. I look forward to the day when you take my side as my VP.”

  If I hadn’t seen Leo in action with my own eyes this morning, I’d believe that what I just heard was the crazy musings of Paddy’s addled mind. Unfortunately, I haven’t a doubt that he’s telling the truth as he sees it and he’s being guided by his father’s hand while he does so.

  “Sounds good,” I give him the vaguest answer I can without arousing suspicion. “You know I’m here for the Shamrocks, whatever it takes.”

  “I know you are.” Paddy slaps my back, a hearty hit that almost knocks me off my step. “We will learn from the sins of our fathers and we’ll make the Shamrocks the biggest MC in Australia. There will be no Carly Millers to distract us—the next generation of O’Brien’s and Kelly’s will herald the dawning of a new age.”

  He strides back into the house without a backward glance. I watch him go, unease settling over me at his cavalier mention of Carly Miller. That woman wreaked havoc on the Shamrocks, first as Leo O’Brien’s mistress before my father fell in love with her and they tried to leave the club together. I hate her with a passion, even though she’s dead, because she’s directly responsible for my mother’s descent into madness, and Dad’s continual overcompensation for his betrayal of his marriage vows.

  Trembling overtakes my entire body. I head for my Harley, my mind a mess of confusion. My gut churns. My stomach swirls. My brain takes up a monotonous chant, declaring its need for another bump. I send my empty snuff ring a baleful look. Everything I had on me was used up when I snorted back at the clubhouse.

  If I go home for more, I’m going to get stuck in the middle of my mother’s latest manic episode and I won’t be able to leave. She’ll ruin my buzz with her artificial and exceedingly fragile happiness, and I’ll say some
thing that sends her spiralling into her next depressive episode. I could ask Paddy for some—I know he partakes regularly—but opening that can of worms is not something my current state of mind can cope with.

  There’s only one person who can help.

  Shari Lucian.

  The thought of her hot pussy and her never-ending coke supply has my cock growing hard in my pants.

  Revving my engine, I burn rubber as I tear away from the front of Paddy’s house and force myself to concentrate on anything other than the bombshells Paddy just lobbed my way.

  Cocaine and sex. The perfect antidote to my mayhem.

  It’s what I need to get my brain firing properly.

  With a hard dick, a pounding head, and an overwhelming urge to get high drawing me in her direction, Shari’s dark prettiness should be all I see in my mind’s eye.

  So, why is Anita’s petite beauty all I can see?

  TEN

  Anita

  Four months later

  Going to the library with Alanah has become our twice-weekly ritual. After school, we catch the bus into the city, spend a couple of hours exploring the newest books on offer and working on our homework, before walking home together. Her house is closest, and she always ducks inside to call my house so Carly can pass on a message for Serge to come pick me up. Call made; we say our good byes and I keep walking for home until my brother meets me along the way and gives me a ride the rest of the way.

  So far, this has been the only overlap in our lives. Carly never identifies herself when she answers the phone. Alanah doesn’t invite me inside her home. Serge manages to avoid crossing paths with anyone connected to the Black Shamrocks MC. And I continue on my merry way, playing the part of the supportive new friend and passing on any information Alanah and Grace accidentally let slip.