Mountain Misfits MC: Complete Box Set

by Voss, Deja

  I wasn’t welcome there.

  I didn’t want to go back into my house.

  I felt like there was no place for me in this world anymore. All I want is to do right by the people I care about, and all I get in exchange is a whole lot of confusion. Esther wouldn’t kick me out of our spot. I had to have been imagining things. She wanted me to live, she made that very clear in everything she said and did in her final days, but she was taken way too soon. Maybe she would’ve changed her mind if she had the dignity to live the rest of her life out in peace.

  I stood in the garage, running my fingers over the holes in her bike, wishing there was anything I could’ve done to save her. I would’ve thrown myself in front of the rain of a million bullets for her, even if she was on her way out anyway.

  “Life is going to go on without me, whether you like it or not,” she said, the day that I walked in on her with our lawyer, filling out paperwork on the kitchen counter nonchalantly, cheerful as she doled out everything she owned like she was the host of some fucked-up game show. “I just want to make sure it’s a lot easier for everyone to like it.”

  She wanted me to move forward, move on. The only thing that makes sense right this second, though, is to wallow in the past. Which is why I am currently standing in Goob’s living room while he stares at me like I’m an alien.

  God, he looks so much like his sister. Maybe that’s why I keep finding myself going to this guy, almost ten years younger than I am, for guidance.

  “Jesse, go fix Uncle Brooks some cereal.” Jesse scampers off, spinning around in circles making airplane noises, and Goob rubs his temples, obviously hungover from last night. “You look like shit, dude. What happened? Did you strike out with hot cop?”

  “Fuck off,” I say. “We have shit to do today. Go get ready.”

  “No, we don’t have shit to do today,” he says sternly. “I gotta work in the shop like I do every Tuesday.”

  “I don’t care about the shop. We own the fucking shop. We need to work on the hit list today,” I say. I don’t know what else to do with myself. I feel so far apart from Esther right now, like she’s completely slipped through my fingers, and the only thing that’ll bring her back to me is the damn debt list I’d almost forgotten about ever since Helena came along.

  “We don’t need to work on that hit list, ever,” he says.

  “She was your sister, Goob. Don’t you fucking care about her last wishes?”

  “That list had nothing to do with her last wishes. You know what that list was? It was her way of feeling like she was helping you and the club. That’s all the woman wanted. Her whole life, that’s all the woman wanted. Even after what my dad did to her. Even after we all turned a blind eye for all those years to what she’d become. She wanted to help. She didn’t want us driving around playing small claims court with a bunch of scumbags, and you know that.”

  “Whatever,” I say, turning for the door. I don’t care if he’s right or wrong. He’s not telling me what I want to hear. When I get like this, nobody can talk sense into me. They can either get on my level, or go to hell.

  “Uncle Brooks,” Jesse shouts after me. He’s holding a bowl that’s big enough to house an entire box of whatever orange and purple sugar concoction kids are eating these days. Milk splashes down the sides, and his face is turning bright red in frustration.

  “If you’re fixing to make poor life choices, at least eat some breakfast first,” Goob says. “Most important meal of the day, ya know.”

  “Fine,” I say. “But only because of Jesse. You can fuck off.”

  I sit at the kitchen table, shoveling down the cereal. It’s really not bad, but after about half the bowl is gone, I’m stuffed, the milk looks like unicorn barf, and the stuff floating around in it doesn’t look appetizing either. Jesse doesn’t seem to care. He just grabs a spoon and starts going to town.

  “What are you going to do when you finish that list?” Goob asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… when it’s done, you think you’re gonna feel better? You think it’s going to bring my sister back to life or some shit?” he asks.

  I shrug. I don’t know. I guess I think that finishing this list will give me some sort of closure. Maybe closure isn’t what I’m looking for, though. Finishing this list gives me a reason to keep that wound ripped open every day. Who knows what’s going to happen when there are no names left? Maybe I’ll kill myself. It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind before.

  “You know exactly what’s going to happen when you finish that list, Brooks. I mean this as a brother, you know I love you, man. You’re gonna finish that list, and you’re going to be just as sad as you are right now. She’s fucking dead. Don’t even think a day goes by where I don’t miss the hell out of her, but she’s dead. She’s gone. Leave it alone. The only thing that’s going to make you feel better right now is dragging your dumb ass home to that sweet little lady who, for whatever reason, isn’t repulsed by you. You want me to keep Josie out of the house for the day? She can babysit Jesse.”

  Jesse’s already hyped up on cereal sugar, diving off the back of the couch into a pile of pillows.

  “You sound like the damn birds,” I say. Apparently, that’s my sign I was looking for. Everyone around me is telling me to let it go. Move on. Live my life. Maybe if I was a sane man, I’d listen.

  “I don’t know what that means,” he says, rolling his eyes at me. “I’m telling you, bro, nobody is going to be mad at you for moving on. Especially not Esther.”

  “I gotta go,” I say. Everyone can say it until they’re blue in the face. I want nothing more than to be able to allow myself to be with Helena. I’m nuts about the girl. Everything about her scares the hell out of me. Everything she does makes me worry that I’m falling too hard for her and I won’t be able to stop. Everyone else in my life might allow me to have that luxury.

  I personally don’t think I’m entitled to it.

  I stand up from the kitchen table, give Jesse a hug goodbye, and head for the door.

  “You going home?” Goob asks.

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug that lets him know I’m definitely not going home.

  I’m not going home. I’m going to finish off the hit list. I don’t need his help. Fuck Gavin, too. They want to tell me how I should feel, tell me what I need to do? Esther was their sister. She was my wife.

  He very well may be right that I’ll only end up feeling worse, but I’m going to do it anyway. If it brings me one step closer to feeling like I can move on with my life, I think I’ve earned that right.

  Besides, something about the sound of my fist connecting to someone’s face seems like the only form of therapy that I need right now.

  ***

  I stand in the doorway of the spare bedroom, feeling like a fucking fool.

  I’ve got a couple grand in cash in my pocket, somebody else’s blood running down my leather cut, and three more names crossed off that list of debts to collect, and for some reason, I feel zero percent better.

  If anything, I feel like shit for ghosting on Helena like that. She doesn’t deserve a man who’s going to run off and chase after a ghost every time he feels like he’s getting closer to her. She doesn’t need this shit. She could be anywhere in the world right now if she wanted to, and instead, she’s camping out at my house, shuttered off in a spare room like a child spending their summer vacation at grandma’s house.

  She’s a good woman, humoring me like this. I need to show her that I can be a good man, too. Instead, I’m just a piece of shit criminal, shaking down other piece of shit criminals for cash.

  I hear her gasp, flail, and watch as she reaches for something on the nightstand.

  This broad is literally going to kill me. I can see in the moonlight she’s got a pistol trained right at me, and I put my hands up in the air.

  “It’s just me,” I whisper into the darkness, hoping that I’m not actually painting a target on myself. Hell,
I’d probably want to shoot me, too, if I were her. Girls like that don’t deal with men using them. I don’t know how to explain to her that I’m doing so much more than using her.

  I hear her set the gun down, and the bed squeals as she stands up and walks across the room.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. She presses her finger to my lips, quietly pulling the door closed behind her. She runs her hand over my face, and I can’t fight my urge to pull her close to my body, wrapping my arms around her. I’m sad, more confused than when I set off this morning, and exhausted from a day of plundering and pillaging, and this woman is the only thing I need right now.

  I take her by the hand and lead her through the house, my heart pounding as we walk up the stairs to my bedroom. It’s one thing to bring bitches up here that don’t mean anything to me, it’s a totally different thing to let her into my space. I shut the door behind us before turning on the nightstand light, and she just stands there, looking obviously disoriented and confused as she wipes the sleep from her eyes. She’s wearing this long gray t-shirt that barely covers her ass and knee-high socks, and I can’t stop staring at those curvy thighs that I want wrapped around my waist.

  “What happened to you?” she asks.

  “I’m sorry,” I plead, taking her hands in mine. “I should’ve never left you. That was rude. I didn’t want to, Helena. I swear.”

  “I mean your face,” she says. “What happened to your face, Brooks? Are you alright?” She stands on her tiptoes and softly places her hand on my cheek and I shudder. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. I hadn’t even stopped to think about the way my lip was bleeding or the fact that I might’ve taken an elbow to my eye socket. After a few hours of looking for closure, the only thing I could think about was getting back here to her.

  “Come on,” she says. “Let me get you cleaned up. You’re hurt.” She follows me to the bathroom, stripping off my leather cut, my t-shirt, helping me out of my jeans. My pistol drops to the floor with a thud, along with wads of cash, and she just sidesteps them like it’s just another day in the life. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and the pain in my joints is starting to set in; still, I can’t help the fact that just watching her strip me down is making me hard. Everything about her turns me on, even though she’s in full-blown nurse mode.

  She turns on the shower, putting her hand underneath the running water to test the temperature, and ushers me in when she’s satisfied, shutting the glass door behind me. “Get in there and rinse off so I can figure out where the blood is coming from,” she says. She doesn’t sound annoyed. She isn’t prying. She’s just here.

  Perfect old lady material and she probably doesn’t even know what that means.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I say. “This shit can’t really work with your job.” I don’t think she’d ever do anything to nark me out or get me in trouble, but I’ve lived with club secrets long enough to know how that shit can eat you up inside.

  “Don’t worry about my job,” she says. “I don’t care what you do. You don’t have to justify anything to me. Relax. We’re cool.”

  “We’re not,” I say. “I left you. I want to talk about it.”

  I shut off the shower water and step out. I can’t tell if she’s checking me out or if she’s really examining me for injuries, but her breathing grows heavy, and she hands me a towel. I lick my lips and stare at her. She’s pulled out a first aid kit from under the sink and goes to work blotting at my eye, my face, and I do the best not to wince even though it hurts like hell. She already probably thinks I’m a weak-ass man for how I ditched her today. I don’t need her to think I’m a pussy, too.

  “Thank you, Helena,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “I don’t know how I can tell you how much this means to me. How much you mean to me. I’m serious. I’m crazy about you, woman. I just don’t know up from down right now.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s really okay. You know I adore you, and I’m here for you. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you don’t want me around anymore.”

  I take her chin in my hand and look into her eyes. I don’t want to hear her say shit like that anymore. She doesn’t deserve to take second place to anyone. “I want you around forever,” I say. I mean it, too. I thought it would hurt worse saying it. I thought it would be harder than it is, but it’s just falling out of my mouth like it’s meant to be. “The thought of you going anywhere fucks me up.”

  She softly presses her lips to mine, trying not to hurt me, but I’ve already put this girl through enough pain, and a sore lip isn’t going to stop me from kissing her proper. I hug her body close to mine, cupping her round ass in my hands as our tongues swirl hungrily.

  “I might stick around a little bit, but you have to promise me from now on, if you’re going to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night, it better be for sex, and not because you got your face beat in.”

  I laugh, grabbing her tighter so that her legs wrap around my waist, lifting her up off the floor as I carry her back to the bedroom.

  “Doll, something you gotta know if you’re going to stick around guys like me, most nights are probably going to be a mixture of both.” I lay her down on my bed and she giggles as I rip off her knee-high socks. “These are cute, but I want to see every inch of you,” I say, pressing my lips to her big toe as she gasps and tries to pull away.

  “What?” I ask, grinning at her obvious discomfort.

  “That’s my foot,” she says.

  I plant a sloppy kiss right on the top of it. “Yeah, and it’s cute, just like the rest of you.” I grab for her panties as I slowly work my way up her calf, tasting her sweet flesh on my tongue as her thighs begin to quiver. When I hit the back of her knee she squeals, trying to clench her legs together.

  “Why are you so jumpy, woman?” I ask, laughing as I continue up her thigh. “You ticklish or something?”

  “It’s just… intimate…”

  I part her thighs, kissing my way up her flesh. My fingers trace her wetness through the fabric of her panties until she lets out a soft moan.

  “Relax,” I say. She has nothing to be ashamed of. Her body is as gorgeous as she is, and I want all of her. I want to make her cum all night long. I want to show her how much more she means to me than just a place to stick my dick when I’m feeling lonely.

  I kiss her mound through her panties. The way her thighs clamp around the side of my head instantly gets me harder than I thought I could get. The way she’s raking her fingers through my hair, shedding all her inhibitions, is so hot I might just cum on the comforter.

  I slide her panties down her hips, exposing her perfect folds, glistening with wetness. Everything about her is delicious, and as I tease my tongue over her clit, I get lost in her moans. I reach for her round breasts, squeezing them hard enough that I know my handprint will linger on her flesh. I can’t resist. Something primal in me is urging me to mark her, to show her that she’s mine and only mine.

  I slip a finger inside of her, her soaking walls clenching down around me as I work her clit with my tongue. She rocks her hips and her moans heighten.

  “That feels so good,” she purrs. I hook my fingers and tease them over her g-spot. She explodes with a fury of flailing limbs, cursing my name, and screams loud enough to shake the walls.

  I press my lips to hers, catching her moans in my mouth, lining my throbbing cock up with her quivering pussy, and thrust deep inside of her. Her fingernails dig into the flesh of my back, and she rocks her hips to meet my every thrust, clenching her walls around me as if she’s trying to milk me dry.

  “You’re going to make me cum,” I growl. “Where do you want it?”

  She points to her lips with a seductive smile and I have to pull out in that instant or I’ll lose it inside of her. She takes me in her mouth, her soft tongue swirling all over my shaft. She moves my hand to the back of her head, squinting up at me with those devilish eyes
, and I can’t hold back anymore, my dick pulsing as I fill her mouth with my hot jizz.

  “You’re so fucking sneaky sexy,” I growl, catching my breath.

  “You make me crazy,” she giggles, tracing her index finger around her lips and popping it in her mouth. I don’t think my jaw could hit the floor any harder. She’s just perfect. Good girl on the outside, wild beast in the bedroom, patient with my shit. “Now, I’m going to bed. I start work tomorrow.”

  She kisses the top of my forehead and reaches for her panties. I catch her wrist in my hand, and she looks down at me, obviously confused.

  “Stay here with me,” I say.

  “In your bed?” she asks. “Are you sure?”

  “Please?” I ask. She’s the only thing I need in this world right now after this day. She’s the only thing that gives me any hope, any rest, any indication that everything is going to work out alright. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to chase ghosts. The longer I deny the way I feel about her, the worse I’m going to hurt. “I need you, Helena.”

  She curls up next to my body and I throw my arms over her, gripping her tight, possessively. This is the first time another woman has been in this bed for anything other than frustrating attempts at fucking, but for some reason, it feels so right. It feels like this is where we both belong, and as she starts to drift to sleep, I feel the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. Even though there are so many memories of my past in this room, I feel like I’ve finally found my clean slate. I don’t have to forget where I came from, or what Esther meant to me, but I don’t have to be alone, either.

  I don’t know if this was what everyone meant by wanting me to be happy, but with Helena here with me now, I’m at least content.