Bet On Me: Royal Bastards MC: Baltimore #1

by Knox, Elizabeth

  “I did, ah. I mean, I still do. I don’t think there will ever be a day where I stop loving him. Sometimes I forget he’s dead. I’m sure that sounds crazy, but I wake up in the bed we shared and roll over expecting to see him lying next to me.”

  “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. My experience is it’s natural to want the person you loved more than anything back by your side. God knows I had my time of waking up in momentary bliss, before the reality of her death crushed me again.”

  Hart’s words hit me in such a deep way. Only someone who’s had a loss like mine could understand the unbearable pain that haunts you every day. “Your metaphor is on point. It feels like a car is dropped on top of your body and you’re being crushed to death. It’s horrific. There are so many days where I wake up and hope everything I’ve felt is nothing but a dream.” I’ve never admitted this to anyone, yet somehow I feel safe saying it to him. In a sense I feel more comfortable with him because he’s experienced loss too.

  “Even when you start to really process and move on . . . you’re still gonna feel like that. Vanessa has been dead for . . . Jesus, ever since we were kids and I still have a hard time believing she’s been burned to ash and spread across the Hudson River.”

  Vanessa, that must be the name of the woman he lost. “I know you told me not to pry, but . . . I’m going to. What happened to your Vanessa?” Hart will either respond or lose his shit and tell me to fuck off.

  We get closer to the beach and Hart spots a bench a mere twenty feet away. We walk over in silence and take a seat, looking at the sea green water when he starts speaking again.

  “We went to a party one night after school. She had driven us there since I had my keys taken away from me by my Pop. I had done something stupid that pissed him off and he punished me by taking the one thing he could away from me— my ability to drive. So, I had Vanessa drive us over to Joe D’Agostino’s house for his annual start of summer party. You know the type, where all the teenagers would go to get plastered, have sex and smoke some good dope. Well, Vanessa started doing shots with the other girls from the neighborhood. One turned into ten really quick and before I knew it, she’d downed twenty like a sorority sister at NYU. She got sloppy drunk and started flirting with Vinny, Joe’s older brother. It pissed me the fuck off so bad and back then I didn’t think about shit before I acted. So, I lost my shit on her and asked her what she thought she was doing with that punk. Fuck, looking back now I did so many things wrong that night. Long story short, the fight Vanessa and I were having was interrupted by Vinny. He ended up taking off with her in his car, and he wasn’t much better than she was. I walked home that night and woke up to news that my girlfriend was pronounced dead on scene after going through a windshield during an accident.”

  “Oh my God, Hart . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as Vinny was when he got outta the fucking hospital. I broke every bone in that motherfucker’s body.”

  Out of instinct I place my hand on his knee, wanting to offer him some sort of comfort. I knew we had this loss as a common experience but the trauma of our losses is what ties us together even more. Hart clears his throat and turns his neck to look at me, “In a way, I’m lucky. I got my vengeance on the bastard who caused me so much pain. You haven’t. Rancid is still walking around, breathing without hurting in the slightest bit.”

  “I can promise you one day he’ll feel the most immeasurable amount of pain at my hand. I don’t know when, but I can guarantee I will be wherever he is. My main concern is keeping my child safe and I can’t risk anything while this baby is inside me.” Hart brings up a great point— my revenge.

  Rancid took something precious away from me so I’ll be sure to return the favor. I don’t know how, but I’ll come up with something.

  I hear a set of brakes screeching which causes me to look behind me. I spot a food truck and smile as I look back to Hart. “You know what’s better than street food?”

  “Nothing,” He replies, and honestly his response makes him a bit more attractive. He essentially just read my mind.

  “Alright, let’s go grab some grub.” I state, walking straight up to the food truck. I scan my eyes over the menu and settle on something called Roti. It appears to be some sort of flatbread stuffed with meat and cheese, but then I see a barbeque pineapple chicken option and choose that. Meanwhile, Hart goes for the goat with tomato and swiss cheese. He orders a ginger beer and a seltzer water. Then I add on two slices of rum cake, getting an amused look from him. I barely ate on the plane and I’m starved. I have no problem chowing down on some good food.

  The guy in the food truck gives us our drinks after we pay along with our desserts and tells us our food will be ready in about ten minutes. The two of us simply go back over to the bench we were seated at before and dive into our scrumptious smelling cake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.”

  ~Paulo Coelho

  Gamble

  Hart and I enjoyed our food looking at the most beautiful scenery St. Croix had to offer. After we ate, we tossed our trash in a nearby can and Hart suggested we go walk on the beach before the weather hit and we weren’t able to anymore. It’s not everyday you’re in paradise, so I took my shoes off and joined him, trekking through the somehow still warm sand.

  At a point we both planted our asses on the sand, with our backs against the support beams of the pier while we looked out onto the ocean. I don’t know how to describe it other than feeling an extreme sense of peace.

  Right now, I’m not worrying about the hierarchy of my club and being the new woman in leadership so to speak. I’m not thinking about Rancid, or the mayhem he’d bring my way if he found out about my child. I’m not even worried about Luis being pissed I’ve already changed the logo to the product he’s supplied us with. None of it matters, especially when all of my worries will still be there later tonight. They won’t wash away like shells at the coastline. Instead, they’ll stay until I’m ready to address them.

  “You haven’t asked the one question everyone always does,” Hart says out of nowhere.

  I turn my head to the left and look at him, trying not to think about how good he looks with the coastline as his backdrop. “Maybe I’m not as nosey.”

  He chuckles lightly before his flat expression turns into that smirk he’s shown me a few times. “You’re a woman. I don’t think the lot of you know how not to be nosey.”

  As much as I want to argue with him, I don’t. I bite my lip and try not to laugh or give him any affirmation. “Alright, so why don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to ask.”

  His smile falters and is replaced by a grimace. “Why I didn’t kill him.”

  I know he’s talking about Vinny, the guy who killed his girlfriend. “Why didn’t you?”

  Hart grows quiet for a moment and I can tell he’s debating telling me something. Finally, he opens his mouth to speak, “I thought about it . . . but he didn’t deserve death. It would be too kind for him. So, I made a vow to myself and for Vanessa. Every six months he’d get a beating that would put him within an inch of his life. The first time I delivered the punches. I broke his jaw when I kicked the back of his skull into the concrete barrier on the road. Pretty sure he had to have veneers put in since his teeth broke. After that day I left New York and never went back.”

  I furrow my brows, “How are you keeping the promise you made then?”

  “Easy. I pay a group of thugs handsomely to ensure Vinny gets his semi-annual treatment.”

  I wonder if it’s wrong of me to not have this alter the way I think about Hart. I don’t see a cruel man who can’t let something go. Instead, I see someone who processes their trauma in a different way. He uses Vinny’s pain as a way to cope with the fact Vanessa died at his hand. If roles were reversed, I might feel the same.

  I scan my eyes over the stress lines in the middle of his forehead, spanning down to the few days old stu
bble that’s turning into a beard. This isn’t barbaric, simply a man who wants revenge for the loss he’s endured.

  “Do you think less of me now?”

  I shake my head from side to side. “No, I don’t.”

  Hart seems surprised by my admission. “It’s not wrong to want someone to suffer for causing you pain. That’s karma.”

  He chuckles for a split second before nodding himself. “I thought I’d hate you at first, but here I am starting to appreciate the dark views you have on the world.”

  “The man I caught busting a load moaning my name almost hated me? How ironic.” I tease, with a faint smirk.

  “Trust me, you were as surprised as I was. I never thought for a second I’d be having a sex dream about you.”

  I feign taking offense and laugh, “I’ve never been more insulted in my life. Why do you say that? Is it because I’m the woman in charge?”

  “No. You’re just not my type. I like Italian girls. You know, dark hair, tan skin. The ones who know how to fuck you and then cook you a delicious meal.”

  “So, you only fuck Italian girls?”

  “That isn’t what I said.”

  “Ah, but you insinuated it.”

  Hart grows quiet and nods his head, “Fine. You win this round.”

  “I’ll win every round.” I cockily respond.

  “You’re the ballsiest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right about that. I didn’t always used to be this way, though. At one time I was shy like Bambi in the woods.”

  Hart’s expression shifts back to the unreadable one he’s always sporting. “I don’t think you were ever like that. My guess is you played the part you needed to all these years until you could get an inch of leeway on your leash. You weren’t shy, and even though you’re not saying it, you weren’t weak either.”

  I’m left sitting here blinking repeatedly as I process what he’s just said. How is it possible for someone I barely know to compliment me in such ways? Has he even had the time to figure out the type of person I am? In my case, kindness has never been free. There’s always some sort of catch.

  I breathe slowly while I stare into his eyes, watching him search my face for something but I’m not sure what. Before I realize what’s happening his hand skims over my knee and my attention shifts.

  Hart slides his hand over my knee and up my thigh in a calculating way. Meanwhile the moment I look back to him, his eyes are locked on mine. He clears his throat and his voice comes out husky as hell. “Do me a favor and don’t ask me what I’m doing.”

  I nod once, not uttering a word. I don’t want to fuck up this moment. In the back of my mind I’m somewhat calculating if this is okay, to be so close to becoming intimate with a man. It’s been two months since Dog has passed. Is that enough time?

  Fuck. There won’t ever be enough time. I don’t think I’ll ever get over his death. I’ll miss him every day of my life and that won’t ever go away.

  I’m so caught in my own head that I didn’t notice Hart hooking his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans or pull me up onto his lap. At this point he’s running his fingertips through my hair. “I thought you said I wasn’t your type.”

  “You’re not,” He confirms, placing his hand on the back of my neck he pulls my lips down onto his own. There is no element of soft and sensual. Even though he’s told me I’m not his type, his tongue is dancing with mine like I’m something he’s craving. Hart’s kissing me like a starved incubus.

  I snake my arms around the back of his neck, pulling myself closer to him. This pregnancy has only made me horny as hell and I’m so tired of continuing to take care of myself. If I get some real cock in my future, I’ll be a happy little horned up slut.

  I grind my hips against his nether regions and feel his hardness bulging up between my legs and say fuck it. I’m not wasting time right now. I refuse to do that, and I’m not gonna overthink this and end up changing my mind.

  I rip my hands away from the back of his neck and go to his jeans, unbuttoning the top, unzip his fly and dig my hand inside until I’m palming his cock. Hart’s hand goes to my jeans and he yanks my underwear and pants down until they hit my knees.

  Like the ravage beast he’s become, he flips my body down onto the sand and turns me over on my stomach, entering me without warning. It hurts at first as I adjust to his size, remembering just how long and thick his cock was when I saw it the other day.

  My insides feel like they’re burning but there’s a nice sense of pleasure that comes with the pain. I dig my hands into the sand below me and haven’t been more thankful we were on the other side of the pier and the sun had already begun to go down.

  Hart rams himself inside my pussy and growls like a wolf as he does. I don’t know why, but it’s hot as fucking hell.

  I curse under my breath and Hart grabs the back of my hair, pulling me toward him. He wraps his left arm around my waist as his right hand is interwoven in my hair, still pulling me to look back at him. “I wish I knew you liked it rough, baby. The things I could tie you up with in that fuckin’ hotel room,” He sticks his tongue out and traces it up my neck and stops right below my ear, “I could hang you from the ceiling and force my cock down your throat. Or maybe I’d leave you hanging while I went to an adult store and leave a bullet inside your cunt for a couple hours. I bet you’d beg me to make you cum then, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I confess, having the perfect picture in my mind. Fuck. He rolls his hips over and over until I feel my walls tightening around him. I have the tightest grip on his cock, a sure signal I’m going to cum at any given second.

  “You want me to cum in that hot cunt of yours?” He growls, biting the bottom of my lip but before I can answer he’s pulled all the way out and slammed himself back inside me. The sounds of his skin slapping against mine fills the air as he lets me go and I fall forward. My hands break my fall while his shift to my hips, thrusting himself within me so hard I come the hardest I ever have in my life.

  He keeps fucking me through it until his nails dig into my hips and he grows still. He hisses out, cursing under his breath as he falls to the ground on top of me. His chest is pressed against my back while his hands are on top of mine.

  I know this might sound odd, but I wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Our words have power. But our actions share our lives.”

  ~Rachel Hollis

  Gamble

  Three days passed before Luis called me and said he was on his way. The storm collided with another and caused damage throughout multiple countries. In St. Croix we were lucky. Most hotels and homes had tiles pulled from the roofs, trees that went down or other smaller things like debris in the roadway.

  However, we were the lucky ones. Venezuela had it the worst. Most of the country is without power and on top of that there’s still aftermath, like flooding, causing problems. I shouldn’t have been shocked knowing Luis was able to get himself out and make his way to St. Croix, but yet I was. I don’t think I’m used to dealing with powerful people like this.

  Last night before I fell asleep, I kept doubting myself. It’s been happening every day we’ve been here, knowing my meeting with Luis was growing closer by the moment. Mammoth was asleep on the other bed in the room while Hart somehow found a comfortable position on the small couch.

  I stared at the ceiling, counting the small water spots that haven’t been painted over yet and replayed my entire life. Every moment that led up to Rancid torturing Dog in New Orleans, keeping me there and naming me Prez. At no point in my life had I ever wanted to be a woman in charge, but here I am— without a choice.

  Well, I suppose that’s a lie. I have a choice, but if I choose not to I’m sure I’ll be gunned down quicker than anyone could snap their fingers. If I had to place bets on it, I’d say Rancid did this all on purpose. He wanted me to fold under the pressure and for someone else in the club to step up to the
plate. Joke’s on him, though.

  I can guarantee he never thought I’d somehow unify the charter, but I have. More than that— they respect me, and I know they’ll do anything to protect me and my child. Still I struggle with accepting reality.

  This isn’t what I wanted for my life. I never craved to be a woman in charge. All I ever wanted was a quiet life and the only thing I’ve ever experienced is noise. I don’t know what I ever anticipated would happen when Rancid let me go back to Baltimore. Part of me feels guilty for trying to have some sense of happiness. Maybe I should’ve seen this coming. Maybe I should’ve known Rancid would’ve hurt Dog in some way. There are so many maybes and what-ifs plaguing my mind right now.

  So, I sit up against the headboard and look over at Hart’s sleeping body, wondering if I should go down this road again when I know where it’ll lead. The same place it always does— death.

  Luis called about fifteen minutes ago and requested the two of us meet privately at a café close to the airport. Luckily, Hart and Mammoth are still fast asleep so I don’t have to argue with them.

  I get off the bed and quietly head out the door with my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and some cash in the front. Wearing cuts in foreign places is always a risk, but if I don’t . . . I could be running the same risk.

  Since I’m not too far from the small airport they have on the island I walk down to the café where Luis requested to meet me. Upon arriving I go inside and order a hibiscus tea and take a seat. Before I’m even seated a man, who can’t be older than me, sits across from me.

  He has a swimmer’s physique, with walnut colored eyes and medium length chocolate hair that has almond strands throughout. His eyebrows are thick and drawn in a peculiar way, telling me everything I need to know. Although, this isn’t Luis.