Alanah baulks. She pulls away from me, holding herself upright like she’s warding of an attack.
With every passing moment, she’s hurting me more.
What’s happened to us? It used to be me and Alanah against everyone.
“Why didn’t you come to me? Why did you run to Vic?” Those two questions come from the darkest depths of my soul. They are the very basis of my current disillusionment.
“I have to tell you something,” Alanah informs me. “Please try to hear me out before you get too mad.”
Narrowing my eyes, I frown. “Is this about Vic?”
“Yeah.”
Balling my hands into fists, I rest them on my knees and brace for what’s to come. Alanah shows me a hint of mercy, taking my hands and forcing me to straighten my fingers so she can hold them. Her thumbs brush my knuckles, and I let myself relax a little.
At the end of the day, she is my sister. One of my people. I want her back in my life. I want to share what I’ve found with Anita with her.
Hell, I’d don’t even know if she knows that I’m in a relationship yet.
That’s how far apart Vic has driven us.
“Since Bonnie left, I’ve been sneaking out and spending time with Vic. Sometimes I stay the night, and sometimes I walk home by myself. It’s completely innocent. Nothing’s happened, I swear, but we’re taking it slowly and something will happen eventually.”
My heart stops. I can’t believe my ears.
Yanking my hands from hers, I stumble to my feet and tower over her with my hands on my hips. My eyes see her, but my brain doesn’t recognise her.
This has gone too far.
This ends now.
“Over my dead body will you end up with Victor Kennedy. He is trash. A fucking nobody. You’re coming home with me now, and I’ll be taking this to the table, so the Shamrocks can deal with Vic properly.”
“No!” she screams at me. “I’m staying here.”
I don’t heed her words, instead I grab hold of her upper arm and drag her toward the front door. Alanah lets her weight drop to the floor and struggles to get away from me. My hands burn with the need to shake sense into her.
Rather than hurt her, I let her fall to the floor.
“Start walking or I’ll carry you.”
“I’m staying. You can’t make me go with you,” Alanah snarls.
Hot rage colours her face. I try to regain my grip on her, but she starts swinging and kicking at me. There is no way I’d willingly hurt her so when it becomes apparent that she’s not going to let me take her home, I stop trying.
This is not the way I saw today going; however I know when I’m defeated.
“You know what.” I glare down at her. “Stay here. You’ll see that I’m only trying to look out for you when Vic comes back and boots you out on your arse. I’m taking this to the Club, and they’ll force him to choose. You’ve got Buckley’s chance of him choosing you over his patches. I hope you learn your lesson the hard way, but don’t come crawling back to me when you do. Go live with mum, you’re as fucking insane as she is—you’ll fit right in.”
Alanah gasps. Finally the full ramifications of what she’s doing are sinking into her head. Tugging the envelope containing her university acceptance from the inner pocket of my Shamrocks cut, I toss it on the floor next to her.
The contents of that yellow rectangle are the culmination of everything she’s worked for since she started school. It’s also evidence of what she’s throwing away for Vic.
“This came for you. You got in. Have fun trying to achieve your dreams while you fend off mum’s moods.”
Alanah flinches, understanding my taunts straightaway. She inspects the letter inside and hugs it to her chest once she’s finished reading.
Without saying it outright, I’ve told her where I stand.
Leave Vic and come home to me or I’m done. When this blows up in her face—which it will because I know Vic will choose the Shamrocks when he’s given an ultimatum shortly—Alanah will not be welcome in my home.
Unless she leaves with me now.
I wait.
I wait some more.
I give up.
With an angry snort, I turn on my heel and leave. Slamming the front door shut behind me does nothing to help me regain control. Riding my bike like a maniac through the busy streets of Brisbane offers me no solace. Storming inside the main bar of the Shamrocks clubhouse only further enrages me.
Vic stands next to my President in front of the ornate doors that led to our chapel.
He’s still wearing his cut.
His face is clear of guilt.
He surveys the assembled members with the arrogance of a returning King.
Seeing him like this only compounds my failure with Alanah.
“What’s happening?” I ask my father once I’ve pushed through the crowd to get to his side.
“Fucking Vic and Leo are up to something,” he replies. “They were huddled in—”
The rest of the answer he offers me is lost when Leo O’Brien calls the club to attention.
“I told you, I have good news,” Prez announces once everyone’s looking at him.
“Hear, hear,” the crowd chants.
“Quinn, Conan, Butch, and Viking, come here.” He gestures us forward with a wave of his hand.
We stand at his side. Cole’s father moves to the other side of Vic. Me and Cole position ourselves next to them. When I find myself standing on Vic’s other side, I make it clear with an angry hiss that I don’t want to be near him and force Cole to swap sides.
Ignoring the curious look Cole gives me, I concentrate of Leo and wait for whatever bomb he’s about to drop. The arrogant way he inspects the four of us tells me that I’m not going to like what I hear.
“Today we usher in the dawn of a new era,” our Prez proclaims. “Meet the leadership of our new Emerald chapter.”
A raucous round of applause erupts. They stomp their feet. Clap their hands. Erupt in two-fingered whistles. I let it wash over me, disbelieving and unable to comprehend the implications of what was just announced.
Why Emerald? Why us? Why are we establishing a chapter in Ugly Bastards territory?
“Please offer your congratulations to our inaugural expansion chapter President.” Leo pulls Quinn to the front.
Everyone cheers for Cole’s father as if it’s the best news they’ve ever heard. If anyone bothered to take the time to look at his expression, they would see that he is as ambushed by the announcement as I was.
Leo moves behind me and lays his hands on my shoulders.
“Come with me,” he commands in a voice only I can hear.
“Why?”
Directing me with his grip to stand next to Quinn instead of answering, he continues with the theatrics.
“A round of applause for the first expansion chapter Vice President.”
With a cruel squeeze, he silently tells me to table my questions for later and accept the congratulations on offer. I do as I’m told, seething on the inside while I remain calm to anyone who meets my eyes.
The point he’s making is hammered home when I spy the same confusion I’m drowning under on Cole’s face when Leo makes his final proclamation.
“Our dual expansion chapter Sergeant-at-Arms, Conan and Viking. May these men find enough heads to bang to keep them both satisfied.”
Quinn frowns. Cole looks at Vic, then takes a deliberate step away from him that brings him hard against my side. Searching Vic’s face, my suspicions are confirmed when I see that he’s not surprised by what just happened.
I don’t know what game Vic is playing by having Leo elevate him—the son of the fucking Road Captain—to the same position as the son as our Sergeant at Arms.
I do know one thing. Judging by the expression of Quinn and Cole’s faces, he’s bitten off more than he can chew. They won’t take this betrayal without seeking retribution.
And, I’ll be right by their side as they deliv
er their revenge.
He’s fucked with my sister.
Now, he’s fucking with my club.
It’s what he deserves.
Paddy comes over to me when Leo moves away from us. He beckons me to follow him toward the bar.
“This is what I tried to warn you about,” he mutters while we wait for a drink.
“It’s fucked,” I reply. Swallowing my beer in one go, I slam the glass back down the bar and signal for a refill. “I knew he was ambitious, but he’s gone too fucking far.”
“Don’t worry,” Paddy claps a big hand down on my shoulder. “Stick with me, Butch. I’ve got a plan that’ll fix everything. Just need you to trust me.”
Nudging him with my shoulder, I grab my fresh beer and hold it out to him. He knocks his glass against mine, a grin curving his lips when I say, “Whatever it takes. I’m all in.”
He nods, egging me on. His eyes widen when I address him by his road name—something I usually avoid because it reminds me how much of a loose cannon he can be.
Right now, Paddy’s propensity for wreaking havoc seems like more of a blessing than the curse I used to call it. He’s the only real ally I have left at the Shamrocks. Getting Cole to side against Vic would be next to impossible.
“Don’t worry, Beast,” I drawl with as much self-assurance as I can manage. Hard as I try, my heart’s not really in it. All I want to do is go home to Anita and bury myself inside her until my world rights itself on its axis. Thankfully, he buys my act. “Vic’s going down if it’s the last thing I do.”
TWENTY
Anita
The paperwork spread in front of me on Brian’s kitchen table should make me happy.
Yet, reading through my acceptance into the University of Queensland’s Forensic Science program is not filling me with anything but dread.
Someone pushed the yellow envelope under the front door shortly after I arrived back from calling my brother. I knew it was Serge, or at least he’d sent one of his boys to do it. What I didn’t know was why?
Is he trying to make amends?
Is he trying to remind me what I have at stake?
Is he simply taunting me?
Whatever his plan, it’s not going to work.
I’d watched Alanah’s envelope arrive earlier this morning and I’d seen the look on Brian’s face when he’d opened it. He couldn’t hide his pain at her absence, and I’d decided on the spot that I didn’t care whether I was accepted or not, I was going to delay my studies until I could fix what I’d broken between the Kelly siblings.
Alanah hasn’t been home since graduation night. She’s been staying at Vic’s and, despite our happiness together, I can see how much her defection is hurting him. Francis Kelly has been turning up at all hours of the night to drink with his son, their mutual devastation bringing them closer, and I’ve eavesdropped on enough of their discussions about Vic and Alanah to know that they plan to make her come home.
They’re doomed to failure.
Why? They were both working with bad information.
Paddy has pre-empted the fallout from his crazy behaviour on graduation night. He’s filled Brian’s head with a plausible and alternate version of events that makes him look like the good guy and forces me into silence.
If I told Brian the truth now, he wouldn’t believe me, and I’d ruin everything for nothing.
“Anita Bonita, pretty little pumpkin eater.”
Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.
“Paddy,” I acknowledge him in a dry voice. He touches me between my shoulder blades, a light graze of his fingers, then tugs my pony tail. I bristle immediately. “Don’t touch me.”
“Always telling me what to do.” He takes hold of the back of my chair and drags me around so I’m facing him. “You still haven’t learned your place, have you?”
Swallowing hard, I force myself to meet his eyes and laugh in his face. “And you haven’t worked out that you don’t intimidate me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “One day you’re going to learn the hard way that I’ve had your measure from the fucking start.”
He squats in front of me, pushes my hair off my collar bone, and twirls the locks around his fingers. Bringing the dark tresses to his nose, he inhales deeply. Paddy strokes my hair, occasionally dipping his arm and brushing his fingertips over the notch at my neck. Each time he does this, he goes lower, until he reaches the top of my cleavage.
I hold my breath. He searches my face, touching me at will, while I work hard to keep my distaste from showing. He wants a reaction, so I’m determined to starve him of one.
Eventually he loses interest, grabs a beer from the fridge, then leaves the kitchen. Minutes later, I hear the back door slam shut and the creaky gate that leads to the back alley open. A motorcycle engine fills the neighbourhood, its rumbling engine bouncing off the buildings and echoing back on itself.
Once the sound dies, I let my lungs empty. My biggest regret in life—even more so than lying about my family to Brian and Alanah—is giving Patrick O’Brien something to hold over my head. He has me trapped inside his lies, and we both know it.
Flicking through my program information again, I try to ignore the warning bells in my head that scream that it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.
It always does.
Someone knocks on the front door. I shove the pieces of paper I’m idly scanning back into the envelope and slide the yellow rectangle in between the pages of a magazine that sits on the coffee table as I walk past.
“Who is it?” I ask from the other side of the door.
“Is Brian there?” a female voice calls back.
Pulling open the door, I half hide behind it while I size up the surprise visitor. She seems vaguely familiar. The little boy she’s balancing on her hip gives me a little wave and I smile at him.
Dark eyes narrow as she looks me up and down, her angular but pretty face filling with a sneer before she flicks her hair over one shoulder and jostles the toddler when he tries to wriggle out of her arms.
“Apparently, Brian has a type.”
Quirking an eyebrow at the hostility in her tone, I step out from behind the door and move closer to her.
“Brian’s not here,” I tell her, infusing my voice with enough disdain to let her know she’s unwelcome. Her comment about Brian having a type has pushed my buttons and the green-eyed monster that I didn’t know until now lived inside me, has been awakened. “I’ll be sure to let him know you stopped by.”
Her eyes flash, the edges of her mouth drooping. She bursts into tears. Spinning around, long hair flying over her shoulders, she takes off down the front steps and turns to run down the street.
Following her out of the yard, I yell, “Stop! Please stop. Are you okay? What’s your name?”
She runs faster. The little boy she’s carrying begins to cry. I stand on the sidewalk at the edge of the gate, heart thumping in my chest, and watch her go.
Once she’s out of sight, I return inside.
I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a huge mistake by letting her run off without identifying herself.
That worry remains, even when Brian returns home.
“I need you,” he rasps the second he’s through the front door.
Tossing the book I was reading on top of the magazine that holds my university acceptance, I stand and hold my arms open to him.
He steps up to me, pulling my body against his. Closing my arms around him, I hold him tight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he confesses. His body starts to shake, and he clings to me. “Alanah. Vic. The Shamrocks. It’s all falling apart.”
“How can I help?”
Brian lifts me into the air and backs me against the closest wall. I kiss him, tugging at his dirty-blond locks the way he likes, grateful that they’re longer than the buzz cut he had when I met him nearly two years ago.
“Just keep being you,”
he replies to my question when he pries his hungry mouth from mine long enough to speak. “You’re the only person I can trust.”
Swallowing down the ball of guilt that lodges in my throat, I give him a weak smile.
“I can do that.”
Frantic hands rip my cotton skirt from my body. My panties quickly follow suit, landing on the floor at his feet. He pulls my top down, my breasts propped in his face when he lifts them half out of my bra. Without checking to see if I’m ready for him, Brian frees his hard cock from his pants and impales me on it in one swift motion.
“God. Yes,” I scream.
Brian buries his head in the crook of my neck and bites down, nibbling his way across my collar bone. I moan, then scream when he nips my skin harder with his teeth. Cupping my arse, he holds me in the air, pumping inside me with a staccato burst of sharp and punishing thrusts. My shoulder blades are the only part of me that touches the wall at my back. It hurts; a lick of pain that reminds me that what’s between us is real.
I am at his mercy.
Wide open. His willing captive.
“Fucking hell, Nita,” Brian groans against my throat. He only ever calls me that name when he’s out of control. “If I lost you, I’d have nothing.”
His confession hits me in the chest.
I feel the same way about him.
Three weeks.
Three months.
Three years.
Three decades.
My feelings will never change.
Pushing Paddy’s lies and the brunette woman’s strange visit from my mind, I concentrate on the man who is holding me to him like I’m his sole reason for breathing and his gravitational pull all rolled into one.
Screw Sergio and his demands.
Fuck Paddy and his lies.
Damn the crying woman and her kid.
Brian is mine and I won’t give him up for anything…
Or anyone.
TWENTY-ONE
Brian
The last thing I need after the night from Hell is an early morning wakeup call courtesy of a wailing child. After fucking Anita’s brains out against the living room wall, I was called in to do Vic’s bloody job for him once again.
Butch (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 3) Page 13
