Darkest Hour

by Bella Jewel

In that moment, I forgot who I was fucking.

  All I wanted to do was bend her over and fill her so I could experience just how fucking incredible it would feel to drive my dick into her soft flesh.

  I curl my hand around my cock and stroke angrily. Hard and fast, I pull, thinking of Charlie, thinking of how fucking hot that moment was.

  In minutes, I come, all over my belly. Grunting, I jerk the last few stands from my dick and stand, walking straight into the shower. I make it long, and I make it hot. When I’m done, I can smell the coffee brewing. She’s awake. She’s awake, and she knows, as well as I do, what happened last night.

  Not going to say a word about it.

  I don’t have time to fantasize about her, nor can I allow anything sexual to happen, even if we weren’t touching.

  Too much is at stake.

  Things that are far more important than her.

  I pull on a pair of jeans, leaving the shirt off, and stride out into the kitchen where Charlie is standing, pouring two coffees. She’s wearing a long tee and panties and nothing fucking else. My dick twitches, and I inwardly growl.

  Be a fuckin’ asshole, Koda.

  You can’t lose this opportunity by giving a fuck about the girl standing in front of you.

  This is for Braxton.

  Everything you’re doing is for Braxton.

  Charlie looks up from the coffee she’s mixing, and her cheeks go a little pink. Fuck me. She’s beautiful. Long, red hair messy and falling around her shoulders. Cheeks rosy from sleep. Fucking perfection.

  “Morning,” she says, and her voice is chipper, far more chipper than usual.

  She thinks last night changed things.

  It didn’t.

  I nod at her.

  “I don’t do coffee,” I mutter.

  She stares at me, then at the coffee, and I watch her face change. Her lips tighten, her eyes narrow, and her breathing deepens. I’ve pissed her off. Which is exactly how it needs to stay.

  Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a dick.

  “Right,” she mumbles, grabbing the whole cup and tossing it in the sink without emptying it first. Coffee splashes everywhere.

  “Fuck me, Charlie,” I growl. “That just went everywhere.”

  She reaches into the sink, pulls out a wash cloth, and literally throws it, covered in coffee, in my direction. “Well then,” she says, holding my eyes. “Clean it up.”

  Anger bubbles in my chest, starting deep and rising upward. I start panting now, too, and we stand there, in the kitchen, glaring at one another. She isn’t going to back down. Strong, feisty, fucking woman. I storm over to the sink, jerking the tap on and rinsing the cloth, then I wipe the coffee she launched everywhere. She takes her cup and calmly walks out of the kitchen and out onto the front patio.

  Fuck me.

  Most women don’t handle men that are hard on them.

  This woman, she gets harder, and she gives it back just as strong.

  I’d almost bet she hasn’t cried in a very long time.

  Which means it’s time to stop going soft on her.

  If she won’t start talking, I’ll start making her life a fucking misery.

  One way or another, this is going to end with me and her.

  Like it, or not.

  ~*~*~*~

  THEN – KODA

  I have one big fucking advantage.

  Braxton and I are identical twins.

  I shave my beard off, and there is no telling us apart.

  Which means I can play him perfectly. I know him better than anyone else. I can walk like him. Talk like him. And nobody would ever know.

  And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

  At least, I will, when I lose some weight and make myself look a little shittier. That isn’t hard, for someone that works out daily and eats well, I just have to reverse it, give myself a lack of sleep, and in a week or two, I’ll look nearly as shitty as he does. Baggy shirts will cover most of my muscle tone. I’ll pull it off. If anyone questions me, I’ll say I’ve been working out a little.

  As for Braxton, he’s going to rehab.

  I didn’t give him a choice.

  A very good friend of mine, and cop buddy, went and paid him a visit. I gave him enough information that he was able to give Braxton enough to scare him. Of course, he owes me big, so he was never going to lock Brax away, but that wasn’t what he told him. He gave him a choice, he either goes to rehab for three months and he’ll forget what he has on him, or he goes to prison.

  Braxton chose rehab. It’s shorter. It’s quicker. And he can get out fast.

  Braxton is fully aware it’s my doing. And it’s safe to say he’s wild with me. He’s also paranoid. He has jobs to do. And if he disappears for three months, those jobs will hunt him down and when he gets out, those jobs will kill him. But if he went to prison, and those jobs found out he spoke to police, he’d never get out of prison alive.

  And he knows it.

  Rehab gives him a chance of getting out of it alive.

  He just doesn’t know while he’s in there, I’ll be picking up the slack.

  He doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t want me to visit.

  That’s fine.

  At least in there, I know he’s safe.

  And outside of my good buddy, Connor, the cop, I’m the only one who knows Braxton is in there.

  My next move is sorting his roommate out.

  I’m going to pay him off, tell him he needs to move out of the house. I need to live there, and I need to live there alone. The reason? So that anyone who comes past thinks I’m Braxton. I need everyone and anyone to think that. So, the roommate has to go because he knows I’m not Braxton, and he’ll interfere with my plans. Far as I know he was plannin’ on going anyway, so it won’t take much convincing.

  Once I’ve done that, I’ll let most of it come to me.

  I’ll answer text messages on his phone. Calls. And hopefully a few people will come around, leading me exactly where I need to be led.

  My brother isn’t going to die because of whatever he’s gotten himself into.

  I’ll finish this for him, and hopefully he’ll come out of rehab clean, and I can get his life back on track.

  That’s the plan, anyway.

  I arrive at his apartment late in the afternoon. There are no cars here. Using the key I took off Brax, I unlock the front door and walk in. The place is mostly empty. He’s already gone, by the looks. Can’t say I blame him. I walk through the house warily, checking out all the rooms. Braxton’s stuff is all that remains. He bailed, without a call or a text. Which tells me one thing—he was concerned enough to run and not look back.

  I walk into the kitchen, and there are broken cups all over the ground, the toaster is on the floor and things are knocked over. I move to the counter and see smears of blood.

  Someone paid him a visit.

  No doubt demanding to know where Braxton is.

  Fuck.

  I can only hope he’s still alive and that they just gave him a touch up. I guess it all depends on who we’re dealing with. Although, his stuff being gone is a good sign. It means he very likely packed up and got the hell out of here.

  I exhale and go over what I’ve got left to work with. An old sofa, a few kitchen items, and Braxton’s room. I’ll have to bring some of my own stuff over without anyone noticing.

  Fuck me, Brax.

  What the fuck did you get yourself into?

  First thing I do is pull out my phone and dial a locksmith. Getting all the locks changed is the first thing on my list.

  I’ll have no fucker coming in in the middle of the night and putting a bullet in my skull.

  I organize that and then check the house once more before moving to Braxton’s room and stripping everything. It fucking stinks in here; his dirty clothes are scattered all over the ground. I pick them up and start tossing them into a pile. One pair of his shorts makes a jingling sound, and I shove my hand into the pocket and pull out a set of k
eys.

  They’re for a storage locker.

  What the fuck is Braxton doing with a fucking storage locker?

  I shove them into my pocket.

  Guess I’m about to find out.

  -7-

  NOW – CHARLIE

  Jerk.

  Super. Mega. Fucking. Jerk.

  I can’t believe he walked out this morning and acted like that. It’s not like I was throwing myself at him after what happened last night. I simply offered him a damned coffee. He didn’t need to be such a jackass about it. Anger bubbles in my chest as I swallow the lukewarm coffee because I’ve been sitting here brooding. The club coming for a visit tomorrow can’t come quick enough.

  I’m not sure what I’m capable of right now, I’m so angry.

  Fuck him.

  I finish the last mouthful of my coffee and take a deep, calming breath.

  The front door slams, and Koda walks out onto the patio, glancing at me, before walking to the front steps.

  “Where are you going?” I ask him.

  His shoulders tense, and he turns, glaring at me. “If I wanted to fuckin’ tell you, I would.”

  Gah!

  “Last time I checked, you’re supposed to be protecting me. If you disappear, who will do that?”

  His jaw clenches.

  I know that was a bratty thing to say, but fuck him.

  “I’m going to get fuckin’ fire wood, around the corner. Unless someone is hidin’ in the fuckin’ woods, ready to jump out, you’re fine.”

  “How do you know they aren’t?”

  He looks like he’s doing to snap me in half.

  I should stop pushing him.

  But dammit.

  I can’t.

  “I’m goin’ to give you three fuckin’ seconds to lose the attitude, because I am not in the mood today.”

  “Why, wasn’t last night’s sex good enough? I don’t imagine it would be, considering half your club has probably ploughed that same hole.”

  I bite my bottom lip, because I know those words will set off a fire inside him.

  I’m right.

  He storms over, putting two big arms on either side of me and leaning down so his face is so close to mine, I can smell his breath. It smells incredible, by the way. Masculine, strong, gorgeous. I want to kiss him. After I bite him. Dammit. Jerk.

  “Listen to me, woman,” he sneers in my face, “my patience with you is at an all-time fuckin’ low. I don’t tolerate shit on a good day, and today is not a fuckin’ good day. Do not doubt me when I say I will fuckin’ lock you in that room and let you out only to piss and eat. That what you want?”

  “You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” I snap back.

  “Fuckin’. Try. Me.”

  He’s serious.

  I can see it in the angry set of his eyes.

  He’d find a way, and strength wise, he overpowers me in a big way. So, I do what any smart girl would do. I clamp my mouth shut and simply scowl at him. He stays in his position for a moment, just glaring at me, then finally he pushes off and stands. He turns, without another word, and disappears around the side of the house. I exhale and take my phone from the table beside me.

  I don’t use it much, because, honestly, what’s the point? Nobody calls me, because very few people have my number. Once I changed my name, and my life, I was very picky about who I gave it to. I click into the screen and notice two missed calls from a private number.

  On any other occasion, that wouldn’t bother me. I’d assume it was someone trying to sell something, or a cell company trying to give me an upgrade. But now, with a million-dollar hit on my head, everyone has a different agenda. And when you want to find someone, with the right people, you can.

  And will.

  My heart leaps into my throat and I stare at the screen for a while. The phone is on silent, so I didn’t hear it ringing, but it was only a couple of minutes ago. Will it ring again? Will I answer? My stomach feels as though it’s going to twist its way up my throat and out of my mouth, and my heart is racing so hard I can feel it pulsing, even in my head. Has he found me? Does he already know my name? Where I am? Who I’m with?

  My father is a smart man.

  He also has friends in low places.

  And high places.

  And every damned place you can have a friend.

  Which means it rarely takes him long to find out things.

  There is a hit out against me, and with that hit would come a picture. So, my father already knows I’m out there. But, is he getting closer to finding exactly where I am? Is it him calling? How did he find my cell number? Putting myself out on the streets for the club was a bad idea. All my father would have needed to see is a photo or a description of a girl with red hair and he’d know it was me.

  Why didn’t I think more about it?

  Why the hell didn’t I dye my hair? Or change my name to something completely different? After all, Charlie is hardly different from Charlene.

  I feel so incredibly stupid.

  And so scared.

  So damned afraid.

  Should I tell Koda?

  If I do, he’ll ask questions. But maybe it’s time for those questions to be answered. If they’ve found my number, it’s only a matter of time before they find me. And when they do ...

  I shudder and rub my arms.

  Tomorrow, Malakai is bringing some members of the club up here.

  I’ll tell them then.

  I’m safe here, for right now.

  Right?

  ~*~*~*~

  THEN – CHARLIE

  My eighth birthday came and went.

  Nobody remembered.

  Well, that isn’t true. Rebecca remembered. She brought me in a cupcake and left it beside my bed.

  But there were no presents.

  No parties.

  No cakes with candles.

  No singing.

  It was just another day. Another number. Another year I’d have to go through without my mommy by my side.

  I’ve been to thirteen houses now.

  Dad says I’m doing a good job. That’s probably the only time he’s ever said something nice about me.

  He isn’t as mean to me when I do a good job. He mostly leaves me alone for a few days, and that feels nice, because when I’m alone, I’m not so afraid. I can read books and take myself to different places. Being alone makes me feel the safest I can feel, so, I’ll keep doing a good job, because, eventually, maybe he’ll leave me alone forever.

  I went back to school today.

  Summer is over.

  I couldn’t be happier.

  If I’m at school, I don’t have to be with him. Of course, most of the kids at school hate me, and they pick on me, teasing me about having no family, and having a dead mommy.

  It’s not very nice.

  Rebecca says people pick on other people, because usually their lives are just as bad.

  That makes me feel better, to know maybe they’re just doing what they can to get through their own pain.

  I’m sitting in my room, doing my homework, when my dad barges in. He doesn’t knock, or say hello, or ask me how my day was. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know I was home. I could be anywhere, and it would probably take him days to figure it out.

  I’ve thought about running away once or twice. But where would I go? The city is big, and I’d end up on the streets, scared and alone. So, that’s probably not a good idea. Besides, as far as I know, Dad doesn’t have any family. Mom has parents somewhere, but I don’t think she liked them very much. Or maybe they didn’t like her, because she married Dad.

  I heard them fighting about it once.

  “You have a big job on the weekend,” my father says, his voice gruff. “It’s important. The most important yet. You’ll need to do this perfectly. There is no room for error. I’ll be giving you a list of what you need to get, and you won’t be leaving until you get it.”

  I swallow.

  That doesn
’t sound good.

  “This man ... he’s dangerous. And mean. You’re going to have to put on your best show to even get into his house. Cry if you have to. Hell, make yourself bloody so he’s forced to consider helping you. Whatever it takes. And I mean whatever it takes. Whatever he wants, you give him. This is important, if you screw up ... Well, trust me, you won’t want to.”

  I swallow and weakly nod.

  “You won’t be going to school tomorrow, we need to get this one hundred percent perfect.”

  “But it’s only my second day back ...”

  I stop talking when I realize what I’m doing, but it’s too late. My father’s big, hard hand lashes out and he slaps me, right across the face. It’s so hard I go flying from my chair and land on the floor in a heap. Tears burn under my eyelids, but I know better than to cry. I clench my eyes shut, pain burning through my cheek, and stay on the ground.

  “Don’t you ever speak back to me again!” he roars.

  Then he storms out.

  I lie on the floor like that for a while, maybe even a few hours, I don’t know. My hand is cupped over my cheek, but it’s not doing much to ease the pain. My head is throbbing, and my heart aches. I swallow back my tears, over and over, until they finally disappear. I don’t have time to cry. Crying only makes him angrier.

  I have to get stronger.

  I have to.

  Or maybe, I’ll die here.

  Right here in this house.

  With him.

  -8-

  NOW – KODA

  Thank. Fuck.

  When I hear the distant voices moving closer to the cabin, my shoulders ease just a tiny bit. Yesterday was hell. Barely two words were spoken between Charlie and me. She was off all afternoon, staring at her phone, and then losing herself just looking at nothing, not even me. She didn’t eat. She went to bed early.

  It’s fucked.

  I need something to break it up.

  I stand out in front of the cabin, arms crossed over my chest, and watch as Malakai, Amalie, Maverick, Scarlett, Mason and Boston come into view. I nod in their general direction, and it’s Scarlett that skips over first with a big smile on her pretty damn face.