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

by Serena Akeroyd

  Almost to punctuate my comment, the doors swung open, and I didn’t have to turn around to feel the stares of the two guards who followed me around. They weren’t supposed to drink at all, but Paul and Alix knew I was, relatively speaking, a good girl. I never got into trouble, never stirred shit, so they could relax. When I went to the country club, they took it in turn to be DD, while one always got hammered on my daddy’s dime.

  The bartender’s eyes cut to my security detail, and then his gaze flashed over to the guys in the MC, who were seated in that odd concoction of bike parts.

  The place was half Western saloon and half parts shop. I didn’t particularly like it with its coarse wooden tables and sleek banquettes, but I didn’t have to like it, did I?

  This wasn’t about to become my local haunt.

  “Make it two hundred, and I’ll dose them up,” the server whispered, as he poured me another shot of vodka.

  I’d have paid a grand to get Paul and Alix off my back. “Okay. Make it three shots then. I’ll double the money if, every time they order, you do the same.”

  He shrugged in what I took to be agreement, then moved forward when he saw me slide some money under my empty glass. Eyes connected, we both nodded as I retreated, heading over to a corner booth. I watched as Paul took up a table at the opposite side of the room, his gaze on the door, while Alix put in an order. The bartender must have told him he’d bring their drinks over, because he soon joined Paul. I found a spot in the mirror behind all the liquor on the back wall of the bar where I could watch them without seeming like I was.

  I gnawed on my bottom lip as the server poured their beer. I couldn’t see anything from over here, not in the dim lights anyway, and I hoped three shots would be enough to impair them. They were big men but, far as I knew, they only drank lager. Would three shots make them tipsy? I had to hope it would. Even better, I had to hope it would give them a thirst for more.

  Once the drinks were served and Paul and Alix had sipped at them, I stopped studying them in a mirror. Though they’d pulled a face at the first sip, it hadn’t stopped them from downing the rest of their beer and, thank God, putting in another order. Tonight’s designated driver had evidently decided it was time to get hammered.

  The bartender smirked at me as he filled some beer mugs for them, and I darted my gaze away from the bar just in case they thought my interest in their order was suspicious. As I watched a couple shuffling around a space that was for dancing, I learned two-stepping to Guns and Roses wasn’t impossible.

  My mouth quirked up in a smile, though, as I took in the couple’s tight embrace. They looked happy, relaxed in one another’s company, and I’d admit to feeling jealous. I’d never felt like that around another person. Not even my mom, and I’d loved her more than anyone else on this planet. But trust wasn’t something you could have in my family. We were all backstabbers, myself included.

  I gnawed on my lip as sentimental nostalgia, undoubtedly aided by my second shot of vodka, made me a little teary-eyed. I shouldn’t have to do what I was doing tonight, and yet, here I was, trying to get my guards drunk and all so I could speak to men who were the type of guys I actually needed protection from.

  The MC brothers were loud, raucous, and rude. That much I’d seen in my forty minutes at Daytona. They drank too much, laughed too hard, and swore like sailors on coke. I didn’t like them, but they were my only hope.

  There were around ten of them in the booth, and every now and then I’d let my gaze drift around the red, laughing faces, trying to figure out who was the best to approach for help.

  Each time, I caught sight of the guy in the corner because everything about him was like metal to my magnet. He had his arms slung over the back of the booth on each side, and he was slouched down. Though he laughed, his eyes were alert, and twice he’d caught my gaze with his own, his mouth twitching in a smile a split second before I looked away.

  He wasn’t drunk, even though I’d seen him down two bottles of beer and a couple of shots, and from the heat in his eyes, I figured he thought I was trying to work out which of the men I was going to fuck.

  My stomach churned at the prospect. I knew from my own circle of friends that they’d often come here to, as they called it, ‘rough’ it. Fucking one of the Satan’s Sinners appeared to be a rite of passage in these parts, but I wasn’t here to fuck anyone. The last thing I needed was one of these bikers thinking I was here for a quickie in the restrooms.

  Gah, just the notion made me scowl into my vodka.

  I’d never understood the desire to have sex in a public restroom. Not only were they gross, but ugh, it was filthy and loaded with germs. I wouldn’t have sex in my bathroom, and I knew for a fact that Conchita steamed most of my quarters to keep me happy.

  When a loud bray of laughter burst out from the other side of the room, I first thought it was one of the bikers. They’d been making weird noises for a while now, so it fit, but when I glanced at them, they were cutting a look in another direction—my guards.

  Paul and Alix were wasted. Alix was snorting out a laugh as Paul was slapping the table with the palm of his hand as he, too, snickered at whatever inside joke they had going on.

  I studied them for a few minutes, watched as they turned toward one another and began arguing over something. It was a friendly argument though, and I figured it had to do with sports. I knew they both supported the same football team and had often heard them discussing stats and the like when they were on detail.

  Getting to my feet, I decided to try and make a move. The restroom was my first port of call, just to see if they noticed I’d gone. I’d taken note of the signage the second I’d taken a seat so, as I walked past them, maneuvering my way through the roughly hewn tables that were made out of slices of trees, I hitched a breath as I wondered if I’d made it.

  When they didn’t snap out a hand as I brushed past them, I knew I was good to carry on with my plan.

  The second I made it to the hall that led to the bathrooms, I almost crumpled as relief hit me. For a second, I just leaned against the wall, ignoring the picture frame that dug into my back as I did so. Pressing my hand to my forehead, I sucked in a breath, calmed myself down, then straightened up. As I did, I jerked in surprise.

  The brother from the booth was standing there. Inches away.

  Watching me.

  I gulped, tense from surprise and uneasiness.

  He was close. Too close. In my space, and I couldn’t move back.

  He tilted his head to the side, his eyes catching mine before they drifted down to my mouth. He was big. Huge, in fact. And even though he was handsome, as handsome as the Devil himself, he was scary. But I was used to that.

  My father wore a mask for the public. He donned expensive suits and watches that cost more than some people’s homes, and he’d wave at the photographers, a big ole smile on his face as he beamed at the world because he owned it. Or, at least, a chunk of it. The world was his bitch, and he rode it hard and wet.

  It was only when he came home, when the front doors were closed, that things changed. That smile turned dark. Twisted. It was even worse when he’d grab my hair and slam my face into his fist. Worse still when he’d pushed my mom down the stairs that night, all with that cruel smile on his face.

  This man?

  He wore no mask, yet there was something going on with him.

  He was white blond, but it was natural. Not from a bottle. It was kind of like mine, but a little more strawberry, I guessed. He had it slicked back in a loose, stubby ponytail that dragged most of it off his face. It would be, I knew, a tousled mess that waved around his jaw when released, and it looked like silk. Honest to God silk.

  He had a broad brow, with dark gold eyebrows that accentuated his bright green eyes. His nose was strong, and it led to a set of lips that would have made a saint want to sin. Around that wicked mouth, he was stubbled from his moustache to the rest of his jaw. He wore the leather cut all the MC brothers did, a white wifebe
ater, and a pair of jeans that, from that one quick glance, I knew he filled out well. Around his neck he wore, of all things, a rosary.

  To say the sight surprised me was an understatement. It had wooden beads on it and a crucifix. All of it was rough, and any polish came from him worrying it with his hands.

  But for all that he was beautiful, those green eyes of his?

  They disturbed me.

  I couldn’t say why, just that they did.

  “What do you want?”

  Those four words should have come from me, only they didn’t. Hadn’t. He asked them, and sweet Lord, his voice was just as beautiful as the man himself. It was raspy and deep, and it seemed to sink into my bones, settling there like mercury, weighing each of my senses down until I had no choice but to press my back harder into the wall behind me.

  Turning into a puddle of goo in front of a man like this would do me no favors. I’d been around enough men like him to know what he was—a predator.

  He might think I was prey, but I wasn’t. I was a predator too, but I knew how to play a part. I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I would only reveal that when I was ready.

  I cleared my throat. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because Cody behind the bar told me what you’re paying him to do.”

  My head tilted to the side at that. I hadn’t seen Cody approach the booth. The other server had though. But he’d said Cody, and I distinctly recalled the button on the shirt of the bartender I’d dealt with. “When?”

  His lips curved and fuck, what that did to those eyes? Holy shit. It was like looking into a cat’s eyes. They were kind of blank, yet somehow managed to transmit exactly what he was thinking which, I knew, was a paradox. But still. Maybe that was this man. Paradox with a capital P.

  “Ever heard of the miracle of phones?” He quirked a brow at me. “Text messages are a miracle, aren’t they? Now, what do you want?”

  My throat tightened as I realized, inadvertently, I’d gotten my wish.

  I was speaking to a Satan’s Sinner brother, and all without Paul and Alix being able to report it to my father.

  For a second, my vocal cords froze. Words I’d been planning on uttering for days in the aftermath of Luke’s death seemed to choke me. I had so much to say, so goddamn much, but I was speechless.

  Until the guy stunned the shit out of me and murmured, “Take a breath.”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed, then he stunned me further. He blew out a breath then slowly inhaled, and I stared at his mouth, rounded and perfect, and followed his lead.

  At that moment, everything grounded to a halt. The world itself seemed to stop spinning on its axis. The music blaring behind me, the noise of a toilet flushing in the near distance, the raucous crowd who was spending the evening getting drunk…it all faded into the ether.

  I saw nothing but him.

  Felt nothing but him.

  His peace in the face of the chaos of my life.

  His calm in the presence of the turbulence that brought me here.

  I could hear the breath rasp from between my lips, heard his as it gusted from his mouth, and slowly, my heart stopped racing, my lungs stopped burning, and time clicked back into being.

  After around thirty seconds of the deepest intimacy I’d ever had with another person, I let my gaze drift to his eyes and whispered the stark, horrendous truth. “I know where Luke kept them.”

  He tensed, his body turning rigid in front of me. Distance appeared between us, a distance of my own making, especially when those weren’t the words I’d wanted to say, but they were all I was capable of. And the space that suddenly pushed us a state apart made me want to sob. I longed to reach out, to grab his hand, to get that connection back. The link where I felt the beating of my heart as much as I’d sensed his own, but that was gone now. I’d cauterized it with my family’s evil.

  His words confirmed what I’d hoped—the MC had been looking into Luke’s past to find a way to undermine my father’s desire to pin a murder charge on Giulia Fontaine. “His captives?”

  I nodded. Once.

  “Who was he to you?”

  My mouth twisted, and my throat choked as reality punched me there. “My brother,” I spat, speaking those two words like the curses they were, and he reared back, either because he was surprised I was related to Luke or because my vitriol for that bastard had come through loud and clear.

  “Where are they?” he demanded, his voice low, rough. Raspier than before. But now wasn’t the time to be caught up in how his voice made me tingle in places no one had ever made me tingle before.

  Now, I had to think about those poor women. Those poor women who my bastard of a brother had—

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t even think about that.

  I just had to get them out of the hell he’d placed them in.

  “Give me your phone number,” I ordered, my voice sounding a little more like mine again.

  I couldn’t believe I’d shown weakness to a man like this, but hell, even I was overwhelmed at the depravity my brother had waded through in his short lifespan.

  Knowing someone was evil and seeing it?

  Two separate matters entirely.

  The guy narrowed his eyes at me but reeled off a number which I quickly input into my phone. I found the email where I’d stored all the information I’d found when I was sneaking through Luke’s stuff, copied it into a text, and sent it to him.

  “That’s all I know.”

  He frowned as he stared down at his phone which lit up with my text. “How long have you known?”

  My throat grew tight. Not just at the horror at what my brother had done, but at the threat in the MC brother’s tone. I was grateful I didn’t have to lie. “A few days. I didn’t know where to turn.” I sucked in a breath. “My father would let them rot, and the cops are in his pocket along with the mayor.”

  “The sheriff isn’t.” When my mouth worked as I tried to figure out what to say, since I hadn’t known that was the case, he merely shook his head. “Why come to us?”

  “Because Luke attacked one of your women.” My smile was tight. “You protect your own.”

  He tipped his chin up. “You should have come to us sooner.”

  “Not as easy as you think when you have security following your every move. They’ll report to my father.” My throat grew tight again. “I’d hurry. If he decides he needs to get to them first…”

  The guy didn’t stick around to hear my conclusion. He just walked off, his boots silent against the ground as he disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared. A breath escaped me as I pressed back into the wall.

  My task was over. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

  Two

  Link

  “I believe her.”

  “She had tits and ass. Of course, you believe her,” Steel muttered, snorting as he began shuffling a deck of cards. It was a nervous tic of sorts, a new one. That damn deck was in his mitts at all times, had been ever since we’d found out about Luke Lancaster’s little harem from hell.

  I figured it had to do with the prospect of some innocent women being imprisoned somewhere in the United States of America. Starving to death…

  I blew out a breath.

  Yeah, no wonder he had a nervous tic. I was getting that way myself. When I closed my eyes at night, I thought about those poor bitches, locked up, not knowing when the cunt who held the keys to their prison would return. Not knowing that he’d never return. I thought about how hungry they must be. How cold. How fucking alone, and yeah, I ended up not sleeping.

  I was a callous son of a bitch. By nature and nurture. You couldn’t do what we did and have a big heart, but even the cold stones lodged in our chests were flopping like dying fish at what those women were going through.

  Even so, I resented Steel’s words. You made one fucking mistake as a teenager, and these bastards never let it drop.

  “Could be a trap,” Rex concurred, breaking into my irritation, rubbin
g his chin as he eyed up the way Steel was shuffling those damn cards.

  “Doubt it. She was nervous as fuck. Paid Cody behind the bar to dope up her guards’ drinks with vodka. Then was antsy all night waiting on them to get drunk. Plus…” I winced as I dragged my pointer finger along the curve of my cheekbone. “She’d been beaten. All covered up. Well, too. Not the first time she’s been hit with makeup skills that good.”

  Steel’s jaw clenched. “She put herself at risk.”

  At his words—words that were a statement and not a question—I muttered, “Yeah. I think so.”

  Rex sighed. “We can afford to send out a couple of brothers to check this shit out. Even if she’s blowing smoke up our asses, I’d rather be safe than sorry. Don’t think I’d be able to fucking sleep at night if we didn’t at least look.”

  Steel winced. “Yeah.”

  Rex clapped him on the back. “You’re watching out for the MC, brother. That’s what your job is.”

  “Feel like a cunt.”

  “We all do,” I retorted, shrugging my shoulders uneasily. “We’re all hyped up. Worrying about Giulia, worrying about Nyx worrying about Giulia, and wondering when he’s about to break and go on the fucking rampage.” I let a breath whistle out from between my teeth. “Then there’s those women.” I gulped. “Dunno about you, but I’ve slept like shit for the past week.”

  Rex dipped his chin. “Yeah. I’m going to go and tell Nyx.”

  “You know he’s going to want to come along for the ride,” Steel pointed out.

  “Which means Giulia’s coming too,” I said dryly. “No way in fuck he’s gonna take his eyes off her.”

  Rex grimaced. “Because taking her to some fucked up prison in the middle of nowhere is his idea of a date now. Jesus Christ.” He scraped a hand over his head. “Last thing she needs to see is that.”

  “Bet she wants to go. She’ll want to help. And fuck, she knows what it’s like to be vulnerable to that cunt. Maybe it will help them?”

  “Won’t help her though, will it? And I have to think of Nyx.”