I had done what I needed to do, and I wasn’t going to give that asshole another second of my time.
Fuck with what belongs to the Kings of Vengeance and we’ll fuck with you right back.
Vengeance always belonged to us.
✽✽✽
Chapter Twenty-Nine
You still want me…
Fancy
“Dyno?”
The bedroom door opened and closed before I could turn toward it.
“Just me, baby,” Dyno replied quietly. I listened to the sound of his clothes rustling and then them hitting the floor.
“What time is it?” I whispered.
Dyno slipped into bed beside me. “Half past twelve. Get some rest.”
“No,” I growled. I had enough rest for the next fifteen years. I was done resting and wanted to get some damn answers. I tossed my leg over his body and climbed on top of him. “All I’ve done is sleep and worry the past three days, Dyno. I’m done doing both.”
“Fancy, we’re not doing this right now.”
“Why the hell not?” I demanded.
“Because I’m not in the mood.”
I put my hands on his chest and leaned in close. “I know. You’re not in the mood for anything that involves me.”
“That’s not true,” he mumbled.
“Oh yeah? Then fucking prove it, Dyno.” My lips were a breath away from his. “Kiss me like you aren’t afraid I’m going to break.”
“Fancy,” he growled.
“You haven’t kissed me. You haven’t touched more than my hand. You don’t talk more than two words to me at a time. All you want me to do it rest, and quite frankly, I’m fucking sick of it. If you don’t want me here anymore, tell me to go. If you can’t stand the sight of me after that asshole touched me, then tell me!” I shouted in his face. “Tell me to leave before you break my heart anymore.”
He delved his fingers into my hair and jackknifed up. His arm wrapped around my waist, and he held me close.
It was about damn time that he touched me like a woman and not some fragile egg about to break.
“If you leave, I’ll track you down and make you stay.” His voice was low but his tone was possessive. “You’re never leaving me.”
“I’m leaving right now if you don’t kiss me.” I drew my line, and I prayed to God he crossed it.
His lips pressed against mine and finally fucking kissed me.
It was hard.
It was raw.
It was everything I needed.
Holy…fucking…shit.
I moaned wildly, my hands roaming over his chest, and his fingers tugged my head back.
There was no teasing or hesitation.
This was Dyno, and he was all mine.
Finally, he tore his mouth from mine, and we both panted heavily. His eyes were molten with desire. The man I was falling in love with was finally back.
“Fuck,” he bit off. His hands glided over my back and tugged on the hem of my shirt. He pulled it over my head and tossed it on the floor.
“You still want me,” I whispered.
“Never stopped wanting you.”
I ran my fingers over his chest. “Then why did you leave me? Why did it feel like I was alone when you were lying next to me?”
He cradled my cheek in his hand. “Because I failed you before and I had to make it right.”
“You didn’t fail me,” I whispered.
What happened to me was no one’s fault. Kent was a psycho serial killer. No one would have been able to protect me from him.
“I did, baby. I did,” he whispered through gritted teeth. He pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “But I fixed it, and I promise nothing will ever hurt you again.”
“What do you mean you fixed it?” I searched his eyes, and dread filled my chest. “What did you do?”
He rolled us over ‘til I was beneath him, nestled between his legs. “Everything I did and do is to keep you safe. As long as you’re safe, I can breathe.”
Worry coursed through my body. “Dyno,” I cried. “What did you do?”
“He’s never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
His words sunk in, and I stared into his eyes. “You found him?”
I had been watching the news and checking online constantly since I had gotten home from the hospital waiting for the police to catch Kent.
Dyno nodded.
“And he’s never going to hurt anyone ever again?”
Dyno nodded again. “He will never touch another woman ever again.” He rested his forehead against mine. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Fancy. You’re mine and as long as I have air in my lungs, I will keep you safe.”
“You killed him,” I said simply.
I needed to speak the words out loud. I needed to know what Dyno had done.
He searched my eyes. “He didn’t deserve to live, Fancy. He took the lives of five women, and if you wouldn’t have been as brave as you were, he would have killed you too.” His lips pressed against mine. “I protect what is mine.”
“And I’m yours?” I whispered.
“Been mine since I called you sugar tits and you punched me in the nose.”
“You deserved it.”
His thumb traced the curve of my jaw. “I did.”
“So I guess I’m kind of stuck with you because you kind of killed for me.”
He pressed his thumb to my lips. “You might want to keep that to yourself. Doesn’t leave these walls.”
“No one is going to find out?”
Dyno shook his head. “Nope, and I really doubt anyone would care that Kevin is dead. He took too much life from other people.”
“I can’t lose you, Dyno. I didn’t know I needed you, but now that I have you, I’m not letting it go. I found my own big, bad biker. Just like Kimber.”
Dyno chuckled and pressed a kiss to my lips. “You ready to lean into it, baby?”
“I’ve been ready, Dyno. I’ve been ready,” I muttered.
“Then hold on tight, sugar tits.”
“Oh, Patty. This is going to be one hell of a ride, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea, Fancy.” His lips lingered over mine, and he sighed. “Let’s start that ride right now.”
✽✽✽
Chapter Thirty
Not the kitty…
Petra
“Oscar?”
I dropped down to my knees and looked under the bed.
“Oscar? Where are you?” I sat back on my haunches and looked around my room.
I hadn’t seen his cute fuzzy face all day, and it was almost time for bed. He had been hunting mice in the unfinished part of the clubhouse, but he always came to bed with me.
I noticed the closet was opened a crack and smiled. “Are you hiding in the closet?”
I crawled over on my knees and swung open the door.
My heart dropped out of my chest, and a blood curdling scream ripped from my lips.
My sweet Oscar was hanging by his tail from the curtain rod, blood dripping from his mouth and a note stapled to his body.
You’re next.
✽✽✽
Coming Soon
Slayer
Fallen Lords MC
Book Eight
November 2019
Forever Lo
Devil’s Knights MC
Book Nine
December 2019
About the Author
Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and to the place they now call home.
Winter spends her days writing happily ever after’s, and her nights with her hubby and son. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, her dog Thunder, and Mexican food! (Tamales!)
Winter loves to stay connected with her readers. Don’t hesitate to reach out and cont
act her.
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Dive into the first chapter of Nickel, book one in the Fallen Lords MC Series
Nickel
Fallen Lords MC
Book 1
Chapter One
Karmen
I couldn’t find a box big enough to fit him in.
Well, that makes me sound like a murderer or something. Nickel, the man in question, is still very much alive, I assure you. I should probably go back a little bit and explain.
My father went to prison when I was thirteen, and I can’t remember my mother. She left before I could even have a memory of her. He always told me we were better off without her. Things were rough for us, but we always had each other. Well, I had my dad. My dad had me and beer. I can’t remember a time I didn’t smell hops on his breath.
I went to my first day of preschool and asked the teacher why her breath didn’t smell like my dad. That ended up with my dad in the principal’s office for an hour and me crying the whole way home while my dad yelled at me. That was the last time I ever mentioned my dad’s drinking to anyone. I was a fast learner and caught on quick. One mess up, and I never made the same mistake again.
The night my dad went to prison, I was at home, like normal, while he was out at the bar three miles down the road. He regularly walked to the bar and stumbled home, but that night, there was a severe storm predicted to blow in, so he decided he would take the truck. That decision changed my life and made me see everything in a whole new light.
I was sprawled out on the living room floor, watching TV, when there was a loud pounding on the front door, and I figured it was my dad. It was normal for him to forget his keys and bang to get inside.
I opened the door to two police officers, with my grandma, Vivian, standing behind them. I only saw my grandma at Christmas. I knew the second I laid eyes on her, something was not right.
It seemed my father had decided to call it a night after drinking almost a twenty-four pack of beer and tried to drive home. In that three-mile drive to the house that had no turns or curves on it, my father had managed to hit a soccer mom in her minivan with her three children in the back. Only one child survived.
The police told me I had to go with my grandma until they figured something out. Meanwhile, she stood behind them, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. After they were done, my grandma barged between the two police officers and started firing off orders about packing a bag and getting all my stuff ready to go. We weren’t going to stay in the “hell hole” anymore.
While I was packing up my things, completely in shock, I heard my grandma down the hall, bitching and moaning about having to take care of me. I knew then and there that things were never going to be the same.
After she hauled me over to her trailer—that was not much better than the “hell hole” I used to live in—I begged to see my dad. Every day, she told me, and I quote, “I couldn’t see the bastard yet.”
Two weeks after I went to live with Vivian—she hated when I called her Grandma—I finally got to see my dad. After I was searched, I was led to a room with a glass wall and partitions separating small stools that faced the window. I was told to sit on the stool furthest to the left and wait. Vivian sat in the corner, pissed off that the guards said she had to be in there with me, even though I honestly didn’t want her there.
It had taken ten minutes before my father walked through the door. He looked the same as the last time I had seen him, except for the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. He sat down on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. He motioned his hand for me to do the same. I put the receiver to my ear and held my breath.
“Hey, baby.” He always called me baby. I couldn’t remember him ever using my real name unless he was serious, and serious didn’t often happen with my dad.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered.
“Everything going okay over at Vivian’s?”
I nodded but didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t plan for this to happen.” My first thought was, what a stupid saying. Who the hell plans to drink twenty-four beers and then plow a family off the road? There’s probably a very short list of people who plan for something like that.
“It’s okay.” What else was I supposed to say?
“I think I’m going to be in here for a while.”
I nodded again, because it finally hit me. Seeing my father behind a thick glass wall in an orange jumpsuit was hammering it home, that life as I knew it was about to change. A tear I had been holding in streaked down my face and landed on the small ledge in front of me.
“Don’t cry, baby.” His eyes were on me, watching the tears I was so desperately trying to hold in finally run down my cheeks.
“I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” I wheezed out. My tears were coming fast and furious now. I was five seconds away from becoming an emotional, blubbering mess.
“You don’t need to worry. Vivian is going to take care of you. I had the police call her as soon as they could,” he said, trying to reassure me.
I was unable to talk. I tried wiping at the tears, but by the time I whisked them away, new ones were falling, taking their place.
“Karmen,” he sternly said into the phone. I glanced up and found him staring at me. “Handel’s don’t cry, Karmen. Dry your tears. Nothing can be done now but to go on and make the best of the situation we are in.”
I wiped my eyes again, willing the tears to stop. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Kleenex Vivian had pressed into my hand as I walked to the door before. My father’s words rang in my head. He always used to say, “We need to make the best of our situation.” He would always tell me that when we would run out of money or had to find a new place to live.
“I don’t know how to go on, Daddy. Vivian doesn’t want me there,” I hiccupped into the phone.
My dad shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, baby. We both have to do things we don’t want to right now. I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”
“I know,” I whispered. I didn’t want my dad to worry about me when he was in prison. I’d have to keep my fears to myself about living with Vivian.
“Go on, I need to talk to your grandma now.” I nodded my understanding. “I love you, Karmen. Please don’t forget that.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” I whispered. I hung up the phone and quickly dashed out of the room before I started crying in front of him again.
After my grandma spoke to him, we went home, where she started making dinner and told me to sit at the kitchen table so we could have a talk.
“We need to get a few things straight, Karmen,” she said, lighting a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke in my direction. “Your father told me you said I didn’t like you. Is that right?” she asked, staring me down.
I nodded my head yes because there was no point in lying.
“It’s not that I don’t like you, Karmen, it’s just that I am well beyond the age of taking care of a teenager. I’m upset with your father, not you.”
“Okay.”
“I think we will get along just fine if we both just stay out of the other one's way. I know you are thirteen years old and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Lord knows you have been taking care of that sorry excuse for a father since you were old enough to talk.”
I didn’t argue with her because she was speaking the truth. I couldn’t remember when my dad and I had switched roles. I had been taking care of him since I could remember.
“All right then, that’s settled. Now, why don’t you run to your room
and work on your homework or whatever,” she said, dismissing me with the wave of her hand, as she turned to the fridge.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I slammed my door behind me and leaned against it and slid down.
After I wrapped my arms around my raised knees, I rested my chin on them. I was so angry and upset at my father, but I had no one to talk to about it. I closed my eyes and banged my head on the door.
“It’s not fair,” I said to my barren bedroom.
Vivian had only given me a mattress on the floor to sleep on and a three-drawer dresser.
I had boxes sitting in the corner of things I used to have in my room, but I didn’t want to take them out of the boxes. Taking all my pictures and possessions out of the boxes made this real. As long as I lived out of those boxes, this was all just a bad dream.
I thought about how putting everything in boxes made things better and decided to start putting everything I didn’t want to feel into a box. The first thing I put in my little boxes was my anger with my father.
Opening that box in my head and placing that anger inside and then slamming the lid on top helped. I didn’t have to feel that anger anymore.
Every day, for the past twelve years, I filled my tiny little boxes. Sad because I was all alone? Put it in a box and don’t think about it. An “A” on my math test and Vivian ordering me to go to my room when I tried to tell her? Put it in a box and don’t think about it.
All through my teenage years, I had probably thousands of tiny boxes that I neatly put on a shelf and never thought about again. It even worked well into adulthood. Things always fit nicely into the boxes.
Everything except for Nickel. As much as I tried to shove his gorgeous smile in the box, I could never forget about it.
Almost a year ago, his grandmother was transferred to the nursing home I worked at as an RN. Every week, on Tuesday at nine o’clock, he would come in and visit her like clockwork.
I still remember the day he appeared in her room while I was checking her blood pressure. He waltzed in as if he owned the place, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. His grandmother was one of my favorite patients. She was sweet but had a smart-ass streak to her.
Lean Into It (Kings of Vengeance MC Book 2) Page 17