by Raven Dark
As scared and mad as I am, there is a part of me that loves him a little for what he’s done. No one has ever defended me like that, and I love that he’s so lawless, so willing to do whatever it takes to protect me. “Is he alive?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t deserve to be.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the living room.
I sway on my feet. What has he gotten himself into?
As soon as he releases me, I drop onto the couch. “Gar, you have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Who is he?” he demands, sitting beside me.
“My ex.”
He lets out a scoff. “Seriously? With a fucker like that, now I see why you’ve been so reluctant to trust me. You gotta raise your standards, sweetheart.”
“Gar, you’re in trouble,” I tell him slowly. “He’s rich. Really rich. His family is very powerful.”
“That little pimply-faced moneybags doesn’t scare me.”
“It’s not him you have to worry about. It’s his dad. He owns one of the biggest car dealership chains in the world. He has money, and money is power.”
“That shit doesn’t matter to me. Our club has its own power in this area, sweetheart. I wasn’t going to let him stand there and talk shit about the club, or my woman.”
“It should matter!” I squeak. I’m certain he doesn’t know how deeply he’s in here, otherwise he wouldn’t be so dismissive. “If they want to ruin your life for hurting him, they will.”
“We know how to play that game too. We might not be loaded, but we aren’t poor. And we know how to make people back off and keep quiet.” When I don’t look convinced, he cradles my face in his hands. “Listen to me, all right? This is what we do. The club is all about respect. We defend what is ours. There is a reason Whiskey doesn’t like us. This, this is why. Because we don’t take shit from anyone. And no one talks shit about you without paying the price. I told you, I’m a scary guy, sweetheart. It’s all I know how to be.”
Why do his words make me feel safe instead of afraid? It’s weird, but I feel cherished, cared for. And there is a part of me that feels a thrill of excitement at the lengths he’ll go to for me.
I sigh, and when he pulls me in, I feel myself somehow relaxing, some of the fear going out of me. I clutch his cut and let it remind me of what he is, let the symbol that it carries give me strength to accept this brutal side of him.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Gar. They can make a mess of your life.”
“Let them try. We can make a bigger mess of theirs. If they try anything, by the time we’re done with them, they won’t come near us.”
I don’t doubt that.
Gar bends his head and presses his cheek to mine. The warmth of it calms me. “What happened between you two?” he asks gently.
I sigh.
He sits back and pulls me with him. “Is that why you broke up? Because you were working at the Foxy Lady?”
I shake my head. “We broke up before that.”
“Why?”
I shudder at the memory. “He cheated on me.”
Gar’s arms flex around me. When I look up into his eyes, they’re blazing with anger.
“The week of Christmas break, I came over one night to study and found him with another girl in his bed. Months later, when I was at the Foxy Lady, Skeet came into the club with his friends. He saw me without my disguise, and he lost it. Started calling me a whore, and worse.”
Gar blows out a breath and squeezes my hip.
“I think the only reason he didn’t go right back to Whiskey and tell my parents—and the rest of the town while he was at it—is because doing so would have meant admitting he’s been with a woman like that. It would have put egg on his face more than mine. His dad’s reputation, and all that.”
He lets his head drop back, squeezing my hip almost painfully. “Fucker. I gave him a bloody nose. I should have killed him.”
“Gar.”
“Relax, sweetheart, I won’t break his neck, no matter how much I want to. I gotta wonder how someone like that ends up owning a little restaurant in the middle of nowhere, though. It’s nice, but it’s not exactly The Ritz.”
“He and his dad really loved that place when we were kids. It was going downhill last year, so I guess they bought it because they liked it.”
“Pretentious little fuck. I’m sorry, baby.”
The tension goes out of me. I glance at his knuckles, caressing his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Aww, I’m fine. They don’t even hurt.”
“But it might get infected. Let me clean it.”
Gar rolls his eyes like I’m mothering him, but he smiles. “First Aid kit’s in the downstairs bathroom.”
When I come back with the kit, I take him to the kitchen and clean out his wounds, bandaging them. “I think you might be crazy, Gar.” I give a shaky laugh as I smooth the bandage over his hand and drop a kiss in his palm.
“Your fault. Every time I think about anyone hurting you, I damn near lose my head.”
I sigh and squeeze him close. “My crazy monster of a man.”
“Always.” He kisses me long and hard on the mouth.
When he pulls back, his silver eyes are hungry, and there’s an animalistic light in them I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“Fuck, I want you so bad right now, Sandra.” His thumb caresses my lips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“Beating my ex boyfriend got you hot, Gar?” I tease.
“You have no idea.”
In minutes, we’re upstairs, having the wildest sex we’ve ever had. His defending my honor has made me as hot as him. Gar takes me like a savage from behind, not seeming to care if his brother hears us. He doesn’t care, and neither do I.
“I’ll bury anyone that talks shit about you, baby,” he growls in my ear, sliding in and out of my soaking core and biting my shoulder.
I groan.
Fucking a worked up angry biker is the single most sexiest thing I’ve ever done, and Gar is the hottest man I’ve ever met.
I claw at the bed, he pulls my hair, and we both come wildly.
After, I curl up in his arms on the bed. “This doesn’t make sense.” I bury my face in his chest.
“What?”
“You know something weird?” I look up at him. “There’s a part of me that’s kind of turned on by what you did.”
Gar roars with laughter.
And I think that’s when it happened. That’s when I realized I have a bigger problem than I thought. That’s when I realize, Gar really is dangerous, he is a bad man, and he loves it.
And worse, I’m head over heels in love with him.
8
Advice
We return to the clubhouse the next day, and Anne greets us at the door. I hug her.
“Anne, hi! I thought you were supposed to be on your honeymoon by now.”
“We were supposed to leave after the wedding, but Vicious had to take care of some last-minute things. Gar, Cal, hi.” She squeezes both men’s hands and waves us all into the man cave Gar carried me through only two days ago.
That was two days ago, but it feels like a whole other lifetime. It’s odd, but as I walk toward the leather couches, the clubhouse feels different—warm and inviting. Like an extension of the man who has my heart. Like home.
“Come help me pack a few more things for my trip,” Anne says, nodding to the upstairs. “Let the men talk.”
I suppress a giggle. She sounds as much like a biker chick as she looks. I’ve seen her like this before, in leather pants and an oversized heavy metal tee that must have belonged to Vicious before she cropped it at the midriff. She even has a beautiful rose tattoo on her bare shoulder, where the shirt hangs off. It’s a far cry from the preppy college shirt and designer jeans she would have worn a year ago. Vicious sits talking with Gar and some of the other club men, but he can’t keep his eyes off of her.
“Are you still packing more shit, woman?” Vicious
says. “We’re only going to California for a week, not a year.”
She sticks her tongue out at him and winks at me.
“Come over here and do that,” he growls.
She hides playfully behind me.
“Leave me out of this.” I laugh.
“Later, honey,” Anne tells him. “I have to talk to Sandra for a bit.”
“Hold on a second, Anne.” Gar takes my hand. “Go get whatever he wants to give you for now. Sandra’s coming with me. Come on,” he adds to me. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet before he leaves again.”
I give Anne a shrug and follow Gar to the back of the clubhouse’s main room. At the end of the long bar, double doors stand closed, each one carved with the Hell’s Heathens’ snake and skull. There’s an official look to them that reminds me of what he said before about meeting the president.
He knocks on the doors. “Prez? You in there?”
A low voice speaks from within, but the words are indistinguishable. Gar glances at me when I rock on my heels. I rock on my heels. I swallow nervously, and he squeezes my nape. Then he opens the door and steps into the room with me.
The room is masculine but gorgeous, with its cedar-paneled walls and dark carpet, the big oak table in the middle with the snake and skull painstakingly carved across the middle of it. Eight leather chairs surround the table. Then I notice the man sitting at the head of the table, pouring over a stack of papers.
He’d looked up for barely a second when we stepped in, muttering something about making it fast before putting his head back down, but the glimpse I got of his face was enough. It’s strong and tanned, and there’s a single vivid scar down one cheek, as if someone had once sliced it open. It’s a tossup which startles me more, the scar or his intensely blue eyes that look almost electric. I can’t figure out if he’s beautiful, or scary. He has to be at least forty, with all that salt in his waves of dark blond hair. I bet there’s a woman out there somewhere who will think he’s as hot as hell.
“Prez, this is the woman I was telling you about. Sandra Marshal.”
He lifts his head again and shuffles the papers in front of him before he stands up.
Jesus, he’s built like Goliath, all shoulders and muscle.
“You’re the one caught up with Max?” His voice is a rasp, as if he’s used to having to talk low to avoid scaring people.
“Yes, sir. Look, I…thank you for agreeing to help me out of this mess with him.”
“Sandra, this is Devil, the President of Hell’s Heathens MC.”
Devil gives a nod and puts the papers in a briefcase, picks it up and walks to the door. He looks at me, and I have no idea what he’s thinking before he looks at Gar. “Just keep her out of the way, Gar. Make sure she knows the rules.”
And with that, he walks out and the doors snick shut.
For some reason, I’d been holding my breath, because it pushes out of me now. “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?”
Gar snorts. “Seriously, like I said, don’t take it too personally. It takes a while for him to warm up to new blood. You got more out of him than most, and he didn’t kick you out, so you’ll be fine as long as you stay out of his way.”
“I’m honored,” I say half-jokingly.
Gar kisses the back of my hand and heads out to the main room with me.
“Wait, though. What rules was he talking about?”
“Oh, he was just being surly. They’re nothing major. There’s really only three.”
“Which are?”
“One, don’t interfere in club business. Don’t listen to it, don’t ask about it, and if you hear it, don’t discuss it with anyone outside of the MC. Two.” He gestures to Devil, who’s over at the bar. “Don’t piss him off. And three, stay out of the chapel.”
“The who?”
He gestures to the room we came out of. “That room. We call meetings church, so that room is called the Chapel.”
“I’m guessing those rules are meant for women?” I glance at the room, feeling a sudden stab of indignation.
Gar’s smile is huge. “Yes. Except for the second one. The rule about Devil applies to anyone who has a heartbeat.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” I croak.
He rubs my arms. “Relax, sweetness. Anne and the other women will show you how things work. We’re not the ogres this makes it seem like.” He takes my hands in his. “I have a rule of my own, though, Sandra.”
“Which is?”
“Until this mess with Max is dealt with, no leaving the clubhouse without my permission, all right?”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious.” He cups my nape and rests his forehead against mine. “We can keep you safe, but you have to let us. If you leave this place without my say-so, I’ll tan your gorgeous ass until you can’t sit.”
I let out a nervous titter. He means it. I can’t figure out if I’m turned on by the prospect, or annoyed. “Ho-kay, Mister Bossy. I get it.”
“Good girl.” He takes my jaw in his hand and gives me a panty-melting kiss. “Go on. Have your talk with Anne before she sends out a search party. I’ll introduce you to some of the guys later.” He gives my ass a light swat and grins when I glare at him.
“You’re still an ass, Gar.”
He makes a kissing motion and I laugh. I head toward the couches, but then return to him. “Oh, Gar?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“If I’m going to be here a while, I’ll need some things from my place. Books and clothes and stuff.” I have a few weeks before school begins, and I mean to get a head start on studying for the coming semester.
“Right. We’ll get them later today, but we need to go there when your folks aren’t home.”
Because of Sinclair, I realize with a shiver. That’s just as well. I’m not ready to face what my parents will think when they realize who my boyfriend is. My mom and dad have always shaken their heads and grumbled whenever they’ve seen men with Hell’s Heathens patches around town, so I can just imagine what they’ll think when they see Gar. An argument is inevitable, but I’ll deal with that after the mess with Sinclair is over.
I nod, give the back of his cut a squeeze, and then find Anne sitting on Vicious’ lap on one of the couches.
Anne and I head upstairs to the room she shares with Vicious. There’s a suitcase open on the large bed, clothes tossed everywhere in her haphazard packing. Anne has never been the most organized person.
She shuts the door and sits on the bed, patting the mattress beside her without making any effort to continue packing. It’s plain to see that I’m not here to help her. I’m here to talk. My stomach knots as I sit beside her.
Anne doesn’t press, which makes it easier to tell her what’s been going on the last year.
I start with Skeet and I breaking up, and why. I tell her all about working at the Foxy Lady, and Sinclair, and finish with last night, with Gar punching Skeet. Anne’s eyes go wider with every word. She looks horrified when I tell her about the incidents with Skeet, but she nods and says “good for him” when I tell her about Gar hitting him. I widen my eyes at that and she shrugs.
When I tell her about Sinclair, her face goes pale. I know she knows more about him than I do, but I won’t put her in the position of having to keep club business from me.
Anne lays her hand over mine. “Sandra, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about what happened to your dad. And I’m sorry that you felt like you had to do something you never wanted to do. I can’t imagine how you must have felt.” She shakes her head. “And Sinclair. He’s a piece of work. It’s horrible that you’re caught up in this mess.”
“Well.” I wring my hands. “Wrong place, wrong time, right? I swear, I don’t have anything of his.”
“Well, we’ll help you figure it out.”
“Man, I missed you.” I hug her close, feeling like I could never hold her tight enough. “It feels good to be able to trust people again.”
“I’m always here for you,
girl. We all are.” She draws back. “So, you and Gar. That was fast.” Her eyes twinkle.
“Yeah, I know.” I wring my hands, my stomach clenching with uncertainty. “Too fast. I mean, Anne, this isn’t normal, is it? I hardly know him.”
She chuckles. “You’re asking me? Look at how fast Vicious and I got together.”
True. Her relationship with Vicious had progressed almost as fast as mine and Gar’s.
“Okay, I’m being paranoid here, I guess. It’s just that sometimes I wonder if this thing with Gar is going to work.”
“You’re worried he’ll hurt you.”
I bite my lip and nod.
“Because of Skeet?”
“Partly. But it’s more than that. It’s the club…it’s the things he’s into. It’s a lot of things.”
“The things he’s into?” She quirks a brow.
I clear my throat, my cheeks heating. “He has this thing with controlling me.”
“Ah.” Her lips turn up and she leans back, crossing her legs. “Yep. I know how that is. Vicious is like that too.”
“Oh.”
She takes a long breath and then looks at me. The expression on her face is almost maternal. It’s strange how quickly she’s changed. How much she’s matured. We’re almost the same age, but there’s an experience in her eyes that I find fascinating.
“Sandra, the important thing is… Is this what you want?”
I nod slowly. I don’t even have to think. Gar fulfills something in me I don’t have the words for. And he makes my heart feel complete.
“You love him. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I do. I just don’t know if he loves me. I don’t know if I’m just temporary.”
Anne turns on the bed to face me. “Okay, look. Here’s the thing about Gar.”
I smile weakly. “Let me guess, he’s a great guy. I know, Cal told me all about it.”
Anne’s eyes are warm. “Actually, I was going to tell you this. If the guys keep something from someone, it’s to protect them. Trust me, Gar is doing what’s best for you. He wouldn’t keep something from you unless he had to. He’s not like that.”