Liam: Lost Breed MC Series, Book 10

by Parker, Ali

  “You can’t use a cartoon as an analogy for this Marley.”

  “Sure I can. I just did.”

  I shook my head and closed my eyes as I sank deeper into the massage chair. “This is just another case of me falling for the wrong guy, Marley. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’ve put Uncle Tom through the wringer a dozen times. I’m not doing it again. I should have stuck to my guns when I said I was done with men for a while.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “If you say so.”

  Marley sipped her champagne and giggled as her tech gently ran over the sole of her foot with a pumice stone. Then she looked over at me. “You deserve to find someone who makes you happy. Sometimes, the person who makes us happy isn’t what we thought they’d be. And I know for a fact Liam made you happy.”

  Liam made me a lot of things. Excited, giddy, hopeful. But how was I supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t?

  If he could lie to me so early on and about something so massive, how could I trust him not to do the same thing in other areas? It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take and a position I wouldn’t put my uncle in. He’d done too much for me to repay him by falling in with a crowd like the one Liam hung around.

  “Genevieve?”

  I looked over at Marley.

  “Did you hear what I said?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. He did make me happy.”

  “He did. Very happy. Like, first day of summer happy.”

  I smiled a little. “I know.”

  We spent the next several minutes in comfortable silence as our techs worked on our feet. We chatted with them, talking about our usual topics: how the shop was doing, what progress I’d made on my shelter, and how far Marley had come with her retail shop.

  By the time the polish was on our toes and they were curing under the light, Marley was itching to say more. I could feel it radiating off of her.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  Marley chewed her bottom lip. “We don’t have to talk about it, but… do you worry about him?”

  “Worry?”

  “About his safety?”

  I nodded and polished off the last of my champagne before setting it on the table between us. “Yes. A lot. He’s so young, Marley. And I don’t know what kind of men are in this club of his. What they expect of him. What he has to do to be a Lost Breed. It’s all really convoluted, and I’m terrified that he’s in over his head.”

  Marley acknowledged my concerns with a supportive hand over mine. “He’s tough. He can take care of himself.”

  “People have died, Marley. And by died, I mean been violently slaughtered just for shits and giggles.”

  Raven looked up at me, puzzled.

  I laughed nervously and held up a hand. “Don’t worry. Sorry.”

  Marley didn’t care what our conversation sounded like to anyone in the salon. “Is that what happened to this old friend of your uncle’s?”

  I nodded.

  “How was he killed?” Marley asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Uncle Tom wouldn’t tell me. All he said is it was bad. Really bad. Bad enough where an open casket wasn’t an option.”

  “Oh,” Marley breathed.

  I nodded and slumped back in my chair with a defeated sigh. Despite knowing all this, my heart still wanted Liam. I missed him terribly, and I thought about him all the time. Even when I slept, my mind was drawn to him, conjuring up images of him that were a comfort in my dreams but painful when I woke and remembered he wasn’t in my life anymore.

  “Everything will work out, Genie,” Marley assured me.

  I wanted to believe her.

  But in my mind, everything “working out” meant Liam and I could be together. And that simply wasn’t possible anymore. Somehow, I was just going to have to find the strength to move on. Maybe once the ball really got rolling with my shelter and I had something to pour all my energy into, it would be easier to leave his memory behind.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 21

  Liam

  This was probably a mistake.

  Yeah, definitely a mistake.

  I stood staring at the front door of Thomas’s little blue house. I could hear him inside running the vacuum, and I had been standing here for a good two minutes, wondering if I should knock or not. The longer I waited, the colder my feet got.

  “This isn’t going to handle itself,” I muttered, finally lifting a finger to the doorbell.

  “Handle” might not have been the right word. For all I knew, Thomas would open the door, see me standing on his welcome mat, and blow his top like he did the first time he saw me. Only this time, Genevieve wasn’t there to keep the peace. If he wanted, he could kick my ass.

  I wouldn’t stop him.

  I’d come back where I clearly wasn’t wanted, and that was on me, not him. He’d said his piece and made it quite clear he never wanted to see me around here or his niece ever again. Message received. Loud and clear.

  But this was important. And the right thing to do. So I rang the doorbell.

  The vacuum stopped whirring inside, and Thomas called, “Just a minute!”

  I waited anxiously, drumming my fingers on the sides of the box I held in both hands. It was black and in pristine condition. Ryder had taken good care of it while it was in his possession.

  Footsteps came down the hall and approached the door. I swallowed back a lump of nerves and hoped like hell he didn’t look through his peephole first. Then he might not bother opening the door and might just tell me to fuck off.

  The deadbolt unlocked. The handle twisted. And Thomas opened the door.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Thomas stood there dumbly for a second, trying to process the fact that my dumb ass was right back where it wasn’t supposed to be. Then his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you doing back here?”

  “I wanted to bring you this,” I said, nodding down at the box in my hands.

  “Get lost. I don’t want it. Whatever it is.”

  “Please. I understand—”

  “You don’t understand shit,” Thomas growled, stepping out onto his front porch with me. His gaze darkened, and his nostrils flared, but I held my ground. “If I see you around here again, I’m going to call the cops.”

  The cops wouldn’t do anything. I knew that much for certain. And if they tried, Dani would have my back.

  But that was not how I wanted this to go down. I pushed the box toward him and flipped open the lid. “Please. Look.”

  Thomas’s hard glare flicked from me to the contents of the box, and then his furious expression grew even darker. “Why would you bring me this?”

  Inside the box was a black leather jacket. A Lost Breed jacket. It was neatly folded with the crest on the back face up.

  I resisted the urge to close the box. “It was Hyde’s.” I watched Thomas for any sudden or unpredictable movements as he stared down at the jacket. “I went to my president and told him about you. He and I both think you should have it.”

  “No,” Thomas said firmly, shoving the box back at me and shaking his head.

  I frowned down at the jacket and ran the fingers of my right hand over the patchwork. A Lost Breed jacket was more than just a piece of clothing to us. “This doesn’t mean what you think it does, Thomas.”

  “It means blood,” he growled.

  “No.”

  No.

  I’d been struggling with this concept ever since my conversation with Owen about whether or not we, the Lost Breeds, were good or bad. I’d come to the conclusion that nothing in this world is ever that black or white.

  People know what they know based on the life they live and the experiences they have.

  Exposure was key.

  My life in Chicago and here in New York had exposed me to a hell of a lot, and I saw everything through a gray lens because of it. Perception was everything.

  I lifted my chin and met Genevieve’s uncle’s angry stare. “No. It
means family. Brotherhood. Strength in numbers. It means that no matter what happens, your brothers and sisters will have your back. It means solidarity. Justice. Hyde knew that. He wore this proudly. And if he was here himself, I’m sure he’d tell you the same things, and he would do everything he could to make you understand that the Lost Breeds are not bad. We stand against bad. Always.”

  Thomas had gone stiff, and his angry expression had softened. It wasn’t gone, but the creases in his forehead weren’t as deep, and the muscles of his jaw weren’t flexing. He stared at me, and I stared right back until his shoulders slumped.

  He rubbed the back of his neck while shaking his head at me like a disapproving parent. “Those are just words, kids. Easy to say.”

  “You’re right.”

  Thomas narrowed his eyes at me. “Then what are you here for?”

  A sense of calm washed over me. “I’m not here to change your mind. I’m here to give you what’s yours. That’s all. And this? This is yours. Do with it what you want. Hell, burn it if you want to. But Hyde wore this proudly. We all do. It was part of him and still is.”

  As soon as the weight of the box shifted from my hands, I stepped back and put enough space between us for it to be impossible for him to hand the box back. I gave him a curt nod and slid my hands into my pockets before turning and stepping off the porch to head back to my bike, parked in the drive.

  I’d intentionally worn my jacket to show him I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, and I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away.

  Whether or not this changed how he saw me didn’t matter.

  What mattered was that he forgave Hyde for making that choice and let go. I said what I needed to say. I was at peace with how it went down.

  From here on out, it was up to fate.

  Chapter 22

  Genevieve

  “Hurry up, Marley,” I said, impatiently tapping my foot as I waited for her to finish getting ready. She had half her hair still in pins while her curls cooled, and she was presently leaning in close to her bathroom mirror to apply her third coat of mascara. “Your lashes look beautiful. Let’s go.”

  “One more coat.”

  “Who are you trying to impress? My uncle?”

  “No,” she said shortly. “You know I don’t like to leave the house with my eyelashes naked.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well neither me nor Uncle Tom care. But you know what I do care about? Punctuality.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving me off as she screwed the wand back into her mascara tube. Then she reached for a tube of lipstick on the counter, twisted it open, and painted her lips a pretty berry color.

  “Uncle Tom hates when we’re late. And he always blames me.”

  “Oh please, Genie. He only does that to spare me the embarrassment. He knows I’m the one who makes us late.” She slammed the cap back on her tube of lipstick and began pulling the pins out of her hair. Short little ringlets framed the side of her face, and some strands that weren’t long enough to hold the curl jutted straight out. She messed it up with a monstrous amount of hairspray, then fed her hoop earrings through her ears. “There. Done. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  “I’ve been here for twenty minutes. My driver is waiting.”

  “He’s getting paid.”

  “Yeah. By me. Chop chop!”

  Marley giggled as she skirted around me in the doorway to her bathroom. She slipped into her bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a cute sweater. Finally ready, the two of us made our way out of her house and to my driver’s car. We slipped into the backseat, and I told him to take us to my uncle’s.

  “What’s Uncle Tom making for dinner?” Marley asked as she patted her stomach. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “You have to stop doing that. It’s not good for you.”

  “I had a busy day, okay? A bunch of orders for the store came through, and I had to process each item individually to confirm I had everything. I think I’m going to have to hire an assistant.”

  “Probably,” I said. She should have hired someone months ago. She’d been running around like a chicken with her head cut off for weeks. Had I not been so busy with my own project I would have been by her side to help her. But I had my own things going on, clearly.

  “So what’s he making?”

  “Pardon?”

  Marley blinked slowly at me. “Your uncle. What’s he making for dinner?”

  “Oh. I don't know. I didn’t ask him.”

  “Rookie mistake.” Marley sighed, resting her head back and closing her eyes as she rubbed her tummy. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for something hearty and warm.”

  “Chances are high.”

  Her craving for something hearty and warm was not exclusive to her. I also wanted some comfort food. In fact, I’d been indulging in a lot of comfort food over the last couple of days while I wallowed in self-pity and longed for Liam’s company.

  I couldn’t help it. It was entirely out of my control, how much I missed him. And it surprised me.

  When I agreed not to see him anymore, I thought I’d be able to keep my word to my uncle. But each day that passed only made it more difficult not to pick up my phone and call him. Or just send him a simple text to tell him I was sorry. That I didn’t think of him like that. Like a Lost Breed animal the way my uncle did.

  The only thing was, I didn’t know if that would help him or me. It might only make it all harder. And I couldn’t handle harder.

  I needed a break somewhere along the way.

  And a big batch of something my uncle cooked was sure to do the trick, even if it was just temporary.

  When we arrived at my uncle’s house, it was ten minutes to seven. We were a good twenty minutes late, and I was preparing my apology as I lifted my fist to knock, but I never got the chance because my uncle opened the door and smiled happily at both of us.

  “Girls.”

  “Hi, Uncle Tom,” I said, leaning in for a big bear hug.

  He gave me a tight squeeze before pressing a whiskery kiss to my cheek. Then he gave Marley a hug. “Dinner is keeping warm in the oven. Are you two famished, or do you have time for a before-dinner drink?”

  “Famished,” Marley said.

  Uncle Tom chuckled. “Well, I can put out some bread to start?”

  “Awesome.” Marley grinned. “Carbs.”

  Uncle Tom stepped aside to let us into the house, and I considered how much better his mood was today than the last time I saw him.

  I slipped out of my shoes and tucked them into the shoe cubby against the wall. Marley did the same, and then we padded sock footed down his hall into his living room, where he was already clearing his coffee table of all the motorcycle and car magazines to make space for our drinks and bread.

  He looked up at both of us. “I have red or white wine. Or rum and coke. Or cider. Or beer. What do you feel like?”

  “Red wine please,” I said as I slicked my hair back and secured it in a ponytail.

  “Works for me,” Marley agreed.

  My uncle nodded. “Got it. Get comfortable. I’ll bring it to you. I also have something I want to show you, Genevieve.”

  I arched an eyebrow as I settled down into my favorite corner of his brown leather sofa. “Okay.”

  My uncle disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me under Marley’s curious smirk. “What do you think he has?” she asked, leaning back in her seat and resting her chin in her hand.

  I shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Maybe a congratulations gift for the shelter?”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “Maybe when the shelter is done. You know Uncle Tom and I don’t like to exchange gifts. We like to share company and time.”

  “Yes, so noble,” Marley said dryly.

  Uncle Tom walked into the room with a big black box. Marley shot me an “I told you so” look before shimmying closer to the edge of the sofa so she could rest her elbows on her knees and watch as he set the box down on the cof
fee table.

  Then he stood back and looked from me to the box with his hands planted on his hips. “Open it.”

  Marley giggled. “You’re so sweet, Uncle Tom.”

  “Huh?” He grunted. Then he blinked at her. “Oh. It’s not a gift, Genevieve. It’s… just open it. It’s something I want you to see. Something I have to explain.”

  Frowning in confusion, I shifted forward and reached for the box. When I lifted the lid, I found myself staring down at the back of an old black leather jacket. The leather was faded with time, having turned a dark shade of gray in some of the worn areas like the elbows, and there was a crest on the back of an angry-looking skull set against an upside-down triangle filled with a dark swirling pattern. The image was menacing. Foreboding. But also quite beautiful.

  I ran my fingers over the words etched above the crest and read them aloud. “Lost Breed.” I looked up at my Uncle. “Why do you have this? Whose is it?”

  “Hyde’s.”

  I gazed back down at the jacket. “How did you get it?”

  “Liam brought it over. He and his president wanted me to have it.”

  My mind started racing. “He came back here?”

  Uncle Tom nodded as he took the spot on the sofa beside me. “Yes. And I’m glad he did. He said some things I needed to hear. And now I want you to hear them too.”

  “Why?” I looked at my uncle. “I thought you hated him? I thought you hated the MC?”

  “I do. Well, I did. Before I understood who they really were. What they really represented.” My uncle’s gaze saddened as he looked at the jacket I still had my hand resting upon. “Before I understood why my friend decided to become one of them in the first place.”

  Marley cleared her throat, and we both looked up at her. She licked her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m going to excuse myself and get that wine I was promised while you two talk about… this. And while I’m in the kitchen, I’ll get some of that bread you teased us with, Uncle Tom. All right?”

  My uncle laughed. “Yes. Go ahead, Marley. Thank you.”