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

by Serena Akeroyd

  He snorted. “Since when do we go to the police over shit like that? I stuck a gun under his chin, told him if he darkened our doors again I’d blow his brains out. Then, I told him I’d blow off his cock if he approached the girl and sent her home with one of our foot soldiers.” A laugh sounded down the line. “They just had their second kid.”

  “You matchmaker you,” I joked, amused at that particular irony.

  Declan muttered, “Yeah, regular fucking Cupid, that’s me.” Maybe the two of us should go into partnership? “Anyway, no. I don’t see why the daddy would know about our mutual interests. Why do you ask?”

  “He’s trying to use our connection against us. Leverage with the cops.”

  “Well, let him. It’s not like we don’t have the pigs in our pockets.”

  “True.” I grunted. “Was just hoping there’d be a reason for him knowing that kind of shit.”

  “That kind of money, he’ll have ears everywhere—” His voice waned. “I see what you mean. Thanks for the heads up, Link. I appreciate it.”

  When the dial tone clicked in my ear, I grimaced.

  Great.

  Heads up or heads roll…I wasn’t sure which was likely to be going down in the Five Points today.

  Dialing through to Rex, the second he picked up I muttered, “Declan doesn’t know of a reason why Lancaster would be aware of our connection, but I might have just started a fucking witch hunt.”

  Rex groaned. “Good going, Link. What was that shit about you being a scalpel and Nyx being a jackhammer?”

  I pulled a face. “He didn’t give me a chance to get a word in edgewise.”

  “Fuck.” Rex blew out a breath that gusted down the line. “It’s not ideal, but leave him to it. Maybe he’ll find a snitch, and if he does, we’ll have our answers.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I still grimaced though. I was proud of my ability to ferret out shit for the club, and couldn’t help but feel like I’d let Rex down.

  “Where you at?”

  “The garage. Need me at the clubhouse?”

  “No. Carry on. You going to have the books to me soon?”

  My mouth tightened. “I’ll get them to you when they’re fucking ready.”

  “It’s already mid-goddamn-month, Link—”

  “And I told you I didn’t want to manage this place. I’m a fucking mechanic. Not management.”

  “Well, I want you to be both so get your goddamn act together.”

  For the second time in as little as twenty minutes, someone put the fucking phone down on me. I growled under my breath then threw a wrench at the bulletproof window that linked my office to the workshop. Pissed when it didn’t shatter, even though I knew it wouldn’t, I got some satisfaction out of Gunner and Jaxson, a brother and a Prospect, jerking in surprise at the noise.

  Ignoring them, I looked at the books in front of me. Rex seemed to think I’d been ignoring them, but fuck, I hadn’t. For some reason, the numbers just seemed to jump off the page at me no matter how hard I worked to keep shit in line.

  I’d gone so far as to transfer all the stuff Gunner input into the computers onto a work pad in the vain hope I’d be able to tally shit up, but to no avail. Back when I’d been in school, I’d probably have been given a fancy name for why I was shit with figures, but that stuff didn’t wash in an MC. Dyslexic or not, I was expected to do my part. Even if that part felt like I was being asked to find a cure for world fucking hunger.

  As I glowered at the books, I wondered if there was something else I could do, something else I could procrastinate over…

  I picked up my phone. It had been quiet for a little while because I knew Lily was in a class at the country club. Just the thought of her bending in all those weird positions had me corralling a boner.

  Still, I’d prefer to pester her than do the shit I was in this office for…

  Me: You still at yoga?

  Lily: Just out. Why?

  Seven

  Lily

  I was nervous.

  Very, very nervous.

  Maybe I was doing something stupid, maybe it was reckless, and maybe it would only end in me being hurt, but this wasn’t even a rebellion. This wasn’t something I was doing to spite anyone. It was simply because I thought Link was gorgeous. Because he made me laugh. And he had something about him that made me want to know more.

  We had nothing in common. Our pasts were too different for that and yet, I was showing him the real me, the true Lily, and he wasn’t revolted. Wasn’t disgusted. He liked me. Liked me despite the fact I was a Lancaster, a family who was putting his MC and a woman he cared about through the ringer.

  It was depressing to accept that he might be doing this to punish me for what Luke had done and what my father was doing. But even believing that this was just going to end in heartbreak, I wanted to do it.

  Needed to do it.

  This was my body, and it was my choice what I did with it.

  I blew out a breath as I stared out at the pool beyond the terrace. Tiffany had, as promised, made her escape to the main house where her father was out at work and her mother, quite fortuitously, was visiting Las Vegas for a bachelorette party.

  This place was, for all intents and purposes, mine. Paul and Alix were none the wiser about what I was doing, and the only potential flaw to my plan was Link not being able to get to the house.

  I gnawed on my bottom lip even as I tugged at my shirt. Tiffany had called me insane for not changing my clothes, but this was me. Yoga pants and all. The only difference from my regular outfit was that I didn’t have a sports bra on, but a pretty lacy one. Matching red panties too.

  I wore a light tee, had flip-flops on my feet, and my Apple watch on my wrist, and a pair of gold hoops in my ears. No makeup. No other jewelry. No artifice. Nothing.

  Nada.

  He was getting me.

  Lily Lancaster.

  The real me. The one he’d been getting to know. The one who, I thought, he liked.

  God, I hoped he did.

  I hoped this wasn’t one big ploy.

  The pool sparkled. Its huge, kidney shape was one big invitation to jump into it and enjoy the chill against my overheated skin. I was nervous, antsy, and darting around Tiffany’s place like an ant on acid as I tried to work off the energy coursing through me.

  This was crazy.

  We’d only talked via text. Our meetings hadn’t exactly been pleasant. But…

  Shit, Tinder dates started with less, didn’t they?

  If I wanted to hook up with a down and dirty biker, then I freakin’ could!

  Bolstered by that defiant thought, I straightened my shoulders, wiped my palms down against the sides of my pants, and leaned against the verandah door.

  It was no punishment to look over the landscaping that had probably cost Tiffany’s father a small fortune, what with the fully matured palm trees that were dotted here and there as well as patches of cacti gardens…the shape of the pool and the way the water licked at the sides, with no tiles around the rim, it was like an oasis. A mirage, even. A verdant and luxurious one.

  I folded my arms across my chest, taking the opportunity to check the time. When I saw it was a few minutes past the time he’d told me he’d be here, I felt disappointment start to unfurl. Of course, he might not be punctual, but I just had a feeling—a bad one—that this was all going to come tumbling down around me.

  I’d shown too much of the real me, I realized. No one wanted to know that much about a woman. It wasn’t something that any man—

  “Link!” I whispered, straightening up as I saw him round the corner of the main house and stride across the garden toward the pool house like he had every right to be there.

  My heart surged into my throat and my stomach bottomed out as I watched his approach.

  Everything about him was dangerous. I saw it in him, just like I’d seen it in my father and brother. It was an energy about them, a chaotic force I didn’t understand. With my family, I didn
’t want to understand. Link? Yeah. I did. Call me crazy, but I really did.

  I was under no illusions. I’d googled the Satan’s Sinners’ MC long before I’d decided to get in touch with them, and I knew what they were involved in. When Father had mentioned the Five Points, I’d googled them too.

  Mafia.

  Or, to be more precise, the Mob. The Irish Mob.

  Which, according to Father, the Sinners were tied up with.

  That ‘business’ was only the peak of a mountain worth of trouble the Sinners represented, but for all that, I didn’t want to hear it. I was informed, I knew the worst, and I was going headfirst into this anyway because that smile? Those eyes? The long-limbed, loose gait of his as he moved toward me?

  How could I say no?

  He wore a pair of jeans, his boots, and that cut—his usual uniform—but this time, he wore a Henley. It was kind of disappointing not to be able to see his biceps because they were delicious, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that I’d be seeing a lot more of him soon.

  My belly throbbed at the thought and my heart started pounding.

  God.

  I was going to expire before he even managed to touch me!

  “Hey, sweetness. Sorry I had to shuffle things a little later. Had some shit to handle.”

  His greeting surprised me. As did the lazy smile that set fire to my insides. It was affectionate and warm. And I knew it was stupid, but I could see…he liked me. That smile was impossible to feign.

  It was senseless, but that made me shy. Me. Shy. A woman who’d eaten dinner with three Presidents of the United States, who routinely attended events with celebrities and politicians. Who was quite at ease in most situations thanks to having a control freak for a father.

  Yes. Me. I was shy.

  I bowed my head and smiled at him, my gaze on his lips until he chuckled, reached up, and with his pointer finger, tipped my chin up. “None of that, sweetness,” he stated firmly, but he was smiling.

  With his eyes.

  My throat felt tight, so I just waved a hand, silently inviting him inside. I wished he’d pushed into me, had kissed me straight off the bat, maybe that would have taken my nerves away. But he didn’t. He stepped over the threshold, peered around, and murmured, “Where’s the television?”

  For a second, I could do no more than gape at him. “Huh?”

  “You heard me, sugar tits. The TV?”

  My brow puckered—had I mislabeled this? Made him think this was—

  He snorted. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Women.” Link tutted, folding massive arms over his chest as he stared at me. “Always overthinking. I want to watch Chopped with you.”

  “What if it isn’t on?”

  “It’s always on,” he scoffed with an eye roll, making me smile.

  “You command it, huh?”

  “I more than command it.”

  “Not sure that’s possible.”

  “You going to bring out a thesaurus?”

  I laughed. “If that’s what gets you hot.”

  He smirked, then his gaze raked up and down over me, making me flash with unexpected heat. “I’ll tell you what gets me hot. Seeing you in yoga pants so tight I can see your camel toe.”

  Said camel toe pulsed even as I peered down in horror. “I don’t have a camel toe!” I argued, but before I could even finish the sentence, he was suddenly there, and his hand was between my legs.

  I almost died. My lungs burned as he rubbed along the crevice of my sex. “There. Just a tiny one. Enough to give me a boner.” He quirked a brow at me again. “You gonna argue with that? Or want to make sure I’m telling the truth?”

  Biting my lip, I glanced at his mouth and kept my gaze trained there before I muttered, “I think it’s only fair that I make sure you’re not lying.”

  “Go ahead, sugar tits. Frisk me in the name of equal rights.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, not just from his statement, but from the ‘sugar tits.’ It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but somehow, it made me smile more than ‘sweetness.’ Weird, but true. Grinning all the while, I reached down and cupped his dick through his jeans. He was hard. Thick. Big.

  I whistled between my teeth. “You’re packing heavy.”

  That had him winking at me. “You got that right, babe.” He reached up, tapped my bottom lip. “Stop gnawing on that or I’ll have to do it for you.”

  Breathily, I whispered, “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “I would. Now, where’s the TV?”

  Disappointed, I scowled at him. But he just arched that damn brow of his again, and with a huff, I twisted around on my flip flop-clad heel and stalked deeper into the pool house.

  He whistled, making me jump, then I realized he was wolf-whistling, and my cheeks burned but I refused to turn around, refused to look at him ogling my ass, even though I was really glad he was ogling me.

  This wasn’t going how I’d expected it to go, and maybe I should have anticipated that. Maybe I should have known that Link never did anything the normal way. Hadn’t I seen that in our conversations? Text chats that went on for hours at a time? Sometimes deep into the night?

  I’d only had my cell for five days, and we’d already exchanged thousands of texts which gave me insight into the man himself. A man who loved his brothers as if they were blood. A man who swore like a trooper but was capable of talking me down from a panic attack as he had back at the Daytona. A man who looked like he was mean and nasty, but who was concerned for a brother who’d recently split from his Old Lady.

  So, accepting that Link was a weirdo and I liked him anyway, I carried on toward the TV room which was set up like a cinema.

  Link whistled again the second he stepped into the room. “Holy fuck. She’s got a cinema? In a goddamn pool house?”

  I turned around to smile at him. “Tiffany likes her creature comforts, and she’s a daddy’s girl, which means she gets what she wants. Especially if she doesn’t move out.”

  He frowned at that. “I thought most parents wanted to get rid of their kids. That was how it was for me and most of my friends.”

  “I wish Father would loosen the reins he has on me.” I grimaced at just how tight those reins were. Then, determined not to think of him, I decided to get the ball rolling. Having been in this room before, I knew how nearly all of the tech worked—all through one main switch close to the screen which I turned on. “Most of the people I know and hang around with are close to their family. Or, maybe they’re like me and they’re putting on a show too.”

  Link pondered that, then whistled once more when he walked deeper into the space as it morphed into a vivid ambient purple. The light accentuated all the little extras Tiffany had put in here. The chairs, burgundy in natural light, suddenly looked blood-red—a plus for her considering she loved horror movies. The chairs were one and a half in size, nice and roomy, and there were four situated on a raised dais with an accent table between them all that had a fridge integrated into each. They had their own footstools too, long and wide, and extra plush just like the chairs. The carpet underfoot gleamed black in the light, and all in all, with the dramatic paintings on the wall, colorful slashes that I knew had the artist’s DNA in them so that, in the purple light, they’d glow—yeah, gross, but Tiff was beyond unusual—it was like an expensive bordello, but she loved it, so who was I to argue?

  I moved toward the seats just as Link did, his heavy boots not making a whisper of sound, the carpet was that dense, and when I approached my chair, getting ready to take a seat on the armchair that had all the controls, he beat me to it, slinking down before he hauled me onto his lap. Then, he proceeded to toe out of his boots and socks, and his now sockless feet soon joined my bare ones on the rest.

  A laugh escaped me when he murmured, “You didn’t think I was going to let you sit all the way over there, did you?” I had. But I didn’t need to say that because he snorted again. “Absolutely crazy.”

  “I try,” I sa
id dryly, then I leaned over, tensing a little when I felt his dick against my ass cheeks.

  “Get used to that, sugar tits,” he informed me, his tone blasé. “Ain’t going nowhere when you’re around, waving that fabulous ass of yours in my face.”

  His words were outrageous enough to make me snicker, but I ignored them as I grabbed the control and switched on the massive TV.

  “You really want to watch Chopped?”

  “Yeah. I want to prove you wrong. The judges are assholes.”

  “They’re paid to do a job,” I instantly retorted, and I didn’t have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.

  “You keep on thinking that, babe,” he grumbled.

  When I scrolled through the channels, I had to laugh when there was, indeed, an episode of Chopped playing. I switched it on, saying, “We only missed the first five minutes. Want me to rewind it?”

  “Of course. We have to know their backstory.”

  As I rewound the show, I had to reason that those six words pretty much summed Link up.

  Backstory was important to him, as it should be. It was what made a man or woman be who they were, wasn’t it? Still, it said a lot about him, a lot I was glad to hear. If he was doing this to get back at my brother, to punish him through me in some weird way, then that put my mind at rest. Because while I was most certainly a poor little rich girl, I was who I was because of my backstory, and I didn’t hide from that.

  When the show was back at the beginning, I pressed play and settled into his lap. I felt a little awkward, but I relaxed when he squeezed my waist, muttering, “Chill out, babe. You’ll give yourself a hernia.”

  I had to laugh. “Don’t think you can get a hernia from sitting down.”

  “You can if you do it right,” was all he said, making no sense at all, but it made me laugh a little harder.

  Releasing a breath, I sighed into him and forced myself to relax. When, for a few minutes, he didn’t touch me aside from that arm squeeze, I relaxed further and got into the show with him.

  Of course, that was when he struck.

  His mouth was suddenly on my neck, his tongue there, plying the muscles, teasing me as he traced all the sinews on my throat. A squeak escaped me and I rocked back, inadvertently nudging his dick, which had me instantly rocking forward. Then, I hovered, unsure which way to go as he began to suck down on the tender flesh there.