Flawed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #6

by Ames, Jessica

  Once Jesse climbs off the bike, I intend to take off straight away, but Chloe is walking towards me and the need to talk to her outweighs the need to flee.

  “Thank you,” she says. “For giving him a lift back. I worry about him getting the bus.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I consider not saying anything, but I’ve never been exactly subtle. “Jesse said you were upset when you got home on Saturday.”

  Colour rises in her cheeks. “He should keep his mouth shut.”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “But—”

  “Jesse should learn to keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him.”

  I study her, but she’s a closed book to me. I don’t like that she is.

  “Were you upset?”

  Her nose wrinkles. “A little, I suppose, but mostly because I feel like you’re throwing your chance to be happy aside.”

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “It’s not pity, Weed. It’s regret. I have regret for you, for me, for what we could have had.”

  I don’t know how to answer that, so I keep my silence.

  She tilts her head to the side. “Come and have dinner with us.”

  Dinner is a bad idea, an exceptionally bad idea. It’ll put me in her space and that’s the last thing I need right now. “Thanks, but I’ve got shit to do.”

  “You still need to eat.”

  I know what she’s doing. It won’t work. “I don’t need saving, Chloe.”

  She peers up at me with those big green eyes and I get lost for a moment.

  “I know. I doubt you’d let me anyway. Food, Weed. Come and have some. It won’t kill you.”

  She has no idea how untrue that is. Eating with her, seeing what I could have, the domesticity of my life, might absolutely kill me.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell her, meaning every word of it. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

  The flash of disappointment in her face doesn’t go unnoticed by me, and I hate that I put it there.

  I hit the throttle before I can change my mind and take off.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m lying on my bed in the clubhouse, contemplating if I want to head down to the common room or have a smoke, when my phone buzzes. It’s nearly eight p.m. and I consider ignoring it, but given all the shit going down at the moment, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  It’s a 999 text from Beth, the only thing in it is ‘Brosen. The flat’. Fuck.

  Logan’s on a run tonight, so Charlie is watching their place, but the fact Beth is texting worries the shit out of me.

  I move like I’ve got a rocket up my ass and I’m on my bike in the thirty seconds it takes me to get out of my room, down the stairs and through the maze of corridors.

  I don’t even stop to pull my kutte on. There isn’t time.

  I hit the throttle hard on the ride over there, grateful as fuck I don’t encounter the plod on the way and as I pull into their street, I see the ruckus straight away.

  Charlie is in Brosen’s face, doing everything short of putting his hands on him, while Brosen is shouting in the direction of the flat. I’m the only brother here yet, but no doubt others will follow.

  Stopping my bike at the kerbside, I quickly kick down the stand and tug my helmet off. I can’t see Beth anywhere, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe.

  As I approach Charlie, I see the relief in the prospect’s face at having back up, although he seems to be handling things okay.

  I’m not as polite as Charlie was being, though. I walk up to Brosen and shove him hard enough to have him go back on a foot and fall down on his arse. I take the opportunity to kick him twice in the side while he’s down.

  “You were warned,” I growl at him.

  “I need answers.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you need. You stay away from Beth and you stay away from Liv.”

  He doesn’t look remotely fazed by any of this, which makes me want to pound his face. Stupid bastard.

  “If she tells me what I need to know, I’ll leave.”

  “The police station has copies of all the reports. Go and read them.”

  Brosen stands, dusting the grass off his trousers. “I’ve read them. Several times. The story doesn’t ring true to me.”

  “It rang true for the plod.” I take a menacing step towards him and he moves back, his hands held up in supplication.

  “They’re idiots.”

  “That we can agree on.”

  I grab the collar of his shirt and drag him towards me. He doesn’t put up a fight, which surprises me. Brosen doesn’t strike me as a lie down and take shit kind of guy.

  “I can see we’re going to need to have a more in depth talk about acceptable behaviour.”

  His smile is thin, but the cocky bastard meets my gaze. “I know you fuckers killed him. I know Simon Wilson is fertilizing the ground somewhere, and I’m not going to stop until I find him.”

  Cold seizes my stomach. This guy is tenacious. Maybe it’s come to the point where we need to do something about that.

  I release him with a shove and then slam my fist into his face. His eyebrow splits immediately and I get a hint of satisfaction seeing the blood wend down his face.

  “Get gone,” I order.

  I think he might argue, but then he straightens his jacket and grins at me. Maniacal bastard.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon, Mr Williams.”

  He walks off towards his car without a second glance back.

  Charlie moves over to me, shaking his head. “He’s a fucking lunatic.”

  “He’s persistent, and that’s not a good thing.” I turn towards the flat. “Is Beth inside? She’s safe?”

  “All the girls are inside.”

  “All of them?”

  I glance up at the window and I see he’s right. The girls are all plastered against the glass watching the event unfold. Jamie has a gleeful look on her face, while Beth looks a little apprehensive.

  It’s then I notice a face that shouldn’t be there. Chloe.

  Why is she here? Is she now one of the girls? Fuck, I can’t deal with her in my space all the time. How am I supposed to resist her?

  Chloe’s expression is completely unreadable, but her jaw is tight, which gives me some hint of how she felt about seeing me pound a man who didn’t fight back.

  Fuck.

  She’s peeling back the layers and seeing the monster beneath.

  I head for the door to the flat, Charlie on my heels and head to the living area. The girls move away from the window as I enter.

  “My hero,” Jamie swoons somewhat sarcastically.

  I ignore her. My eyes are latched onto Chloe. She shifts slightly then glances away. It takes a lot of strength, but I pull my own gaze and focus in on Beth and the other girls.

  “You’re okay?”

  “Perfect,” Sofia says, moving through the crowd to flop on Beth and Lo’s sofa. “That was the most drama I’ve seen all month.”

  “Charlie is hot when he’s throwing down,” Jamie notes. “I didn’t know the baby biker had that fire in him.”

  I slide my eyes towards Chloe, who I notice slightly flinches.

  “What are you guys all doing here?”

  “Keeping B company while Logan’s on a run,” Liv says.

  “My brother demanded me and Mackenzie stayed over,” Sofia continues to explain, “so we figured we’d turn it into a girl’s night. We didn’t expect Captain Dickhead to follow us back from the store.”

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “No,” Beth says. “Charlie handled it until you got here.”

  I’m relieved to hear this because me and Wade both promised Logan we’d take care of Beth. He’s going to hit the roof when he finds out.

  As if reading my thoughts, Beth says, “Let’s hold off on telling Logan. I don’t want him riding back with his mind on this.”

  I s
tare at her. “No chance. I’m not lying to a brother.”

  “Who’s lying?” Wade’s voice is loud as he steps into the room. Paige instantly goes to him, wrapping her arms around him. He engulfs her with his huge bulk, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Brosen’s being a pest,” Beth tells him.

  His jaw clenches. “That fucker can’t take a hint.”

  The girls start talking all at once, and I take the opportunity to move over to Chloe, who is standing a little away from them.

  She looks nervous as I approach and holds a hand up as I get closer, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Before you say anything, I was invited.”

  “I don’t give a shit that you’re here, Chloe. I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

  Her shoulders sag slightly. “A little shaken up, but I’m not hurt. Charlie made sure we were all safe.”

  “Remind me to thank the guy later.” And I mean that. This thing could have got out of hand.

  “You hit that man.”

  “Yeah.”

  “More than once.”

  “Yeah,” I repeat.

  “Weed… violence can’t always be the way.”

  “In my life it is.” I sigh. “This is precisely why I told you to stay away from me, Chloe. This… this is who I am. You’ll never be able to accept that.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t accept it.” Her voice is quiet.

  “The fact you question it tells me you can’t.”

  “Weed—”

  “I’m glad you’re safe, but you should stay away from me, and from my friends.”

  I turn away and head back to my bike, leaving Wade to sort things out. I need to get out of there because being around Chloe Allen is too hard.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A run is what I need to take my mind off a certain redhead. I’m out on the road with Wade and Adam, feeling the wind buffering me. It’s freezing, the air biting, but I’m dressed for the weather. I have a bandana over my face and I’m wearing riding gloves. My thick leather jacket beneath my kutte is doing enough to keep the worst of the chill off me, but I’m looking forward to getting somewhere warm.

  Arriving in Blackwood, we make a beeline for Brenna’s—the bar owned by the McVay psycho triplets. I have no doubt their little spies knew the moment we entered their territory, so it’s a good thing we were invited. I don’t have the energy to take on a bunch of hot-headed Irish right now.

  Brenna’s is classier than you’d expect from a bunch of thugs, and it always surprises me every time I step foot inside just how decked out it is. It looks different in the day, though. No flashing coloured lights, no DJ, no scantily clad bimbos either.

  Liam meets us at the bar, already sucking back a measure of something I suspect is whiskey.

  “It’s good to see you boys,” he says in his accented voice. The Irish twang is there, prominently, but it’s watered down a little from his time living in Yorkshire.

  Adam leans across the bar and shakes hands, Wade doing the same after. I go last.

  The three of us wait at his side while he sips his drink. I hate this arsehole. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the world, but we’re in his domain, his universe right now, so I hold my tongue, keep my words behind my teeth and ignore the arrogance of the bastard.

  “Good to see you too, McVay,” Adam says, although his expression suggests this is not entirely true. It’s only a small movement of his mouth, but knowing Adam as I do, I can see his displeasure clearly.

  None of us really want to be here, but we have to do business. Besides, we go where Prez orders us—whether we want to or not—and the McVays are a key cog in our illegal trading.

  “A drink, gentlemen?”

  We all accept, although it’s unlikely we’ll drink more than a mouthful. We’re on friendly terms with the brothers, but it pays to be vigilant when we’re not in our own backyard. Liam leads us over to an empty booth and gestures for us to sit, which we do. The stillness of the club is bizarre in the day time, and the brighter lights show that Brenna’s isn’t quite as high-class as it seems. It looks a little worn around the edges, in fact.

  “So,” Liam starts as he settles back in the seat, “let’s get down to business, yeah?”

  We spend the next thirty minutes or so going through the deal we have set up with them. Adam tells him when the next shipment of drugs will be coming to them. We’ll get some firepower back as part of the deal. We don’t deal in guns. These are for personal use. I guess Derek feels we need to stock up with Dylan still out there. I’m fine with being armed, given the shitstorm that’s brewing, even if the prison sentence for getting caught with a firearm is hefty.

  “Have you seen that fucker loitering around?” Wade asks once we’ve concluded our business deals.

  “No, not since that initial sighting,” Liam tells us. “He’s a slippery shite. I’ve never known anyone that greasy. Nothing fucking sticks to him.”

  That, I can agree with. When I walked into Wade’s flat after the fucker took Paige hostage and battered Wade, I had no idea what the hell I was getting into. I didn’t expect to find she’d been hit by Dylan, hurt by him, although from the state of Wade, I probably should have. I chose to help Paige, but with hindsight, I should have nailed that cunt to the floor. That decision haunts me. I just hope it won’t haunt me more by the time we’re done with him. If anyone gets hurt again because of him, that’ll be on me.

  “He’s giving us the run around, that’s for sure,” Adam mutters.

  “I have my guys on the lookout for him. He shows up and we’ll be ready this time.”

  “We appreciate that,” Wade says.

  Liam stares at him a beat then says, “I appreciated your gift.”

  I have no idea what this means, but Wade seems to, because he snorts. “I’m sorry it was a little late.”

  Liam waves this off. “Don’t sweat it. It was a good late Christmas present. Where did you find him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not. He’s singing like a fucking canary. I don’t think he enjoys our hospitality.”

  Wade holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know what you did to him, Liam—or what you’re still doing. I upheld my end of the deal. You uphold yours now.”

  “I’m a man of my word. The debt’s cleared.”

  Wade nods. “That’s all I care about.”

  We finish up with Liam and leave the club. As we’re walking back to the bikes, Adam asks, “What was that about?”

  Wade pauses at his Harley and says, “Paige’s ex-husband got himself into a little debt with the McVay brothers. He left Paige to clean up the mess. I fixed it so Paige is no longer on the hook for that debt.”

  I meet Adam’s eye, but he just shrugs. Yeah, I don’t want to know either. Unless Wade tells us he needs our help, I’m not getting involved.

  I climb on my Harley and together the three of us make our way back to Kingsley. We roll through the clubhouse gates, acknowledging Lucas as we pass, and park our bikes up in the parking area. There are a few bikes already parked up—Derek, Slade and Jem’s, plus all the prospects.

  I’m just dismounting when my phone starts buzzing against my leg. I drag my helmet off and glance at the name on the screen.

  Chloe Allen.

  My stomach flip-flops. I doubt she’d be calling me unless something was wrong. When I gave her my number after that shit with her father, I didn’t expect her to use it at all.

  I hesitate a moment before swiping the screen.

  “Chloe?”

  “Hey, uh, Weed.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I know you said you didn’t want anything to do with me.” Ouch, yeah, I did say that and I want to kick my own arse. “But I’m a little worried. I didn’t know who else to call. I tried the police already, but they weren’t interested, so—”

  “Chloe, what’s going on?”

  “It’s probably nothing…�
�

  “You obviously think it’s something, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling. What’s going on?”

  “Jesse went to a friend’s last night and didn’t come home. I called the garage, but Jeanne said he hasn’t turned up for work either. I’m probably worrying about nothing, but he hasn’t called or messaged.”

  I can hear the fear, the worry, the panic in her voice and it cuts through me.

  I don’t even think before I speak. “I’m on my way to you.”

  “Weed, I didn’t mean for you to come over. I just wondered if he was with you. Jeanne said you weren’t at the garage this morning, so I was hoping you took him on a job or something…”

  “Sweetheart, I haven’t seen him since yesterday at work. Just sit tight, okay? I’ll be with you soon.”

  “Weed…”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  I pocket my phone after I’ve hung up and climb back on my bike.

  “Trouble?” Wade asks.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  I hope that’s true. I’ve never had to parent a wayward teenager, but I think I’m going to have to talk to Jess about responsibility and not scaring his sister half to death.

  I ride over to the flat and park up at the kerb. I’m barely at the door when she opens it, and I’m instantly glad I came over. She looks like hell. The fear in her expression can’t be faked. She’s not just worried, she’s outright panicked.

  Phone clutched to her chest, Chloe says, “I’ve called everyone I can think of and I’ve tried his number like a hundred times. I’m getting nothing.”

  I take her shoulders in my hands and rub along them. “We’ll find him.”

  “What if he’s hurt? What if—”

  “Chloe, we’ll find him,” I assure her. “I need to know everything about his friends, where he’d go, and who he usually hangs out with.”