Cillian still hadn’t said a word and allowed his younger brother to do all the talking.
“Trey is Dizzy Cox’s biological son and he has a lot of knowledge about both MCs. We get the girl and we can get to Trey Lennon.”
“Wrong,” Cillian finally said with such hatred and fury in his voice, the gun shook in his hand. “That shithead will never know about Caitlin, full fuckin’ stop. She’s my daughter and if that was your mission—gettin’ my slutty old lady to turn—your bosses are dumber than I thought they were.”
“No one just comes in here and tries to take our family away from us. You woulda did something like that. Brianna woulda ended up a dead bitch and those kids would be right back here in a matter of days.” Ronan flexed out his arm and aimed at Riley. “Goodnight, Fuckhead.”
The sound of the Desert Eagle was loud but the volume was nothing compared to the hole left in Riley’s skull or the brains it had blown out.
Cillian picked up the spent cartridge and put it in his pocket. “Did you forget I was supposed to take him out?”
Ronan didn’t respond. “Bookie, get rid of the body. Make sure it shows up in Black Oak somewhere. It’ll get back to us but that buys a few days, maybe a week. Make sure the body is wrapped in plastic. You need help carrying him out to the van?”
Bookie slipped a large black garbage sack over his head, neck and torso. “Nope. I got this. Meet you two back at the Clubhouse.”
Cillian waited until Bookie left and it was just him and Ronan. “Answer my question.”
Ronan’s violet-blue eyes turned toward him. “You wanna know why I did it? You don’t have too many kills left in ya, brother. I don’t mean if it came to lockdown and you had to murder to defend your family or the Club. I’m talkin’ about hits like this. You wanna take the rap? Fine. I switched guns. Here, give me my fuckin’ Desert Eagle. I bought that from old man Bradford at the gun range.”
“Why do you care how many hits I have left in me anyway?”
“You’re my brother…not just by blood but you will run this Club one day with Gisela at your side and we need a strong Prez, someone like Dad. We don’t need a broken shell. You can’t do shit like this anymore and I understand that. Pops was…careless…had you killin’ too early in life. And that five years in Northern Ireland? I’m not even gonna ask about that.”
Ronan walked over and handed Cillian the gun before he grabbed his. “We were brought up like that but you went from being an all-American kid who knew he was part of a biker gang to third world violence in two seconds flat. Life was cheap in Northern Ireland, the way it is everywhere there is poverty and despair. You did what you had to do but you gotta know you’re suffering from PTSD and Dad didn’t wanna hear about it. He just kept sending you on runs and you kept gettin’ worse. Until you made up with Gisela, this is the best I have seen you in years, man. Fuckin’ years.”
“I gotta take the rap for this.”
“Do it.” Cillian was taken aback when Ronan embraced him quickly. “Just tell Gisela who really did it. It’s gonna make her a job a hell of a lot easier defendin’ you when she knows you didn’t kill ‘em, okay?”
Cillian nodded his head wordlessly.
“Now let’s get the hell out of here before Sheriff Briggs or one of his fuckin’ officers get nosy about someone reportin’ a gun shot.”
They both walked out of the warehouse together and climbed on their Harleys. It was going to be a long night but at least he hadn’t pulled the trigger and he would take the rap for Ronan on principle alone. None of his brothers had ever did something so selflessly before.
He wasn’t a big believer of reminiscing about the past or being overly sentimental but this was a favor he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon.
Chapter Eight
Gisela
Naomi showed up at Jackson & Hughes shortly after six.
I didn’t know her very well although I did know she was in Drake’s school year so that would have made her twenty-three, a year younger than Ronan and Quinn.
She drove a silver 2013 Ford Escape and climbed out of the driver’s seat to reveal a gorgeous body that spoke volumes about her work out regime. I knew she’d been in the Air Force and was a damn good fighter pilot too until her plane was blown out of the sky. She was never taken hostage but she had blown her knee and that was the end of her career, at least as far as combat was concerned.
She’d been honorably discharged and given the Bronze star for saving some of her fellow officers when the plane had gone down.
Although she didn’t walk with a limp, I knew winter was going to give her hell around these parts. Once that snow started falling and the bitter cold set in, she was gonna wish to be back at Nellis Air Force Base in North Las Vegas again and not out here in hell’s half acre.
I stood and saved all my notes before I backed them up to my Microsoft Office Cloud drive and powered down my laptop.
Everyone was gone except me but the only reason why I’d left the front doors open was because I was expecting her.
“Ready to go?” she greeted as she walked in and I closed my office door. I locked it before I turned around with my briefcase and laptop. “Yep. Should I follow you?”
“Um, no, actually.” Naomi slid her hands in the back of her indigo skinny jeans. “Let’s drop your car off at your place and then we can go back to the Clubhouse together. Dizzy doesn’t like a lot of vehicles around and since you haven’t broken the news to your parents yet, I don’t think he wants them to find out about you two like this. It should be something you tell them in your own time.”
I nodded and promptly walked over to my 2014 black Porsche Cayenne. It was a recent upgrade and gift from my parents “just because.”
I threw my laptop bag and briefcase on top of the passenger seat and wondered what Cillian was doing at that moment.
It pained me because all these years that had gone by, I could no longer pretend like I didn’t care about him or wonder how he was doing every second of every day. When I lost him, it was like a huge chunk of my heart had been taken. I knew there would still be some tough times ahead but at least there was hope. We had a chance; we could bridge the differences between us, and stop hurting one another once and for all.
We were both stubborn sons of bitches; he was an Aquarius and I was an Aries but we both had fierce tempers that could only be aggravated and exacerbated to the extreme by one another. That, I believed, had nothing to do with our astrological signs and everything to do with the kind of people we were, our upbringing and how neither of us liked being wrong.
It’d always been that way, from the moment we met.
The Past
Kyra and I were in the middle of a massive fight on our way back from the mall after a tough day at school.
“After everything I have done for you, I can’t believe you won’t lend me the notes for our World History exam. You know you don’t need them!” Kyra exclaimed in anger.
“That’s not the point. You need to learn how to stand on your own two feet. If I am always there to bail you out then when will you learn about responsibility?”
“My ass, Sela, and that isn’t the point!” Kyra glared at me with bright blue eyes. “You wanna play this game? Get out.”
I laughed out loud until I realized her brand new, white Volkswagen Jetta began to swerve to the shoulder of the two lane highway.
It was early October and certainly not the time of the year for a nice walk. The sun had begun to set and the bitter air had a bite to it even my wool coat couldn’t keep out completely.
“Fine, you can have the notes,” I whined.
“Sorry, don’t need ‘em now.” She tossed her ginger-blonde hair over her shoulder and continued to look outside the car window.
I got out and she sped away. I knew she would come back for me but in the mean time I began to walk along the highway. It’d started to get dark as the sun set quickly in the west and soon, the forest of trees blocked it out entirely
. It was eerie and I was still a mile from any town in the vicinity.
I began to look over my shoulder every few minutes as my heart spiked. I wanted to see a vehicle but then again, I prayed I wouldn’t. The only car I wanted in my view was Kyra’s Jetta coming towards me so she could pick me up, tell me she was sorry and would take my World History notes for tomorrow’s exam. I didn’t need them; I studied for the test because anything less than being a 4.0 student in my home was unacceptable.
We both attended the all-girls Lake Tahoe Lutheran Academy, a swanky private high school for the wealthy children whose families lived in the tri-cities area. The kids of the wealthy Mafioso and Irish families had St. Patrick’s, a co-ed private high school in Carson City.
My shiny, black penny loafers were hardly the type of shoes meant for walking long distance and I prayed I didn’t get them scuffed up. That or my school uniform, a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a khaki skirt that ended just above my knees.
I suddenly heard the rumbling of a motorcycle—no, a Harley—coming from behind me, and my heart picked up in its thunderous pace. Should I hide in the forest or continue to walk as if I hadn’t heard it? I couldn’t make a decision so instead I picked up the pace but the bike zoomed by and slowed as it pulled over just twenty feet in front of me.
I knew the guy riding it had to be older but I hoped to God he wasn’t pedophile or worse, a rapist. I knew all about the biker gangs in the tri-cities area and although I could do a lot worse than a Lucifer’s Saint, I secretly hoped the guy would be a Demon’s Bastard. At least we lived in the same town.
Cillian Cox had pulled off his helmet and when his baby face met my own, I took a step back. The guy shouldn’t have been driving a motorbike, let alone a Harley. Then again, neither Kyra nor I were supposed to be driving either because we wouldn’t receive our Driver’s License for almost a year. However, the local law enforcement never said one word about either of us driving with our Learner’s Permit.
“What do you want?” I’d asked.
Granted he was fifteen but an extremely well-built fifteen year old. He had to be at least six feet tall and he was all lean muscle. He even sported a couple tattoos on his biceps and I couldn’t help the feeling of being shocked. No way in hell would my parents ever let me get away with a tattoo!
I still had to wear my dark hair mid-back and couldn’t dye it any color except in the brown family because my mother thought it would be “unbecoming.” Personally, I thought she liked being the only blonde in the family. Since I’d inherited her features, it was all I was going to get from her with no help from a salon what so ever.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he said in a strong, masculine voice. “You do know what would have happened if I was a White Knight, dontcha?”
I rolled my eyes. The thought had occurred to me but then I knew about the stories my dad told me. How he’d once dumped a whole reserve gallon of gasoline on a man and set him ablaze while he was tied up and made him burn for a whole five minutes before he shot him to death.
“Yeah, I wasn’t born yesterday and I’m not that naïve but they wouldn’t touch me if they knew what was good for them.” My voice sounded full of fake bravado I certainly didn’t possess.
“Hop on then. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No thanks, Cillian Cox. I’m already in trouble and if my parents see you dropping me off, it could spark a war between your dad and mine. Sorry but I actually like the peace and quiet around here.”
“It’s pronounced like a ‘K’…not like it’s spelled with a ‘C.’ Kill-e-an, not Cill-e-an. An old Irish name I get teased about all day long at school. I don’t need Miss Fancy pants Gee-sella Jackson messin’ up my name.”
“It’s Gisela but pronounced like it’s spelled with a ‘J.’ Je-sell-ah, not Gee-sell-ah. It’s an old German name and I don’t get teased about my name because everyone pronounces it right except you.” I smiled smugly though it didn’t feel like much of a victory.
He had a ride home and I didn’t therefore that put me at a disadvantage.
Cillian smiled at me though there was a devilish twinkle in those gorgeous crystal blue eyes. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at the end of the block from where you live and you can walk the rest of the way. How does that sound?”
“Something tells me you’re not nearly as sweet as you look and Mama says every boy’s aim is to get into a girl’s knickers. You look like that type of boy to me.”
“Babe, if I wanted into your panties, it wouldn’t be hard at all. However with you being the virginal type, let’s just take it one step at a time. You can kiss me on the cheek for giving you a ride home.” He winked at me and although I knew I should have been offended, I smiled anyway.
My options were limited and what if Kyra didn’t come back? I slowly walked over and Cillian helped me onto his bike. He smelled like a man—a mix of oil, sweat and cigarette smoke. He certainly wasn’t anyone my parents would approve of but when was I going to start to live my own life? I was almost sixteen; when could I stop worrying about what others thought about me?
“You’re gonna have to wrap your arms around my waist and keep your legs close to the bike. Don’t let them touch the exhaust pipes—they’re hot and you’ll end up with a nasty burn.” He handed me his helmet. “Here, wear this.”
“What about you?” I wondered before I slipped it on my head and fastened it underneath my chin.
“I should be okay.”
Tentatively, I placed my arms around his waist but the moment he took off, I held on to him tighter and kept my legs tucked in as he’d warned me. That first time, on the back of a Harley, couldn’t be adequately described. I felt real freedom for the first time, and a strong sense of rebellion. There was something about my body pressed against his that made the butterflies race and soar in my belly. I didn’t know what I felt exactly but this is what must have made all the girls curious and weak-kneed. This feeling of being so close to someone of the opposite sex.
The ride didn’t last nearly as long as I wanted it too and soon we were pulling up to my block. There were only four houses and they were all large, 4000 square foot homes behind tall black gates to keep out strangers. I got off and undid his helmet before I handed it back to him.
“Thank you,” I said before I reached over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Cillian turned toward me at the same time and our lips made contact instead. It was innocent enough but then he thrust his tongue into my mouth and I froze awkwardly. The taste of his saliva and the texture of this foreign thing left me heady and breathless…I didn’t know what to do. My heart raced in my chest and I suddenly felt light-headed and a shortness of breath.
The butterfly wings beat against my stomach and I felt a warming sensation down there where I’d never felt anything but period cramps before. This was strange, forbidden and new.
If I didn’t try then I would never know. My tongue moved gently against his and he stopped our kiss immediately before he pulled away.
What had I done wrong? I thought I was okay at best but maybe I had a few more tricks to learn.
Cillian’s hands were in my hair and his soft breath was on my cheek as he said, “I can’t do this with you. It’s dangerous—you’re deadly for me. I fear once I fall into your Venus flytrap, I won’t find my way out again. Go home, little girl.”
His last words stung and I immediately turned away from him. “Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled and ran towards the gates.
My hands shook so badly, I merely put in the combination for the gate and it opened immediately. I walked through and tried to forget all about Cillian Cox. It was just a dream and nothing would ever happen between us ever again.
The Present
“Hello, earth to Gisela. You all right?”
I looked over at Naomi and realized we’d made it all the way to the Clubhouse. I wore a pair of fitted black skinny jeans, a bright red vicuña sweater and matching four-inch, knee-len
gth high heel boots. My dark hair was down and brushed until it shined while my makeup—though minimal and understated—was flawless.
Had I been daydreaming about Cillian all this time?
Fuck, I had to get my head on straight. The man was still married and he wasn’t that innocent young man who’d dropped me off at my parents’ house all those ages ago.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I looked down at my watch and realized it was a quarter to eight o’clock. “The boys aren’t back yet?”
“No, but I wouldn’t worry so much about them.” Naomi walked to the bar and said something to prospect behind the counter. She returned with a straight whiskey for her and cognac snifter for me.
I sipped from it reluctantly. “Damn, woman, it’s Courvoisier for fuck’s sake and your presence is starting to warrant some unwanted attention. Drink fast—Bronaugh’s on her way over now.”
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