by Marie James
“What’s up?” he asks looking at my phone with apprehension. “Are we leaving?”
We haven’t stayed anywhere very long for a while.
“Not just yet,” I answer. “Happen to get the Wi-Fi password?”
He shuffles on his feet. “I did, but Samson keyed it into my phone, so I don’t know what it is.”
I slide my phone back into my pocket.
“I can go back down and get it for you,” he offers.
“No thanks,” I grumble and sit further back in the desk chair with my arms crossed over my chest. “Sounds like you were having a good time down there.”
“I won’t next time if you don’t want me to.”
I’m an asshole.
“It’s fine.” I want to ask him what they were doing, but I just can’t bring myself to, and now that I mentioned it, Drew will avoid telling me anything.
A yawn escapes his mouth before he has time to react and cover his mouth. “I’m so tired.”
“You should go to bed,” I say without inflection. “I’ll keep first watch.”
He shakes his head but climbs the stairs on the bunk bed anyway. “I think we can both sleep at the same time, dude. I don’t think they’re going to bother us.”
“What have I always told you?”
“Safety is an illusion, and it’s not worth the risk,” he mutters before kicking his sneakers over the side of the bed.
Rolling my eyes, I scoop them up and place them under the edge of the bed, all the way to the left just like always. It’s just part of the routine, in case we have to get out fast.
“I don’t mind staying up with you,” he says, sleepiness already clouding his voice.
“I got it.” I turn off the bedroom light and sit back down in the chair. “Get some rest.”
Soft snores fill the room mere minutes later. I force away the possibility of making a life in New Mexico. The last thing I need is to be in the shadow of a couple of washed-up bikers.
From the darkness of the room, it’s easy to look out over the perfect stone-faced homes. Four homes make a semi-circle behind the building we first came into earlier today. Perfect, but not cookie cutter, each one having its own personality to fit the occupants. They’re bigger, nicer, more substantial than any home I’ve ever been inside of before.
I shudder thinking about the last time I was in a house this nice. I wasn’t in it long before streaks of red and blue lights filtered through expensive, sheer curtains. I feel as unwanted in this house as I did in that one.
Chapter 4
Delilah
Sighing, I snuggle deeper into the sofa. My happy place. The perfect time of day where everyone heads to their rooms and I can sit and read without being distracted.
There may be no one around, but my focus isn’t on the eReader in my lap, but rather the guy upstairs who refused to come down for dinner. Drew showed his face, and pleasantly, although extremely guarded, interacted with the family. I couldn’t keep my eyes from the base of the stairs, every second of dinner spent waiting for him to show up.
Noise at my back startles me, but when I look over my shoulder, I find myself alone.
I turn from having my back against the arm of the couch to facing the direction the noise came from. It doesn’t take long before an unfamiliar figure clears the bottom of the stairs.
Lawson.
Of course, he would show his face after everyone disappeared for the night.
Sitting in the shadows, I watch in silence as he stops and looks around. I can’t tell if he’s familiarizing himself with the layout of the downstairs or if he’s casing the place.
“Can I help you find something?”
He doesn’t jump like I expect, or even turn his head in my direction. He knew I was here the entire time. Under the dim light at the base of the stairs, I watch his hands clench, closing and opening twice before he finally acknowledges me.
“What do you have in mind?” His throaty voice is more seductive than I’d like.
I swallow, the growing lump in my throat. “I-I can make you a sandwich. You must be hungry.”
“You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” he sneers, his anger an overreaction to my simple offer.
“I know you didn’t come down for dinner. I know Drew ate three plates of lasagna before he was full enough to stop shoveling it in.”
The sadness I felt earlier creeps back up at the defensiveness he feels he has to exert at me.
“I just figured you’d be hungry, too.” I set my eReader on the low coffee table. “If you don’t want to eat, that’s fine, but if you’re planning on sneaking out, you can’t use the doors. My dad has already set the alarm.”
“Which one?” he asks.
“Huh? Which door? All of them,” I inform him.
He chuckles, the sarcastic tone grating over my sensibilities.
“Which dad?” he corrects in a way that makes my eyes narrow.
I can get behind him having a crappy attitude because of the life he’s had up until now, but having a problem with my dads because of their sexuality isn’t going to fly.
“Does it matter?” He stays silent, staring in my direction as if he has night vision. “Do you have a problem with gay men?”
He shakes his head, but I can’t tell which question he’s answering.
“They aren’t the first gay couple I’ve encountered, Princess. Which one has you on lockdown?”
My lip twitches in agitation. “We aren’t on lockdown. It’s for our own protection.”
“Protection?” He huffs and turns his head away from my direction. I sag, finally relaxing a little from being under his hard eyes. “Sounds like something Jaxon would do. He seems like a control freak.”
I stand from the sofa, angry at this jerk coming into our home and questioning the way we live. He doesn’t have a damn clue the trouble that could find us from the years my dads spent battling bad guys all over the world. If he could find us so can others. It’s not like we advertise where the Cerberus’ hub of operation is, but it only takes a simple web search to find it.
“Listen, asshole,” I growl closing the distance between us but not getting close enough that he can reach out and touch me. “If you don’t want me to question your life, where you came from, why your brother ate dinner like he hadn’t eaten in days and was terrified he wouldn’t eat again for a week, then you need to stop making hasty judgments where my family is concerned.”
“I think I like you feisty,” he teases with a smirk.
I hate that damn smirk.
“How about you stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.”
He shakes his head again. “That’s the last thing I want.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I gawk at him, hating the confusion this entire conversation is causing. “Well, you’re rude, and the last thing I want is some boy with a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder ruining my summer.”
He steps a foot closer, and warning bells go off in my head. Immediately, I question my safety in my own home.
“I promise you, I’m all man. There’s not one part of me that’s still a boy.”
I tense, unsure of how to take his blatantly sexual comment. I stand my ground but remain quiet.
“Besides, how will you suck my cock if we’re avoiding each other?” He draws another foot closer, so close I can feel the energy flowing off of his body. “Maybe I can sneak in your room at night? I won’t mind coming to you as long as you stay quiet.”
With wide eyes, I stare up at him, but he’s not finished speaking. For the life of me, I don’t know why I want to hear everything he has to say.
“But don’t worry, Princess. When I’m pressing against the back of your throat, you won’t even be able to whimper.”
“I’d never,” I hiss, taking a step back and finally coming to my senses. “That’s never going to happen between us.”
He shrugs, nonchalant as if he hasn’t just said the filthiest thing I’ve heard d
irected at me.
“Does that usually work for women? Or is it just another defense mechanism?”
“Women?” He snorts. “You’re far from a woman.”
I want to argue with him, but proclaiming adulthood right now doesn’t seem like the best course of action.
“I normally don’t go after girls, but you’ll do in a pinch.”
“I can assure you, you’re wasting your time.”
“You’ll suck me off eventually,” he predicts.
“I’d rather drink bleach,” I hiss, giving him a wide berth as I walk past him toward the stairs.
“Bleach won’t pull your hair and make your pussy wet,” he calls after me.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I get away from him as quickly as I can. When I realize my eReader is still on the table, I debate going back down to get it. I shake my head at the idea.
“Not even worth it,” I mutter. “I can read on my laptop.”
I click the door lock in place, hoping he can hear it echo in the quiet house. Hopefully, he’ll take a hint and won’t even try to get in here tonight. I war with myself as I climb into bed and grab my phone from my nightstand, wondering if I should tell my dad about what he said.
I decide that he’s just an asshole, all talk and no follow through. He wouldn’t hurt me, especially not in my own home. I know my dads to be teddy bears, but they’re more than a little intimidating. Rob is muscled and fit similar to a college linebacker, and Jaxon is covered with so much ink and piercings only an idiot would challenge him.
The vibration of my cell phone is just the distraction I need. Gigi’s name flashes on the screen, full-on duck lips and a peace sign. She demanded I use the picture.
“Hello,” I answer.
“So?” she hisses.
I don’t answer. I know what she wants, but making Gigi wait for answers is always fun since most everyone in her life gives her what she wants, be it attention from the boys at school, the teachers who think she’s perfect, or her mom and dad who have no clue just how wild their daughter is.
“I saw your light come on, Delilah. I know you’re alone so spill.” I smile at her insistence. “Tell me about the hottie.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“Hmm. He looked like a bad boy.” I hear rustling in the background as if she’s settling in for some serious gossip. “Tell me more.”
“Not much to tell. He’s rude, crude, and egotistical.”
She laughs. “So you hit on him, and he turned you down?”
I roll my eyes at her assumptions.
“That’s gross. He’s Jaxon’s biological son.”
“And?” she says. “I know that part. I heard Mom and Dad whispering about it in the kitchen earlier.”
“That makes him like my brother. So no I didn’t hit on him.”
More like he offered or expected me to do devilish things to him.
“Not even close,” she responds.
“What?” Shaking my head, I try to focus on the conversation rather than wondering where in the house Lawson is.
“He’s not your brother, not by a long shot. You’re adopted, he’s blood. You’ve been there your whole life. From the looks on everyone’s faces at the clubhouse earlier, they’d never seen those boys before in their life. It’s different, but it isn’t gross,” she explains.
“No thanks,” I mutter.
“Give him my phone number,” she urges.
“What? No, I’m not doing that.”
“If you’re not staking a claim, then I should have a shot.”
“He’s not some uncharted territory you can claim, Gigi.”
“Why are you arguing about it?” I shift on my bed, uncomfortable with her questions.
“I’m not,” I finally answer. “He’s all yours.”
“Good.” I can hear her grin through the phone. “Now just let him know.”
“Sure,” I tell her and hang up the phone.
Like I’ll ever have an intentional conversation with Lawson again. Avoiding him at all costs seems to be the best way to survive his and Drew’s intrusion into our lives.
Chapter 5
Lawson
A genuine smile, the first in a very long time, is on my face as I watch Delilah scurry up the stairs. Toying with her is going to be more fun than I ever thought possible. I’d judged her wrong, thinking she’d cower or cry, run to daddy when faced with my teasing. She challenged me. Stood her ground like she was invincible. It’s stupid on her part, but more than a little entertaining for me.
I hear the lock turn on her bedroom door, and my smile grows bigger. If she thinks a simple door lock will keep me out of her room, she’s got another think coming.
Standing still, I listen for the sounds every house makes as it begins to calm from the day’s events. I familiarize myself with each one, the low rumble of the AC, the quiet murmurs coming from the master suite, and the New Mexico wind rustling the trees outside of the dining room window. Feeling sure that no one other than Delilah knows I’m down here, I slink into the kitchen.
The mention of lasagna from my earlier conversation with the blonde bombshell has my mouth watering and the hunger pains from my stomach setting into my bones. As silent as possible, I pull open the door to the fridge, and I’m met with the most organized shelves I’ve ever faced before. This has to be Delilah’s doing. She seems like the OCD, anal-retentive type.
I almost want to cry when I see that even though Drew ate his weight in the meal, there is still lasagna left over on the shelf. Not bothering with the microwave or a plate, I grab a fork and begin shoveling the food into my mouth. The flavors explode on my tongue, but I can’t be bothered to savor the best meal I’ve had in weeks. My only goal, satisfying the hunger in my gut, doesn’t allow me to even pause in between bites much less appreciate the effort that had to have gone into preparing it.
After getting my fill, I replace the lid and place it back on the shelf. It’s only then that I consider the fact that this meal was prepared, time was taken, from the looks of it, to be made from scratch. No store-bought Stouffers for this family. Even as happy as my stomach is, it angers me even further.
Contemplating just leaving the dirty fork in the otherwise spotless sink, I hold it in my hand and look around the kitchen. Sleek stainless steel appliances with every cooking gadget known to man, down to the canisters labeled with flour and sugar take up space on the counter. Perfect little kitchen for a perfect little family.
I shake my head, thinking of ways to knock them down a notch or two and wash the damn fork. After drying it, I place it back in the silverware drawer, upside down and backward of course. This asshole act is the only thing that comes to mind at the moment.
My hand shakes as I push the drawer closed, the urge to destroy this entire house a physical being in my body. I won’t. I can’t bring any more trouble down on me. I won’t do anything to compromise Drew’s future. Jaxon seems like a big enough asshole to get rid of him the second the cops would slap cuffs on my wrists.
No. Fucking with Delilah and making Samson’s life a living hell seem like a much more fitting task. Every day, they live the life I should’ve had. Every day, they wake up in a perfect home not having to worry about their safety, where their next meal is coming from. Those two have no idea just how good they have it, how lucky they are. It’s my job to make them realize what an imperfect world is really like.
With my belly full and a sinister smile on my face, I push off of the counter and make my way back to the stairs. My plans can start first thing in the morning. Right now, I need to catch a few hours of sleep and rejuvenate my body.
The low murmurs I’d heard after Delilah shook her ass all the way up the stairs are louder than before. I creep along, getting closer to the door to what I can only assume is the master bedroom. Keeping my feet over a foot away, I angle my head so I can hear better.
“I can’t fucking believe her,” Jaxon hisses. “She just leaves, pregnant with my son, and d
oesn’t bother to tell anyone?”
“It’s pretty fucked up,” Rob responds.
“Eighteen years!” Jaxon hisses. “Eighteen fucking years and not so much as a letter? A phone call?”
“She was mad you rejected her,” Rob interjects.
My fists clench, the words my mother whispered in my ear on her deathbed showing up, unwanted, at this moment.
Your father isn’t dead. Find the Cerberus MC when I’m gone. He didn’t want us. You’ll recognize him when you see him.
This asshole has the nerve to pretend he didn’t know about me?
Maybe he knew and never told Rob?
“She was a club girl for Christ’s sake,” Jaxon bellows.
“Keep your voice down.”
I hear him huff but his next words, although coming out on a hiss of breath are quieter. “She was fucking everyone in the club, Itchy.”
Itchy?
“Not just you and me,” he continues. “Ace. Snake. Snapper. She knew where you and I were heading. She pushed us together. She had to have known she didn’t factor into the equation.”
“Feelings are messy,” Rob cajoles. “You know neither one of us had a damn clue this is where we’d end up when we started the whole group sex scene.”
“And Drew? Do you think she told that poor kid’s dad?” Jaxon has no damn clue about Drew’s asshole father. “She probably lied about him also. Hell, knowing Darby she doesn’t have a clue who his father is. She probably didn’t know Lawson was mine until he got older.”
I’m seething, angry enough at the shitty way he’s talking about my mom to reach for the door handle.
I don’t consider that he’s right. I don’t let the memories of all of the men that filtered in and out of our lives figure into the equation of my anger. I won’t concede to his way of thinking, even if it is so fucking close to the truth that it’s eerie.
I pull up short when he starts speaking again.
“He spent his entire life, living God knows what way, no father when he had two perfectly good men here willing to give him everything he could ever want. Who does that to a child? Who is so damned prideful that they stew in their stubbornness and let their son suffer for almost two decades?”