Fuck yeah, what a way to de-stress.
Promise to my meddling twin, be damned.
My pursuit is interrupted by Timber. My wood has been cockblocked by a fucker named after a falling fucking tree. That’s almost poetic.
“Yo Prospect, there’s a van in the yard that needs a good cleanout and a wash. Come find me when you’re finished. I’ll find something else for you to do. Would hate for you to get bored.” He roars with laughter as if he’s said the funniest thing ever.
Opening my mouth, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to get a prospect to do his dirty work, when his first two words register with me.
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking prospect.
With one last look at Lacey as the swinging doors to the kitchen close behind her, her luscious ass disappearing from my view, I bite my tongue and nod at his instructions instead. He grins at me, easily guessing that I’m not thrilled by his order, and nudges my shoulder with his. I hiss through my teeth as my broken arm protests his touch.
“Give me that. I’ll get the patches sorted.” He motions toward my father’s cut, which I’m still gripping in my injured hand. I pass it to him, narrowing my eyes at him so he gets the message that if he damages it in any way, there’ll be hell to pay. If I’m going through with this fucking farce, I’m doing it with Dad’s cut on my back. The one my mother bled over in order to get his patches just right after he joined.
Timber gives me a solemn nod in response.
“Get Dane to help you clean. It’ll take you forever with one arm, gimpy.” Timber throws his final edict over his shoulder as he walks away from me, heading for his new woman. Looking at her, I remember what Lacey told me I said to her, and Timber’s earlier laughter makes more sense.
Payback’s a bitch, I’ve been told.
Guess I’m about to learn that the hard way.
I shake my head, grateful he hasn’t decided to fuck me up physically for disrespecting his Old Lady, but pissed that he has the power to make my life a misery for the foreseeable future. Watching him lift his woman in the air and wrap her legs around his waist before he makes his way towards the bedrooms, I’m reminded of the night this thing began with Lacey.
CHAPTER SIX
BENJI
Four Months Earlier
“Never thought I’d see this day again.” Smoke chuckles as we watch Timber pick up the tiny redhead he brought to the Club tonight and carry her towards the bedrooms. The bar breaks into hollering as they exit, the tension that’s permeated the atmosphere since Maddi and Mad Dog argued earlier, finally easing.
Pot smoke billows from my nose as I laugh. It’ll be good for Timber to get laid on a regular basis by someone other than a clubwhore. It’ll keep his eyes off my sister.
“Pass that here.” Smoke demands, gesturing towards the joint I’m holding. I flick it at him and the dumbass tries to catch it, burning his fingers in the process.
“Fucking cockhead,” he howls, shaking his burnt fingers. I throw myself back in my seat, laughing so hard I can’t breathe, while he whines like a little bitch. Once he’s righted the joint, he sticks it in his mouth and inhales, filling his lungs and holding it.
My head’s spinning from a combination of the pot I’ve smoked, the whiskey I’ve downed, and the crystal meth I smoked before I got here. I’ve learned if I smoke pot in front of everyone and drink enough, then they’ll think I’m stoned and drunk, not off my head. The only two who realize are Maddi and Mad Dog, but it’s easy to get them off my case now that they’re broken up and spending their time arguing with each other.
With Joel lost in his head, depressed about his hands, it’s become easier and easier to get high without anyone noticing. In my more sensible moments, I can admit to myself that I’m playing Russian roulette with losing my footy career by running the risk of returning a positive drug test, but with the way my right knee is failing me, I’m probably going to need surgery soon anyway.
“Fuuuuck,” Smoke drags out the word, pulling me from my uneasy thoughts. “Now fucking Connor’s gone, I’d love a shot with Lacey. She’s the hottest fucking woman here by far. She was always too good for his greedy ass. How she fell for his bullshit, I could never work out. She’s an absolute sweetheart.”
Following his gaze, I take in Lacey as she dances with my sister and a group of Old Ladies. Her short, flared skirt is swinging as she moves, showing glimpses of toned, tanned thighs. Slowly raising my eyes to take in the rest of her, I watch as her obviously bra-less tits sway under her shiny top, hard nipples visible, and the bottom of her stomach playing peek-a-boo. With her eyes closed, her dark blonde hair brushes her shoulders as she gyrates. The look on her face is one of ecstasy, as if she’s doing more than dancing in a dingy biker club.
I’m still checking her out when her eyes open and she looks at me, big, brown eyes widening as she catches me staring. Two bright red spots appear on her cheeks and her mouth drops open. At her reaction, my dick twitches in my pants, her embarrassment making me hot. I raise my glass of whiskey at her and wink, laughing when her whole face turns red, and she looks behind her as if to double check that it was her I was directing my actions toward.
Watching as she composes herself, I laugh louder when she blows me a kiss. Her cheekiness makes my dick harden all the way. I love nothing better than a cheeky minx. They’re the best rides.
I’m about to rise from my seat and join her on the dance floor—orders by my footy club to rest my knee, be damned—when fucking Smoke nudges my arm. Some of my whiskey sloshes out of the glass and lands on my jeans. Lacey shakes her head at me, giggling as she turns her back, and resumes dancing with Maddi.
“Fuck you, Benji. Leave her alone.” Smoke orders.
Elbowing him viciously in the side as I stand, my immediate attention is on signalling someone to bring me something to wipe up the wet patch on my crotch. I look like I’ve pissed myself, thanks to my asshole cousin.
“She’s a big girl. I’m sure she’ll tell me if she’s not interested.” I smirk, grabbing the paper towel one of the prospects has passed to me. It soaks up some of the wetness but not enough to salvage my pants. Fuck!
“God, you’re such a cockhead. Can’t you leave one woman in the Club alone? Fuck me, I just said I like her.” Holding his side where I elbowed him, Smoke rises to his feet and gets in my face. The bar’s packed and no one is paying any attention to what’s going down between us yet.
Good. That means nobody’s going to step-in and shut this down.
I shrug at his words, chuckling when his face fills with rage. Adrenaline fills my limbs and I ready myself to push him over the edge. He’s too much fun when he gets like this. “What’s your problem? Hasn’t Lacey got too many curves for your tastes? I thought you liked stick insects.”
My reminder about his skinny ex-girlfriend isn’t subtle. I fucked her behind his back while I was still in High School. My actions that night heralds the beginning of our ongoing antipathy for each other, one I’m not sure she warranted, since she wasn’t the most appealing woman. She was way too skinny for my tastes so me and Joel had nicknamed her “The Praying Mantis”. Not that her long, thin limbs had stopped me from giving her one in the back of Maddi’s car during one of our visits to Brisbane.
She’d only been a quick fuck to me, so having her walk back into the Clubhouse and break up with Smoke immediately after, hadn’t been on the cards. Neither had her turning to me and begging for a repeat in front of him. Losing his girlfriend to his younger cousin had pissed him off and he’d tried to kick my ass for it. Once I’d handed him his own instead, any familial feelings between us were muted. He might be seven years older than me, but that night was the beginning of a fierce rivalry between us.
One that rears its ugly head regularly.
“Drop dead, you little shit,” he snaps at me.
Smoke’s always been a hot-headed fighter, too sloppy and emotional to inflict much damage, and I can normally fend off his wide loping swings w
ithout much effort. Tonight is no exception. He balls his fist and pretty much sends me a postcard warning me of the punch he’s about to throw. Expertly, I weave out of his way, laughing the entire time. When he sends a second blow my way, I side-step once more with ease. I’m almost out of his trajectory when I twist the wrong way on my right knee.
My bad knee.
The knee my footy club has been threatening to send me for surgery to fix.
Our antics have gathered an audience, and if it wasn’t so bloody painful, it’d be funny seeing everyone’s mouth drop open as his fist glances off my chin and I fall. Hitting the floor with a cry of agony, I grab my knee and curl into a ball. Fucking hell, it hurts. Excruciating pain shoots up my leg, pain that I try to ignore, as I brace myself for Smoke’s follow-up throw.
“Fuck, Benj. Your knee?”
I stare at him for a moment, dumbstruck that he didn’t take the opportunity to get a free one in, before nodding.
“Yep. I think I’ve fucked it this time,” I groan as I attempt to push myself upright. Trying to stand fails miserably, so I’m still sitting on the floor breathing through the pain, when Maddi and my best friend, Kyle drop to their knees next me, followed by Joel.
Just brilliant. The nanny brigade has arrived.
Jerking my head out of Maddi’s hand when she checks to see if Smoke caused any damage, I send Kyle a plea for assistance with a nod. He works out what I’m asking straightaway, nudging Smoke to get his attention.
“Grab him under the shoulders. We’ll put him in my room,” Kyle says.
“No. He needs to go to the hospital,” Maddi interjects, trying to take control of the situation in her normal bossy way.
Shaking my head, I snarl at her, “I’m not fucking going. If it’s still sore in the morning, I’ll get the physio at my club to have a look. Back the fuck off.”
When she falls silent, looking stunned by my ferocity, I try to transmit “hurry-up” with only my eyes to Kyle. As usual, he comes through for me. Moving Maddi out of the way, he grips me under the arm. Smoke comes to my other side and does the same. I need to get out of here before someone works out that I’m not just drunk. I know my knee is fucked, but I can’t go to the hospital high, so I’m just gonna have to deal with the pain tonight.
It takes everything in me not to scream when I’m pulled upright and Kyle and Smoke manhandle me toward Kyle’s room. Joel trails behind, looking pissed that he can’t help because of his mangled hands. I thought the last time I went down with my knee on the footy field was painful, yet I’d happily go back and experience that a dozen times over rather than deal with this injury. Despite my agony, I smile at my little brother, trying to pull him out of the funk I’m watching him fall into as he lifts his shaking right hand in front of his face with obvious effort and tries to move what’s left of his fingers.
The only silver lining is that Maddi doesn’t follow us. She’s obviously still smarting from my earlier nastiness. I hate when she’s shitty with me. It’s like kicking a puppy. She’s been like my mother and sister rolled into one since Mom died, as annoying as that can be sometimes. Not to mention what she went through for me. What happened to Joel because of that...and the secrets I’m hiding from both of them. Guilt starts swirling in my gut when I think about the past and my fuck-ups. I hate remembering that shit so I force myself to swallow it down and concentrate on the here and now.
Forgetting gets easier when Kyle and Smoke lift me onto Kyle’s bed in his room at the Clubhouse and the pain ratchets up another notch. It takes both of them to get me settled, my fists bunching at my side when Smoke straightens my leg out once I’m leaning against the headboard.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Smoke nods at me, sympathy in his expression. When I don’t answer him, he shakes his head at my rudeness and pulls a smoke out of his ever-present pack, lighting it as he exits the room.
“You high?” Joel asks from the end of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wait for my denial, launching into his tirade in the next breath. “You’re a dickhead, Benj. Dad’s out there, so’s Maddi. Our little brothers. You think you’re fucking God but you’re not. Everyone’s stressing about you.”
Moving until he’s next to me, I shrink away from him when he lets the full force of his anger and pain show on his face. “You have everything I wish I still had and you’re taking it for granted. Stop abusing your God-given talents and straighten yourself out or I’m fucking done with ya. I can’t watch you end up a fucking cripple like me.”
He’s stripped every ounce of oxygen from my lungs with his vehemence, remorse for the ongoing drama I keep causing my family making me feel sick. I know I need to stop using, I try all the time, but it’s not as easy as everyone thinks. Smoking ice makes me feel good; feel powerful and in control. I don’t have to worry about the past or the future when I’m high. That’s not something I find easy to give up.
As my justifications bounce around my brain and I internally lament how unfair he’s being, I watch as he lifts his arm and tries to bunch his hand into a fist. His limb refuses to cooperate, his growing frustration evident, and I finally drag in a breath when he gives up trying to swing at me. I send Kyle a fleeting glance for help, and in that time, Joel manages to find a way to make his arm listen to him. His elbow connects with my eye. It’s not much of a hit, but it’s more than I expected from him.
Grabbing his wrist when he begins to swing again, I hold his arm still. He struggles for about two seconds, quickly realizing that I can easily overpower him. Eyeballing him, I press my free hand against my eye, checking to see if he broke the skin. He hasn’t, thank Christ.
“What the fuck, Joel. Why did you do that?”
“Someone’s gotta knock some sense into you.”
Turning his back on me, he strides as fast as his limp will allow him from the room without another word. It takes him a long moment to slam the door shut as he leaves. The small bang the door makes after watching the concerted effort he puts into it, highlights just how hard it was for him to manage even that small physical outburst. I feel like a cunt for making him feel worse.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I twist toward Kyle, who was suspiciously quiet and unhelpful during Joel’s attack. “Is everyone on their rag tonight? They’re all over-emotional.”
The laughter that I force to follow my remark dies on my lips when he doesn’t join me. He looks more serious than usual, his typically jovial expression replaced by worry.
“Bloody hell. Not you, too.” I groan. “I’m fine. The physio will fix my knee tomorrow...” I trail off when he cuts off my protests.
“We’re not worried about your knee. That’s the least of your problems. Joel’s right. You need to get straight—”
The door to Kyle’s room swings open, interrupting him, and in waltzes one of the last people I want to see tonight. The thumping music from the bar fills the room, the pulsing ache in my temples informing me that my usual comedown headache is starting to take hold.
“Can you give us a minute, Kid?” Mad Dog addresses Kyle by his Shamrock’s road name in a tone that makes it clear that he isn’t really asking a question.
Rolling my eyes when Kyle scurries out of his room after giving Mad Dog a respectful nod, I burst into laughter at his departure. Ever since he beat Kyle up a few years ago in order to find out who my dealer was, Kyle’s been wary of him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also—having been on the receiving end myself a couple of months ago—but I don’t let Mad Dog know. And I certainly don’t treat him like God, like the rest of the bloody MC does.
“How’s the knee?” Mad Dog lifts one corner of his mouth in half a smile when he looks at me. I think he’s entertained by Kyle’s behavior as well.
“Totally fucked.” I admit the truth for the first time. “I think this is it. Time for surgery.”
“Might be a blessing in disguise,” he muses, the humor in his eyes dying as he moves to stand next to the bed. “Give you time to sort your shit out. It’s pre
tty fucking obvious to everyone, but bloody Beast, that you’re using during footy season. You need to head to rehab before you get any worse.”
“Well, that’s not gonna happen so fuck off. I don’t have a problem. Every now and then is not an addiction.” If I could use both legs, I’d knock the prick down where he stands, looking smug and as if he holds all of the answers. My temper flares, flames of rage taking hold.
Fucking pompous asshole.
Pointing my finger at him as I pull myself upright, ignoring the pain that shoots up my leg, I set him straight in no-uncertain terms. “You and Maddi are no more. You walked, remember? Fuck, we all watched her cry while you walked away again tonight. That means you don’t get to comment on anything to do with my family. That right expired when you broke my twin’s heart.”
I can tell I’ve gotten under his skin with my barbs about Maddi. The dickhead still loves her, she still loves him, but he decided to end their relationship after she was hurt the last time out of some misguided idea that she’s better off without him.
“Listen here, you dumb fucker,” I grit my teeth when he grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me closer to him, the movement jostling my knee. “I mightn’t be with Lainey, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch her get hurt. The shit you’re doing is hurting her. Fuck Benji, can’t you see that?”
Staring into his hard eyes, I want nothing more than to deny his accusation. As much as I love him like an extra brother, I still hate when he’s right. Even with the remnants of my earlier high floating through my system, I can’t lie. I’ve seen how my drug use is adding to the pain she’s already dealing with.
“I guess that makes two of us then.” I acknowledge that he’s right, but not without throwing in my own little reminder that he’s just as bad. “I’ll work on my shit when you admit that you fucked up and get back with her.”
The color drains from his self-righteous face after my expertly aimed challenge, and he lets go of my shirt and heads for the door. Since playing with fire seems to be my speciality today, I can’t help directing one last pot-shot his way.
Seeking Redemption Page 5