Wait on Me
Knights of Retribution MC #2
Elizabeth Knox
Contents
Available Now By Elizabeth Knox
Available Now by Liz Knox
Warning
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Playlist
Sydney’s Battle
Wait on Me
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Wait on Me. Copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth Knox. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information, contact E. Knox.
Editing: Kim Lubbers, Knox Publishing
Proofreading: Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing
Formatting: E.C. Land, Knox Publishing
Cover Designer: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations
Photographer: Reggie Deanching, R + M Photography
Models: Julian Kutman
Created with Vellum
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Series: Skulls Renegade
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Reckoning
Reclaimed
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Hate on Me
Wait on Me
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Trigger Warning
This book is intended for mature audiences only. If darker books are not for you, please do not move forward. After re-adjusting my trigger warning system, I will not be giving any spoilers. Please understand that this is not your run-of-the-mill romance and tough subjects will be discussed in this storyline. This story could include things like rape, kidnapping, abuse, domestic violence, drugs, alcohol abuse, and many other potential triggers.
Please also be advised it is not recommended to read this book as a standalone.
Prologue
Ravage
10 Years Ago . . .
“I can’t believe we’re here.”
Marisole turns to look at me, an amused smirk dragging across her face. “You still didn’t think we’d come, did you?”
Well, she’s got me there. “I thought you were pullin’ my leg when you said we were takin’ a trip to Mexico. Then you said we’d be stayin’ at a resort, everythin’ was paid for, and I . . . Marisole, I love you, but I thought you were screwin’ with me.” Part of me thinks she still might be. Hell if I know, but here we are, two people in our early twenties, at a fancy-ass resort we obviously can’t afford.
Marisole hasn’t ever talked about her dad much. I’ve been dating the woman for two years and she briefly mentioned him around the holidays we’ve spent together. Now we’re in Mexico? I try to keep my personal feelings to myself cause this seems weird as shit, but she’s been excited to come down here and see her father. Who am I to take her down a few notches? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she has an abnormal relationship with her dad. Still, she must respect him if she’s willing to drop everything for a visit. The fact she asked me to tag along wasn’t expected, but I’m taking this as an opportunity.
There’s not a doubt in my mind I’ll end up meeting him at some point this weekend, and there’s something I need to ask him. I didn’t think about asking him prior to this trip, considerin’ he’s never been around, but coming here shows me how much Marisole does respect him. The mere fact she thinks highly of him means I need to change my plans.
There’s been a question I’ve wanted to ask Marisole for a few months now and I haven’t been able to find the right time. She’s the light of my life and I need her to brighten up my dark days
. I need her so much I don’t want anyone else. We may be young, but when you know, you know.
Since we’re here, I can do something I didn’t think I would. I can ask for her father’s blessing and it’ll make our proposal even more special to her. Not to mention we’re in a beautiful place where she deserves to be proposed to. She doesn’t deserve me asking for her hand in marriage while we’re in Highlandtown watching women pimp themselves out on the corner.
No, she deserves something like this.
Something as beautiful as she fuckin’ is.
Marisole’s golden brown hair falls over her shoulders effortlessly and she releases an adorable giggle. “My father wanted me to come down, so he handled everything.”
Even though she seems to be fine on the outside, plastering on a smirk and laughing, her eyes tell me a different story. I want to ask what’s bothering her, but I don’t. If I do, it could cause us to get into a fight because the woman doesn’t like being pushed. When she wants to come out and tell me what’s bothering her, she will.
The sun illuminates her hair and Marisole pulls out a compact from her purse. Flipping it open, she grabs one of her lip glosses and draws her brows together. I know exactly what she’s doing. She can’t make up her mind. “Babe, what looks better on my lips?” Marisole turns to me, and I stare in awe at how she can look beautiful in just about anything. Whether it’s an oil-ridden t-shirt with her hair in a messy bun or in what she calls full glam.
She’s wearing a white top and skirt set that matches. The skirt starts above her belly button and conforms to her natural curves, while there’s a slit that starts mid-thigh on her left leg. Teal, red, purple, and yellow flowers line the top of the skirt and stop, almost lookin’ like flowers that’re fallin’ from a vine. Meanwhile, her top has the same flowers around the bottom hem. The flowers stop just below her ample bust and she immediately starts laughing, so carefree.
“I thought you’d like this outfit, but golly, you look like you want to ravage me.”
“There’s a reason I got my road name, baby girl,” I tease. Standing up, I stalk toward her and slide my hands over her chunky ass once I’m within reach. I snake a hand up her side and glance down at her succulent peach lips. “You ask me what I think looks better . . . how about this?” I bring my lips down onto hers, and she inhales sharply but smiles against my lips.
Even two years later, we’ve still got it. A lot of couples can’t say that shit.
I steal this kiss from her, lingering for as long as I can, knowing we need to get going. We have dinner with her father and we can’t be late.
Marisole doesn’t know it yet, but tonight her life will change forever.
Tonight, she’ll no longer be my girlfriend. She’ll be my fiancée.
Chapter One
Marisole
Present Day . . .
Leaning back on the rusty muted green bench stool, I revel at sitting in this dark room. Well, it’s not a room. It’s a small makeshift garage that’s only for my husband’s use. Scar is the Prez of the Beasts of Brutality MC. Everyone here both respects him and fears him. He’s terrifying and I only know a bit of the things he’s done.
Massacre, one of the oldest men in the club, told me one time that Rage was shaping Scar to be his protégé. All of the men in the Beasts of Brutality MC were part of the Demons of Hell MC before they were forced into hiding. Their former Prez, who’s now dead, Rage, had pissed off the wrong people. He had enemies stacked miles high, but his alliances were just as solid until they all came crumbling down.
One of his allies was my father, Rafael Ramirez. For a long time, I didn’t understand why my father would align himself with a man like Rage, but I quickly understood the reasoning for his choices.
My father’s empire was beginning to fall and he saw his end coming. He’s been dead for years now, and Rage died three years ago. This may sound twisted, but I come from a sick family, so my thoughts aren’t out of character. I only wish my father died before he further solidified his alliance with Rage. In doing so, he promised my hand in marriage to his protégé, and we’ve been married for almost ten years.
They’ve been the most grueling, exhausting years of my life. Years I thought I wouldn’t ever be able to endure and somehow, I still don’t know how I’ve been able to survive it. Scar should’ve killed me by now. After all, my father’s dead and my protection is no longer guaranteed. But he hasn’t even made an attempt on my life. Sure, he does the most fucked up things to me but never once has he crossed a line he can’t come back from.
I’ve been handed off to his men like a clubwhore. Tied up and forced into physically painful positions while being defiled by the men in his club, doing whatever it is they want to my body. Scar lights a match and brings the flame until it burns my skin, just to get a reaction from me. He’s put out his cigarettes on me, cut my hair off, has really done anything someone could imagine to defile and make me feel worthless.
I pull the string that hangs somewhere above my head and the light illuminates more of the dark garage. Looking at the tools laid out on the wood table in front of me, I pick up a wrench and skim my fingertips along the cool metal, wishing things ended up differently. My life could’ve been so much different.
“He’s great. Isn’t he?” I smile at my father, hoping he sees Ravage as the well-mannered man he is. He treats me great and I’ve been with him for two years at this point. Two years and he hasn’t ever done anything he can’t come back from. We’re comfortable with each other and I love him. I just want my father to see I’m being taken care of.
My father’s expression falters the second we’re in his study out of Ravage’s view. He shuts the door firmly and finally speaks his mind, “I want to agree with you, but he’s . . . dull, mija.”
Taken aback by his words, I blink a few times, trying to process what he’s said. “Dull?” I repeat.
Immediately, he nods. “He’s not what you need.”
“What? How can you say something like that?” He doesn’t even know him. Not at all. He’s spoken to him for maybe two hours.
“In our family, you become good at reading people, mija. Plus, I told you I had a plan for your future. One that involves a man of importance, not a . . . a man like him. You are of a high-born bloodline, which means I’ve already arranged a marriage for you. A marriage to a man of power.”
There’s no way he can be serious right now. I narrow my eyes at him and suck in a sharp breath. “Where is all this coming from? You’ve never once spoken to me about this,” I grumble, walking toward the window that overlooks his garden area. Even though he lives within twenty minutes of the beach, his estate is smack dab in the middle of the desert. Forty-foot walls surround his home like they would in the movies. “Why haven’t you said anything to me before? This all seems so . . . convenient, given the timing.”
“I wanted to wait until you were twenty. I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to have been, but this marriage, this alliance, is a gift for you. The man I’ve negotiated for you to marry is Rage’s son, Scar.”
Rage? Who is Rage? “Wait. Are you talking about the man from my quinceañera?” There were many people at my quinceañera, people I’d never met my entire life, but Rage . . . I remember the man with the dark hair, his piercing eyes, and most of all, the look that will forever be burned into my memory.
“Yes, mija. His son, Scar, is who you will marry. I’ve arranged for you to be married on your birthday. So until then, you are a free woman. Have fun with this . . . dull beast until then. But on your—”
“If you’re about to say what I think you are—don’t—I don’t give a damn what you arranged. I’m not going to marry someone I’ve never met. As a matter of fact, you won’t ever get to choose who I—” I don’t see it coming at all. The sudden movement in the air should’ve been enough of a sign. However, it isn’t. The back of my father’s hand rips against my skin and it burns like if I spilled hot water on myself. Shock swarms over me
and I take a few steps back. With widened eyes, I try to gauge if this is my reality or if I’m losing my mind a bit.
My father takes two long strides toward me and grimaces. “You will do what I say when I say. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here right now. Your mother never wanted to have you in the first place. I paid her to make sure she didn’t abort you. Remember that the next time you try and disobey me.”
Shaking my head, tears spill down my cheeks in an effortless flow. Even now, the power of his words still rings in my mind, causing me the worst amount of emotional pain. What he said to me that day is something I shouldn’t have ever heard.
My life is worthless. I can’t make any decisions for myself and I’m nothing but a tool, just like the wrench my fingers skirt along. My life isn’t even my own and I’m tired of not having any control.
I take my hands away from the wrench and look on the wooden table, realizing there’s an extension cord not being used. I take in a deep breath and am unable to tear my eyes away from the cord. My heart’s pumping hard in my chest, almost like my body is begging me to stop this before it’s too late, but I can’t.
Wait on Me (Knights of Retribution MC Book 2) Page 1