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

by Serena Akeroyd

  When Giulia headed toward the backroom where the restrooms were, the desire hit me. It was strange, because I felt like Giulia had been edging toward this conversation, and the closer she'd edged, the further I wanted to avoid the topic.

  But Nyx had changed. He was going to be a father. The changes in his nature that Giulia was triggering, were not enough though.

  As a dad, he couldn't be riding around the States killing people. Sure, those people deserved to die. I was the last person who would believe otherwise, but his priorities needed to change.

  I'd spent all my adult life trying to hide this from Nyx, and maybe it was selfish of me, because it could be a catalyst that none of us were ready to deal with, but I needed to tell him.

  I needed this to be about me, and not about him.

  "Nyx?"

  Even though Giulia had left, I knew he'd watched her go. More like, he'd been studying her ass.

  Unashamed, and I didn't blame him–if Cruz walked through the door, I'd check him out too—he turned back to me, arched his brow, and asked, "What?"

  "I need to tell you something, and I know how you're going to react. I know because I've seen you react to this news before, and I'm telling you now, not because I want you to do anything, but because I want you to stop doing something.

  "You're going to be a dad." I shook my head. "It still fucks with my head to think that, not because I don't think you'll be a brilliant father, just because, before Giulia, I didn't think you'd ever be ready for anything like that."

  His gaze was pensive as he looked at me, and his beautiful face was filled with the turbulence I was accustomed to seeing. I wished things could be different for us, wished we had an easier start, and wished, even more, that Carly was here with us. I wished she'd survived to come out the other side, to live a life of freedom, one without fear, without the threat of pain from somebody who was supposed to love you, to protect you.

  More than anything, I'd have liked to see the Nyx standing here, to know what he'd done for her in her name. Maybe it wasn't the best legacy, but to victims, it was as good as it got.

  If our Algonquin heritage wasn't clear in me, it was there for everybody to see in Nyx. His hair made the obsidian of mine, look washed out. His skin gleamed like a precious metal, and those eyes of his reminded me of marble. They were loaded with a rainbow of striations, that probably were only visible to me because of the artistic slant with which I saw the world. To anybody else, they'd say he had hazel-green eyes, but to me, each color was an emotion.

  Everybody thought Nyx didn't feel. They thought he was a monster, a killer, but he was all those things because he felt too much.

  Just like now.

  The charge of his emotions, his feelings, was like watching a storm brewing over the ocean.

  A part of me thought about backing out, of holding my tongue, but the truth was, I needed closure.

  Cruz, without even meaning to, had made me realize that. I needed for this not to be a secret anymore. I needed this to be out–the people who mattered to me had the right to know the truth, deserved to know what had made me the woman standing here today. Sure, some of that was bad, but most of it was my choice.

  Mine.

  Nobody else's, and that made it precious. Precious enough to share.

  And so, I reached up and cupped his cheek, well aware, that even though we were never on the same wavelength, that we'd been out of sync for decades, somehow, he knew what I was about to say.

  I read it in the devastation etched into every single one of his beautiful features.

  But he didn't stop me. He didn't plead with me to hold my tongue. He let me liberate myself, as I told him, "Kevin raped me too."

  Four words.

  Such a small sentence. An object, a subject, a verb and an adverb. So tiny in the grand scheme of things, and yet, the weight of them was lifted off my shoulders.

  The release was exquisite.

  It was like my lungs were no longer constricted, it was like when a broken rib healed and you could suddenly take a deep breath again.

  The relief was enough to make a laugh escape me. Only, this was no laughing matter. The weight that was taken off me, I could see, Nyx had taken it on himself, but the truth was, it wasn't his burden to shoulder.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth to contain another laugh, because I knew it was borderline hysterical and it would get me nowhere. I needed to approach this calmly, because the next few minutes would determine my brother's future.

  The doubt of before disappeared. I knew this was the right thing to do. He needed to know this, he needed to feel the same relief that I was feeling now, because he bore a weight that had never truly belonged to him.

  But with the laughter having faded, the seriousness of the situation erasing my hysteria, I reached up, gripping him tightly with both hands as I dug my fingers into the tendons either side of his neck, my palm brushing the ‘Carly’ tattoo he had there.

  Peering straight into his eyes, needing him to see my sincerity, needing him to know that every word I was about to utter was the complete and honest truth, I told him, "If there is anybody I would blame, outside of that cunt himself, it isn't you, Nyx. It has never been you."

  He started to shake, and it messed with my head because I knew nothing could make him react like this, nothing other than Kevin and his sisters, and I'd done this to him.

  God help me, I needed to make him see the truth.

  "You weren't my father. You weren't my mother. And afterward, you were the one who made him go away. You've no idea what you did for me, no idea what you did for Carly, because she died before you could see how much better you made life for us both.

  "But, what worries me, is if you're the one who's going across the country, taking these fuckers out, one by one, putting yourself in danger every single time, eventually, it's going to catch up to you.

  "Maybe, this far, nobody has realized you were behind all of these vigilante deaths, and maybe people aren't looking as hard as they might because of what those bastards are, but one day, somebody will put two and two together, and you will end up behind bars.

  "Before, I thought that might be what you wanted. As much as everybody loves their freedom, I don't think you've been free for an incredibly long time. Probably for as long as me and Carly. But now, you have so much to live for, Nyx. You're going to be a dad," I repeated. "You're going to be an amazing dad.

  “And the only thing Carly and me need from you, is to keep your child safe. To do," I rasped, the words choking me as I whispered them to him, needing him to believe me, needing him to feel the truth in what I was saying, "what mom and dad never did for us. I need you to be better than them. I need your child to be safe, like I never was." Nerves hit me because what I was asking was going to be hard for him, and he could easily say no. "Big brother, can you do that for me?"

  For a second, I didn't know how he was going to respond, if he'd even respond at all, and then, he slipped his arms around my waist, pressed a kiss to my temple before he pushed his forehead against mine, and rasped, "I can, little sis. I can."

  Then, safe in his arms, I cried. I cried for me, for him, for Carly. I cried for Caleb, who never had a decent childhood because of the aftermath of our eldest sister's death.

  And Nyx?

  Though neither of us would ever admit to it, he cried too.

  Somehow, his tears meant even more to me than my own, because I felt like I hadn't just liberated myself, I'd liberated him too. Allowing both of us to have a future that would forever have been denied to us, were it not for Cruz, Giulia, and the baby in her belly.

  Cruz

  When I got the call, I was halfway from the clubhouse to the tattoo parlor. It was hard to register that was home now, not because Indy made me feel unwelcome, but I hadn’t been crashing there for long so I figured it would take a lot more than a week to get a connection with the place.

  The best part about it was that Indy was there. Sure, the brothers could
call me whipped, but I'd take it. Especially as if anyone was getting whipped, it was Indy.

  Not that anyone would ever know that, nor should they. I was a private man, even when sparing my ego was concerned—Indy's reputation meant a damn sight more to me than my own.

  The name Darren Dunbar had more black marks against it than a couple of Sinners combined.

  I was ashamed of my past, even if it had forged me into the man standing here today.

  I wasn't the kid of before, a kid who'd do anything to fit in, to make friends.

  Taking a double major at sixteen hadn't exactly made me popular, and having always been an overachiever, as well as isolated in the aftermath of my parents' divorce, I'd made a lot of crappy decisions over the years.

  Those crappy decisions, however, paved the way to Indy. I wasn't a romantic man, wasn't particularly in touch with my feelings, but I felt like everything I'd done in my life was geared toward my meeting her.

  Not for my benefit, but for hers. That wasn't to say that I wasn't a lucky guy to have her in my life, but the idea of a woman like her being imprisoned in her own soul was hell on earth to me.

  My body wore the scars of the bad choices I'd made along the way, and my ink helped hide them, but Indy's scars were all internal. She helped countless people cover theirs, all while hers were impossible to heal.

  So, if I was here to help shine a little healing light on a woman I'd come to love, then maybe it was a means of atoning for the past.

  Of course, that wouldn't be so easy if my death count increased. Nyx believed he was the deadliest guy in the MC. But what he did with his hands, in no way compared to what I could do with mine.

  And I knew my brothers wanted retribution, and I knew they wanted me to build something that would give them that.

  You didn't say no to the council.

  You complied.

  This wasn't a democracy. But even though the decision was mine to make, in the end, what I created would bring destruction. And that would rest with me and my soul.

  It was why, when I saw Rex's name flash on the caller ID, I almost didn't pick up. Thus far, the council had been acting without his say-so. But for him to call me directly meant he needed something from me. Something that only I would be able to give him.

  I was the most overeducated bartender on the East Coast, and somehow, I was the one who got the shittiest, dirtiest, filthiest jobs.

  Old habits were ingrained so I connected the call and pulled over. Feeling more whipped now than I did when I thought about the lengths I would go to on my woman's behalf.

  "Hey, brother, how are you doing?"

  "Christ, man, I'm the one who should be asking you. How's Bear?" I already knew the answer, everyone in the MC did.

  The level of grief ricocheting around the MC was indicative of how much we loved the old bastard. If we didn't go to war over the bombing, it would be for Bear, no word of a lie. He hadn’t been my Prez, Rene had died the year before I arrived in West Orange, but I knew him, and knew I’d go to bat for him like all those who’d served under him.

  "No change. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Look, I need your help, and I need this to stay between me and you."

  My brows lowered, but Rex was good people, and if he wanted to keep something between me and him, then I wasn't about to argue.

  "Sure, man. How can I help?" I asked as I watched the MC's diner in the near distance. Still in West Orange, I'd admit to contemplating whether or not to bring home take-out for Indy and me.

  They said that every man thought about sex six times a second, or some crap like that, but throw in a concussion and some broken ribs, and it was a killer on your sex drive.

  "Before Bear started the run back home, I called him."

  Across the street, a car backfired which had me jerking in surprise, while Tiffany, Sin's Old Lady, barged her way out of the diner, giggling over something that she and Lily were talking about before they jerked like they’d been shot at the car too.

  As crazy as it seemed, with half of the MC still traumatized from the bombing, laughter was the best medicine, and I resented the stupid car for ruining that moment for them. Both women were back at the compound, back to that night.

  Fuck.

  It was going to take a long time to get over what we’d all gone through, and I was just grateful Indy had been working, because I wouldn’t want her to be going through this as well.

  "Yeah, I remember,” I said gruffly, watching the Old Ladies link arms and walk over to their car like they were depending on each other to keep themselves standing. “You wanted to tell him about your Ma, and what mine had to say."

  "See, I thought I was keeping him in the loop, but I found out he was just keeping me out of it. He already knew."

  "Shit! He knew and didn't tell you?"

  "Apparently." His sigh tunneled down the line. “He told me some shit that he said I’d think he was crazy for spouting, and maybe I did, maybe I thought he was losing it. I know how hard Mom’s death affected him—”

  "And then we were hit."

  "And then we were hit," Rex confirmed. "So now, his conspiracy theory sounds pretty fucking real to me."

  "Conspiracy theory?" I scratched my chin where my stubble had turned into a full out beard—I really needed to shave—and mocked, "Let me guess, the federal government–"

  "Well, partially. I know it sounds insane, Cruz, you don't have to tell me that. But this goes deeper. He seemed to think that some dirty cops were…"

  "Dirty cops are alive and kicking, Mommy dearest is proof of that."

  "Exactly. I was wondering if you could speak with her? Maybe offer her some information that might get her to talk? Soften her up some, you know what I mean?"

  Surprise flushed through me. "You want to feed her some evidence? Shit, Rex, we just burnt the bridge with her. If we build another one, she'll come to expect it, and where Caroline Dunbar is concerned, that bridge is never-ending."

  "Fuck, Cruz, you think I don't know that already? You think I'm asking this, asking you to dance with the devil without recognizing how dangerous it could be?

  "I've been sitting by my dad's bedside, racking my brain, trying to think about what was said, about what we discussed. Trying to figure out if there was something I could use to piece together this fucking puzzle, but there isn't anything. The only person we know who could help is your mother.

  "So, for sure, I know what I'm asking here, and I know it's a shit show, Cruz, but I just need you to cast out a net and see if anything bites. Can you do that for me?" To anyone else, it might have sounded like he was being kind of nice about it, but I heard the command, and knew I didn't really have a choice.

  Neither did Rex understand what he was dragging me into. Caro would think nothing of asking me for information to use against the MC in return for casting out that net he'd mentioned.

  "I will, but I want you to know that I'm uncomfortable with the request."

  "Duly noted."

  "And when I come to you with issues over this, because issues there will be, I need you to have my back. Especially as this is circumventing the council, which is going to put me in the shit when it gets out. And let's face it, it will get out."

  Rex grunted. "You worry too much."

  "I just know my mother." And though it was rude, I hung up on him, then threw my phone on the passenger seat. It bounced, and almost fell into the truck well, but I was past caring.

  One hand on the steering wheel now, I squeezed down to the point of pain, but still, it was either that or punch something and I didn't feel like dealing with busted knuckles on top of everything else.

  Inside my head, I reacted like a chimpanzee who just been dosed up with angel dust–I went crazy.

  From the outside looking in, I knew I didn't look like I'd just been asked to deal with the devil again. And make no bones about it, my cunt of a mother was the devil, capable of more than my brothers realized. Maybe you had to grow up with it to truly see
it, but I knew there was nothing she wouldn't do to get what she wanted. And Caro was greedy.

  AF.

  While I'd known that last visit with her wouldn't be the final time I saw her, I just hadn't thought I'd be getting in touch with her so soon.

  Jaw working, I decided to bite the bullet, reached for my cell phone which I'd dumped on the passenger seat, and dialed my mom's phone.

  For several minutes, the dialing tone echoed around the truck.

  She didn't answer.

  To say that came as a surprise was an understatement, mostly because she never made me wait, just like I never made her wait either.

  We had our own rituals, our own methods of dealing with one another, and it didn't involve pissing each other around.

  Unless the state of play had changed after what happened, of course... But I didn't think that was the case. Although, granted, she had to have heard about the clubhouse explosion and hadn't been in touch to ask if I was okay. Now that I thought about it, that was strange. In the aftermath, though, she'd been the last thing on my mind.

  Seemed like I was the last thing on hers too now.

  I'd believed, apparently incorrectly, that her ties to motherhood would extend to bombings in which her son nearly perished.

  When she didn't answer, after I tried again, I grunted under my breath then shot off a text to Rex.

  Me: No answer yet. I'll keep on trying.

  I didn't wait for his response, but I took note of the read receipt and in a state of outright rebellion, against myself, I messaged Kirill next.

  The guy was like a father to me, more than my own dad was anymore. He’d been there for me when the shit hit the fan, and now I had Indy, I wanted her to know him and Monique.

  So I tapped out:

  Me: Kirill, I have someone I want you to meet.

  Kirill: Someone? A contact? I told you, I’m working hard on getting you the gear. It’ll take some time.

  Me: No, you misunderstand. A woman. I’ve got a woman now.

  Kirill: Don’t joke about this kind of thing. Monique will have my balls if you’re messing with us.