“It means baby in Gaelic, you fucking philistine.”
It’s impossible for me to contain my humor anymore, and I burst into laughter. “I know that, fuckwit. What I don’t think you realize is how big of a pussy you look when you say it. Like a giant, fucking pussy-whipped douchelord.”
The insults I’m crowing at him come to an abrupt halt when he grabs me by the throat and smashes me against the side of the Club’s van.
“You’re pretty full of judgement for a little fucker who’s spent the last three weeks alternating between rolling around in pain on his bed and spewing his guts up in front of me.”
Yanking me forward before slamming me against the vehicle again, he leans down and gets further into my face. “I have bigger fucking problems than you to deal with today, but if you wanna push me, I’m sure I can find a few minutes to beat some sense into your thick head.”
Guilt washes over me, followed quickly by regret. I saw his panic back in the bar when Maddi said she was heading to see Mad Dog, yet I chose to overlook it and go for the easy pot-shot. I guess old habits die hard.
Note to self: reign in the need to act like an asshole all the time.
“I’m sorry. I’ll pull my head in.”
Timber’s eyes widen and he lets me go. Ignoring his surprise at my uncustomary apology, I wait for him to speak again.
“Get in the van. We’re late. Got shit to fix today and you’re helping me.”
***
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I tell Mad Dog as Timber pushes the door to his room in the prison’s infirmary shut behind us. Although Timber filled me in about his stabbing last night, I wasn’t expecting to find him looking this bad. “You look like shit.”
“Fucking feel like it,” his voice is croaky and breathless as he answers me. He’s white as a fucking ghost, slumped against the raised head of the bed. His arms are clutching his gut, displaying how much pain he’s in, the white bandages wrapped around his middle standing out in stark contrast against his heavily tattooed torso.
“Brother,” Timber addresses him in a worried tone. “How ya holding up?”
Dismissing the question with a scowl, Mad Dog answers with a terse question of his own, “You better not have told Lainey? I don’t want her to know. She’s barely hanging on as it is.”
This is typical Mad Dog and explains why Timber turned himself inside out to make sure Maddi stayed away from the jail today. I’d laugh at their hair-brained scheme if I didn’t agree with Mad Dog’s thoughts. Despite her brave face, anyone with eyes can see that she’s half a step away from losing her shit. This could be the incident that pushes her over the edge.
“I talked her out of coming today.” Timber says. “Don’t know how you expect me to keep her away until you’re healed. She’s gonna rip my fucking head off for even suggesting it.”
Rolling my eyes at Timber, I speak up, “Just fucking tell her that he’s had his visitation suspended for a fortnight for fighting or something like that. It’s not rocket science.”
A sardonic grin breaks across Mad Dog’s weary features. “Fucking finally, we’ve found a use for your ability to bullshit with a straight face. I want you to deal with her for me. If I leave it to this useless pussy, she’ll be here tomorrow trying to spring me and take my place.”
I’m left speechless at his command, unsure if I should bite back or let his unexpected barb slide. I’m still deciding when he hits Timber with a quelling glare the second he opens his mouth to argue. He doesn’t pull any punches as he snarls, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our unfinished business either. The only reason I haven’t fucked you up is because I ended up in this fucking shithole before I could.”
Timber’s appears to be reeling at the venom in Mad Dog’s accusation, even though, it’s clear from his guilty expression that he knows what his best friend is alluding to. My curiosity is piqued. These two hardly ever argue.
“Brother, it wasn’t like Beast made it out to be. I’ve never tried anything behind your back—”
Mad Dog cuts off his protests, by lifting his middle finger at him, and it dawns on me exactly what they’re fighting over. Seems that Dad told Mad Dog about Timber’s feelings for Maddi. Not that it was ever much of a secret since I figured it out years ago and Mad Dog would’ve as well if he’d ever taken his eyes off my sister long enough to notice that he isn’t the only man who wants her. Not that it’s any excuse—it’s still a dog act to use it to shit-stir between them.
My anger toward my father increases with every new revelation that comes. The man who used to get on my case about respect and morals is proving, without doubt, that he’s never practiced what he preached.
“Don’t fucking Brother me. I trusted you with my life. Fuck, I trusted you with Lainey.” Mad Dog attempts to push himself into a sitting position when Timber steps toward him with clenched fist, his face turning red and his eyes narrowing.
This is about to blow.
A month ago, I’d be all over this, throwing in my two cents worth and trying my hardest to make the situation worse with a couple of well-aimed insults, but something changed while I was fighting through my withdrawal, and it’s making me feel like shit watching them at loggerheads. Fuck knows what’s happening to me? First, I apologized for being a smartass this morning, and now I’m thinking of fixing drama, instead of fanning the flames. It’s a foreign sensation, this desire to make amends, and it’s making me feel like I might throw up just thinking about it.
I cross myself and whisper a prayer to my mother for assistance in dealing with the two head-strong motherfuckers in front of me. They start swinging, and I’m leaving them to it. My current weakened state made walking from the van into the jail feel like running a bloody marathon.
“Now’s not the fucking time for this,” I try reasoning with them. Laying a hand on Timber’s shoulder to halt his advance, I tense, waiting to see how he’s going to react.
He shoots me a look filled with relief and steps back from Mad Dog’s side. I sit my ass down on the edge of Mad Dog’s bed and stare at him with a cheeky grin while he glares back at me.
“Are you gonna calm the fuck down?” I ask. “Because if you’re looking for a fight to burn off your fucking frustrations, I really think you’d be better off picking one with me. It’d be a bit fairer since we’re both weak as piss right now.”
Timber’s chuckles echo around the room. Mad Dog tries his hardest to maintain his glaring but I can see the hard lines around his mouth and eyes softening a small bit.
“Plus, it’ll save that big softcock from feeling guilty when he hands you your ass for the first time in his life.”
This time, Mad Dog can’t help himself and he bursts into laughter as well. Grabbing his stomach, he groans in pain, yet still finds the stamina to take a pot-shot at me. “Well, aren’t you just a delicate little flower, full of peace and love, now that you’re straight.”
Shaking my head at the proud smirk that curls his lips, I run my eyes over his bruised face and down to the bandages covering his lower stomach. Timber told me on the drive here that he was stabbed last night, but he never mentioned that he was beaten up as well. He has swelling and bruises all over his chest and down his ribs, in addition to the cut over his eyebrow. Looks like he gave as good as he got, though, because his knuckles are split and bleeding.
“How the hell did this happen?” I ask. I’ve been around long enough to know that protection would have been arranged for him in here. The Shamrocks would’ve paid off any guards they could get to; plus, any allies we have on the inside would be responsible for looking out for him.
“Got jumped in the shower by last night’s guards.”
“Bullshit!” Timber explodes. Rage flows off him in hot waves. “We paid off screws on each shift to make sure our boys stay with you. What were you doing alone?”
“Obviously some cunt’s bettered our payoff. I knew something was up when the lights went out in the shower block. Could hear our boys t
rying to get back inside, but the screws kept the doors locked until the job was done. Fucking pussies still needed four of them to take me down.”
Shaking my head at his description of the attack, I feel my temper grow—along with my suspicions. “Do you know who was behind it?”
“Nope,” he pops the last syllable of the word when he answers me, however it’s clear that he has an idea. “All they said was that this’s just the beginning.”
He pauses, letting what he said sink in. “My money’s on Thomas fucking Taylor.”
Relief skitters across my mind. I was worried that Dad was behind it.
“Or the Mavericks.” Timber reminds him. “They took Wizard’s death hard. Cam could be trying to get payback without declaring war. I don’t trust that cunt as far as I can throw him.”
I look between them. I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. How do the Mavericks of Mayhem fit into this?
“The day before Princess broke your arm,” Timber points at my cast with a wry smile on his face before he continues filling me in. “Mad Dog sliced and diced Wizard for trying to rape her. We voted with the other Clubs to let the Mavericks back into our circles if they didn’t seek payback for Wizard and stopped working with Thomas Taylor. Cam agreed. Not that he had another option.”
Both of them laugh at his evaluation of the Mavericks lack of options while my heart sinks at learning of another attack on my twin. One that can be traced back to me and my screw-ups. Once again.
Will the list of sins for which I need to seek atonement ever stop growing?
“They’re not strong enough to go to war against us and they know it. We’re too united.”
Nodding in outward agreeance, I swallow hard as more pieces of Dad’s strategy fall into place. He’s the ultimate fucking puppet master...and I’m the ace up his sleeve.
The spy planted behind enemy lines, tasked with sowing seeds of dissent.
Dad’s plan, topped off by the sins I’ve already committed and kept hidden, will force the end of my relationship with my family if I fail to pull off my part in his schemes.
A dozen ways to circumnavigate my father circle through my mind. There’s ways around doing what he wants if I can find the guts to pursue them. Only problem is that they all begin with me telling Mad Dog and Timber the truth about everything.
And that’s not something I’m willing to do.
Yet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BENJI
Present Day
I’m jolted awake when my head bounces off the window. Opening one eye and then the other, I straighten my sunglasses and turn to glare at Timber.
“Drive much?”
“Fuck up,” he replies without the heat I expected. I regard him with curiosity, one eyebrow arching as I watch a bead of sweat run down the side of his face and disappear into his T-shirt. Sometime between when I fell asleep after we left the prison and now, he’s worked himself into a ball of stress. The muscle in his jaw works overtime as he grinds his teeth.
“You okay?”
Ignoring me as he pulls the van into the underground carpark, I keep an eye on him while I stretch my aching body as well as I can in the confined space. I’m exhausted; my energy spent. I’m barely twenty-three-years old, yet I feel like I’m trapped in the body of a fifty-year-old man. My reconstructed knee is aching, my broken arm itching like crazy, and my head’s full of worry.
I’d kill someone for a fucking beer. And a joint.
Who am I fucking kidding? I want a hit more than I want my next breath. The little voice in my head—the one that’s responsible for most of my dumb decisions—is yelling at me, telling me that the only thing that’ll make me feel better is getting high. Just once, though. I can handle one last high.
The voice lies. I know this, yet its promises hold me captive. Every fibre in my body yearns to take it at face value and give in.
“I need your help.” Timber’s grouchy voice breaks through my gnawing need, snapping me out of my trance-like state.
“Huh?”
“You know what women want. I need you to make sure I don’t fuck this up.”
Exiting the van, he waits with his hands on his hips until I make a move to join him. It takes a long moment to get my shit back together; deep breaths and a huge effort needed to return my racing pulse to some semblance of normality. I’m still shaking as I get out of the van to follow him.
Lost in my head, I don’t realize I’ve followed him into a posh looking jewelry store until the buzzer at the door lets out a shrill “ding-dong” that makes me jump out of my skin like a teenage girl getting her first slap on the ass from a dirty old man. Timber hits me with a hairy eyeball, unimpressed at my reaction, before he strides toward the cash register.
The prissy-looking fucker with bleach-blond hair behind the counter looks the pair of us up and down and purses his lips. He dismisses Timber and his dirty jeans, long hair, and scruffy beard, with a flick of his eyes, instead keeping his gaze on me. His appreciation of my physique in my Guess jeans and tight T-shirt is evident as he runs his gaze up and down me a couple times, lingering on the bulge of my cock each time.
I grunt when I see Timber’s lips curl into a smirk as he watches me shuffle on the spot from discomfort. Once he appears satisfied that I’m embarrassed enough, he clears his throat to bring the salesperson’s attention back to him.
“How can I help you, sir?” His nasally tone makes it clear that he believes he can’t help Timber in any way. I keep my eyes narrowed, making my displeasure at his rudeness known when he chances another glance my way. His cheeks turn red and he ducks his head.
“I’ll handle this, Casper.”
A petite hottie with bright purple hair sashays her way behind the counter. Fuck knows where she came from because there’s no way I’d have missed getting an eye full of her if she was anywhere in the store when we entered. My cock comes to life for the first time in weeks, relieving the shit out of me. I was beginning to wonder if my OD had broken him.
“Um, okay then, Andi,” Casper answers as he makes his way out of the showroom through a door to his left. I can’t get my head around his name. Seriously, who’d dye their hair bleach fucking blond when they’re already pale and named Casper? He’s just begging for the “Casper the Friendly Ghost” jokes that are rolling around in my head. Clamping my tongue between my teeth, I try not to laugh, instead distracting myself with the gorgeous vision in front of me.
For a tiny chick, she certainly commands the attention of everyone in the shop. The male half of the lovey-dovey looking couple being served by another salesperson can’t stop himself from checking her out every time his other half is gushing over something shiny. If I’m honest, this Andi chick reminds me of Lacey—all innocent looking until you get a load of the resting bitch face and the take-no-shit attitude that’s simmering just below the surface. Although, I can’t imagine Lacey sporting bright purple hair and sky-scraper heels quite as well as this woman.
“How can I help you?” she purrs. Her sexy voice hits me straight in the dick, sending him from half-mast to full before she’s finished her inquiry.
Timber closes his gaping mouth—looks like I’m not the only man caught in her vortex of sultriness—and reaches into the inside pocket of his cut. He pulls out a crumpled catalog and smooths it down on the counter.
“I wanna buy this...” he trails off, sounding unsure of himself. He jabs the page with a monstrous finger.
Stepping forward, I peer at what he’s circled on the page. Holy fuck, it’s a bloody engagement ring. A huge ring with a motherfucking purple diamond surrounded by rows and rows of little diamonds. Visions of a garish, blinged out, bright purple phone case flash before my eyes and I chuckle to myself. The ring is JJ to a T.
“Fuck me, Timber. You sure about this?”
I have to question him over this. I might’ve been a teenager when it happened, but I can remember his meltdown over his ex-girlfriend Amy and the loss of their
baby. The last thing he needs is for history to repeat itself because he’s jumped in feet first again.
“I’m sure,” he replies. “She’s it for me.”
His previous hesitation disappears and he meets my eyes with a fierce look that’s full of resolution. “I’m not giving it to her until after the baby comes, though. I watched her and Princess gushing over it yesterday and knew it was perfect. One thing at a time is all I can fucking cope with at the moment.”
Shaking my head at him, I join in his laughter. He’s right. There’s no way that the Club can muster the appropriate happiness to celebrate a wedding and a baby right now. Not with Mad Dog being locked up and war on the horizon with the Police Commissioner and possibly the Mavericks.
“Sir, this ring is thirty thousand dollars. The purple diamond is four carats and extremely rare to Australia. It’s surrounded by two carats of diamonds but—” Andi speaks up. She’s watched our exchange with a cheeky grin on her face, understandably entertained by the two big bikers having a heart-to-heart in front of her.
“I know all that.” Timber cuts her off, anger and determination coloring his voice. “This is what my Old Lady wants so it’s what I’m getting for her.”
He pulls an envelope full of cash from his back pocket and slaps it on the counter, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop.
Shit. Poor Andi is about to meet Timber’s asshole side.
“The price is not a problem so how about you trot your cute little ass over to the correct display case and grab it for me so I can buy it and get out of this fucking shop full of snobs.”
And here we go...
Blake the Butcher has come out to play.
“Timber, settle petal.” I grab his arm and pull him back from the poor girl he’s menacing. “I don’t think Andi meant it like that.”
She shoots me a grateful smile that takes her attractiveness up another notch and reminds my cock that he hasn’t had any action for nearly a month. He also makes it known that the gorgeous woman in front of me would be the perfect way to get back on the horse. I file that thought away for later, and concentrate calming the ticking time-bomb in front of me.
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