by Jessica Ames
He scrapes my hair into his fist, giving a slight tug that stings my scalp. I moan against his lips as my belly dips. The way he takes over makes my legs shake. I shouldn’t like it. I’ve never had control over any aspect of my life—not until I left Isaac and met Sasha—but Nox is different to Isaac. He wants to show me pleasure through control; Isaac did it to hurt me.
I can see the differences in the two men as clear as day. If I told Nox to stop right now, he would. Isaac never did. He took what he wanted whether I wanted it or not.
But just because I can see the differences in the two men, doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of letting Nox in. Isaac didn’t start off as the devil. He slipped into that role over time, slowly peeling back my layers and finding my weaknesses to use against me. Will Nox be the same?
Sasha trusts these men, and I trust her, but opening myself up again, letting my walls down is a petrifying thought—and I’m not sure I’m ready to go there yet.
Itchy fear makes me pull back, and I hate myself for tearing my lips from his. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. His eyes blaze with heat as he takes me in, his passion, his desire shining from them. The intensity makes me tremble. I have no doubt Nox would take more from me, but I’m not in a position to offer anything right now. Not when I’m making exit plans.
He’s breathless as his forehead presses to mine, his hands cupping my jaw. I’m gasping for air too, and my lips feel swollen, deliciously so.
“I’ll keep you safe, Lucy.”
The promise in his voice should assure me, but it turns my veins to ice. He shouldn’t be promising that. He shouldn’t be thinking of me as some kind of damsel who needs saving. Like Isaac, I’m the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Everything about me is fake and I hate myself for the choices I’ve made over the years. I should have told Sasha the truth. She bared her soul to me about her painful past, about Sin raping her, about leaving Rav. I should have told her my secrets too, but I’d held onto them for so long I couldn’t open up to anyone—even her. There was a part of me that was scared she’d leave too. I’d been on my own, not trusting anyone for months. It was a relief to find someone.
I also thought I was finally safe.
The more time that passed without Isaac or his men turning up, the more I let that false sense of security dig under my skin. I believed it. I thought he had finally let me go. I should have known better. The master doesn’t let the dog have its freedom. He might let it off its leash for a short time, but the dog always comes back when its owner calls. Isaac let me have my freedom, but now, his patience is done.
Leon made it clear Isaac won’t stop until I’m home, and I’ll die before I go back there.
“You can’t promise that,” I tell him, my voice soft.
He kisses me again and I should pull away, but I can’t. I’m as enthralled by him as he is by me. The depth of feelings I have are dangerous. They show too much weakness, let too much emotion in. I can’t let it happen.
I pull back a little, hating myself for it. “I don’t need saving.”
His lips quirk. “I never thought you did.”
“You have no idea what’s going on here.” The urge to break down and bare my soul is overwhelming. I want to desperately, but I hold my tongue. The truth could put me in greater danger.
“I’ve seen this same scenario a hundred times, Lucy. Suits dabbling in a world they don’t understand, thinking their ivory towers will protect them from men like me.”
He’s talking about Hank. How easily he bought my lies that he was the target.
I should come clean, but instead I ask, “Men like you?”
He grins a little lopsided smile. “You know who I am, what I am.”
I do know who he is. He’s danger wrapped in leather and denim packaging. It’s precisely why I should stay the hell away from him. Going from Isaac to Nox would be like jumping out of the fire into the frying pan. I’ll still get burnt.
“What will you do if you can’t find anything out about Hank?”
“We’ll find it, even if we have to dig into the deepest, darkest holes that fucker has.”
They won’t, because there’s nothing to find. Guilt stabs my heart. My lies taste sour on my tongue, and I wonder what kind of person I am that I can sully a good man’s memory.
“But what if you can’t,” I press, needing to know what path the club might take if Hank continues to come up clean.
Nox rubs his hands up and down my arms in a way that soothes me. “We’ll figure it out. Those fuckers who shot at you won’t be free long.”
A hand claws around my heart at the venom in his voice. He’s serious and that worries me. He has no idea how dangerous Isaac’s men are. Leon had no fear about shooting an unarmed man in the head just to get to me. I doubt he’d flinch at killing Nox or any of the Untamed Sons.
“I don’t want you to get hurt for me.”
He snorts. “The only people getting hurt are the men who attacked you.” He dips his head and takes my mouth again. I let him, even as my brain screams at me to pull away. I can’t. I don’t want to. I want everything Nox is offering and more, even if it makes me selfish as fuck.
When he lets me go, I cling to his thick biceps, not wanting to release him.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I tell him, trying to regain some sense of the situation.
“We shouldn’t but we are.”
“Nox—”
“No, baby. You need to understand that now that I’ve had you, I’m not letting you go.”
No words could scare me more.
I’m saved from answering by his phone beeping. He pulls it out of his back pocket and curses.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Hank?”
“Club business.” What the hell that means, I don’t know. If it’s about Hank then it’s my business too.
He gives me a warm smile that is at odds with his dismissal.
Then Nox kisses me. When he pulls back, I see his need reflected in his eyes. It terrifies me.
“I’ll be back soon. There’ll be brothers around, but don’t leave the clubhouse.” He kisses me again, as if he can’t bear to leave without touching me one last time.
“Stay safe,” I tell him, fear gnawing at my belly at the thought he could be walking into the lion’s den.
He flashes me a cocky as fuck grin and says, “Always.”
Then he swaggers off, leaving me sitting alone, my heart hammering in my chest as I think about how much I’ve fucked this all up.
8
Nox
Lucy fills my thoughts as I head through the clubhouse’s maze of corridors. I can still taste her sweetness on my lips, can feel the way she melted against me. Her softness beneath a blanket of sass. I wanted to take her mouth all day long, but I can’t ignore a direct order from my president. Rav has shitty timing.
But his message had been sharp, to the point—get your arse to my office, now. That could mean anything from ‘we’re about to go to war’ to ‘there’s no coffee in the building’.
I pass Kyle coming out of the store room with a crate of beer. Kyle gives me a chin lift and continues towards the common room, carrying his load.
I remember being a wet behind the ears prospect, and the shit jobs I had to do to show my loyalty, to prove my obedience to my club. I might have grown up in the Untamed Sons, had a father who was a member before he wound up dead, but I still had to do my time.
Kyle is good, quiet as a fucking mouse, but lethal beneath that. His skin is as dark as the look in his eyes and he has a stack of demons lurking there for someone so young.
Like Zack, he was sponsored by Sin. Unlike Zack, he didn’t wind up dead helping that bastard. Daimon took over his sponsorship and has been mentoring the kid since Sin was killed by Rav.
I push inside Rav’s office, not bothering to knock and find him sitting at his desk. The rage clouding his face makes my synapses snap to alert.
“What’s going on?” I demand withou
t any preamble.
He raises his gaze to me and I see the darkness flashing through his eyes, the barely veiled control on the edge of fraying.
“Isaac Blackwood’s men have been seen in our territory.”
What the fuck? My lips curl into a snarl as Rav’s words spark rage which floods my veins. What the hell would that psycho be doing on our patch?
“When?” I grit out between my teeth as I slip onto the sofa pushed against the opposite wall to the desk, my hands clasping between my legs as my mind races. What would that cunt be doing on Sons land? He knows better than that. No one comes through our patch without permission. It’s an act of war.
“A couple of days ago, and then again this morning. It’s all over the fucking borough. His guys were spotted.”
Not surprising they were recognised. Isaac Blackwood is a well-known player to most crooks, probably to a lot of civilians too. He runs part of the East End of London, and he makes the Kray twins look like saints. He’s a mean motherfucker and he’s got a reputation that rivals the Sons. We sell him guns sometimes, occasionally coke, but mostly we stay the fuck out of his way, and he stays out of ours. Him being in our sphere is not a good sign.
“What the fuck’s he doing here?”
“Not a clue, but I want to find out if this fucker is planning a hostile takeover.”
I want to know this too. If he is, he’s going to find coming at us isn’t as easy as he thinks. We can handle our own shit, and if we can’t, the Sons has chapters across the UK that will wade in if we need them to. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but we’ll see what happens. Blackwood isn’t exactly a low-level thug. He’s the head of one of the main gangs in London.
“How do you want to handle it?” he asks me.
I’m newly patched in as VP, I have a lot to prove to Rav, to show him I can do what is necessary. So I don’t even hesitate when I say, “We send a message.”
That message will be saturated with blood. It’s the only message we know how to send.
It’s also necessary.
The Sons have to be seen as powerful. Any weakness opens us up to other gangs, other MCs trying to take what’s ours, pushing boundaries without a thought of the consequences.
That can’t happen.
We have people we need to keep safe, families that need our protection. Our enterprises, both legal and illegal, keep us in money. It’s not something any of us are looking to hand over to some gangster.
Rav nods. “Take Fury and Day and head over to Mike’s. He reported seeing these bastards, so maybe he’ll have a lead on where they were headed.” He leans forwards, fire sparking in his eyes. “These cunts think they can come onto my patch without my permission, they’re fucking crazy.”
They are, and we’ll show them how much that oversight will cost them.
I push up from the chair, wiping my hands down my jeans and nod at Rav, telling him without words that I understand what has to be done.
As I leave the room, I fire off a message to my brothers, telling them to meet me outside. Then I head to the parking area and my bike. I’m just pulling on my helmet when Fury and Daimon approach. They’re both evenly matched height wise, but Fury overshadows Daimon on bulk. The guy is built like a tank. There’s a reason he’s our sergeant-at-arms. He looks like a brick shit house and has an astonishing love of inflicting pain. Fury knows how to bleed a man in the most agonising ways. He’s inventive and creative.
“What’s going on?” Daimon asks as he moves to his bike, gearing up.
Fury does the same, his dark eyes trailing my face.
“Blackwood’s men have been seen in town.”
Fury’s brow draws down as he reaches for his bandana. “Fuckers,” he mutters and his hand strays to his left chest where I know he keeps one of his many knives. He’s probably itching to drag it out and play with it, but he carries on preparing to ride.
“Rav wants us to find them and find out what the fuck is going on.”
“Any leads?” I watch as Daimon fastens his chin strap.
“A last location. That’s it.”
I wait for my brothers to mount up, then hit the gas, the engine roaring as I tear out of the compound through the still-broken gates. Seeing the twisted metal makes my stomach fill with fire. Lucy had to suffer so much and that kills me.
I hate not knowing who these fuckers are who attacked her. The sooner I figure that out the safer I can keep her.
Getting attached, it ain’t me, but there’s something about this woman that has my sense going out of the fucking window. The first time I met her, I knew she was different. She sparked my interest. I’ve dealt with more than my share of bitches over the years—club bunnies just wanting to get your patch on their back, so they pander to your every whim, women looking for a walk on the wild side with a biker. I’ve given myself to both, but what I liked about Lucy was she stood up to me. She didn’t give a shit that I was a biker, that I’m part of a club with a reputation so dark hell would spit us back out. All she saw was the man beneath the kutte. That stirred my interest. She stirs my interest.
I lead my brothers across town, dodging through the traffic, avoiding the buses and taxis blocking the roads. The bandana covering my face keeps away most of the smog clogging the air.
As we near the location Rav gave me, I slow my bike, feeling my brothers behind me closing in. I stop at the edge of the kerb and peer at the bar, feeling my stomach clench with anger. Time to find out what Mike knows.
I throw my leg over the back of the bike, climbing off it as my brothers cut their engines and do the same. The quiet of the air without the rumble of the Harleys is unsettling. Everything about this feels unsettling, though I can’t put my finger on why. I take my helmet off and tug the bandana off my face.
Fury pulls a gun from the back of his jeans. His weapon of choice might be all sharp edges, but that doesn’t mean he won’t use a piece.
He checks it’s loaded before he slips it back where he pulled it from. Daimon does the same, his eyes trailing to mine. I see the thrill in his eyes, the excitement of getting some action. This is what we live for. This is why we’re perfect for this life. All of us get off on inflicting pain. Even me.
People think I’m not like the rest, with my easy smile and calm persona. I’m just better at hiding the deadly current that flows through my veins. The three of us stroll across the parking area and into the bar. The low hum of some generic rock song is playing as we scan the area around us. There are a few civilians scattered around the room, sitting at the round tables—mostly middle-aged men. The room itself is set up like an old log cabin, with wood panelled walls, brass light fittings and a huge hearth on one wall that currently isn’t lit. The smell of beer hangs in the air, mixing with the smell of something good cooking.
I’ve been here before, many times, to collect the cash Mike owes us for taking care of his business. He pays us to keep off our radar. If we weren’t on his payroll, we’d make his life a misery.
I lift my chin at Mike as he steps out of the back and watch his steps falter as he takes us in. I don’t blame his fear. The three of us make for a fearsome sight, standing there in our kuttes, eyes locked onto him.
“Mike, how’s it going?” Daimon says, pulling out his packet of cigarettes.
“There’s no smoking—”
Daimon peers at him through his shaggy dark hair and fires him a glacial glare. Mike’s mouth clamps shut.
“You have information for us,” I say, getting to the point quickly. I want this intel and I want it fast. We can’t have Blackwood’s men wandering around out there.
Mike swallows hard, his fingers running through his thinning hair. His thick paunch strains beneath his button-up shirt as he shifts.
“Come into the back.”
I don’t take my eyes off him as I say, “We’re good here.”
I don’t think Mike would lure us into a trap, but I prefer to keep my exits covered. Fury keeps watch, his eyes on the fro
nt door while Daimon watches the door to the staff area. Confident my brothers have my back, I slip onto a bar stool and interlace my fingers on the top of the counter.
“What do you know?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Leon Gregory and Elijah Elliot stopped by the bar yesterday.”
Outwardly, I keep my expression neutral. Inwardly, I wonder what the fuck Isaac Blackwood’s two best men are doing in our town.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Leon has that gnarly scar on his face. He’s hard to miss.”
He’s known as Smiler because of it. As far as I know, he got it in a knife fight a decade or so before he ended up in the employ of Isaac Blackwood. The scar faded to a silvery jagged line from the left side of his mouth nearly to his eye.
“What else?”
His eyes dart back and forth between us and I can practically smell the fear coming off him in waves.
“I’m loyal to the Sons, but these guys aren’t pussycats. I tell you I’m putting myself into shit.”
My mouth curls into a snarl and I lean across the bar, slamming his head against the wood. Blood explodes from his nose as he lets out a wail.
I sit myself back down, straightening my kutte.
“They ain’t here. We are. Start fucking talking. Where did they go?”
He shakes his head, trying to stem the flow of blood with a bar towel. It careens down his face, the coppery tang of it catching the back of my throat.
“I don’t know.” His voice sounds mushy as he speaks. “I did hear them talking, though. They’re hunting someone.”
A thought tickles at the back of my mind. They showed up in town the same time Hank got himself dead.
I don’t believe in coincidence, and I don’t like to jump to conclusions either, but them showing up in town at the same time as Hank gets shot in the fucking melon has me thinking. Had it been a professional hit? Did Hank piss off the wrong people?
“Tell me everything you know,” I tell Mike. “And don’t leave anything out.”