by Jessica Ames
I nod, even though those pills are in my pocket. He moves to the wall and leans against it, and the heat in the room seems to grow warmer as he peers at me.
I can’t stop from sneaking my own look at Nox. The man is built, even though he’s smaller than Rav, who seems to suck the space out of every room. His hair is shaved practically to his scalp leaving a thin layer of fuzz and his piercing blue eyes seem to see everything as he stares at me. I wonder if he can see my secrets.
My gaze moves over his thick arms that are covered in ink, a barrage of colour staring back at me from beneath the sleeves of his white tee and kutte. I watch the veins bulge as he flexes his fingers into fists before forcing them straight again, hating how affected he is by my situation.
“Club’ll protect you and figure out who these fuckers are,” Nox assures me.
My heart starts to thrum as frenzied butterflies take flight in my belly at the look he’s giving me. It’s a look I’ve never seen before, it’s a look that promises so much without words.
Fear grips me. He can’t get close to me. I can’t get close to him.
I swallow hard and manage to choke out, “I know.”
He moves forwards and takes my hands in his, and my heart stops at his touch. My eyes shift from our joined hands up to his face, and I see the seriousness in his expression as he stares at me.
“You don’t have anything to fear, Lucy. You took care of our girls. Now, we’ll take care of you.”
These words should be a relief, so I force a smile, but internally, I’m panicking. They can’t dig around. If they do, they might discover my dirty secret.
That Lucy Franklin doesn’t really exist.
4
Nox
I take Lucy upstairs to the club bedrooms. We have a few empty, usually kept for brothers from other chapters of the Sons, or out-of-towners. Since we have neither visiting at the moment, I set her up in the nicest of the rooms, although that’s not saying much. The furniture is tired, the carpet is dark grey, a couple of dubious stains on it, and the walls could use a lick of paint. She’s too good for a place like this, but at least it’s clean. One of the club bunnies or the prospects probably keep on top of it. I sure as fuck don’t.
She’s on edge, unsurprisingly, but I don’t miss the covert looks she keeps sneaking my way, as if she’s trying to suss me out. She shouldn’t go digging. Like all the brothers in my club, I have my share of demons. You can’t be in this life and come out unscathed. I’ve seen shit and done shit I can never take back, all in the name of the club, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’m loyal to my patch, to my brothers, to my president.
Right now, I’m close to going postal because of her situation, but I don’t want to scare Lucy any more than she already is. I can see she’s barely keeping it together.
I watch as she paces the space, her arms wrapping around her middle, her eyes everywhere. I can’t stop my gaze from moving over her. Her long hair is so blonde it’s almost white. It’s also still matted with blood, which makes my teeth grind with the reminder of how close I came to losing her. She has a slight upturn to her slender nose, a dash of pale freckles over her cheeks, and a set of curves that are enough to make a man lose his mind. I’m not immune to her. The woman is stunningly beautiful.
“It’s not much, but—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts, then adds, “Really, it’s more than I expected.”
I watch as she sinks onto the edge of the bed, her hands skimming over the comforter. I can see in her eyes how haunted she is by this, how she has monsters dancing there. I never expected to see that, not from the feisty woman who got in my face in the hospital trying to protect Sasha—that same woman made my dick stand up and take notice.
“I need to shower,” she mutters, glancing down at herself.
I jut my chin in the direction of the en suite bathroom. “There should be clean towels on the rack.”
She pushes to her feet and wobbles. I react on instinct, reaching out and steadying her. The moment I touch her, electric charges race through my fingers. She must feel it too because her eyes raise to mine and flare slightly. Then she swallows.
“I can manage.”
“You’re dizzy,” I state the obvious.
“Only a little,” she admits with a wry smile that doesn’t chase the monsters in her eyes away. I’m not sure what will now that they’re there.
“Let me help.”
She pulls back and her eyes widen as she shakes her head. “You’re not showering with me.”
My cock twitches at her words, at the thought of her in the shower, the water cascading over her bare tits, over the globes of her arse. I push it aside quickly, before my dick gets ideas and I let my brow flick up. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”
Her face heats, pink staining her pale cheeks. It makes her look even more beautiful.
“I can manage,” she says, sounding a little breathy. It has my lips tugging into a grin that she’s so affected by me.
“I’ll grab you some fresh clothes.”
I leave her standing there and walk the short distance to my room. I was offered Sin’s room when I made vice president, but I couldn’t bring myself to step foot inside there, even if it is a bigger suite. I don’t want to touch anything that dirty fucker had his hands on. I’ve never hated a brother before, but what he did to Sasha…? Rav was too easy on him. He should have suffered more before he died.
As I step inside, I glance around my space. It’s not much, but it’s home. There’s a bed, drawers and two bedside tables. I have a big screen TV on the wall opposite to the bed, not that I watch a lot of it. The club keeps me busy.
It needs decorating, but I haven’t had the time, so the walls are cream and dirty.
I move to the drawers and pull out a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie that will probably drown her.
Clutching the clothes, I head back to the room and slip back inside. I move to the bed, intending to leave them on the end and get out of there, but a noise catches my attention. It takes me a second to realise what I’m hearing.
Lucy is crying—no, not just crying, she’s sobbing.
It’s like a thousand knives to my heart, hearing such an outpouring of grief. I should leave, let her have this moment privately, but I can’t bring myself to.
I stride to the bathroom door and try the handle. I expect it to be locked, so it shocks the shit out of me when the door swings open. My heart clenches painfully as I see her sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin. She’s removed her suit jacket, but that’s as far as she seems to have got.
Crouching down in front of her, I say her name softly. She doesn’t respond or lift her head, so I try again. This time, her eyes raise to me. They’re a pale blue and like a turbulent ocean. I get lost in them for a moment until I see the tears slip down her cheeks. I tug her into my arms, not caring that she’s still spattered with blood and fuck knows what else.
I feel the tension ripple through her before her spine seems to melt and she presses against my chest, gripping my kutte as she sobs. I let her get it all out. Lucy needs this. I knew once the shock wore off, she’d feel what happened. I know because I’ve been in that situation many times before. I’ve learnt over the years to shut my feelings down completely.
“Hank didn’t deserve this,” she blubbers.
If he’s into something dodgy, the likelihood is he got exactly what he deserved. People don’t get murdered at their place of work for no good reason. Good old Hank had to have done something to piss someone off.
I don’t say any of this to Lucy. Instead, I just hold her against me, feeling her softness in my arms, liking how right she feels there. Too right. That shit confuses me. I tell myself I’m just looking after Sasha’s best friend, that all I’m feeling for her is because I’m grateful she helped out Sash, but it’s more than that. I like this woman, even if I shouldn’t.
After a while, I know I have to move, get her moving. “You
need to clean up.”
“Yeah,” she agrees.
“Let me help you.”
Her eyes meet mine and I got lost in them again. I watch as her chest heaves as she peers at me, see the indecision weighing on her before she breathes out an, “Okay.”
Relief washes through me. I move to the buttons of her blouse, my eyes shifting to hers as I undo the first one. Lucy doesn’t move to help me, her eyes heavy, full of pain. I pull it off her shoulders and let it pool on the floor, leaving her in a lacy black bra. Already, a smattering of bruises is starting to form over her skin. She must be in pain, but she doesn’t complain. I watch as goosebumps pebble along her skin as the cooler air hits her. Maybe it’s not just the cold affecting her. I feel a little off kilter myself.
When I move to the button on her trousers, I don’t miss the quiver of her belly as my hands graze over her. Her eyes come to mine and there’s so much emotion shining in her gaze that I don’t know how to help her.
I shove her trousers down, revealing a pair of knickers that match the bra. This is a special kind of torture, but I keep my hands to myself. Lucy’s barely with it right now and I’m not the kind of fucker to take advantage. I’m not fucking Sin.
I lean around her and switch the spray on, running a hand under it until it’s hot enough. Then I push her gently under the stream, careful to avoid the gauze covering her head wound.
Leaning into the shower, I wet her hair and her eyes move to my face. I’m not sure what the hell is going through her mind right now, but her tears have stopped as she watches me through wide eyes as I squirt some shampoo on my hand.
“It’s not the girly shit you’re probably used to.”
“It’s fine,” she tells me in a whisper, her eyes still locked to my face. There’s confusion there. “Why are you doing this?”
It’s a good question, and not one I’m sure I have a good answer to. Eventually, I say, “Because you need it.”
She falls silent and I watch the water as it runs red, mixing into a light pink. She swallows hard as she sees it.
“I feel so dirty,” she murmurs.
“I know.”
I don’t feed her platitudes.
I know what it’s like to come home covered in someone’s brains and blood. I know how that makes your skin crawl and feel soiled. I want to press her on what happened, get answers, but I don’t want to push her. She’s already balancing on the edge, so I just clean her hair until it’s back to its pale blonde colour. I don’t miss how she closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as the spray moves over her head, as my fingers massage her scalp, washing the soap free of the strands. I want to take her pouty lips, kiss them until they’re swollen, but I jump down on that thought. She’s been through enough today.
I wrap her hair in a towel.
“Thank you,” she says as she straightens. Her mascara is smudged under her eyes, but she still looks beautiful.
I pull her out of the shower, ignoring the fact I’m a little soggy myself and wrap her body in a towel that has seen better days, then I move into the bedroom and grab the clean clothes.
When I step back into the bathroom, she’s wiped the steam from the mirror and is peering at her reflection. Her eyes shift to me and I watch as she swallows, watch the monsters that dog her steps rise for a moment before she regains control.
I hand her the clothes. “Get dressed.”
She takes them from me, our fingers scraping over each other’s as I hand them over. Our eyes meet and I see the heat in her gaze, but there’s something else there. Fear. Is she scared of me?
I shake myself and step out of the bathroom, leaving her to dress. I should leave the bedroom, but I sit on the edge of the mattress. I need to make sure she’s okay before I go.
When she steps out of the bathroom, I can’t stop my gaze from taking her in. My clothes are, as I thought, too big for her and hang off her, but at least they’re not blood-spattered. I like the way she looks in them.
“What should I do with my suit?”
“It’ll be taken care of.” One of the bunnies will pick it up tomorrow.
She doesn’t move, and we have a slightly awkward stand off for a moment, before I clear my throat. “I’ll let you rest.”
She smiles at me and I mirror it. Then I turn and get the hell out of that room before I do something I might regret.
5
Lucy
As soon as Nox leaves me alone, I let my shoulders sag. Lying makes me feel like I’m crawling in dirt. I hate it, and I hate that Isaac made me this person. It’s not who I am. I’m not deceitful. I don’t like to lie to the people I care about, but what choice do I have? The truth will put me in more danger, especially with the Sons. Rav will never let me leave if he knows the truth of who I am, and the kindness Nox has shown me will become a distant memory. These men are lethal to those who cross them.
Leaving won’t be easy. I have ties here now, people I care about. I stayed in London too long. I let people in, I let my guard down. I should have left months ago—years ago, if I’m being honest—before I started viewing this as home and Sasha and Lily-May as family. Now, the thought of going makes my heart shatter into a million pieces.
But the choice is no longer mine and I hate that Isaac is still controlling me, my life.
To stay puts everyone in jeopardy. I know what kind of man Isaac is, and he’s the type who will punish those who helped me, even if they did it unknowingly. I’ve seen the type of punishment he doles out. I’ve experienced it first-hand. I can’t bring that down on these people.
I tug on my bottom lip as I sit on the edge of the bed, contemplating which path to take, which has the best prospect of keeping me out of Isaac’s grasp while causing the least amount of collateral.
I shouldn’t stay, but I’m too scared to leave. The club is offering me protection, so I’ll take it while I work out a plan. I’m safer here than I would be out there on my own. I can’t protect myself the way the Sons will, and given Isaac’s resources, I need all the help I can get, but it’s not a long-term solution. When the club finds out my truth, I’ll need to be far away from here, but it’ll give me the time I need to plan my escape. I can’t become a bargaining chip in a war between the club and Isaac.
I dig my hands into Nox’s hoodie, relishing the warmth of the garment as a chill sweeps over me. I can’t believe Nox showered me. I wouldn’t have expected it from a man like him, but he was so gentle with me. It doesn’t fit at all with the darkness that lies in his eyes, a darkness I can tell he tries to keep buried.
These men all have demons. I’ve seen the pain men who have monsters in their souls are capable of inflicting. I’ve dated the devil before and come out with the scars to prove it, but I have my own demons that follow my heels, my own secrets that have the power to destroy everything they touch.
If I’m being honest with myself, what I saw in Nox’s eyes terrified me. Want, need, desire. It’s been a long time since I saw those feelings directed at me. Even worse, I share those feelings, and I’m terrified of what it means. There’s also a part of me that wants to feel again, that wants to no longer be the broken girl who is scared of letting someone get too close. There’s a part of me who wants to just throw caution to the wind and take what I want for a change—even if it’s a complication.
I rake my fingers through my damp hair, wincing at the pain across my chest, neck and head, and try to slow my racing mind. Today, I could have died. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, but I need to keep my head on straight. Breaking down in the bathroom was a weakness I can’t afford, but I’m exhausted, the adrenaline dump leaving me a trembling mess. I probably should sleep, but even the thought of closing my eyes makes my stomach turn. Every time I do, I see the bullet going into Hank’s head. Unpleasantness swamps my belly at the memory.
Sleep isn’t a good idea. Aside from the waking nightmares I’m experiencing, I need to be alert, ready for anything. I need to get the hell gone before the Sons
discover Hank was an upstanding member of society, yet my history is spotty and filled with holes. Panic makes my thoughts difficult to grasp hold of, makes it hard to formulate a plan.
I took a hell of a hit against the airbag and my chest feels like one solid bruise. Every time I move my arms, a shot of pain is fired across my upper torso. I also have a blinding headache that is not helping with thinking. Whizz had muttered something about potential concussion, but I hadn’t really been listening to the club’s doctor to know if I should be worried about it.
My eyes feel heavy, and my brain is throbbing. I lie back on the pillows, holding my hand against my skull as if I can block out the pain and I blink up at the ceiling. The pounding in my head gets worse, so I close my eyes to stave off the pain and feel myself drifting.
I jolt awake at the sound of a bang. Fuck. I fell asleep. I sit up so fast the room rolls around me and it takes me a moment to regain my equilibrium. As soon as everything stills, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my heart thumping in my chest and panic digging its icy claws into my spine.
Listening, I don’t hear the noise again, but I grab a lamp from the bedside table. It’s not much of a weapon, but it’ll do in a pinch. A fist bangs off the wood and I jump out of my skin until a voice says, “Lucy, it’s Whizz. You in there?”
It’s not quite relief that floods me, but it’s something close. I place the lamp back on the table and move to the door, opening it to see the club’s doc.
He peers at me clinically. “You look like shit.”
I snort at his words. “Some bedside manner you’ve got there, Whizz.”
I keep my tone light, something I really am not feeling. It’s just another mask to hide behind.
“You rattled your brain in that accident. I need to check nothing has come loose.”
He directs me back to the bed and orders me to sit, which I do. Then he shines his little light in my eyes again. I wince, the brightness not helping my headache.