by Wilder, L.
I knew the twins were a handful, and seeing that Cass was eight and half months pregnant, she was feeling a little overwhelmed. When I walked into the room, Darby’s curly hair was an untamed mess, while Susana’s had already been brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. They were twins, but totally opposite in almost every way. Each was amazing in her own way, and I couldn’t adore them more. When I walked into their room, Darby was sitting on her bed, playing with the cat, and when she looked up at me with those dark brown eyes, it was hard to imagine she could ever do anything as mischievous as taking her sister’s dolls and mutilating them. Susana was sitting on the floor, pouting. When she spotted me, she immediately started with the waterworks.
Big, fat crocodile tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her chubby, little cheeks as she said, “Darby hurt my dollies.”
I closed the door and crossed my arms, giving them both my best ‘I’m not messing around’ pose. Sometimes, that’s all it took to get them to spill the beans on everything that had happened, but not today. They both just looked at me, giving me their most innocent expressions. Too fucking cute. I walked over to Darby’s bed and sat down as I asked, “Why do you think she did that, Susana?”
“Cause she’s mean,” she answered as she glared over at her sister.
“I am not!” Darby barked. “You’re the one who used up all of my smell-good soap in the bathtub last night. Momma gave that to me for my birthday.”
“Did not!”
“Yes, you did. It’s all gone,” Darby grumbled. “Daddy, I told her to stop using my stuff.”
I knew it had to be something. Darby was very picky about her things. Cass was always saying she was OCD about it, but I just thought it was cute. The kid took pride in her things, and I couldn’t blame her for getting upset that her sister had taken something that was hers without asking. Susana reminded me so much of my brother, Luke. He was always getting into my stuff, even though he knew I’d give him hell about it. I remember a day when I was bitchin’ to my dad about it, and he gave me a different take on things. He reminded me I was the older brother and Luke looked up to me. He thought my stuff was better, simply because it was mine. Although my girls were the same age, I figured it was a similar situation. I imagined Susana felt the same way about Darby’s stuff as Luke felt about mine. I looked over to Susana and asked, “Susana, why did you take her stuff without asking?”
“Cause I knew she’d say no, and I just wanted to use a little. It smells really good…” she admitted. She looked down at her hands and whispered, “I’m sorry, Darby.”
I turned my attention back to Darby and said, “You think you could accept your sister’s apology and give her back her dolls?”
Darby scrunched up her eyebrows as she said, “But Daddy… she used it all, it’s gone. It’s not fair.”
“It’s soap, Darby… we can get some more. Your sister likes your things. You should take it as a compliment.”
Her face softened as she looked over at her sister. She took a moment to think before she asked, “If I give you back your dolls, are you gonna leave my stuff alone?”
“Or at least ask before you use it,” I interjected.
“Yeah, I promise.”
“And Darby,” I warned. “Next time, tell me or your mother when something like this happens. Taking the heads off of your sister’s dolls was wrong.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy” she told me as she got up from her bed and went over to her dresser. She pulled out her bottom drawer and reached in underneath all of her clothes, retrieving her sister’s dolls.
“Susana, come here,” I told her as I motioned for her to come over and sit on the bed next to me. Once she was curled up next to me, I reached for Darby, pulling her next to us and said, “You know, it won’t be long before you brother gets here. You’ve got a big job ahead of you.”
“What kind of job?” Darby asked.
“You’ve got to show him the ropes. Show him how things work in the world. I’m counting on you both to do right by each other, so he’ll see how it’s done.”
“We will be good, Daddy,” Susana assured me. “I won’t take Darby’s stuff anymore.”
“And I won’t hurt Susana’s dolls or put bugs in her hair anymore.”
I laughed as I said, “That would be a good start. My daddy always told me it’s okay to make a mistake as long as you learn from them.”
“Like that time Momma turned all your white shirts pink?” Darby asked. “She hasn’t done that again.”
“Yeah, kind of like that.” I smiled.
“Momma said that Henley and Maverick were coming over today for Grandpa’s birthday. Is Thomas coming, too?” Susana asked. Thomas was Maverick and Henley’s son. He was a bit older than the girls and tended to use that to his advantage.
“Yeah, I reckon he is.”
Susana got a serious expression on her face as she said, “He hasn’t learned from his mistakes, Daddy. He gets in trouble every time he comes to play with us.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him. Just have fun with Lexi and Grandpa. Maverick and I will keep Thomas entertained in the garage.” Lexi was Maverick and Henley’s daughter. She was just a few months younger than our girls, so they usually got along better with her than Thomas.
“Okay,” Darby answered.
“I’m going to make breakfast. Either of you want to help?” I asked.
“Can I stir the eggs?” they both asked at the same time.
“Yep,” I told them while I kissed each of them on the forehead and started for the kitchen.
We spent the next half-hour making breakfast, and once it was all done, I made a plate and took it into the bedroom for Cass. She was propped up on a pillow, reading a book, and smiled when she saw me entering the room. She sat the book down in her lap and asked, “How did it go with the girls?”
“Got it sorted,” I told her as I placed her breakfast down on the bedside table. “They have an unfair advantage, you know.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” she smiled.
“They’re beautiful like their mother. Makes it hard to fuss at them,” I told her as I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“They may be beautiful, but they are a handful. Actually, I think they get that from you,” she teased. “I was always a good child.”
I shook my head with disbelief and said, “I’m sure you were a perfect angel.”
“I mean… I had my moments,” she confessed.
“Now the truth comes out. Something tells me you could give our girls a run for their money,” I taunted.
“I don’t know about that. Two to one… I wouldn’t stand a chance,” she laughed.
“I’ve got your back, baby.” I kissed her once more and then said, “We’ve got this.”
The End
Clutch’s book will be released mid-summer.
There will also be more from Sara in a future series.
Followed by a short excerpt of Stitch
I don’t know where to start. With each book, I am more and more thankful for the people in my life who make this journey possible for me. My family has been an incredible support, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. My mother continues to be my rock, and I appreciate her more than she will ever know.
Amanda Faulkner has also been a huge blessing to me. I’ve never known how much help a PA could be until the day she stepped into my life. I have been blown away by all the support and the friendship she has given me over the past year. She has such a positive outlook and keeps me going whenever I need a push. Her partner in crime, Natalie Weston, has also been a huge help to me. I can’t thank either them enough for all they do to promote my books and just being there whenever I need them. Thank you, Amanda and Natalie.
Danielle Deraney Palumbo continues to amaze me. Even when things get tough, she always finds a way to face things head-on, and she does it with a great attitude and a funny story to boot. Whenever I am having doubts, she finds a way to pu
t me on the right track and help me get my books where they need to be. Thank you, Danielle, for taking the time out of your busy life to help me. I appreciate it more than you know.
I also want to thank Marci Ponce for all of her help with Cotton and the Satan’s Fury series. She has such great insight when it comes to MC romances, and her help over the past year has been invaluable to me. I am excited about her venture to start her own series with the Forsaken Saints. I am sure it will be amazing, and I can’t wait for her to get started. Thank you, Marci.
I am so excited to be working with Julia Goda. When I messaged her about editing my new series, I knew right away she was going to be awesome to work with. She took the time to go back and edit Maverick and the other books in the Satan’s Fury MC series, making them all even better, and I can’t thank her enough for taking the time to edit Cotton.
I would also like to thank all of my readers. I have loved all of your comments and posts. It means so much to me to hear you have enjoyed reading one of my books. You have all been so supportive, and your comments always leave a smile on my face. When my life gets a little crazy, your kind words have given me the encouragement I’ve needed to continue on. Thank you, Leah Joslin, for being there to make me smile and encourage me when things get hectic. It has meant such much to me. You rock!
My Wilder’s Women Street Rocks!!! Thank you all for your support. It means so much to me that you continue to help me with reviews and posting all of my teasers. You all are such a huge help to me. I am always amazed each time I see one of my teasers or my links they have shared. Thank you for taking your time to help me. It means more than you will ever know.
Another special thank you goes to Sue Banner. From the start, she has shown me so much kindness, and it has meant so much to me. She takes time out of her busy schedule to help make sure the book is ready for you, and she does an amazing job. She also beta/proof reads for her son’s books. If you haven’t had a chance to check out Daryl Banner’s books, you are missing out.
https://www.facebook.com/DarylBannerWriter
http://tinyurl.com/pzogl4p
Ana Rosso, my little grasshopper, thank you for always being there to read all the various editions of my books, making sure I get it just right. Even though you are hundreds of miles away, you are like my personal cheerleader. I hope to do the same for you when your new book releases! Can’t wait! Keep on rocking, chickaroo!!
Satan’s Fury MC
Copyright 2015 L Wilder
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of this series may be reproduced without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Some of the places named in the book are actual places. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years or older due to bad language, violence, and explicit sex scenes.
Editor: Marci Ponce
Cover Model: Levi Stocke
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Photographer: Mariusz Jeglinski
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"Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring,” my grandmother sang. Her voice was low and soft, and I finally started to calm down after another one of my nightmares. They started shortly after I moved in with my grandparents. I was eight years old when my parents were killed in a car crash, forcing my sister, Emerson, and me to move from the only home we’d ever known to live with my father’s parents. We barely knew them, but they were the only relatives we had. I never knew how good we really had it until it was all ripped away. It had almost been a year, but I was still having a hard time adjusting to the change. That night, I’d made the mistake of accidentally wetting the bed. My grandmother held me close, trying to comfort me, while she continued to sing. I knew her words were a lie, that my mother was dead and gone, but listening to her soothed me. “If that diamond ring turns brass, Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.”
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
His fist slammed against the wall as he walked toward my room. Horror washed over me as I listened to his footsteps coming down the hall. The floorboards creaked under the weight of his body, my dread intensifying with every step he took.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
My head was pressed against my grandmother’s chest, listening to her heart thump rapidly while he started to shout, “Don’t coddle that boy, Louise. Stop lying to him! His mama's dead. She can't buy him a damn thing! He’s no fucking baby. We’re not raising him to be a goddamn pussy!” he barked as he stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face.
“George,” she started, but he quickly cut her off, raising his palm up in the air, silently ordering her to shut up. She always tried to get him to stop, but it never worked. Once he got it in his head, there was no changing his mind.
“Don’t,” she pleaded as I curled deeper into her lap when he started stalking toward me. With his finger pointed directly in my face, he growled, “You wet that damn bed again, boy?” Rage vibrated off of him as he spoke, and I knew what was coming. He was furious, and only one thing happened when he got that worked up.
The barn.
My grandfather was a military man, born and bred. He still looked the part too, sporting his buzz cut and the same athletic build he had in all of his army pictures. Every minute of every day was controlled by his orders. He ran a tight ship with impossible expectations. The old man was a force to be reckoned with, and he hated any sign of weakness. Which meant he detested me. He hated that I was so weak, that my parents’ deaths still tormented me. He was determined to make a man out of me, even if that meant killing me in the process. There was a time, when the beatings first started, when he was careful, not wanting to leave any evidence of the abuse. But as I grew older, he made sure to leave the marks. He got some kind of sick satisfaction, seeing the whelps on my back, smiling whenever he saw me looking at them. He wanted me to see them, to feel the raised scars on my flesh, so I would always remember. He grabbed my hand, yanking me from my grandmother’s lap, and snarled, “Get your ass to the barn. I’ll teach you not to wet the fucking bed, boy.” I could smell the mix of old spice and bourbon swirl around me as my body collided against his side.
“George, it’s late,” Grandmother Louise pleaded.
Ignoring her, he pulled me out of the room and down the hall. As I stumbled behind him, I caught a glimpse of Emerson sitting up in her bed, tears streaming down her chubby little cheeks. She was only four years old, but she knew what happened out in the barn. Even though it sucked I was his main target, I was thankful he’d never taken her out there. The old man had a soft spot for her, and she could do no wrong. I wasn’t resentful. I felt the same way about her.
My bare feet dragged along in the dirt and grass as he pulled me into the barn; the large, wooden doors slammed behind us, leaving us in the dark. The smell of straw and livestock whirled around me as he jerked me further into the dark. There was a time when I would try to pull away from him, but I quickly learned there was no use fighting him. I was trapped, unable to break free from his grasp. After binding my hands over my head, he reached for his favorite leather strap.
“If your father were still alive, he’d be disgusted wit
h you. Such a fucking disappointment. You’re just like your damn mother. Worthless,” he grumbled as the strap whipped across my back. A searing pain shot through me, like hot coals burning through my thin t-shirt. I forced myself to hold back my cries as he continued to thrash the leather against my back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Unfortunately, that only made him angrier, causing him to hit even harder. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to pass out from the pain, my body falling limp against the restraints.
There were many more nights like that, more than I could even begin to count. At least some were quick, not like the times he’d make me wait for it. I hated those nights the most. I’d spend the whole day tending to the animals and the grounds, praying the entire time he might forget about punishment he’d promised. He always remembered though. With a wicked smile on his face, he would pull me inside the barn, laughing whenever I pleaded with him to give me another chance. I would beg, promising to try harder… be better, more obedient, but he was completely unaffected. I soon learned it was pointless. He relished in the pain he inflicted on me; I could see it in the way his eyes would glaze over. It seemed my pleas were just a pre-game warm-up filling him with anticipation for the main event. He was one sick son-of-a-bitch.
Over time, I got stronger. I learned to take myself out of the moment, dreaming of the day I might be able to get away—the day I would be free from him. I was almost fifteen before that time finally came. That was the night he almost killed me. The night he decided to trade in his leather strap for a strand of barbed wire. As the metal spikes gouged into my back, he’d yank them free, ripping away my flesh. When he was done, he left me to bleed to death in one of the horse stalls. I had no idea how long I’d been lying there when Emerson managed to sneak out to help me. She tended to the wounds on my back and shoulders, crying the entire time. She pleaded with me to run away, to get away while I still could. I knew she was right. I didn’t have a choice. I took the clothes and food she'd thrown in my backpack and left. I hated I had to leave Emerson behind. I wanted to take her with me, keep her close. But I knew Grandmother Louise would look after her and keep her safe, something my grandfather would never allow her to do for me.