Scarred Asphalt

by Blue Remy

  * * * *

  Thorne felt superior the moment she laid into Romeo with the flying haymaker. She hadn’t expected Wolf to put her in a choke hold though, and she was still pissed off enough that she clawed the fuck out of his forearm in hopes he’d let her go.

  Didn’t work.

  In fact, his arm only grew tighter around her throat.

  It was a mistake letting her go. The old wounds had been ripped open and felt as fresh as if her sister’s death had just happened today. Tears flooded her eyes once more as she lunged at Romeo, wanting a pound of his flesh for every damn piece of shit male that hurt her sister.

  “Aunt Thorne?”

  A young female voice snapped her out of her temporary mania, forcing her to stop the intended attack on Romeo and see who called her name. Wiping her eyes, she sniffled and looked over to the teenager, then did a double take.

  The teen was standing by Romeo, her long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her hands tucked into her ripped jeans. Her eyes were stark blue, tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose giving her an innocent appeal. Her T-shirt was a frumpy SYLSG shirt that was a size too big for her. Her figure was stout and curvy, and she was tall for her age.

  The teen’s brows shot up as she looked down at the front of her jeans. “Is my fly open?”

  Romeo cleared his throat placing his hands on his hips. “I’m waiting.”

  “Dad.” The teen looked at Romeo, motioning toward Thorne with her head. “Be gentle. She looks like she is in shock, and she’s kinda bleeding.”

  Amy was silent as she watched the exchange between the trio, and she wasn’t the only one. Thorne looked around at the other men as they stood there, all looking away from her or down at their shoes. Wolf looked ready to pounce on her if she made one wrong move.

  Since when was Romeo a dad?

  Dalton cleared his throat, shifting his weight as he spoke up. “Gabby broke into the house and decided to destroy Thorne’s room—”

  Thorne threw up a hand, shooting a hard glare at Dalton. “One, I don’t need you to stick up for me or talk for me. I’m a big girl. Two…” She glanced back at Romeo. “Since when are you a father and why did she call me aunt? And three, why the fuck did you lie to me about Maggie’s death? What right do you have to keep how she really died from me?”

  “Whoa, Thorne.” Romeo threw up his hands in defense, shaking his head. “Do not blame me for not telling you about your sister. That was all Amy. Talk to her about that shit.”

  “Zen Lloyd James!” Amy exclaimed, her jaw dropping as she stared at him in disbelief.

  “What? It’s the fucking truth. You didn’t want your best friend’s memory destroyed by that fucking traitorous bastard.”

  “I’m totally gonna be rich at this rate.” Rebel grinned as she rocked back on her booted heels. “That was ten bucks. Keep dropping the eff-bomb and I’m gonna be a millionaire by the time I’m twenty.”

  “Rebel.” Romeo’s voice was laced with an easy warning, to which Rebel let out a tiny “eep” and sat down, turning her attention to her empty glass.

  Thorne was so confused. And angry. And hurt. You name it, she was currently feeling it. Her hands rose up to rub her temples, her eyes squeezed shut. “Someone had better tell me what the fuck is going on. Now!”

  Amy winced at the outburst, struggling to push herself up out of the seat. “Thorne, please.”

  Thorne opened her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t get up, Amy. But I want someone to start explaining now. I’m sick of being lied to. I want to know why that fucking bitch knew more about my sister’s death than I did. I’m sick of everyone playing the fucking victim when it was my sister who was the one who died and all of you lived.”

  Thorne couldn’t stop her voice from shaking, or keep the bitterness out of it. No, she didn’t wish anything bad to happen to anyone, but why did it happen to her sister? Why couldn’t it have been someone else?

  Amy’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her hands on her swollen belly, then slowly lifted them to meet Thorne’s wild eyes. “You were in so much pain, Thorne. You only saw the negative in everything. Maggie lived our life in the club, you never have. She sacrificed herself to protect everyone in this club, including you. I didn’t want her image ruined because Maggie was beautiful inside and out and what Demon and those men did to her was ugly and you didn’t need to remember her that way. You needed to remember the Maggie that was so full of life and loved to gossip, loved to make you smile and laugh.”

  Thorne watched Amy wipe her eyes and sigh. She was still pissed. She hated being lied to. Thorne glanced over her shoulder to the five men who stood ready to pounce on her if she made one wrong move, Dalton looking especially peeved, probably upset because of how she spoke to him. She could care less. She had every damn right to defend herself.

  “I don’t care what you thought was best, Amy. You aren’t related to me. You didn’t have the right to keep that information from me, and I will never forgive you for that.”

  “Thorne.” Dalton shook his head, grabbing a hold of her hand. “Don’t say that. She did what she thought was best for you at that time. You would have gone off the deep end if you had known then what had happened. Look at what you did today.”

  “What exactly did you do, Thorne?” Romeo lifted a brow, looking to Wolf, then to Dalton for the answer.

  Wolf shook his head, moved away from Thorne to pull out a chair next to Rebel, then handed off a rubber band to her. “Thorne beat the shit out of Gabrielle, in TG territory.”

  “You did what?” Romeo stared at Thorne in total dubiety.

  Axe chimed in as he motioned to Tasha for a beer. “She beat the shit out of her, and sliced her like a hot knife through butter. We had to bone out and get her here before those bastards drew down and tried to gun her down.”

  “Fuck!” Romeo yelled as he started to pace, his hand rubbing the top of his bald head.

  “What’s the big deal?” Thorne was a bit confused as she looked from Wolf, who had the teen playing in his hair, to Romeo. “She stole things from my home. I’ve warned her several times, and I was through. She took something Maggie gave me when I was sixteen and it was all I had left. You can kiss my ass if you think I’m going to apologize for that.”

  Romeo’s face turned red as he stared harshly at Thorne. “You have no idea what you just did.”

  Thorne’s skin crawled at the low tone of Romeo’s voice. It held an underlying threat that she wasn’t sure was directed at her or at the rival club. “Okay. And?”

  Romeo blinked in shock, turning his head to Dalton then back to Thorne, though he was speaking at Dalton. “Have you not filled her in on things, Apollo?”

  “I’ve been telling her about the club life, but there’s a lot I haven’t been able to cover.” Dalton shrugged helpless.

  “Uh, hello? Quit talking like I’m not here.” Thorne snidely spoke to them both.

  The teens head snapped up with a grin. “Dude, I so keep saying the same thing.”

  Thorne wrinkled her brow as she looked at the teen, moving her head slightly. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Your niece, Shiloh Margaret Lopez-James. Otherwise known as Rebel,” Rebel stated proudly with a firm nod of her head.

  Thorne gasped, stumbling back a couple steps, slamming into Dalton, who wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. She felt the blood drain from her face. Her breathing was difficult to control as she stared at the girl, all the tiny puzzle pieces falling into place. Her eyes darted between Rebel and Romeo noting the physical similarities, also taking note of the features the girl carried that were all Maggie.

  “Shi—Shiloh,” Thorne whispered, leaning back into the only stable thing in her life right now: Dalton. “Shiloh was Maggie’s favorite name. She always swore to name her daughter that if she ever had one.”

  It was too much to handle. First Gabby, then the lies about Maggie, and now a niece that she had no clue existed? She could f
eel her blood pressure shoot through the roof, her head growing light as tiny black dots swam before her eyes.

  “Dalton?” Her voice wavered as the darkness consumed her, saving her from the reality that was too difficult to face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thorne needed familiarity.

  The events of last night had sent her into a tailspin that she wasn’t so sure she was going to recover from.

  Every fiber inside of her wanted to grab Dalton’s gun and put one right between that bitch’s eyes. It had been like her emotions went on vacation and the little devil on her shoulder wanted Gabby dead. Thorne knew she would have had no regrets. Hell, she didn’t have them now. She knew Gabby would have to have reconstructive surgery, but the satisfaction of hurting someone that was associated with the club that had killed her sister overrode her Good Samaritan values.

  When she had awakened from her little impromptu siesta, she had to come to grips with reality all over again. Sitting at the table was her sister’s daughter. Her niece. Romeo’s little girl. It was too much to take in.

  It didn’t help that Romeo had lost his mind when he found out what she had done to Gabby. Thorne may have unintentionally started an all-out war between the two clubs. He had complimented her on a job well done, after he tore Dalton a new asshole for letting Thorne get the best of him.

  Once she got home, Thorne went directly to bed, not saying a word to Dalton. She was pissed at all of them, Dalton included. He had known the whole time about Maggie and what had happened, and yet he kept it to himself. He could take their so-called budding relationship and shove it up his ass. One thing Thorne could not stand was being lied to. And everyone she knew had done just that. There was not a single being in her tiny circle of friends that hadn’t lied to her.

  Thorne didn’t want to get up when her alarm went off at eight in the morning. She dragged the covers back over her head and nestled down into the warmth of her bed, her eyes slowly drifting closed once more. It was blissful to just lay there and be lazy.

  “Gurl, git yer lazy ass outta that bed. I gots some shoppin’ to do and I need a partner in crime.”

  Thorne’s eyes snapped open as the male, but yet feminine, voice filled the room. Throwing the covers back, she knew her smile lit the room as Antonia stood in her doorway. He wore a pair of skinny jeans, a V-neck black T-shirt, and a pair of black Vans. His micro-braids were multicolored, as were the fake eyelashes the drag queen loved to wear. “Antonia!”

  He made a courtly bow with a wiggle of those well-manicured brows. “The one and only. Now get up and get dressed. I need some girl time and help picking out some pageant outfits for the finals.”

  Thorne scooted off the bed, darting over to her closet to grab out some shorts and a flowy tank top to wear. Slipping on her Chaco’s, she grabbed her brush, and glanced to Antonia, a frown forming. “Did Amy put you up to this?”

  Antonia’s hand flew to his heart as his lashes fluttered; an astonished look crossed the caramel-kissed features. “Darlin’, you ought to know me by now.”

  “So in other words, yes.” Thorne grumped, tossing her brush on her dresser. She should have known Amy couldn’t keep her nose to herself. Clamping her hands around her waist, Thorne cut her eyes toward Antonia. “I swear, why can’t someone just want to be around me, just because they want to, not because someone asked them to?”

  Smacking his lips, making a loud pop, Antonia lifted up an index finger, wagging it back and forth as he moved his head from side to side. “You listen up and listen good, girly-girl. No one, and I mean no one, tell me what to do or when to do it. Amy found out I was comin’ here to see you and asked me to check on you because you was upset. Nothin’ more. Now, if you don’t want to go shopping with me, all Pretty Woman style, so you can tell me if my ass looks big, then just say so, but don’t be using Amy as an excuse.”

  Thorne hung her head as Antonia scolded her, feeling a bit guilty at taking out her anger on the drag queen. “I’ll go. I’m just pissed off and confused and…” Thorne lifted up her bare shoulders, letting them fall back down. “I don’t know what I am. The shit that happened—”

  Antonia clucked his tongue at Thorne, cutting her off. “Nuhuh. Close them lips. We will discuss it over lunch. As of right now, I’ve got sales to hit and bitches to make envious of this.” He motioned up and down with his hand, indicating his body. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself and put on a smiley face, even if you don’t mean it. I need girl time and I aim to get it. We can gossip and have a bitch fest later.”

  Later ended up being four hours and ten stores later. Antonia had to try on every article of clothing from Santa Maria to San Luis. Not finding what he wanted turned into a road trip to Santa Barbara. Thorne was glad they took his car and not the Tahoe, since it was a gas guzzler. Plus, it gave her time to just relax and enjoy the time she was sharing with a friend.

  Antonia paraded around in various outfits, outrageous in color and style, but very fitting for his colorful personality. He had her laughing in no time and even had Thorne trying on a few outfits to see what she would look like in them. Hell, she barely remembered her scars, catching herself now and then and hiding them with her hair.

  She ended up buying some denim booty shorts and a couple of pairs of jeans, liking the way she looked in them. Antonia snuck in and bought her a couple of revealing tops and threw in a pair of fuzzy handcuffs from the back section of a store they found that carried a fully stocked adult section.

  Now, they were in a small café on State Street, enjoying a light lunch of salad and coffee. Antonia grumbled the whole time about having to eat healthy, but he had his girlish figure to maintain.

  “Now, do you want to tell me what the beef between everyone is?” His penciled-in eyebrow lifted in question as he leaned back in his seat.

  Thorne wasn’t sure she wanted to end her great day by depressing herself and then growing angry at the lies she had been told by the people she trusted the most. How could she trust her partner now, knowing he withheld information like he had from her?

  “I found out, from Dalton’s ex, how Maggie really died.”

  Antonia widened his eyes slightly in confusion, motioning her to continue. “That doesn’t tell me shit, babe. Mags died with Demon.”

  Thorne shook her head, pushing around her salad with her fork. Looking at Antonia from under her lashes, she let out a slow breath. “No, that is what we were told. Maggie was gang raped by the guys that Demon ran with, then beaten and tortured, and left on the side of the road to die.”

  “Oh, Lawdy,” Antonia fanned himself with his hand, adjusting the way he was sitting in his seat.

  “Exactly. Everyone knew the truth but me, and obviously you. Amy told everyone not to tell me the truth.”

  Sucking in his cheeks, Antonia nodded slowly. Taking in a deep breath, he started to speak, then paused as if he was trying to decide what to say. “It was club business, yes?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was during your most vulnerable and trying time. Am I correct?”

  Thorne cocked her head slightly to the left, studying Antonia. “Yes, why?”

  “I’m sorry sugar. I’d have lied to you to.” Antonia threw up his hand to silence Thorne before she ripped into him. “Think about it, honey. Are you a club bitch? No. So you’re on a need to know basis, and you didn’t need to know. You were already grief stricken from your accident, and you’re still not over it. Why add extra onto your burdened shoulders? Why make you look differently at your sister? She was an amazing, giving, and loving woman. Her memory needs to be left that way. Think about those who know what happened to her, and the last memory they have of her; it’s more than likely a memory of how she was made a victim and brutalized. You at least have her beauty left to remember. So get off your high horse and get the fuck over it. They did what they thought was best for you at the time. Now that you know, does that change how you see Maggie?”

  Thorne wasn’t prepared for the onsl
aught of the ass chewing she was receiving. Did she need it? Yes, she did. She hadn’t looked at it from the perspective that Antonia was shedding the light on. She had been walking around feeling sorry for herself for a while now. That much was true.

  “I didn’t think so. And as for you…” Antonia looked pointedly at Thorne, duck lips forming as he threw up his hand and pointed directly at her. “You need to quit the one-woman pity party. I’m sorry, Thorne baby, but damn. It’s been almost a year. Do you think the soldiers who have their limbs blown off in combat wouldn’t kill to have the two scars you have and not be disabled? They move the fuck on, girl. They find ways of using their disability to their advantage. You? You have a scar that tells a tale of survival, it gives your pretty ass character. Am I jealous? Hell to the yes. I’d kill to look like you, scar and all. At least it makes for one hell of a conversation piece.”

  Her brows shot up as she stared at Antonia. Most people wouldn’t have dared to speak to her the way he did. But that was what made Antonia, Antonia. He could get away with things others couldn’t dream of. “I will never model again. That’s why I’m so upset over the scars.”

  “Okay, I’m throwing up the bullshit card.” He sniffed the air, wrinkling up his nose. “Yep, definitely smell some bull shit up in here. There’s this thing called Photoshopping. It works wonders. Do you honestly think those models looks half as fucking good as you or I do? Hells nah. They got zits all up on their grill.” Antonia wiggled his red-painted fingers in front of his face to emphasize the zit remark. “And let me tell you something, have you not seen the newest craze of models? They are scarred in one way or another. It is real, Espina Lopez. People relate to that and find the beauty in the scars, not the ugliness that you seem to dwell on. So get the fuck over yourself and get back to that sassy girl we all know and adore to pieces, and the girl whose ass we want to kick on a regular basis because she looks so damn fine.”

  Thorne couldn’t help but break out in laughter at Antonio’s antics. He had a way of making everything better, one way or another. “There’s one other thing.”