by L. M. Reign
“Isn’t that what we are?”
What would make them think we’d stay loyal to them?
“You’re a carefully calculated risk. We’re relying on our associates to ensure that you don’t become an unnecessary risk. It’s easier to retrieve what we require.”
“What do they have that you want?”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis. You don’t need to know,” Milo seethes, leveling me with his stare. Reynard raises his hand, silencing him.
“Say we help you, how much is this stipend? When will all this start?” Bodi leans forward, playing hardball.
“Ten thousand dollars a month. Effective immediately. You agree, and our team finalizes their initiate plans tonight,” Reynard responds. “We’ve prepared all the necessary measures. All you have to do is say ‘yes’.”
“Ten thousand dollars to let your killers in my club?” Bodi asked, shaking his head. “Seems a little low granted my men will need to sleep with one eye open.”
“What’s the matter? Scared?” Ness coos.
“Watch it, Blondie,” Brass growls at her.
“He’s feisty. I like,” she winks at him.
“Enough,” Lachlan silences the room.
“We promise no harm will come to your men by our hand. Our associates will protect them while they are under your charge,” Jorge tells Bodi calmly.
Rook scoffs. “I don’t need these fuckin’ bitches protectin’ me.”
“Fine. Our associates are not liable to protect anyone but themselves,” Lachlan shuffles the papers into the folder.
“You’re actin’ as if we’ve said ‘yes’,” Bodi sneers at Lachlan who shrugs in response.
“We have other options. You aren’t the first infiltration medium we have explored.”
“Can we have a second?” Gibbs asked, cutting Bodi off before he fucks it up. Now that I know what this shit is about, there’s no way we aren’t agreeing. At this point, I’ll do anything to keep Mila in the same vicinity for an undetermined amount of time.
“Absolutely. We have a celebration to attend. Leave your answer with our associates. They will be waiting outside the door,” Lachlan states as they all rise and exit the room.
_____________________
Mila
I couldn’t get away from that room fast enough. Fresh waves of guilt, pain, and anger continued to threaten me. To crush me into oblivion. My knees promised to take me to the floor as the memories assault me. One in particular plays in my mind like it was just yesterday.
“Mi, you gotta let him go,” Milo says, climbing on my bed. “He’s a fucking dick. Just forget about him.” He pulls my sobbing body towards him and I flinch at the movement. “It’s okay, Mi,” he whispers, rubbing circles on my back. Sniffling, I lay my head on his chest. “It’s back to you and me. Us against the world, right?”
“But I love him,” I croak, wiping my tears.
“I know, Mi. But we’re leaving in three days. You can’t worry yourself sick over him,” He pats my head. “We’ve got a new life waiting for us. Forget him. Don’t make yourself sick over that douche. Leave him and everything connected to him here.”
“Milo,” mom peeks her head around my door. “Your father is looking for you. Go, I’ll sit with her.”
I sit up as Milo pulls away to leave. “Love you, mom,” He gives her a kiss on the cheek.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Sitting on the bed, she pats her lap for me to lay my head.
“Everything hurts, mama.” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand as she runs her fingers through my ratty hair.
“How far, Mila?”
I freeze and sit up, staring at my mother in shock. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “You’ve spent the last week with your head in the toilet and flinch anytime someone touches you. I had the same symptoms with you and your brother. Everything was tender.”
I cast my head down in shame. A fresh wave of tears falling. “Mila,” she grabs my chin, tilting my head to her. “How far?”
“I don’t know, mama.”
She hit me with the million-dollar question. “Well, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I start to sob.
Wrapping her arms around me, she starts to sway. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry,” her soothing voice washes over me. “I talked to his mom.”
“Is he okay?” I asked eagerly, devouring any information that I could get.
She nods. “I don’t think he’s coming back, baby.” I sob harder as she confirmed what I didn’t want to accept. He’s not coming back.
Milo’s words ping around in my head. “Leave him and everything connected to him here.”
The door opens, and I’m brought back to the present. The bikers file out, Bodi being the first. He makes eye contact directly with me, sneering at my presence. I broadened my stance, daring him to say something. Anything that would give me reason to pound out all my anger on him. He nodded his head. “Tell them we said ‘Yes’.”
“Your car is in the garage. Leave through the basement. Ace knows the way, unless he’s forgotten,” I say his name with disdain, earning myself an intense glare from his pristine eyes. It feels like he’s looking straight through me - as if I’m bare before him with no secrets.
Little does he know.
“I remember the fuckin’ room.” I ignore the rough timbre of his voice and the shiver that shot through my spine when he emphasized the word fucking. No doubt, attempting to remind me of all the times we had sex in that very room. I refuse to let his words impact me, sending me back to that cold, dark space where I’m lying on the bed in agony, lost to the world.
“Good. Lead your men out,” I throw over my shoulder as I leave.
Chapter 5
Cole
I’ve always felt pride for my road name ever since I earned it. That was until Mila said it with such contempt two nights ago. The look on her face when I reminded her of the garage, the same place I snuck into all those years after a beating, and eventually because I wanted to be with her wasn’t worth the mention.
That flash of hurt cut me deep. I doubt she even realizes that she made a face. It was that same face that gave me faith that there would be a chance to explain, albeit small, but I needed to take that chance. No matter what.
Tonight, we are at the annual Christmas tree lighting hosted by the hospital. Local businesses open their doors to participate and offer items or services to raffle off at the Winter Bash in a few weeks.
We all needed a break to take the edge off after dealing with Syn and waiting anxiously for their impending arrival. They are so meticulous in their planning, doing nothing half-assed. We were regretting accepting their proposal after that first meeting with Milo and Dash.
So many fucking questions.
We’re sitting around the roaring bonfire at the Dark Horse as some country cover band fills the air. I’ve just filled my brothers in about my history with Mila.
“So, lemme get this straight,” Rook says behind his beer. “You were with her five years ago and just stopped talkin’ to her? You ghosted her?”
“Yes,” I groan with frustration. I can’t stop thinking about her in that dress and my dick’s about raw from jerking it. “I was stupid.” Not that it really matters anymore.
“Still are,” Brass shakes his head. “You let her go and now you’re regrettin’ that decision because she’s back. A fuckin’ badass and smokin’ hot. I would know. Had these hands on them titties,” he wiggles his fingers and quirks his eyebrows.
“Hey!” Briar pokes Brass in the shoulder. “Be respectful.”
“My bad,” he attempts to pull her into his lap, but she dodges his arms.
“Fuck off,” Diesel growls. Rig just shakes his head, laughing at his brother.
D’s been protective over Briar ever since she became part of the club. We thought they were getting on up until last year. She was no longer on the back of his bike when we went on rides. Briar
refuses to be claimed, proving to be one hell of a headache for D.
She’s hot. I’ll give her that, but she doesn’t put up with Brass’ shit. Or any of the guys’. And they’ve all tried to get in her pants, too. She helps out the club here at the Dark Horse, repaying us for some shit she was in a couple of years ago. Her pimp beat the shit out of her while she was pregnant, making her lose the baby.
When she tried to leave, he almost killed her. She showed up at our doorstep one day, beat to shit and offering to help us if we could help her. Even though it’s not normally our style, taking in strays like that, Gibbs had a soft spot for her which meant we were doing it.
We ended up killing her pimp and disposing of his body. Not that anyone would miss him. Briar’s a tough bitch and good at what she does around here, so it was worth it in the end. I’ve killed others for less.
I itch to put a bullet in my brother’s head. Instead I glare at him for reminding me that he touched her. “Touch her again and I’ll put you in a fuckin’ coma.”
Diesel and Rook snicker and I train my gaze on their amused faces. “Fuck you, too. Same goes for you. I saw you watchin’ her the other day.”
“Can’t help that, that dress was givin’ me a fantastic view of Syn City.”
He’s not wrong.
“And if you ask me-”
“No one is.”
“I ain’t seen her yet,” Diesel sips his beer.
“She must be somethin’ if she’s gotten you twisted in knots,” Briar smiles, setting our food in front of us.
“Just wait,” Rook smirks before continuing. “As I was sayin’, you should claim her. She’s a wild card unless someone does. There’s your in, man.”
“Nah, she’d probably shoot his dick off before he does. Trigger-happy bitch.”
“Man, you still on about that? It’s a scab now, B. Doesn’t deserve to be called a wound anymore.” Diesel says, making us laugh.
My phone beeps, tearing my attention away.
Unknown: ETA - 5 mins.
“They’re almost here.” I’m on my feet with my brothers behind me. “Tell Bodi,” I order Rook.
“But we just got food!”
“Tell him,” I snarl.
We gather at the entrance of the parking lot. Hearing the rumble of their engines before we see them. The roar thundering through the asphalt as they round the corner.
“The fuck is that?” Brass eyes their bikes as they pull through the gate, engines idling as they roll into a parking spot. Looking every bit the part of an outlaw.
“God damn,” Pierce, our prospect, stares at them with an open mouth.
“Pick your jaw up an-” a loud honk startles us apart as the latest model of a GT Mustang rolls through. The windows were tinted to match the dark color, but I have an idea of who’s the driver. We watch the car park swiftly beside the bikes.
“Rollin’ up like fuckin’ Batman. God, I’m in love,” Rook mutters.
I keep my eyes on the car as the driver’s door opens and Mila emerges. She’s wearing this cute as fuck headband that covers her ears along with skin tight clothing from her tits to her ass, right down to her “dancing boots” as she used to call them.
Her eyes sparkle with the same excitement she used to have when we would come to the town square together. She used to get all dressed up and try to shed her Syndicate skin for the night. Be a regular civilian with the rest of us in this hick ass town, but everyone was the wiser, though.
Mila twirls the keys around her finger as she leans against the trunk of the car, watching her brother carefully back his Dyna-Glide against the curb. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her legs. The ones that are crossed at the ankles while she talks to Dash.
“She’s beautiful,” Briar whispers.
“You fucked up, brother,” Diesel whistled.
I take a long draw of my beer. No one knows that better than I do.
_____________________
Mila
Dash and Milo back against the curb, killing the engine. I miss the rumbling vibration almost immediately. The sound reminding me of a much freer time. Of a girl who used to come to this very square with her friends and be a regular teenager, escaping the familial pressure for a night.
Slowly turning my head, I survey the town square. Gilbert hasn’t changed a bit. The Christmas decorations are everywhere, igniting the excitement for the impending holiday season. The little ice-skating rink is at the center of it all, filling the air with shouts of glee from adults and children alike. The streets are lined with various food vendors yelling out their Christmas specials and prices. The dance floor before the stage is littered with couples as the singer croons a sweet line about thinking less and kissing more. Every inch of the town square has been outfitted for the season and it’s hard not to catch a little bit of the Christmas cheer floating in the air.
“You okay?” Dash interrupts my thoughts, throwing his arm over my shoulder in a friendly gesture. We’ve been in much closer positions that I instinctively wrap an arm around his waist.
“Yeah. Ready?” I ask, staring at the group of men gathered before us; their gazes like heat seeking missiles, sizing us up. Locking eyes with Cole, his gaze is locked on Dash. Anger flickers across his features before he takes a swig of beer, bringing his gaze to mine. I give him a small nod of acknowledgement.
Just a job. Get in, get out.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” he pulls me with him as he stands with Milo, facing Bodi and Gibbs. My heart was pounding against its cage, hoping like hell they do as we planned. Their performance tonight was paramount to our acceptance.
“Milo, Dash,” Gibbs greets them.
They all hold their stares before breaking into smiles, greeting each other with hugs and claps on the back like they were lost friends. Cheers erupted from those around us, and I restrain myself from rolling my eyes at this archaic bullshit.
Cole catches my eye and curls his lip at the corner. Brass steps from behind him, glaring my way as he whispered something to Cole.
Alcohol. I need alcohol.
I wouldn’t normally drink on the job, but tonight is just a formality. Drinking is part of this life, right? No one can say I never do my job thoroughly.
“Get my boys some fuckin’ drinks!” Bodi yells, slinging his arm over Milo’s shoulders, covering the top rocker bearing the club’s name. I want to cut that old bastard’s hands off for what he used to do to Cole. For all those times he showed up at our house bearing the mark of those fists.
Bastard.
No, no. Don’t feel bad for him.
He chose this life.
We are led forward to one of the bonfires adjacent to one of the food trucks that’s surrounded by picnic tables that the club has seemed to claim. Beers are shoved into our hands by eager women, and Milo and Dash split off with the bikers, leaving Ness and I to explore for ourselves. We walk around, filtering through the crowd when arms circle my waist, lifting me up.
“Lil’ Mama!” Chino’s voice boomed.
“You’ve got to stop manhandling me!” I glare at him once he’s set me down on my feet.
“You love it. Ness,” he takes her hand in his. “I’m going to borrow her for a second.”
“Have at it,” I give them a soft smile as he whisks her away. Continuing to survey the square, I note that some of the bikers are doing a piss poor job of being subtle before slinking off down the back alley beside the Dark Horse. Depositing my beer in the nearest trash can, I start forward when someone calls my name.
“Mila?” I turn to the deep voice.
“Who’s asking?” I struggle to place the familiar face.
“Logan. Logan Anderson. From high school.” He offers me his hand but I ignore it, crossing my arms over my chest.
“What do you want?”
He rubs the back of his neck, looking guilty. “Yeah. Ah... I want to apologize. I never should’ve bullied you in school.”
“What’s with all the men wanting to apologi
ze?” I mutter to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Apology accepted. I’ve got to run.”
“Can I at least buy you a drink? Please.”
I take a deep breath, scanning the crowd for an out when I meet Cole’s eyes. The glow cast on his face from the burning embers made it feel a little too intimate. I feel the almost-electric jolt all the way down my spine. I felt it between my legs. They harden when they flick over to Logan.
“You know what? Yes. Buy me a drink.” I follow him over to one of the food trucks and wait while he pays.
Handing me a cup of golden liquid, he tilts his head over to an empty cocktail table and we move to claim it. I take a sip of my beer and stare at the dance floor. Ladies wearing their best cowboy boots and the fellas wearing their cleanest work boots.
“I forgot how country Gilbert was,” I say. Logan laughs and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“If I remember correctly, you used to slum it with us regular folks. Swirling around out there in your little blue sundress with Davenport.” I cringe at the memory.
“Hey,” his face falls. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. We always thought you two would leave together.”
“I did, too.” I sip my beer and stare at the dance floor once more. Willing all the memories to stay under lock and key. Logan mistook my staring at the dance floor for longing.
“You look like you want to dance. Come on,” he offers me his hand as “Wrong Turns” by Old Dominion starts playing.
I shake my head firmly. “No. I don’t thi-”
“Come on, Mila. It’s just like riding a bike. And it’s just a dance. Don’t tell me you’re too good for us now.” I smile at his goading attempt and shake my head.
“Fine. Okay, asshole. One dance.” I let him lead me on the dance floor.
“We’re going to swing, okay?” Before I could protest, he’d already begun sending me into a spin. The singer crooned about making all the right wrong turns.