Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5)

by Serena Akeroyd

  I tensed at the touch. “Y-Yes. I didn’t get into any trouble.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. And you didn’t tell your mom or dad about our little conversations, did you?”

  My bottom lip trembled. “N-No.”

  “Good girl. I think you deserve a little present.”

  Horror whispered through me. “N-No, it’s okay, Uncle Kevin, I don’t want one.”

  “Sure you do,” he purred, and his hand went to the top of the blanket, and with inexorable strength, he fought my grip on it, all with a dreamy smile on his face as he started to drag it down—

  “No!” I screamed, jerking immediately awake. Horror whipped through me as fast as relief did, but it didn’t stop me from howling out my terror.

  I thrashed at the covers that shouldn’t be on me, needing out of them, needing to get out of bed, needing to be anywhere but fucking here, and then, I felt a hand at my back and a growled, “What the fuck?” and twisted around to slap at the intruder.

  I didn’t care that, consciously, I knew Kevin had been dead for nearly twenty goddamn years, he was alive.

  In bed with me.

  I screamed louder, hitting out, lashing at the predatory cunt in an effort to get him away from me, and then, I registered something.

  The scent of man. The scent of soap. Of musk and sandalwood. An essence that was almost like incense.

  I froze, because only that smell ripped the past from my mind, and shrouded me in the present.

  My skin was clammy with terror and fury, my heart was racing like I’d been doing the tango on a spinning bike, and there was a wildness to my mind that made me understand how my brother, Nyx, could go out and kill people.

  But at Cruz’s scent, it tore through the memories, and needing more of that smell, needing it to overtake me, I hurled myself at him.

  He didn’t expect it. He was tense, and I knew he thought I was going to attack him still, but when I melted into him, sinking into him like syrup into steaming hot pancakes, he relaxed too, and his arms came around me.

  I didn’t think I’d like that. To be touched. Not so soon after—

  Only I did.

  I loved it.

  He held me so tightly, so fiercely, it was like he wanted to let go as little as I wanted to be released.

  His mouth brushed over my temple, his lips rubbing there as he buried his nose in my hair, and I just shoved my face into his inked throat, uncaring that my breath made us both sweaty, just needing more of that ‘clean man’ smell in my nose.

  “It’s okay, Indy. I won’t let any cunt hurt you.”

  The words should have been ridiculous. I didn’t need a man to look after me, but Cruz’s words were nuttier still because we were fuck buddies. Sure, he spent the night, but that didn’t mean anything.

  We were fuck buddies.

  Nothing more, nothing less.

  Only trouble was, he meant it. He meant those crazy, impossible words. He wanted to protect me, but he couldn’t.

  It was impossible.

  I shook my head. “You can’t protect me from the past.”

  Tension hit him, but he was slow in responding, just carried on stroking my hair in a way that should have reminded me of Kevin but didn’t.

  It felt… good.

  It connected me with him in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

  “What were you dreaming of?”

  “I think you know,” I rumbled bitterly, because every Satan’s Sinner knew the sorry tale of my family history.

  Uncle Kevin messed with my elder sister Carly from a young age. When she couldn’t take it anymore, when Kevin’s abuse amped up after she protected Nyx from him, she killed herself, which sent my eldest brother down the rabbit hole of insanity.

  Ever since, he’d been slaughtering pedophiles like they were terrorists in a mission on Call of Duty.

  The Sinners knew that, helped out, even. And me, in the aftermath, I was the one who tattooed a skull on his back. A tag, a trophy of another kid fucker biting the dust. In the most painful way possible.

  “I-I didn’t think you were—”

  When his voice waned, I started to pull away, expecting his disgust, his revulsion… only, I didn’t get it. He didn’t let me move away, clung harder to me in fact.

  “I was,” I said miserably.

  “This is why you can’t sleep, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “The dreams… they’re bad.”

  “You’ve been sleeping well with me. For the most part,” he pointed out softly, not referencing the time I’d slapped him and hurt him, spitting at him like he was trash.

  Fuck, I regretted that night even if it had been a turning point in our relationship.

  Biting my lip as I contemplated whether to lie or not, I decided there was no point in a half-truth. This was probably the last time he’d want to sleep with my sullied self, so I might as well go the whole hog and tell him all of it.

  “You fuck me too good for me to stay awake after.”

  He didn’t preen at that, nor did he shudder with revulsion like I might have expected with this truth now between us; he just said, “This is the first nightmare you’ve had with me?”

  No, it wasn’t, but I hadn’t had another since the night of the spitting incident.

  A sign I was getting too comfortable around him?

  The thought prompted me to try to pull away again, but he rumbled, “Where do you think you’re going?” He tapped me on the ass to stop me, hard, and the sting was bad enough to make me hiss but he took advantage of my surprise, nudging his knee between both my thighs, and pressing it into the mattress.

  I should have struggled at how he pinned me down, kept me in place. It should have triggered thoughts of him, but it didn’t.

  And that sting was too good.

  Because he wasn’t letting me go anywhere, because I didn’t really want to go anywhere either, I settled into him, and when he murmured, “Talk to me,” in a tone that would normally have gotten my back up, I relaxed into the mattress, and did as he’d commanded.

  I talked.

  Part Two

  Five

  Cruz

  “You wanna fuck me, baby?”

  What I wanted to do was roll my eyes… I didn’t. Instead, I stared at Jingles and cracked my knuckles. She bit her bottom lip, which was a clear sign as to what was going on.

  These bitches, seriously.

  I mean, I knew a lot of the brothers could be led around by their cocks, but I wasn’t one of them.

  I’d had enough of dancing to someone’s fucking song a long ass time ago, and I refused to be whipped by a piece of snatch who was shared around the clubhouse by men I considered family.

  Jingles’ eyes dropped to my knuckles. The tattoos looked like perfect renditions of the skeletal frame of my hands, which was fitting considering I cleaned up dead bodies for the club.

  “Thought Giulia asked you to clean the staircase again?”

  Her nostrils flared, and I just prepared my ears for the whining that was about to come. “But we did them last week!”

  “How often do you think something that gets used as often as the staircase should get cleaned?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  These sluts were filthy bitches. The clubhouse was enough to have my neat-freak self cringing. With this much DNA floating around these walls, the place was one big crime scene waiting to happen.

  Jingles, being the dirty bitch she was, shrugged, which made her tits jiggle, which made the little nipple piercings she had jingle in turn.

  Hence the name.

  Wherever she went, she played a tune.

  Any entrancement that particular trait had triggered in me died a death a long while back.

  “I dunno. Every month?”

  “It’s a wonder we didn’t die with you cunts cleaning this place,” I grumbled under my breath, then I shook my head. “Just because you wanna waste time on your back rather than doing what you’re supposed to, doesn’t mean I h
ave time to play your games.”

  She scowled at me. “I’m not playing games. I swear, you’re no fun anymore! This place used to be a real giggle, but everyone’s getting all match.com and no one wants to play.”

  “Stopped playing when I was eight, Jingles,” I said wryly. “And you’re about twenty-two years too old to be thinking about playtime. Now, go on, get. You’re supposed to do as Giulia says.”

  “I fucking am,” she groused. “Goddamn bitch should have been born with a swastika on her cheek.”

  I should probably have defended the VP’s woman, but hell, Giulia was faintly Nazi-ish. Without the mass-genocide of innocents, of course. If anyone was under threat from Giulia, it was the club snatch, who were feckless and cruel to the Old Ladies, and pedophiles. Both of whom deserved to deal with her wrath.

  Brothers didn’t talk about it, but everyone knew Nyx had taken Giulia with him on his last crusade. There were even whispers that she’d been the one to light the last sick kid fucker on fire.

  As Jingles walked away and I wasn’t even interested in watching the show, I recognized that the club snatch weren’t doing much for me anymore.

  Been there.

  Done that, and watching her storm off was one big reminder that my dick was firmly in the Indiana vice.

  The thought of the last time she’d exploded around my cock had me grimacing a little as I finished up changing the keg behind the bar. While beer wasn’t a popular choice for most of the bikers, we still went through a keg a day. As well as copious amounts of vodka and tequila.

  As I finished up my inventory, made notes of which liquors I needed to re-stock, my cell buzzed.

  The Killers, Mr. Brightside blared out and knowing who that ringtone belonged to, I hid my face as I dipped beneath the counter.

  I reached for my cell and hit connect, lip curling at the voice I was about to hear.

  Mommy Dearest.

  Most people might dig receiving a call from their folks, but me? I hated it. My dad, well, he was okay. I quite liked him. He wasn’t too much of a dick, and he left me alone, gave me space. It helped that he was in Arizona, of course. Couldn’t get much more space between New Mexico and New Jersey, after all.

  I knew why he’d moved though. Understood why he’d put distance between us.

  After the divorce, Mom had been her usual insaniac self, and I couldn’t blame him for heading across the country. Not when, after he’d married and gotten my stepmom pregnant, Mom had taken to showing up at their house like some kind of fucking crazy person.

  Which, of course, she was.

  Mom’s obsession with finding out who had killed her father and bringing him to justice was the one driving force in her life. I wasn’t sure when she’d had time to get married and to pop me out, but she’d managed somehow. I was living proof of the fact she didn’t eat, breathe, and shit her father’s case.

  “What do you want?” I rasped by way of a greeting.

  “I need you to come visit me. This isn’t a secure line.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the keg I’d only just changed, hoping that anyone in the vicinity would think I was having trouble with it. “I have no desire to come and see you.”

  “Tough shit. You owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing,” I snarled, even though as far as she still knew, that was a lie. Couldn’t make this look too easy, could I?

  She fell silent, then she signed my death knell. “Your Prez will appreciate the heads’ up.”

  Jaw clenching, I glowered at nothing because glowering was futile. Everything about Caroline fucking Dunbar was.

  It was either her way or the highway.

  “No wonder Dad divorced your ass and took you to the cleaners,” I rumbled.

  When she hissed out a breath, I was surprised, like always, to learn that the divorce was still a touchy subject.

  I wasn’t sure if Dad was the one who’d gotten away, or if he was simply a challenge. He’d betrayed her, so he deserved to have his life ruined.

  That was how my mom worked.

  Who had nemeses anymore?

  Hadn’t they gone by the by in the days of Sherlock Holmes?

  Well, apparently not for Caro Dunbar.

  She had nemeses everywhere. Saw shadows at high fucking noon.

  It was a wonder she kept her shit together enough to maintain her position at the FBI. Somewhere along the line, I figured she’d started screwing someone high-up to stay as a Special Agent. One who worked actual cases and wasn’t tied to a desk. But no one liked to think that kind of shit about their mom… Not even me.

  Caro hadn’t been cruel. She hadn’t been vindictive. She’d fed me, made sure I went to school, but she just hadn’t been there.

  So when I was sixteen? I’d done the exact same thing—I’d left for college and I’d done it with the hope of not looking back, but some of my worst choices led to my being tied to her in ways no man wanted.

  My only consolation was that I hadn’t gone to jail thanks to her interference.

  “Less talk of your father,” she sniped. “I wouldn’t have contacted you if I didn’t need to speak with you.”

  “You always need to speak with me, and somehow, you never have anything to say.” I pursed my lips as I waited on her answer, but before I did, my cell buzzed with a message in a tone I’d set for Rex—the Prez. “I need to go.”

  “You need to come and visit me.”

  I sighed. “What for?”

  “It’s important.”

  “I’ll just bet.” Rubbing my eyes, I grumbled, “I’ll see what I can do. Things are shitty right now. Not many reasons for me to head into the city without raising suspicion.”

  She grunted. “Damn.” A pause. “Okay. Message me when you can come. I can be patient. No longer than a week though, Darren.”

  Grimacing at a name I hadn’t answered to for years, I muttered, “I’ll do what I can.”

  Before she told me that wasn’t good enough, like always, I cut the call.

  Of all the bikers in the Satan’s Sinners’ MC, I was the only one who didn’t have Mommy issues. There were a lot of them going around, though. Daddy issues too. But my brothers here had reasons, justification for being fucked in the head. Me? What could I complain about? That I’d been a latch-key kid?

  Snorting at the thought, especially when I tossed Nyx and Indy’s background around in my head, I clambered to my feet as I read the text Rex had sent.

  Unsurprisingly, he’d asked me to go to his office.

  I dumped the burner cell in my pocket, and leaving shit behind, I headed out of the bar, bypassing a very noisy ’69’ going down on the pool table with a brother whose face I couldn’t see because it was buried in Peach’s pussy. My nose crinkled at the sight, because I didn’t think the brother was wearing a dental dam. Brothers in an MC weren’t the dental dam-wearing type.

  “You’re not supposed to go down on the whores,” I muttered as I passed him, but a grunt was all I got for my pains.

  Rolling my eyes as I trudged past the orgy and into the hall, I found my way to the office. Knocking on Rex’s door, I wasn’t altogether surprised to see Mav and Nyx there.

  When I cut them all a look, I murmured, “Mommy dearest wants to see me.”

  Rex’s mouth tightened, the cloned cell in his hand. “We heard.”

  Indy

  “David, could you pass me Laura’s file?”

  If my tone was absent-minded, then that was because I was feeling pretty absent-minded of late. Actually, not just recently. For a while now.

  My brain was all over the fucking place and I knew why.

  Men. Pains in my ass.

  What with my baby bro, Caleb, in prison on a sentence he didn’t deserve, Nyx’s psychotic self head-butting me every which way I turned, and then memories of the past, it was a wonder I had a mind left.

  My life wasn’t, and never had been, easy. I didn’t expect it to be. But I’d like a little peace, just a little tranquility, and somehow, I�
��d managed to find it—I just hated that I was a cliché and it was related to a man.

  Cliché aside, I also wished that once Cruz had walked out of the door this morning, and every other, that the peace lasted longer than ten minutes. Especially when I got a call from my baby bro who’d lied to me about why he sounded so gruff.

  He’d been crying.

  God help me. I wanted to kill someone, and knowing I couldn’t protect him just made me feel a thousand times worse.

  “Here you go,” David chirped, his tone, as always, cheerful.

  He was a weirdo, a stalker, but I liked that about him.

  Stalkers were men you could trust. He knew more about me than I did, knew the exact location of everything I ever touched, and, truthfully, he was a lifesaver. If he wasn’t obsessed with me, he wouldn’t be such a damn good PA.

  Yeah, yeah, I knew it made me a bitch to be taking advantage of him, but sometimes, you just had to make the best out of a bad situation.

  I sure as hell wasn’t going back to the days where he’d call me, heavy breathing down the line for a good minute before he built up the courage to cut the damn call.

  Nor was I going back to the nights where he’d hover outside my shop.

  This way, my stalker was a functioning member of society. He got paid well for it, had a really great dental plan, and so what if I had to handle his goo goo eyes all the time? I could deal.

  Well, usually I could.

  Today I wasn’t feeling that good, so chirpy wasn’t what I needed right now.

  I needed somber.

  I needed serious.

  I needed eyes that looked into mine, leaving me feeling like I’d been through an MRI tunnel because he’d seen everything. Every-fucking-thing. And all without me having to say a goddamn word.

  Having always avoided dominant men in the past, preferring someone who was on the same level as me, I had to admit, it was a revelation.

  The white noise in my head quit some when Cruz was around, and I enjoyed that more than I could say.