Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset

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Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset Page 28

by Serena Akeroyd


  “Isn’t it too soon?”

  “Life’s short. We have to take each day we’re given, live them to the fullest. I want to do that, with you riding bitch at my back.”

  A quiver whispered down her spine at that, and when she reached over, cupped my chin, and told me, “There will come a day when you ride bitch, Nyx, you do know this, don’t you?”

  Her words only gave me further confirmation she was the woman for me.

  Even if there wasn’t a cat in hell’s chance that I was ever, in a million fucking years, letting her control my hog.

  Now that was crazy fucking talk.

  ❖

  REX

  THE SECOND NYX walked into the clubhouse with Giulia’s name tattooed on his throat, there wasn’t much more of a declaration required.

  I had no doubt that her brand would be somewhere only he could see, because he was a possessive bastard, and the way his arm was around her shoulders reminded me of shit Jocks pulled with their girlfriends as they walked down the hall in school.

  My lips curved because Nyx had worn no letters at school, none other than F.U.C.K O.F.F, and I couldn’t see Giulia wearing a Letterman jacket.

  Not in this eternity, at any rate.

  For all that I could have rolled my eyes at my brother’s antics, I had to admit I was happy. Happy for him, happy for her, happy for the club. It was about time shit changed around here.

  The council were all in their mid-thirties, with only Storm having an Old Lady, until he’d fucked shit up with Keira a couple of months back. The place didn’t have any of the vibe it’d had when I was a kid, and was more porn movie studio than what the Satan’s Sinners should be—a community. Yeah, we were family, and yeah, one of the perks was to have pussy on hand, but fuck, in my dad’s day, the two hadn’t been mutually exclusive.

  But to get that?

  We’d need an Old Lady with brass balls. Somehow, I thought we had that in Giulia. She wouldn’t have a problem in telling the clubwhores what to do, and I’d let her reign over the women until I picked a woman for myself.

  Well, that was a lie.

  I’d already picked the woman, but convincing her was going to be a long project. I had time, so did Rachel, and because of this messed up situation with Lancaster, we’d be working together more than ever. Rachel was normally disapproving of our methods, but she knew about that cunt’s phone, knew what we’d found on there, and knew—more so than any of us—how the police investigation was skewed in the Lancasters’ favor. To the point where if those detectives on the family’s payroll started saying Giulia had raped Lancaster, I wouldn’t be fucking surprised.

  Link cheered at the sight of Giulia and Nyx together, which triggered a wave of cheers because, to be frank, no one knew how to respond to most of the shit Nyx did. It didn’t surprise me that Link was the one who’d guided him in the right direction. I knew it would either have been him or Steel.

  Digging my elbows into my knees as I sank back into the sofa that everyone knew not to fuck on because it was mine, I tipped my chin so I couldn’t see them. They’d wander over here eventually, after Nyx had shown off his tat, and for the moment, I needed to think.

  I’d already sent off JoJo and Tink, and I knew, in a little bit, Jingles would be on her way to see if I was okay.

  The clubwhores weren’t all bitches. Not like Giulia evidently believed, but we had a lot, and they did need corralling. I had neither the time nor the desire to do that, but I figured my ‘honeymoon’ present to Giulia would be the gift of kicking them into line. And fuck, she’d need something to occupy her while this investigation was underway.

  A part of me didn’t doubt she’d be exonerated. But another part was on edge. The Lancasters were new around here, but they were rich enough to have some clout with the police department, which told me they’d funded their new fucking gun range or some shit like that.

  The detectives that were in charge of the case had a slant for everything that had gone down, and they were gearing up to accuse Giulia of all kinds of shit—I had a feeling in my fucking bones they were going to say she hit him up, and then attacked him with intent to steal his gear.

  It didn’t help that his iPhone hadn’t been found—wouldn’t be, not when it was hooked up to our computers as Mav used it in our hunt for more of Lancaster’s victims—but what was on her side was that his wallet had been untouched and he’d had just over six hundred dollars in there. Dipshit.

  What the police were tossing around was the level of bruising and injuries in Lancaster’s corpse, and the hit itself? Yeah. I understood their skepticism because Giulia, whether she’d handled a knife before or not, would never have made an attack like that.

  Which meant she was telling lies about how Lancaster’s death had gone down.

  Which put holes in her story.

  I wasn’t sure who she was protecting, or why, but the sneaky cameras we’d had installed in the bar itself were no fucking use. I’d had Mav scan them, and he’d pulled up nothing but blank tape for the minutes of the attack. Any brother had access to the camera equipment, anyone could have switched them off, but the question was why?

  Why switch off equipment that the police didn’t know existed?

  It showed a level of premeditation that I didn’t understand.

  There was no hiding from the fact that Giulia had been raped. The state of her? The bruising? The sexual assault? It was all real. And her fear of the bar was such that I knew we’d lost our bar manager for a good long while. So, that was real.

  But what was the lie?

  Who’d helped her, and why hadn’t they told me?

  “Prez?”

  Nyx sounded a little nervous, a lot exhilarated. Enough that I had no choice but to stare him in the eye and grin at him. I bounced onto my feet and hauled him into a hug that showed how tight we were as friends. More than just brothers in an MC, brothers IRL. As I squeezed him, I muttered, “Glad you fucking listened for once.”

  His laugh in my ear was something I’d never forget, because I’d heard it so rarely in my life. Nyx? Happy? My mom would be probably doing the tango in her grave.

  “I always listen when you make smart suggestions.”

  Giulia eyed us both, then, unsurprisingly—because the attack had shaken her but not zipped up her mouth—demanded, “What did you suggest, Rex?”

  “That I don’t fuck this up.” Nyx hauled her into his side once more. When his hand went to a high part on her waist and she flinched? I knew that was where her brand was. Just underneath her tit.

  Nyx was predictable as fuck sometimes.

  I smiled, genuine in my happiness for my brother, as he pressed his mouth to hers, and I took a seat, knowing they’d be sitting with me for a while. When they huddled together on the sofa opposite, their hands clinging, their bodies touching, the yearning between them real, I knew I wanted what they had. Knew I was ready to feel something more than just the drudgery of life.

  And even if she didn’t realize it, regardless of the lies she was telling, I’d protect Giulia and the brother she was protecting—had to be one of the twins, didn’t it?—just to preserve this. A smiling Nyx.

  A lighter Nyx.

  A happy Nyx.

  So long as he looked as though his demons were at rest, she’d have my back.

  No matter the consequences.

  Epilogue

  NYX

  WHEN I FELT her slick heat against my cock, I let my eyes drift open lazily. Her movements were unhurried, relaxed, and that was how I felt.

  Sure, there was an urgency stirring inside me, sure, I wanted to come, but more than that, I liked that this was the first time she’d taken the initiative.

  Adored that she wanted me enough just to lazily ride me like this.

  Loved, even more, that she was getting over what that bastard had done to her, and was starting to own her body once more.

  “Morning, baby,” she rasped, her voice still husky from sleep.

  “Mo
rning, sweetheart,” I greeted her back, letting my hands come up to cup her waist, not to steer or to stop her, just to hold on to her.

  With each rock of her hips, she was coating my cock in her slick cream, and each time, her clit came into contact with the piercings on the tip. And every time she bit her lip that little bit harder, I knew the feeling was electric, and I knew, just as much, that the laziness would disappear and be replaced with the fire that always consumed us.

  The inferno that would devour us until our last breath left our lungs, and we were nothing more than the ash our passion had forged.

  I sighed with relief when she grabbed my dick after a good few minutes of this delicious torment, and sighed again when she pressed the tip to her entrance.

  This part was always agonizing, and it was particularly excruciating with her, because she was so fucking tight.

  In all the time we’d been together, she’d never ridden me, never managed it, and I wasn’t sure she’d be able to today either.

  Her tits shook as she tried to get me inside her, and I reached up, cupping the underside of one that showed her brand.

  She had “Property of Nyx” tattooed in cursive under there, but it was the devil’s head that I truly appreciated. It was a match to the one I had on my back, only instead of the blood and the gore that I had on mine, hers was decorated in Indiana’s signature mandalas.

  It was quirky rather than gruesome, but that was more of a brand than anything else.

  My touch inspired her to rub my own mark. Brothers didn’t usually get branded, but I was one and done, and I wanted her to know that.

  I had a past, and it was dirty and grimy. I’d fucked more women than most men could dream of, but I wasn’t about to let what we had be tinged by the bitterness that could be stirred from my history.

  So I wore her mark with pride. Carly’s songbird on my throat had a partner now, a mirror image that reflected Giulia’s importance in my life.

  “I can’t get it in,” she grumbled after another minute.

  “I know,” I told her dryly, wondering how sex could be funny with this woman.

  It had always been a need, an urge, but now? It had taken on a life of its own.

  “Aren’t you going to do something about it?” she demanded with a huff, her glassy eyes and pink cheeks telling me she was more than ready for me to take things further.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I growled, and grabbing her, I twisted us around so that she was on her back and I was above her.

  Her squeal was badly timed. It meant I missed the sharp knock on the door, but after her giggle died down, I heard the pounding fist and, cursing, I pressed my forehead to hers and shouted out,

  “Who the fuck is it?”

  “It’s me. Rex.”

  Growling under my breath, I grated out, “I’m sorry, babe.”

  Though she was pouting, she knew the score as only a brat reared in the club ever could.

  I grabbed the PJ shirt she’d tossed onto the floor this morning before she’d attacked me and used it to cover my junk. I opened the door a sliver so Rex could only see my glowering face as I answered his call.

  “What is it?” I groused. “Church isn’t for another few hours.”

  His face was tense, his eyes loaded with strain as he told me,

  “We’ve found Lancaster’s hostages.”

  Afterword

  This isn’t my first MC. That loony tune train started back with ALL SINNER NO SAINT, but I’ve been a major fan of MC romances for a looooong, loooooooooooong time. It’s pretty much an obsession. So, I figured, it’s my turn to write one. My turn to truly get into the nitty gritty.

  Well, you just read it. What do you think? What say YOU? :P Let me know by either leaving an honest review (because they’re an author’s lifeblood and I’ll fucking love you forever if you do that shit for me, MWAH,) or by chitchatting with me in my Diva Reader group on FB.

  In the middle of the book, you met Finn and Declan O'Donnelly. This isn’t their first rodeo. Finn has his own book, THE AIR HE BREATHES. Where you can meet Aoife and read about their story. It’s one of my personal faves, so be sure to check that out. They’re on KU. Then, Eoghan has his story out in FILTHY RICH, and Declan’s will be out shortly, his tale is revealed in FILTHY DARK.

  And… just so you know, Link is live, and Sin will be here shortly. I’ll always get them out as soon as I can, just FYI.

  I love you, guys. Thanks so much for letting me allow my batshit imagination to go wild. You’re probably saving me from an asylum! :D

  Love,

  Serena

  Xoxo

  Link

  Dedication

  To my cousin.

  Kristian, you died so young, cuz. Too young. If there’s any relief to be found, it’s in knowing you’re no longer in pain and are at peace. But it’s small comfort.

  Until we meet again,

  Love

  Gem <3

  Soundtrack

  The soundtrack of this song is a weird one. However, you tell me it doesn’t fit!

  LORDS OF ACID: ROUGH SEX

  Enjoy ;)

  Warning

  Please be advised this book may contain scenes that are disturbing to sensitive readers.

  A year earlier…

  Blood.

  Lots of it.

  Whether it was mine or yours, it should have been inside us.

  Soaring through our veins and arteries. Keeping us alive.

  It shouldn’t be seeping from us.

  Draining out of us.

  Stolen from us.

  I blew out a breath as the ache in my body made itself known, and using a few sheets of toilet paper, I rolled it in on itself, creating a tiny barricade I hoped would hold. Shoving it between my ass cheeks was enough to bring on a panic attack, because I hated my ass. Hated. It.

  Not for any normal reason, like because it had cellulite. Not because it was just a smidgen too much of a bubble butt. Not because it was bony or flat. I didn’t give a crap about how it looked. I hated it because he used it.

  Shuddering as I stood, the paper lodged there, collecting blood he’d spilled, I dragged my panties up high and lowered my skirt.

  When I approached the vanity, I looked at myself and was, as always, surprised to note I looked normal. So fucking normal. Not like I’d just been used—abused. Not like the walking wreckage I was.

  My body was one big ball of pain as I washed my hands and launched myself into an upright position. Smile firmly fixed in place, I headed on out, then winced when I saw Tiffany, my best friend, had let herself in. She was flat on her belly on the bed, phone in her hand, her legs swaying from side to side.

  “Did you see what Lourdes just posted on Instagram? I mean, my God, did she get dressed in the dark?”

  My lips twitched. “Maybe she did.”

  Tiffany scowled at me, her eyes squinting as she processed my remark and judged whether I was joking or not. Then, because she couldn’t tell—I had a damn good poker face—she grumbled, “Who gets dressed in the dark?”

  I shrugged. “It would explain the past few choices she’s made.”

  “Fashion disasters you mean.” She huffed, rolled off her stomach, and straightened up into a standing position. Her eyes drifted over me. “You look like you’re in pain.” Her brow puckered. “Got another headache?”

  That was the excuse I used when I was feeling this way. “Yeah. I’ll be okay though.” My smile didn’t display just how fragile I felt. I’d had a lot of practice in making certain I looked normal.

  That was like my family’s secondary talent. Looking normal when, underneath it all, we were the exact opposite. The primary talent, of course, was making money.

  Lots, and lots, and lots of money.

  I’d exchange it all for the ability to lead a regular goddamn life.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She hummed under her breath as she gave me another scan, then she sh
rugged. Not because she didn’t care—she did. Sometimes I was positive she was the only person who gave a damn about me period—but because she knew me well. We’d gone to St. Lawrence Academy in Manhattan together and had been through thick and thin as friends.

  She knew I wouldn’t let anything stop me. She just didn’t know why I was that way. It wasn’t because I was forthright and indomitable. If only it were. But no, it was because the punishment never fit the crime, and I’d learned to adjust my behavior accordingly.

  “What’s this party about anyway?” she asked, her attention still on our friend Lourdes’ post.

  “Didn’t your dad tell you?” I questioned, amused despite myself.

  I headed over to my dressing table and picked up my favorite scent. As I dabbed it behind my ears and along my décolleté, I stared out at the yard where, beneath a blanket of string lights, amid thousands of perfumed flowers and the stirring music from a string quartet, a hundred people were moseying together, appreciating my father’s largesse. One thing could be said about my bastard father—he knew how to throw a party.

  “Oh, he did, but I didn’t listen.” She beamed at me, her green eyes twinkling as she straightened up her tie and sorted out a few flyaway strands of hair. Unlike me, who always wore a dress for these events, she wore pantsuits with ties. Sure, she looked like a sexy newscaster, but hell, she rocked it. “You know I make it my job to ignore my dad on the regular.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lies. You’re a daddy’s girl. Face it.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not. He’s making us move.”

  “You’re twenty-two, babe. If you want to stay in the city, you can.” There was no envy in my tone, even if inside, I was a wriggling, writhing ball of jealousy over her freedom.

 

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