by Jessica Ames
“Even after what our bastard father did to her,” he hisses out on an angry breath.
I sit up straighter, steel snapping my spine as fire ants scorch my skin. I shouldn’t ask, but the words are out before I can stop them. “What did he do?”
Levi glances at me, then sighs. “Ain’t my story to tell, but my old man was a piece of work. He’s why I took Briella out of that house. Didn’t matter that I had no fucking money, lived in a bedsit with nothing to my name, but what I earned week to week. It was better than her staying.”
Icy fingers crawl up my spine. What the fuck did their father do to her? The thought of him touching one hair on her head makes red film descend over my eyes and makes acid gnaw at my gut.
“Ain’t a kid anymore, so I can’t tell her what to do, but I’m worried she’s spiralling and I don’t have the first clue why. What the hell changed?”
I don’t know this either, though I was aware she’s been getting into more shit than usual lately. In that moment I make it my mission to find out. “She say anything to you?”
He snorts. “You ever been around my sister, Day? She ain’t exactly an open book.”
I lace my fingers on the top of the bar, not sure what the hell to say. Heart to hearts aren’t really my thing, but this concerns Briella, which means my interest is piqued.
“You talked to her?”
“Tried. She just says nothing’s wrong.”
I take a sip of my drink, letting the malty taste disperse over my tongue. I want to know myself now, because thinking back, when they first came to the club, she wasn’t like this. She was different, quieter. The change didn’t happen overnight, but it sure as shit didn’t come on slowly either. Now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t stop focusing on it.
“Anyway, you ain’t sitting there looking to hear my problems,” Levi mutters, staring into his pint as if it holds the answers to the universe.
“Brother, you got shit going on, I want to hear about it.”
Especially if it concerns Briella.
“Appreciate that.”
Sensing he’s done talking, I change the subject. “How was Howler?”
“Same as always. I think he’s underestimating the problems he’s facing.”
Unease prickles up my spine. “Underestimating how?”
“He’s picking up enemies across Manchester that are itching to start a war, take over his patch.”
That won’t happen. Ever. The full force of the Untamed Sons will come down before we allow one of our chapters to be unseated. We haven’t spent the past forty plus years gaining power to let it slip through our fingers. Howler, as president, has the power to call in the other Sons’ chapters, but I know the man well. He’s a stubborn fuck. Hopefully, he won’t be about this.
“You told Ravage?”
He nods. “Fury called him as soon as we got home. Rav’s talking about getting more guns in, just in case.”
That means dealing with our American friends. The Tennessee chapter of the Sons are the national chapter in the US and are our main gun runners, though we buy some in from our Irish brothers too. The president, Omen, runs a tight ship with his vice president, Havoc, at his side. I like the chapter. They’re solid brothers, good men, savage and willing to do whatever it takes to keep things running smoothly. I respect that.
“Church?”
“He didn’t say, but expect it first thing in the morning. I can’t see him letting this shit go.”
Neither can I.
Levi turns on his stool and glances around the room until his eyes lock onto Noelle. The tiny blonde smiles as she meets his gaze and he crooks a finger at her, signalling her over. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with those two, but bunnies aren’t supposed to be exclusive to one brother. Noelle is, though. Everyone knows she’s Levi’s. Weird fucking shit, if you ask me, but it ain’t my place to step in. Levi’s business is just that—Levi’s.
Noelle steps in between his legs and his hands slip to her hips. I knock back my drink and push up from the stool, not wanting to watch whatever shit they’re about to do. Levi isn’t shy about sex in public.
“See you later, brother.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, distracted as he grabs a handful of the club bunny’s tit. Definitely my cue to get the fuck out of there.
I make my way up to my room and kick the door shut behind me as soon as I’m inside it. I shed my kutte, tossing it onto the end of the bed even as I kick off my boots. Taking the rest of my clothes off, I move into the bathroom and switch the shower on. The small space fills with steam and the air gets heavy as I step under the spray. The heat pounds my skin and soothes my muscles as I sluice the day’s filth off me.
Briella’s face dances in my mind and I try to push it aside, but all I can see is all that dark hair and her pretty features. I take my cock in my hand and I pump it up as I visualise her. My movements start slow but become more frantic as I close my eyes, the water cascading over my shoulders. My heart rate starts to quicken and it feels hard to draw in air as my balls start to tighten and my dick starts to ache. My other hand goes to the tiles, using it to steady me as I pull at my shaft. Wanking to her is wrong on so many levels, but I come faster than I’ve ever come before. I groan and fall forwards against the wall as jets of cum splash against the tile and down my hand.
I pull my softening dick a few more times before I release it and place both hands against the wall, shame crawling over me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
4
Briella
Layla tries to sneak into the flat Monday morning. I’m standing at the breakfast bar, a coffee in my hand, getting ready for work as she shoves the front door closed behind her. We’ve only been living together for the past year. I love Levi, but we needed our own space. He definitely didn’t need his little sister cramping his style. He kept the small flat we rented, while I moved out with Layla. I do miss being there with him sometimes, but I don’t miss him breathing down my neck all the time.
I clear my throat, making her whirl around, her eyes wide. Her hand goes to her chest.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Where’ve you been all weekend?” I demand as she moves into the kitchen area and dumps her bag on the counter. She’s wearing a coat over her dress—the same dress she wore Friday night when we went out. I’m guessing she stayed the weekend with whomever she hooked up with.
“With Tanner.”
I should ream her out for leaving me alone in the bar, but she’s not responsible for what I do. I could have gone home when she left. I made my choice to stay and carry on drinking. I’d needed to lose myself in the bottom of a bottle for a little while longer. My memories were stronger that evening for some reason. My walls struggled to stay up. I could feel the dirt covering my skin, the sickness stirring in my belly as I tried and failed to push my thoughts away.
I lost control, though. I went too far and drank too much. I could have got hurt or worse. If Daimon hadn’t turned up, I have no idea what could have happened. Would I even care if that man had used me, taken another piece of me? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m so far beyond help these days, I scare even myself. I don’t care what happens to me, but I do care about my best friend. Thankfully, she looks whole, healthy, unblemished standing before me. Untainted, whereas I’m covered in the dirt of my past. The thought of what happened has my stomach flipping and my hands itching for a bottle to drown out the memories.
“Tanner? That the guy you ditched me for?” I ask as I wrap my hands around my mug, pushing the darkness out enough so I can draw in a breath.
Layla is gorgeous, so I’m not surprised she managed to hook up with someone who didn’t want to give her back for the entire weekend. She has luscious dark hair that falls straight down her back and eyes that are so dark brown they look black. Her Asian roots are clear in her features and I often find myself wishing I had her looks. She’s tiny, delicate and stunningly beautiful. Not like
me. I have curves in the wrong places, a too full mouth and a too big nose. There’s nothing delicate about me.
“Yeah. He’s really sweet.” She rakes her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Briella.”
I wave it off. “Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”
It’s a lie. I’ve never been able to take care of myself. I always had Levi to protect me, to keep me safe. At least until that night…
No, not going there. Not now.
He has no idea he failed to protect me from the monsters in the darkness, and I’ll never tell him. My brother did everything for me, gave up so much to keep me happy. He had no idea he unleashed the devil on me when he brought me to the Untamed Sons.
“I know you can,” Layla says, nibbling on her fingernails, “but I still should have made sure you got home okay. I’m the worst friend.”
She’s not. She’s been so good to me over the years. Layla is my oldest friend. I’ve known her since we started school. We were in the same class and growing up we were everything to each other. She was there after my dad’s beatings, she was there when my brother saved me from him, and she was there that night when I broke down and told her what happened to me at the hands of the club. She didn’t judge, though she did cry for me. I didn’t need her pity, and she didn’t give it to me. She gave me exactly what I needed—a way to forget. She gave me the medicine that soothes this ache.
Alcohol.
But I’m dragging her down my dark path, which is a problem. It’s only sheer luck that we both haven’t been murdered or worse. I walk on a knife’s edge, staring danger in the face. I don’t care about getting hurt. I should, but I don’t. I don’t care about anything but surviving the day and wading through the filth my life has covered me in. But Layla… she’s been on this self-destruct mission with me ever since she found out my truth. I wish I could make things easier for her, but I can’t. I should never have told her. I think it damaged her as much as it did me.
“We are not going out ever again,” I tell her.
She snorts at my assertion, knowing I’m lying my arse off. I couldn’t stop drinking if my life depended on it. It helps me to forget my screwed up life. For a few hours, I can let my hair down and be normal. I don’t like being out of control alone, though. I don’t like the thought I could have been damaged more than I already am.
Despite that, I know we’ll be back out tonight, letting the booze flow freely. I shouldn’t drag Layla down with me, but we’re a toxic mix, enabling each other. She gives me a license to release my demons into a bottle of booze and I drag her along my dark road. She’s too sweet, too innocent to stare the devil in the eyes, but I make her do that every time I drink.
If I was a good friend, I’d let her go, but I can’t. I need her just as much as I need the booze.
“Do you think maybe we should give the nights out a rest?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip. “We’ve been hitting it hard lately.”
We have. Too hard. I’m not surprised she’s starting to feel it. Layla likes to party, but this has moved beyond that. It’s a crutch I need to get through the day.
“You’re only young once.”
She smiles and I know the moment of worry has passed, that I dodged this bullet narrowly. Sooner or later, though, she’s going to recognise my destructive behaviour for what it is, and as soon as she does, she’s going to put a stop to it. By that point, I’m not sure she’ll be able to.
“I didn’t feel very young on Saturday morning.”
“Me neither,” I confess, especially with Daimon growling at me when I woke up. “Was he at least good?”
She gets a dreamy look on her face. “Tanner was amazing.” I doubt he was amazing. He was as drunk as we were. “Did you stay long after we left?”
My eyes roll at her question. “I wish. Levi’s club brother dragged me out of there. God knows how he knew I was even there.”
I have no idea how Daimon knew I was there, but his words about enemy territory roll around my brain. He said I put his and Kyle’s lives in danger. The thought makes ice settle in the pit of my stomach. I never want to risk his life—or anyone else’s. My self-destruction is only supposed to hurt me.
Layla hisses a curse under her breath. “He had no right to do that!”
“No,” I agree, but secretly, I’m glad Daimon did pull me out of there. Fuck knows what might have happened otherwise. It wouldn’t be the first time a man took what he wanted from me without permission.
Bile races up my throat at that thought and my palms suddenly feel too warm as it triggers a memory of hands touching me, pawing at me, taking from me. It’s a memory I tried to bury so deep it would never see the light of day, but my defences are weakening lately. My sober moments leave me exposed. The only thing that stops the darkness from sneaking out is booze.
I shake it off, but Layla notices. Her eyes narrow.
“Are you okay?”
“Are you seeing Mr Tall and Hot again?” I change the subject as I wipe my warm palms on my skirt, my heart starting to race.
She frowns at me and I see the suspicion in her face as she eyes me. She doesn’t push it, though. She knows better.
“Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Because Layla is incapable of settling down with anyone. She’s a ‘love them and leave them’ type. Getting close isn’t an option. I might have issues, but Layla isn’t without her own. She has commitment issues that stem from her dad walking out on her when she was a kid. I hate that she’s this way. She deserves a chance at happiness and if she took a chance, she’d maybe find Mr Right.
“He might be the right fit for you.”
Layla snorts. “I doubt it, and I doubt he’s looking for anything long term either. They all just want to fuck and run.”
I want to point out that’s because we spend all our time picking up random guys in clubs, rather than making meaningful connections, but I doubt she would listen even if I did. I keep quiet.
“So which brother dragged you out of Rave?”
“Daimon.”
Her smile grows. “He’s hot.”
He is, but I draw my brows together. “He’s also a bossy psycho.”
Layla waves this off as inconsequential. “Hot. That’s all that matters, girl.”
“He’s a biker. I’m not looking for a walk on the wild side, and even if I was, he’s, like, twelve years older than me. I doubt he’s interested in more.”
“Honey, they’re all interested. I hate to say it, but you’re hot too.”
I scowl at her as a tendril of hope unfurls in my belly. I shut that feeling down immediately. The last thing I need to think about is Daimon in that way. I’ve trusted bikers before, only to have that trust pulled out from under my feet. I’ll never trust another biker again.
“Can we stop talking about Daimon?”
She shrugs. “What are we doing tonight?”
I don’t feel like going out, not after what happened last time, so I shrug. “There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge. That and some takeout sounds perfect.”
I expect an argument, but she doesn’t give me one. She nods and moves over to the kettle to make her own coffee.
“I better drink this and get showered. I’m going to be late for work.”
I glance at my watch and note the time. “Yeah, me too. I’ve got to get going.”
I stand from the bar stool and snag my phone.
“Briella?”
“Yeah?”
“You are okay, aren’t you?”
No.
I force a smile. “I’m fine.”
On that lie, I leave the flat. Lying never makes me feel good, but lying to my best friend feels awful.
5
Daimon
It takes Ravage a few days to call church. I expected it sooner, considering what Levi told me at the bar the night we talked about his sister, but knowing Rav he needed time to get all t
he information together and work on a plan. He might come across as a hot head, but he’s a clever bastard. He won’t act until he’s thought everything through.
I’m sitting at the table in the chapel—our meeting room—with Fury and Whizz either side of me. Titch, Levi and Nox are sitting on the opposite side of the table while Rav is at the head. His ringed fingers tap against the wood as his eyes shift around each of us, taking us in. If I hadn’t known the man for years, I might have squirmed under that scrutiny, but I meet his gaze head on. I’m not scared of Ravage, though I probably should be. He’s a man who will do whatever is necessary to keep our empire running. I respect that about him. If I cross the line, I know he’ll do what’s needed to fix it.
I’ve seen the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to protect the club and the mismatched family we have become. He killed his own brother not too long ago.
Sin, who was our former VP, raped Ravage’s old lady—a crime that could never go unpunished. Sin had to die for that. You don’t touch an old lady ever, and I was glad Ravage didn’t make excuses not to do it. He knew it couldn’t stand, knew how much we loved Sasha and that we’d expect her to have justice. He didn’t even hesitate when he shoved his knife into his brother’s body. It fucked him up afterwards, those demons in his eyes closer to the surface as he tried to reconcile with what he did, but thanks to Sasha and his daughter, Lily-May, he’s finally coming out of the other side.
“Our Manchester chapter has some shit going down,” Rav says finally. “Don’t know how bad it’ll get, but I want them protected.”
A murmur of agreement goes around the table. I like Howler. He’s a decent guy and a good president. He runs the Manchester chapter with an iron-fist that has made them successful. His club also forms a major part of our drug running enterprise. We can’t afford for them to be knocked out of action.
“Can we send men to help?” Titch asks.
“Might come to that. We’re in talks with Omen and Havoc about getting more guns shipped over, in case shit goes down.”