Brute's Strength: Riot MC Biloxi #2

by Karen Renee

  He broke the kiss, his arms squeezing me tight to his chest as he rested his chin on top of my head.

  Suddenly, I felt suffocated, claustrophobic even. I needed space, needed it now. With effort, I disentangled my legs from his and turned away. At first he held tight, but then he let me go. I curled into a ball facing the windows.

  “Don’t be like that, Zee.”

  I hated hearing him call me that now.

  He blew out a sigh, and his arms wrapped around me, one slanted down across my belly with his hand resting above my hip bone at the curve of my waist while the other came across me high and he cupped my breast in his hand.

  “I can’t say those words. Not to anybody, which includes Dad and Mike. They know I love them, but I stopped saying the words ages ago. But, baby, it’s too soon. I’m thinkin’ you knew that.”

  ‘Can’t’ and ‘won’t’ were two sides of the same coin in my book. But he also could say other words to indicate where he was at –even if it wasn’t a mirror image of my feelings for him.

  Brute

  DAD’S WORDS BLARED in his mind. ‘You win this fight, love is the reward.’

  What had he done to win her love? Not a damn thing, seeing as nothing had changed. He’d brought a shit-ton of trouble to her doorstep. Rather than push him away, she opened her arms, introduced him to her daughter, and told him she loved him.

  He hadn’t lied. Those were words he couldn’t say, even to the people he loved the most.

  Yet, he couldn’t stand the idea of her curling up in the fetal position, away from him, and retreating into her own thoughts. That was why he had to hold her as close as he could.

  Her hands pushed against his arms. “Forget it, Brute. You’re right. I knew it was too soon, and I shouldn’t have said it. So, let’s forget about it.”

  Thing was, he didn’t want to forget about it. Those words pierced him deep. He’d say they pierced his heart, but he’d determined a long time ago he didn’t have one.

  He leaned up so he could turn her around. She fought him at first, but then the fight left her. That gave him a bad feeling, but he situated them both so he was on his back and she was on top of him. Fully on top of him.

  He stared into her eyes, or he tried. She looked anywhere but at him. Nothing for it, he cupped her cheeks. “Look at me, Zee.”

  She did. Between the pursed lips and empty eyes, he realized the depth of pain she felt. His stomach dropped.

  “I can’t forget about that. Hell, I’ll never forget about that. I feel ten fucking feet tall, knowing you love me. I may not understand why,” he noticed her eyes flare at those words, but he powered through. “But it’s not something I’m going to sweep aside.”

  “Right,” she whispered.

  “I can’t say it. There’s no rhyme or reason. It isn’t you—”

  “Save it. I don’t want to hear ‘it isn’t you, it’s me.’ Like I said... no. Like you said, it’s too soon. It’s late, and we’ve both had long days.”

  He felt helpless, but said the first thing to come to his mind. “Kiss me. Please?”

  She dropped her lips toward his. The light she shined on him had gone out, and he felt hollow and empty.

  He wrapped his hand in her hair and used the other to stroke her cheekbone, halting her progress. “I haven’t spoken to my mother in twenty years. The last thing I said to her were those words. It’s fucked, but I don’t say them. Ever.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. You can’t even tell your father you love him because you’re essentially superstitious?”

  He sighed, turning his head away. He hadn’t told anyone this, not even Har. And he didn’t know why he was about to tell her.

  “I had so much anger at Mom. Her leaving and not telling me why. The way she just didn’t give a damn about me. Well, rather than tell me I wasn’t the first or last kid to be abandoned by my mom, Dad insisted I start working out.”

  Her head moved in the smallest of nods.

  “No, babe. I was twelve, and he ran me like he was a goddamn drill sergeant. I couldn’t lift that tractor tire, and he kept at me. Made me funnel that anger toward a goal.” He blew out a breath. “You’ve seen Dad. He is not stacked like I am, but I wouldn’t be built like a brute if it hadn’t been for him.”

  She didn’t draw away from him, but the light in her eyes still hadn’t sparked. The fact she said anything to him gave him hope though.

  “I’m not your mother. Your father certainly isn’t your mother. It says more about her, that she can give up the love of her child and hasn’t been in touch. That isn’t your fault. You need to get over your fear.”

  She touched her lips to his. He tried to take it further, but she backed away. “Good night, Brute.”

  HE HADN’T APPRECIATED how well he’d slept next to Kenzie in the past. Not until that night, when he dozed off only to wake up in a cold sweat. The third time it happened, he went to the bathroom. As he wandered back to her bed, he saw it was quarter to four in the morning.

  His eyes had adjusted to the dark, he found his pants, and quietly pulled them on.

  “You’re leaving?” Kenzie croaked.

  “Not sleepin’. Means you’re probably not sleepin’. Figure it’s better—”

  She turned on her bedside lamp and he squinted. He watched her reach under her pillow and pull out her satin nightie. She got out of the bed, pulled on the nightie, and turned around.

  Her eyes blazed at him. “You did not strike me as a runner.”

  “Not running. We’re both—”

  She leaned forward. “Tired! Whatever, Vaillant! I fucked up and told you how I was feeling because you told me not to bottle shit up and to always be honest with you. Is that a one-way street now?”

  “Ken—”

  She shook her head. “I hear the placating tone coming my way, and I call bullshit. Seriously, Sam. I gotta be honest with you always, but that courtesy doesn’t extend my way?”

  His head turned marginally. She’d turned shit around on him, and he didn’t like it. “What are we fighting about?”

  “The double standard, Brute. You don’t have to say you love me, but you don’t feel anything for me?” she asked, throwing an arm out. She shook her head again, and stalked toward the bathroom. “I shouldn’t ask that. Besides, you’re right. It’s probably better if you go. Neither one of us is sleeping, not that I’m likely to sleep now, but have it your way. I’ll lock the front door in five minutes.”

  She closed the door to the bathroom, and he heard the lock click. The hollowness in his stomach wasn’t hollow anymore. It burned with a pain he hadn’t felt in a long damn time. He sat on her bed, put his elbows to his knees, hunched over, and held his head in his hands. She was right, he’d given her a double standard.

  What the hell was he supposed to do?

  He wouldn’t leave her like this, that much he knew. Whether he could make it right with her, remained to be seen.

  Waiting for her to come out of the bathroom felt like an eternity.

  He turned his head when she opened the door and felt a gut punch. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. That was his fault.

  With his eyes on hers, he sat up straight and held a hand out to her. She twisted her lips, but put her hand in his while she slowly made her way to him. He didn’t want her sitting next to him, so he let go of her hand and took her by the hips. She gasped, but her legs spread as he put her on his lap so they were chest-to-chest and face-to-face.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Her hands wrapped around his neck. “What for?”

  His forefinger traced around her eye. “This. I never want to make you cry, Zee. And, I’m sorry for giving you a double standard.”

  Her brows went up even as her chin dipped. She kept quiet.

  “I have feelings for you. More damn feelings than I’ve had for a woman in a helluva a long time.”

  He heard and felt her shuddering breath. “That goes both ways,” she whi
spered.

  With his forehead against hers, he asked, “You have feelings for a woman, too?”

  Her fingers gave his neck a playful squeeze. “No. I have—”

  “I got that when you laid the honesty on me, babe. Scares the hell out of me because I haven’t done anything to deserve that.”

  She leaned back, her hands slipping to his shoulders. “‘Haven’t done anything’?” Her laugh sounded more like a cackle. “You turned my frozen pizza debacle into the funniest thing to happen in my kitchen in over a year. You not only gave me a new faucet, you put the damn thing in yourself. You gave my daughter her first motorcycle ride while stressing the importance of safety without hitting her over the head about it, which I totally would have done. And, you’re smart enough to know I’d need that on video, because you’ve stood up more to Caleb in three weeks than I’ve managed to in three... umf!”

  She ended on an exclamation because he’d twisted and planted her on the bed, on her back.

  “Shut up,” he growled.

  Defiance lit her eyes. “No! Since you can’t see what an upstanding, fabulous man you are, then I’m going to spell it out for you.”

  His eyes widened. “Fine. I’ll shut you up.”

  “You will—”

  He intended to kiss her quiet, but her fingernails skidded down his back and he lost all control. While he yanked at her nightie, she shoved at his jeans. His need to get inside her overwhelmed him. His hips lifted so she could push his pants down. He gave up on the nightie and wrenched her panties off her.

  In a flash, he lined up his cock with her sweet heat and pushed inside.

  She tore her lips from his. “Yes. Fuck me, Brute. Hard!”

  “No. Gentle,” he breathed on an outward glide.

  “Hard,” she argued.

  He slid inside nice and easy, and her eyes narrowed.

  “I might not be able to say what you want to hear, but I’ll show you instead.”

  She was always beautiful, but seeing the anger and her argument fade away increased her beauty by tenfold. Her hand rubbed his cheek, her thumb swiping under his eyes. “Then show me.”

  Show her, he did.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We’re Lucky to Have Him

  Kenzie

  Blinding sunlight woke me and I jerked into a sitting position. The time on the alarm clock read ten-twenty-two. I gasped, wondering why the alarm didn’t go off. Then, I remembered I didn’t have to work today since I’d worked last weekend.

  I dropped back to the bed like a bag of potatoes. My head turned to Brute. I wasn’t surprised to see his eyes open.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Babe. The way you sat up, you could have woke the dead. Everything all right?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I never sleep until ten in the morning, and my first thought was that I was late for work.”

  Part of me wondered why I slept so late, and then our middle-of-the-night argument came back to me. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t spoken to his mother in twenty years. I had a hard time not talking to Aubrey every twenty hours, so going twenty years... No.

  Our slow but thorough lovemaking after the argument replayed in my mind and my lips tipped up. It was nice that he could show me how he felt, but his inability to say how he felt still rankled.

  He slung an arm over my waist to draw me close to him. “Sleep, babe. You need it.”

  I chuckled. “What I need and what I get are often two different things, Vaillant.”

  He groaned. “Try anyway.”

  As I turned to my side, he gave me a squeeze.

  “Turn my way, Zee.”

  I sighed, but did as he asked.

  “This is not the way to get me to sleep.”

  His eyes were closed, but he grinned. “Never know if you don’t zip your lips.”

  My legs fidgeted, but he shifted and I rested my leg on his.

  On a groan, he said, “Better.”

  The room was far too bright for me to find sleep. My eyes traced his tattoos. I would never get tired of looking at that phoenix. Then my eyes moved up to his face. His stubble was more pronounced around his plump lips.

  Lips which curled into a devilish smirk.

  “You’re not sleeping, are you?”

  I glared at him as he peeled one eye open. “No. It’s brighter than the sun in here.”

  He rolled away with a groan. “Fine. Let’s go get breakfast.”

  “I could make us—”

  “Nope,” he said, sitting up. “Takin’ you out on the back of my bike and we’ll find a place to eat. Let’s roll.”

  I LOCKED THE FRONT door wondering where Brute planned to take me. I turned toward him saying, “All right, let’s... You’ve got to be kidding me,” I ended in a whisper.

  My eyes were aimed at the carport on the side of the house. Truman Strickland was ten feet away and stalking forward, with a gun pointed at us.

  Thank God, Aubrey’s with Caleb, was my first thought.

  My second thought was how quickly could I unlock my phone and dial 911?

  Brute turned his body toward Strickland.

  After that, everything blurred. Gunshots rent the air. Brute fell backward into my yard. Before I could get my phone free of my purse, a searing pain bloomed in my side. I hit the ground, realizing I’d been shot.

  I leaned up on a forearm, hissing with the pain in my side. Strickland was scuttling down my drive, but Mr. Fields, my next-door neighbor had run out of his house and just avoided colliding headlong with him.

  Strickland brandished the gun at Mr. Fields and ran to a car parked two doors down.

  I turned to Brute and saw a circle of blood, which was spreading rapidly.

  Before I could open my mouth to yell for help, Mr. Fields was there.

  “Mary’s coming with a phone—”

  “Mine’s in my purse,” I said, reaching for it, but the movement caused blinding pain, and I fell to my back.

  When I opened my eyes, the profile of an EMT crowded my vision as he crouched over me.

  I heard Mr. Fields talking. “I’m sorry officer, I don’t know who the man was. Never had someone wave a gun in my face before.”

  “Truman Strickland,” I said in a voice I didn’t recognize.

  The EMT looked at me. “Good. You’re conscious. Is that your friend’s name? Truman?”

  “No. The shooter was Truman Strickland.” I turned my face toward Brute. “He’s Sam Vaillant, Junior, or Brute to his MC brothers.”

  No sooner had I shared Brute’s name, than the other medics wheeled him away to an ambulance.

  My wide eyes caught the EMT’s. “Was he...” I shook my head. “Is he breathing? Is he going to be—”

  At my other side, an African-American woman crouched down. “He’s alive. Has a heartbeat, and if they get him into the trauma unit without him losing any more blood, he’s got a decent chance. But, prayers are always good at a time like this.”

  They moved me to a stretcher and loaded me into a different ambulance. I closed my eyes to say a silent prayer, and the next thing I knew I was inside an emergency room bay.

  Looking down, I noticed my clothes were gone. A hospital gown covered me. Patting my side, I noticed an I.V. in the back of my hand. I could feel bandages on my side.

  A nurse stopped mid-stride outside my curtained alcove. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll let Dr. Sellars know.”

  “Do you know what happened to the man who came in before me?” I croaked out my question.

  Her head cocked to the side. “A man who came in before you? Ma’am, you came in alone.”

  I blinked. “I know. There was an ambulance that left before mine. My... boyfriend was in it. He was shot worse than me.”

  Her chin dipped. “All gunshots wounds are serious, but I’ll see what I can find out for you.”

  Another nurse brought my purse to me, but since Mr. Fields had used my phone to call 911, my cell wasn’t inside it. The position
of my bed gave me a clear view of the clock.

  Lydia would be leaving the branch in another twenty minutes. Luckily, a hospital phone was within reach of my bed. It also didn’t hurt that I had memorized the branch mainline.

  “First Bank of Biloxi, this is Lydia.”

  “Hi, it’s Kenzie,” I said.

  “What? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “That’s because I was shot.”

  “You were what?” she yelled.

  “It’s a long story, but I need your help.”

  “No kidding. Whatever you need, I’ll do it, Kenzie.”

  By the time I was done telling Lydia what I needed her to do for me, a tall woman in a white coat stood at the foot of my bed. She had auburn hair which was pulled back in a French twist, and her demeanor was all business.

  She introduced herself as Dr. Sellars and placed a packet of papers on the bedside table. “You’re a very lucky woman, Kenzie. The wound you sustained grazed the side of your abdomen. You lost some blood, but not enough to require a transfusion. However, you still need to take it easy and get plenty of fluids and rest.”

  I nodded. “Do you know—”

  “Nurse Bayall mentioned you were asking about your boyfriend. However, you’re the only gunshot wound we’ve had today. If his wound was life-threatening, he was likely taken to Merit Health.”

  “Right,” I whispered.

  She tapped the papers. “This packet includes pain pill and antibiotic prescriptions, plus instructions on how to dress your bandage. A nurse will be in to remove your I.V. After that, if you have someone to pick you up, you’re free to leave—”

  Rapid clacking of high heels sounded before Lydia poked her head around the corner. “Kenzie! Holy cow! Are you okay?”

  I smiled. “Yes. Calm down, Lydia.”

  “Take care, Kenzie,” Dr. Sellars said before she left.

  Lydia sidled up to me. “Where is your brute of a man? He is not going—”

  I fought my tears. “He was shot too, Lyd.”

  For a second time, I’d rendered her speechless. And my timing couldn’t have been better since two police officers sauntered into my area. One looked to be in his thirties, while his partner appeared to be pushing fifty. The young partner had dark, wavy hair, hazel eyes, and a consoling look on his face. I noticed Lydia’s gaze went right to his left hand, where there wasn’t a wedding band.