by Addison Jane
There should be some kind of unwritten rule that says never trust a biker bitch who won’t use the word fuck. Because that shit’s fucking weird.
“Right, then you tell me how it’s not wrong for someone like Rip and Drake’s mom to be forced into a relationship with a man that she never chose for herself. That she wasn’t given an option to even choose.”
“Don’t you dare,” Lauren hissed, taking a step forward.
But I did.
I did dare.
I didn’t care if I was hurting her precious feelings or destroying the fantasy of her perfect world where Rip was the king and she was his queen.
This was the real world, not the club world, not her dreams.
The real world where forcing someone to love another person is fucking ridiculous and cruel.
“You tell me how it’s not wrong for a woman to feel like there’s no escape. Or for her to be treated like she’s nothing more than a purebred bitch who, just thrown with some high-profile club member, is expected to make fucking childre—”
“Stop!” she snapped, her face red with anger but tears falling from her lashes.
I stepped back, the anger radiating off her was enough to heat the air around us, and while I wasn’t afraid to stand up and back up what I believed in if she came at me swinging, I also didn’t want to disrespect Huntsman and the club by getting in a physical fight with a member’s daughter—if I didn’t have to.
“Just keep your hands off Ripley.”
I lifted my chin, unable to keep quiet and let this chick think she held some kind of power over me. “He seems to be the one who can’t keep his hands off me, so maybe you should have words with him.” It was a cheap shot, but I never said I was above hitting below the belt when someone decided to come at me swinging.
“You wh—”
“That’s enough,” a harsh voice snapped. Lauren started to back away, her eyes narrowed on me so intensely I was surprised lasers weren’t shooting out of them. “And don’t you even think of leaving because you and I are about to have fucking words.”
I didn’t even bother to look toward Ripley as he came toward us, my eyes were glued to this girl who seemed so brainwashed, so unable to see anything other than what she’d been told.
I didn’t understand that.
This was the same girl who’d just returned from college where she’d graduated one of the top in her class—so I’d heard her boasting to some of the boys. If anything, shouldn’t that experience have been one where she got to really explore the world around us? Use our own minds to make our own decisions?
Meyah said that they didn’t do this kind of shit anymore, forcing one member to marry another. She said Huntsman had stopped this weird practice with a very heavy ‘hell no’ but yet, Lauren seemed so determined to convince me that this was how things worked. That she was meant to be for Ripley, and that they were basically betrothed.
Ripley wandered toward us, padding quietly along the wooden floor. He was wearing a little more clothing than I left him in, with a white shirt on over a pair of denim jeans—which I noticed were undone and showing a little more than I think he intended.
I licked my lips and tried to look away, unable to keep from smiling.
Just when I thought he was about to stand there and lose his shit, he stepped inside my room and pressed his lips to my forehead, his scratchy bristles making me shudder as they tickled my skin. “Go have your shower, I’ll be back in a little bit,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear him before he pulled back.
As much as I hated the fact that he was about to walk away with her, I didn’t hate it because I was jealous, I hated it because in her mind I would be. Lauren was sweet, she was stylish, she was beautiful, but she was also a childhood friend, and Ripley was adamant that was where she would stay.
“We need to talk,” he ordered as he grabbed her arm and led her back to the bedroom where she’d been staying.
She smiled, flicking a satisfied grin over her shoulder at me before flicking her head around.
She thought she’d won. Clearly.
But she wasn’t even in the game.
And neither was I.
Until now.
RIPLEY
When Dakota’s bedroom door closed, I turned to Lauren with narrowed eyes. She had a smile on her face, and her body had relaxed considerably. She thought this battle was done and that she’d won, but really, I was about to lose my shit if she didn’t tell me what the fuck was going on with her.
I didn’t know this girl.
She was mean and bitchy, and ever since we’d gotten back, she’d been cruel to any girl who came near me like she was my personal bodyguard.
I was done.
“We need to talk,” I barked, spinning on my heel and heading back to my bedroom. I held the door open and slammed it shut behind her, making her jump. “What was that?”
“With Dakota?” she asked, acting like she had no idea what had just happened. She shrugged. “You know how protective I can get about the club. You remember how many fights I used to get into at school… kids thinking they knew us, judging us. I don’t like people thinking they know who we are or how things work. They’re outsiders, they’re judgmental.”
This was the Lauren I felt like I knew. She was right, we got into a lot of shit when we were at school, all the club kids did, because we were picked on, labeled as outcasts, and treated as such. The thing was though, where kids who got bullied were often shy and kept to themselves or would hideaway, we weren’t those kids. We’d grown up around men and women who were proud and who were willing to fight for who they were.
So, we fought back.
And if one of us fought.
So, did the others.
“Dakota may not be from the club, but she’s never done one fucking thing to disrespect it. She’s earned the right to be around the club, and she’s earned the respect she deserves from club members.”
Lauren’s casual attitude soon dropped. “This is ludicrous, Ripley, didn’t you hear her! She was talking about your mom. She was calling the women in the club bitches and comparing them to dogs.”
“Stop!” I growled, and she sucked in a harsh breath. She was taking what Dakota had said and twisting it out of context. I’d heard her. She wasn’t trying to talk down on the club, she was trying to get Lauren to see that those ways weren’t okay, and I was right behind her.
We both just stared at each other for a moment. I could instantly see the hurt in her eyes.
I’d never spoken to her with anything less than the respect she deserved. We were friends, and I’d never fucking needed to. But it seemed like she was suddenly in my fucking face.
A lot of the club members had decided to come down with us last weekend. Not just because they heard there was trouble, but because any excuse for a blowout. Yet, for some reason, when they’d mostly headed home almost a week ago, she’d decided to stay.
I threw my head back and squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Honestly, Lauren, why are you still here?”
My body was still tingling.
I was agitated.
My gun was fucking loaded, and Lauren had quickly become the target.
“Now you’re gonna be quiet?” I demanded when she still wouldn’t answer. I threw my hands up in the air, ready to lose my shit.
“I just wanted to spend time with you, okay?” she finally hissed, the girl who I didn’t know once again showing her damned face. “But instead of us hanging out, I’m pushed to the side to make way for this weird… crush bullshit you have on Dakota.”
The heat in me ignited, and I took a step toward her, my body blazing. “You want to say that again?”
She just laughed, if anyone was immune to my shitty temper it was her. “Sure. Let’s rub the vinegar in that wound until it really starts to burn,” she fired back sarcastically. “I was talking about this fucking obsession that you have with Dakota. And how you pretend like you hate he
r, and that she drives you loopy, and how you—”
“Enough!” I growl, slamming my palm against the wall.
Yes, Dakota was a pain in my ass on a good day. But I was right there, pushing the buttons to make her that way because now I realized just how much I love to see the fire and the spark in her eyes.
She didn’t make shit easy for me, and I didn’t want her too. Dakota challenged me. She didn’t let me get away with being a fucking bastard, and she was quite happy to call me out on my shit if I was. She was also respectful, genuine, honest, and above all else, as I was realizing, she knew my pain and she knew it personally, which meant I didn’t feel like I had to hide it or be a different person for her.
Fuck.
“You know it’s true,” she screamed back, stepping more into the room and walking straight toward me. “I’ve been here this whole time, Ripley. Since we were fucking kids, I’ve stood beside you, behind you, and now I’m right here before you trying to tell you that I goddamn care about you, and that I want to be your Old Lady.”
I reached over to the bed grabbing hold of my backpack—the closest thing I could find—and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall on the other side with a hard crack and a thud before falling to the ground.
She stood her ground, I wouldn’t expect anything less from a girl who grew up around a clubhouse full of temperamental bikers. The daughters of club members always either went one way or the other. They either became old ladies, or they walked away and only visited when necessary. I always thought Lauren would be the latter.
Yet, here she was, throwing her feelings out there like she was casting a fishing rod and just hoping by the grace of God that I would jump right on the end. There were just a few flaws with this, though. One was the fact that seeing her as anything other than maybe a sister, was almost fucking impossible for me. She was beautiful, fucking stunning, but she didn’t get my dick hard. That was an unfortunate but simple truth. I just couldn’t imagine being anything other than what we were.
I was trying to keep my breathing slow and even, but there was a still a fire burning through my veins. “What’s going on with you? What the hell happened in the last few months for you to just stroll back home ready to what? Settle down?”
Lauren started to laugh the second the words came out of my mouth, and she threw her hands up in defeat. “Yeah, great work. Turn this all on me. Ignore all the rest, Ripley. Hide from your fucking problems because that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes, the burning beneath my skin growing hotter. “I’m gonna pretend like you aren’t being a bitch right now.” She knew fucking better, friends or not, she didn’t get to talk down to me. Turned out, she didn’t get that fucking memo, though.
“Pretend is what you’re good at, though, right? Pretending like you aren’t being constantly haunted by memories of your mom. Pretending like you’re fucking perfect, and just glaring angrily at people to try and keep them away.”
It only took me two steps to get to where she was standing. She stumbled backward, her back pressed hard against the wall as I crowded her. One of my hands pinned next to her head while the other gripped her jaw tightly.
Lauren stared at me, panic in her eyes. She thought she knew me, and I was sure she knew this side of me well, it had just never been pointed at her.
“I don’t give a shit who you are, whether we were friends once, whether your father is a fucking member of my club,” I whispered, leaning in close so she could hear every single word and syllable that came out of my fucking mouth. “I don’t give a flying fuck whether you know things about me, about my past, that other people don’t. You keep your goddamn mouth shut.”
She swallowed tightly as I pressed my body further forward, tightening my hand just slightly on her jaw and neck. “I know you, Rip.”
I slammed my palm on the wall right beside her head and she jumped. “You don’t fucking know me at all. If you knew me, you’d know that playing these little games wasn’t the way to get me on your side, it was the way to piss me the fuck off.” I pulled back my body, releasing her entirely and taking a few steps away. I needed distance between us. “Get out.”
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes grew wide, but the surprise only lasted a few seconds before she found her fight again, and she stood taller, lifting her chin. “This isn’t your club. Yet, you’re here, acting like you belong here, not at home with your brothers.”
The guilt rose.
That was the path she chose.
I shook my head. “My brothers know exactly where I am. And so does my president. I’m here for a reason, but you wouldn’t know that because you seem to have forgotten your fucking place. Which is… member’s daughter. Not… Old Lady. Not… patched member. So not privy to that information.”
She cleared her throat and stood a little taller, trying one more time. “We don’t belong here.”
“Jesus Christ, you sound like that damn cop that’s trying to get rid of the club,” I roared, and she gasped. If there were anything I could have said that would have hurt her the most, it was comparing her to a cop with a vendetta against the club. “We belong wherever we decided is home. And whether that’s at the clubhouse or on the fucking road, I don’t give a shit. I would have thought you knew that.”
“Ripley—”
“Just get the hell out. Go home, Lauren. Go back to Vegas.”
“Rip… come o—”
“Get. Out!” I roared, barely able to control the need to pick her up and throw her out the goddamn door.
Tears fell from her eyes, and as much as I cared about her, this version of the girl I knew was different, and I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit that she left my room sobbing.
I was an asshole.
I knew this.
She knew this.
And she still tried to fuck with me.
I need a fucking drink.
RIPLEY
Thankfully, it was only a couple of days before we heard back from the owners of the theater, and they were eager to sell. It was a young woman with several small kids who had recently inherited it from a grandparent who’d passed away. And she needed the money more than she needed a run-down old theater.
The project was going ahead, but Drake had brought in a real estate agent who specialized in these kinds of sales to go through the building with us and note down things which would need repairing and things that weren’t up to code, so we could try and negotiate a lower price.
We didn’t want to be unfair and try and strip it out from under some single mother, but we also wanted to be able to offset some of the costs of doing the place up.
I was taking pictures of the details and joinery so I could have a practice and see how long it would take me to replicate.
“Why are you smiling so fucking hard?” Drake asked from behind me.
I spun around and raised my eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about, weirdo. I’m taking pictures of a fucking ceiling and trying not to get dust and shit in my eyes. Do you need your eyes checked?” I shone my little flashlight at him, hitting him right in the eyes. “Old age finally getting to you?”
He blocked the light with the palm of his hand, blinking several times before narrowing his gaze at me again. “You were fucking smiling, asshole.”
Maybe I was, I actually had no idea, so I chose to just ignore him.
“I noticed Dakota’s smiling a lot, too.”
I scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. “You need to work on your subtlety, brother.”
“Maybe I wasn’t going for subtle. But good to know the two of you finally gave in to the sexual tension you both were constantly making us live with when you were in the same vicinity.” The teasing in his tone had me turning around again and folding my arms across my chest. My big brother just grinned, leaning back on the old-style bar casual as fuck like he hadn’t just thrown something important out there.
“You’re full of shit.”
He laughed. “Meyah’s gonna be excited when she realizes her and Dakota are gonna be related.”
“Don’t you dare fucking say anything to Meyah,” I threatened.
He zipped his lips across and tossed an invisible key over his shoulder before his face became more serious. “This more than just a fuck and run?”
“I thought that mouth was zipped,” I jested, raising my brows and waiting a few beats before I answered. “I ain’t running.”
“That’s good to hear br—”
Bang.
The loud noise vibrated through the walls and floor. The entire group of us spun toward the huge double doors at the front of the theater. My hand instinctively moved to my gun that was holstered at my hip, my eyes searching the room for Meyah and Dakota but realizing quickly they must have still been out the back playing in the closet of old theater costumes they’d found.
“Everyone freeze,” came the very distinctive order as several police officers moved through the now open entrance, gun in hand like they were coming in for a fucking raid or something.
The real estate agent was frozen to the spot looking like he could pee his pants at any moment as he slowly lifted his hands into the air.
“Can I help you, officer?” Shake asked, stepping forward, a couple of his men right behind him and his body tense.
I kept still, my hand tight around my gun, but confused has fucking hell about what was happening. I looked over at Drake who was staying quiet and letting Shake deal with the issue. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides letting me know he wasn’t happy about this fucking intrusion and these guys coming in here like this.
Drake had a short fuse when it came to cops—or anyone for that matter—disrespecting his family. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen to step away from his part in the MC and run the business. It was, I guess, his way of proving all the assholes wrong who painted us as stupid fucking bikers who didn’t have an education and were all dumb.