Axe: A Steel Paragons MC Novel

by Eve R. Hart

  “This isn’t a good idea,” I said, effectively snapping us out of our trance. “I’m not a good man.” And if that wasn’t the damn truth. I had no doubt she had some sort of idea of what I was involved in.

  She blinked and her spine straightened a little. And just like that, I missed the heat coming off of her body.

  “You may have an idea about club life, but you have no idea who I am and what I’ve done,” I said, reeling myself in as much as I could.

  She pinned me with her stare and her brow arched high as if she was challenging me. Fucking hell, I loved her feisty spirit. It may have been the sexiest thing about her.

  As if she were clearing her thoughts, she shook her head then looked down at Neiryn. He was sound asleep, his little snores filled the long stretched silence around us.

  I leaned over and scooped him up, careful not to wake him. Without looking at her again, I stepped cautiously around her and walked down the hall and into her bedroom. As I carefully placed him down in his pen, I couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked. I didn’t move from that spot for a few minutes, even when I heard her get up and head down the stairs.

  Both of us clearly needed a moment of space, but that didn’t mean this conversation was over. I had to get her to understand why this was a horrible idea. She had to see why I was no good for her and the boy. She was running from one bad situation and it wouldn’t be right if I put her right into another one. In my heart, that was what I believed, that I was the last thing they needed.

  As I stood there, my breaths came out slow and heavy as I tried to picture her life in the future.

  She needed to find a good, decent man. One that didn’t have blood on his hands and the weight of a past like mine on his shoulders. One that didn’t wake up in the middle of the night with rage flowing through his veins. A banker or an accountant—someone that could provide for the two of them and had a safe, if not a bit dull, life. Some motherfucking prick that would never be good enough for her but would be able to make her happy.

  I took in a deep breath, my lungs expanding to capacity before I let the air rush out, and then I headed downstairs in search of Allison.

  I found her in the kitchen making coffee. Her back was to me and the small bulb over the stove provided the only light, casting an angelic glow around her frame.

  I stepped up to the island that was awkwardly placed in the middle of the kitchen. I say awkwardly because the space was almost too small to accommodate an island. But Ethel being Ethel, insisted that the place needed it.

  After the coffee pot gurgled and sputtered its last drops, she poured two cups, then gently slid one across the island to me. The steam clouded her face as she brought her own cup to her lips. With a long, drawn-out breath, the steam danced in front of her lips as if it was fighting to rise. The very same lips I had been inches from only moments ago. The ones that I’d spent way too much time thinking about in so many ways—mostly wrapped around my cock. But, still, I also imagined what it would be like to kiss them, to feel how soft they were against my own.

  She set the cup down on the counter beside her, effectively pulling my attention away from her mouth. In one swift movement, she lifted herself up and back onto the counter, her legs dangled over the edge and her ankles crossed.

  My palms planted themselves on the cool wood top of the island. I felt like I was on fire and I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of her. It seemed she couldn’t look away from me either. The air was thick around me and I wondered if I was the only one having trouble breathing. My fingers pressed down onto the unforgiving surface so hard my nail beds turned white. I needed something to ground me, to chain me in place. All I wanted to do is go over to her and that was the last thing either one of us needed.

  I had come to realize that she not only drove me crazy, but I also couldn’t control myself around her. I wanted to take everything she had to give and more. I wanted to break her, but only so she could realize that she was strong enough to rebuild herself. So that she could see what she was really capable of. I wanted to own her yet, help her stand tall. None of it made sense and I was tired of trying to understand the workings of my mind.

  After a long stretch of intense silence, she opened her mouth to speak.

  “I know you’re in a motorcycle club. I also know that you’re an Enforcer and that involves doing some…less savory things sometimes. Killing probably being one of them,” she said, her voice strong and confident. Though I knew I was a scary guy, she didn’t shrink down to me, ever. I think that was what captivated me the most about her.

  Her words filtered into my ears and I did my best not to tense. If she wanted my attention, she damn well had it right then. I waited, desperate to hear what else she had to say.

  “I know that in any situation you would not hesitate to put the club first, even if that means doing something you may be unsure of.” My eyes shifted to her throat as she worked down a hard swallow.

  I had a feeling she wasn’t only saying these things out loud so I knew that she had my number, but also to let me know that she understood her place in all of this. It made my blood run cold and my mouth felt as dry as a desert. I was waiting—just fucking waiting—for the ball to drop.

  I forced my eyes back up to hers.

  “You are the first one to get their hands dirty and the last one to go home at night, all in the name of the club.” Her tone was flat but her eyes told so much.

  When she first saw me after I pushed my way through the door, I got the feeling that she had some kind of knowledge about club life, but now I wondered how she knew this much. Though my cut had my patch on it indicating what place I had in the club, I hadn’t told her much about myself or the Steel Paragons.

  Rubbing two fingers over my lips, I studied her, my eyes narrowed a tiny bit.

  She picked up her cup, wrapped her slender fingers around it like her hands were cold. Her eyes darted down as she took a slow sip. After a moment, she regained herself or found her strength to go on, or whatever. Maybe she was working shit out in her head. Maybe this was the moment she was going to fill in the missing pieces for me. I had no Goddamn clue, so I waited with the patience of a fucking saint.

  “I know that you won’t hurt me or Neiryn. I trust you.”

  Those words hit me like a slap in the face. As long as I’d been waiting to hear them, they felt like they were about to come with the crushing weight of a heavy boulder crashing down on me.

  Her eyes slowly lifted to look into mine. The deep blue threatened to pull me in but I held my ground and cleared my mind. She meant it. She wasn’t trying to trick me or reel me into her sadistic web. She was genuine. She trusted me.

  She

  Fucking

  Trusted

  Me

  In that moment, I knew that no matter what I wouldn’t do anything to break that trust. Ever. It meant more to me than anything had in a long damn time. There was more to her story and while I needed to know it all, I promised myself that it wouldn’t change anything.

  “Darlin’,” I said speaking to her for the first time since I’d walked down here. “All of those things sound like good reasons not to trust me, to stay away from me.” I leaned into the island, my arms strained in their locked position, the muscles cording as I pushed forward.

  My words were meant to send a warning. To snap her into reality. But as I said them she didn’t even flinch. Her breaths became heavier and her eyes didn’t back down from mine. I refused to entertain the idea that she fucking wanted me even a little.

  “Tell me your story,” she breathed out.

  My story wasn’t much of a secret and I had nothing to hide from her. I was who the fuck I was. Didn’t mean I liked it, I had just learned a long time ago that I couldn’t change it.

  “Cal, the president of the Steel Paragons.” She nodded and it made me think that she already knew who Cal was and that he was indeed the leader. I decided to store that information in the back of my head for now.
If she knew as much about MCs as she had led me to believe, then it wasn’t so far fetched that she knew ones other than the one she’d clearly been a part of.

  “Well, Cal took me in when I was twelve. I didn’t have a good home situation growing up. My dad was a mean drunk and took that shit out on my mom and me. He knocked us both around all the time. We lived on the outskirts of town and no one ever questioned anything. Like why I always came to school dirty or that my skin practically clung to my bones. My clothes were forever filthy and my skin held more blue and green than white.”

  My hands shook as the memories danced on the outside of my mind. I was tired of them controlling me, clouding me when I least wanted them to.

  “One night I came home to my dad beating my mom so bad she couldn’t even stand up. Her face didn’t even look like a face anymore. Her eyes were swollen so bad she couldn’t open them. He kept at it. There was blood all around her. I knew—I just knew—she wouldn’t be gettin’ up ever again. He kept saying that this would be the last time she ever stepped out on him.”

  And just like that, the memories took over. I was pretty sure my mouth was still moving, telling the story as my eyes tried their best to focus on the world around me.

  “Fuckin’ whore! You deserve every second of this.” My dad’s voice roars out so loud that I can hear it before I even open the door.

  I push inside the house, my heart racing and my hands shaking. My mom is curled up on the hard floor. She doesn’t move with each pounding that rains down on her mangled body.

  “Mom,” I call out and though I want to go to her, my feet are rooted in place.

  “You see this, boy. This is what they get when yer a fuckin’ no good cunt like yer mom here. Worthless, both of you. I’m coming for you next, boy.”

  He pounds into her again and again. And when he gets tired of bending over, his feet take over. Her body jerks with every kick but she doesn’t cry out or try to get away.

  “This is a lesson here.” He takes a break, only to stumble over to the couch and pick up a shovel that I hadn’t notice was there until now. “Act like a bitch, die like a bitch.”

  He brings the shovel up over his head and in the blink of an eye, slams it down onto her lifeless body.

  “Mom…” I manage to say in a weak voice.

  The sound of bones cracking rings out into the tiny space. Bile rises up my throat but I don’t dare let it out.

  Again and again, he hits her with the shovel.

  He’s shaking and sweating. His face is bright red and the veins are popping out of his neck. He is truly a monster and I’m too scared to move.

  Then he changes his tactic. His hands wrap around the end of the shovel as he raises it high, then he brings it straight down, driving the pointed end into her neck. It takes three more blows like that for her head to finally detach from her body.

  There is so much blood everywhere and yet I can’t look away. My mother is dead. If I had any doubt about it before, I know for sure now.

  I’m too shell-shocked I don’t even realize when my dad is right in front of me. The same shovel he used still in his hand. Then before I can brace myself, he swings it sideways, hitting me on my shoulder and knocking me to the ground.

  I can’t take my eyes off of the mound of flesh that used to be my mom. He gets four more swings in and I can feel things cracking and breaking with each one.

  Somehow I manage to snap myself out of my catatonic state. I roll away from his next blow, my arm screaming at me as I do, causing me to cry out in pain. Using my other arm, I get myself up.

  Then I run. And run and run, not once looking back. Out of breath and strength to take another step, I collapse on the frozen ground, unable to move any longer.

  “And that was where Cal found me the next morning,” I said, snapping back into the present as I brought my story to an end. “He took me in, Patch fixed me up. All in all, I had a broken arm, fractured ribs, and too many cuts and bruises to even try to count.”

  My lungs tightened as I took in a deep breath. After the air rushed back out of my lungs I went on. The worst of it was over.

  “After I recovered, Cal put me to work. Mostly cleaning up after the guys at the clubhouse. As I got older, he gave me more responsibility within the club. He treated me like his own son and he showed me that hard work pays off in the end. When I turned seventeen, he gave me a choice. I could join, or he would give me a good chunk of money and I could find my own way.”

  I pushed off of the island, trying my best to shake out my tense muscles. With heavy hesitation, my eyes looked over at her.

  She was there, taking it all in. But I was shocked to find that as I met her gaze there was no pity there. My breath caught and my chest felt like it was caving in. Her blue eyes looked into mine and I felt like she was seeing straight into my soul and only finding my strength inside. All she saw was the man that had made it out of a horrible situation, not the one that had been beaten so much that he was forever broken inside.

  My feet moved, even though I willed them not to. Before I even realized it, I was standing in front of her, her ankles were uncrossed and her body was calling me to move in between her parted legs. All the things I wanted to do in that moment I held back. I focused on what was to come next, hoping that I had it in me to fight all the things going on in my mind.

  “You have your reasons for why you stayed. I’m sure your club follows a code, too. Right?” she asked and I wondered what she was getting at. I gave her a nod of affirmation. “No women or children, right? Don’t hurt the innocent?”

  I gave another nod, though the look on her face told me she already knew the answer.

  “I told you my story. Now, are you gonna tell me the truth about yours?” I asked. I needed to know what she was hiding. I fucking needed to know what I was up against and I was getting tired of picking up little clues here and there.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Allison

  What could I say? I was overwhelmed and thrown off by the story he had just told me. I knew he was a tortured soul, that much was obvious, but I never in my wildest thoughts could have imagined that.

  The past week had been hard. When I’d first told him my past and how I’d come to be here, he shut down. The look that came over his face almost made me cry. No, not almost. It did, only I was able to hold it in until he left. Which he did, like right after I’d spilled my guts and told him the hardest things anyone should ever have to go through. He looked sick. Disgusted. Repulsed. Like he couldn’t even be around me anymore.

  I knew once I told him, he wouldn’t look at me the same. He would no longer hold that heated look in his beautiful eyes when he took me in.

  I think that was what hurt the most. The first real person to show me that I was desirable, to give me some sort of hope at a normal life, and I ripped it all away with stories of things that I had no choice in.

  I was actually surprised when he did come back, though. I thought for sure he would send someone else to fill his place.

  He’d spent the entire week cold and distant. Not that I could blame him. He didn’t try to corner me or practically own me with his stare. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of times he did actually meet my eyes. Sad and pathetic as it may have been, I just wanted him to wrap me in his arms and tell me that it would all be alright. I wanted him to tell me that I was beautiful and strong, all the things I strived to be but knew I never was.

  Then all those boxes came and my mind was in a damn tailspin. He did this, I knew it in my heart. Sure, he might not have gone out and gotten the stuff or even sat down and ordered it, but he had a hand in it. I had no doubt that it was all his idea.

  But when I reached out and touched him, trying to let him know how much it all meant to me, he pulled away like I’d poured acid on him. I wasn’t surprised when he walked out the door, again.

  At first, I panicked when I woke and found Neiryn gone. I was about to go running through the house in search of him, b
ut as I jumped out of bed, I heard Axe and Neiryn down the hall. I stood there, surrounded by the darkness of my room, listening for the longest time. But that didn’t compare to the sight of walking up on them. It broke my heart in the sweetest way. There was Axe—this scary, monotone, emotionally strange man sitting with my son building a crib, not only for him but with him.

  Fuck! It got me.

  I’d always longed for a normal life for Neiryn. A man he could look up to. One that would take time out of his day to sit down with him to simply hang out. A man that thought about him, even if it was for no reason at all. I didn’t want to have hope fluttering around in my chest, but it was there.

  And then we were there in the kitchen. I was still reeling from the things he’d told me. I needed a moment to process it all, but he moved his body close to mine and I couldn’t think of anything but giving myself to him.

  He wanted to know everything and as much as I had tried to hide it, he was letting me know I wasn’t doing a good job. The thing was, I couldn’t.

  “I told you,” I said answering his question after too long of a pause. I gripped the cup in my hand, the coffee having long turned cold. Without looking down, I knew my knuckles had turned white.

  He gripped the cup and pulled it out of my hand. It was the one thing that I had as a barrier between us, with it gone, I wasn’t sure what would happen. He leaned down, his hands planting themselves on the counter beside my butt, caging me in and filling my nose with his irresistible scent.

  “You said you trust me. Then trust me to help you. I need to know everything.” His mouth was so close to mine it was as if I was breathing in his words as he spoke. I gave my head a little shake, trying to force myself to focus. “Who are you protecting?”

  My head dipped down. My son. Always. That was who I would always protect with my life if I had to.

  His finger hooked as he brought it under my chin. His touch was forceful but not rough as he pushed my head up and forced me to look into his eyes again.

  “I-I can’t,” I sputtered in a whisper, the tears filled up my eyes and I tried my hardest not to let them fall. “You won’t look at me the same after.”