by L. M. Reign
It has an old speakeasy atmosphere with a huge bar dominating the right side of the room. Several doorways break off into hallways leading beyond the one we’re currently in. It even smells like it belongs to bikers - like alcohol, sex, and leather.
Soft music trickles through the hidden speakers, so muted that I could just barely hear it. The easy beat conflicts with the dance pole area off to the side.
I picture gyrating couples in the corner, and strippers everywhere. A set of double doors is to the left, an avenging angel rising above a desert landscape burned in the middle; looking every bit as hellish.
An entire wall is dedicated to mug shots and I suppress my inner bitch that’s itching to break free.
We don’t get caught.
I slowly skim the faces, searching for one. I find him in the middle holding a letter board dated a year after we left, his face bored.
What did you do?
I feel so out of place, but right at home all at once. There’s something that draws me in, this invisible string tying itself around me. Pulling tighter and tighter until I can’t break free.
But you don’t belong here.
“Bloom can fix you whatever you want,” Asher tells me, nodding towards the bar. Her face unreadable as she plants herself on a stool.
“I sure can,” an older woman walks through a doorway beside the bar. Meeting her gaze, I take in her blonde hair littered with white streaks that accent her green eyes. Wearing a long-sleeved black top with large red lettering, boasting, “Property of Bodi”. She greets us with a smile.
“Oh, my goodness.” She blinks a few times, cupping her hand over her mouth. “Mila?”
I stare back at her, curious. “Do I know you?”
“No. We never met. I’m Ace’s mama,” she continued, ignoring my wide eyes. “I knew your mama way back when. You are the spittin’ image of her,” she reaches forward, twining her hand over mine. “Sorry to hear about her. I wanted to send my condolences, bu-”
The sound of boots shuffling towards us draws my attention. I look up and see Cole heading this way.
Thank god.
_____________________
Cole
“Ma,” I give her a peck on the cheek.
“Ace, you didn’t tell me you bringin’ the Mila to the clubhouse.” I realize now that Ma doesn’t know about this whole thing. She could fuck this up.
Asher flicks her eyes between me and Ma. “The Mila?” Her question oozed with unbridled jealousy.
“I’m pretty notorious for cleaning house in poker. Beat the shit out of the guys when they came up,” she jerks a thumb at me. The lie flowed so easily that Asher’s eyes sparked with something akin to envy.
I take note of Mila’s leather jacket, the small club rocker embroidered on the left side, right above her heart. Never in a million years did I think Mila would end up wearing club’s colors, but fucking hell, if she doesn’t pull it off.
Ma gives me a weird look and I pull her into a hug, speaking quietly. “I’ll explain later. Keep them away from Asher.”
“Sure,” she squeezes me. “I expect all the details.” Pulling back, Ma puts down the bar rag. “Asher, help me load the bar,” Ma orders, rounding the counter.
“Bu-,” she starts to protest.
“Now.” Ma orders. “If you’re plannin’ on hangin’ out, eatin’ our food, and drinkin’ our booze; you’d best get back here and help me. You’re lucky they keep your moochin’ ass around anyway.”
Asher stomps past me, throwing a nasty glare my way. I give Ma a nod of thanks.
“Anyone give y’all a tour yet?” Rook asked as he, Brass, and Rig join, leaning next to Ness.
“No, but I’m sure you can,” she answers with a yawn.
“C’mon,” I gesture for them to follow us down the hallway. “Rooms are up there,” I direct them, stepping back and pointing up the stairs. “After you.”
Ness went first, then Mila. Rook started forward and I shoved him back against Brass who was laughing at me.
“You are so fucked over her,” he mutters.
If anyone was going to walk behind her, watching her ass rock back and forth; it would be me. I cursed under my breath with each step she took. She was wearing that fucking dress again, and I was torn between thanking the man who made it and making her put on some damn pants.
“Go left,” I call once Ness reaches the top. “Those two,” I point to the closed doors across from each other, “are yours. One has a bathroom, the other doesn’t. Bathroom’s down the hall. You’ll have to share.”
“Scairfidh mé le Milo agus roinnfidh tú le Dash?” Ness opened the door, flicking on the light as they walked in.
“Tá,” Mila nodded, looking around the empty room with the basics. Dresser, bed, lamp, shit like that.
“Y’all gonna speak English any fuckin’ time soon? Or at least tell us what you said,” Rook glares at them as they inspect the room.
“Brute,” Ness retorts. “I’m sharing with Milo and she’s sharing with Dash.”
Mila pulls the door back, checking the bolt lock.
“Worried you’ll have to keep us out?” Brass glowers at her.
“No. Just making sure we won’t be interrupted. I’m a little loud.” The sexual innuendo dripping from her statement reminds me of what Dash said earlier and I grit my teeth.
She’s not fuckin’ sharin’ a room with him.
“Don’t keep them up there for long,” Ma hollers up the stairs. “I’ve got chicken.”
“C’mon blondie. Let’s go eat,” Brass grabs Ness’ hand, pulling her behind him with Rook and Rig tailing them.
Leaving Mila and I alone.
Finally.
_____________________
Mila
He presses a hand to either side of the door frame, not coming in, but not letting me out either. If I wanted to leave, I’d have to go through him.
Fair enough.
“You aren’t sharin’ a bed with him,” he growls. The gruff, yet tired, scratchy sound shoots straight between my legs.
“As opposed to what? Sharing one with you? I’d prefer to not sleep in Asher’s juices.”
“Would it make it better if it were your juices? ‘Cause I can make that happen.” My eyes widen at his statement. I don’t answer. “Doesn’t change things. You aren’t sleepin’ with him.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll sleep with Brass. He’s got a piercing,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Mila,” he warns, stepping into the room and shutting the door.
“Ace.”
The tension becomes electric, jockeying back and forth in a power struggle. My fury and arousal ratcheting high at his audacity to tell me what I won’t do.
Stalking towards him, I get close enough to feel the heat from his body. Meeting his gaze, I say my next words slowly, enunciating each one to remind him who he’s talking to.
“I’ll share a bed with whomever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. This is a job. I’m not here by choice, and I’m sure as hell not here to care about whether or not you’re comfortable with my decisions.”
I shove past him, not letting him get to me. His firm hand grips my arm, pulling me against him, pinning me closer than I was when we were dancing. He drops his face into the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath.
“I’ve missed your smell.” I struggle against his grip, his breath tickling my neck. “I’m serious, Mila. You aren’t sharin’ a bed with him. The way he touches you like he’s familiar with you, he’s a dead man. Your shit better be in my room. Tonight. If you need to fuck, you come find me. Don’t be sleepin’ with any of the brothers. As fake as this shit may be.”
Jerking away from him, I seethe. “Touch me again, Ace. Me and your fake brothers will crush you and this bullshit club.”
“My room,” he growls at me, getting in my face. Before I can react, he cradles my head, ravaging my mouth. Tongue thrusting forwar
d to pillage any way he could.
There was too much emotion in this kiss; rage, regret, sorrow, guilt, longing. I couldn’t control any of it, and if I was being honest, I didn’t want to. Grinding his hips against mine, his intention was as clear as his kiss.
He wants to possess me.
Rage pokes her head in, and I have this intense desire to remind him of what he’s lost, to remind him of why he shouldn’t have left. But guilt had other plans.
Guilt was the bucket of cold water that made me withdraw from him. Guilt was what built my walls back up. I can’t do this again. My heart was at war with my body. One minute I was on fire from his touch, and the next I was consumed.
Shoving at his chest to pull us apart, I stumbled against the door, grabbing the dresser to stay upright. His lips were a punishing shade of red, fitting right in with the lingering bruises on his face. His eyes were liquid, burning into mine with unsatisfied desire.
He steps forward to reclaim me, forcing me to warn him off with my hands. “No!”
_____________________
Cole
“No,” she said again. Softer this time. Her eyes downcast. I hadn’t moved an inch from my spot even though every fiber of my being was screaming for me to go to her.
“Cole. No. All this,” she waved her hand to the room, to me, the promise of mind blowing sex. “We’ve been here before, you and me. This is your life. One that you wouldn’t share with me,” she sounded sad. “No matter how much I wanted you to, you wouldn’t. And I’m not asking that you share it with me now. Which is why, this,” she gestures between us, “can’t happen. I won’t go down that road with you again. This is your life, but for me, it’s just a jo-”
“I never meant to hurt you. If you’d let me expla-”
“But what you meant to happen and what actually happened are two different things. I don’t want to go back, Cole. I can’t go back. I barely survived the first time.”
“What happened, baby? Talk to me,” I begged. I never beg. I could see the tears threatening to run down her cheeks, but what I didn’t understand was why.
Yes, I’d fucking hurt her. I know that, but why wouldn’t she fucking let me explain? “I’m not the same guy I was when I was eighteen. At least let me prove that to you.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I can’t. We’ve changed, and I’m not sure which of us changed for the better.”
“We may have changed, but you’ve forgotten one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re still mine just as much as I’m yours.” There was no good reason to talk about this anymore. Not when she won’t listen. There wasn’t any good reason to stop kissing her. Except logic, but lust will beat that bastard back every single time.
I fence her in against the door and lean forward, “You’re mine, Mila. Your body knows it. I just gotta get your heart back on board. And I will. You’ll see. You asked me what I wanted from you... well, this is it. I’m collectin’ on my win. You’ll be stayin’ in my room while you’re here.” I brush her nose with mine and could see her resolve start to falter. Before she decides to protest, I brush up against her as I leave. “I’ll be expectin’ you.”
“You get used to it,” Ness tells me, standing at the bottom of the stairs when I come down.
But I couldn’t get used to it. I had no experience with mature, pissed-off Syndicate Mila.
_____________________
Mila
Bloom didn’t continue her earlier line of conversation after the interruption, and for that, I have to thank Cole. After that bullshit upstairs, I ended up in the kitchen with Ness seated at the breakfast bar, the ladies being the perfect hosts; feeding us a meal well after the guys left. The sun was starting to peek through the curtains, casting the room in the soft glow of the promise of a new day.
Bloom and Fiona kept chattering about how happy they were to have us here, how the men needed stronger women in the club, and how delighted they were to finally meet me. I got the feeling that Bloom was most comfortable when she was taking care of others. It was her little bubble where she could actually control things.
Cole never introduced us to his family and after a few minutes with Bloom, I couldn’t imagine why.
“Come on, let us meet your mom at least,” I cajoled, looking into his eyes and snuggling closer to his body.
“Nah, babe. She’s a pretty busy woman. Tendin’ to my ol’ man and all.”
“Awe. She can’t be that busy!” I knew I was pushing him a bit more than I normally did.
“No, Mila. Damn. Fuckin’ no.” He untangled himself and got up off the bed. “Fuckin’ drop it,” he growled in frustration.
“Okay.” And I did.
I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was pretty in that graceful way with her hair and her spirit. It was her that Cole inherited some of his features from, but she didn’t belong here like he did. What I couldn’t see was why someone as beautiful and gentle as her would stay with a man like Bodi. Someone who cheated so much, according to Asher.
Thanking them, I left the kitchen to grab my stuff from the car. Carrying it upstairs, I walked past the rooms that were delegated for us and stop at the door that’s plastered with warning signs.
Milo reminded me profusely that I didn’t have to do this, but I’d taunted Cole, goaded him. I got myself into this mess and now my pride wasn’t about to let me back down.
Turning the knob, I fling the door open to what would be my room for the next few weeks. I saw the faint outline of a body on the floor and something about it made me smile.
He gave me the bed.
Chapter 8
Cole
The bell above the door rings as I walk into the shop. It was relatively quiet now that it was closer to closing time. The unmistakable sound of a tattoo gun buzzing got my adrenaline pumping. It was heady and addicting, that first touch of ink.
I wasn’t sure how Mila would react once she knew I was her last client. Especially after last night. She was gone when I woke up, but I knew she slept in my bed. Her clothes were tossed haphazardly in the corner and it smelled like magnolias.
“Dude, what’s your sister’s favorite flower?” I asked Milo one day after class.
“She’s your girlfriend. Figure it out.”
“Don’t be a douche. I want to surprise her.”
“Surprise her? What for?”
“None of your damn business,” I brimmed with anger. Our anniversary was coming up, and I’d worked to save up some money to take her on a date. I couldn’t pick her up without flowers.
“Magnolias. And she better return a virgin,” his tone brokered a warning.
“Shut up,” I shoved him against the locker, not willing to tell him that Mila and I have been having sex for the better part of a year.
He’d kill me if he knew.
I round the counter, coming up behind Ness and Rook hovering over a binder, talking about the latest tattoo additions.
“Mila did that? In 4 hours? Fuckin’ shit,” Rook mutters.
“Yeah. She’s good, I’m telling you,” Ness continues flipping through the pages of the portfolio.
Mila now has her own section covering a range of tattoos from portraits to battle scenes, skulls, crosses, and Celtic wraps. Her attention to detail is so succinct that each piece looks intricately real.
“Where’s Diesel?” I ask Rook.
“Runnin’ errands with Rig.”
“Brass?”
“Client.”
“Where did she learn to do this?” I prop myself up on the stool in front of the register.
“Dubai,” Ness answered without looking up.
“Why were you there?” Rook takes the seat beside me, swiveling himself back and forth like a child.
Cocking her hip against the counter, Ness shakes her head. “We had a job.”
“Doin’ what?’
Ness slit her eyes at him. “Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many quest
ions?”
Rook shrugs. “Maybe. How did you meet the murder twins?”
Ness laughs, a deep belly laugh that makes her throw her head back as she walks into the break room.
Nudging Rook, I glare at him. “The fuck?”
“We have a right to know,” he brushed me off.
Ness returns with a tub of ice cream and hops on the counter. “I see their reputation precedes them. Mila’s going to love that name. I met Mila and Milo about five years ago.”
“Yeah, but how?” Rook stresses.
“Patience is a virtue,” she sang. “All good stories start somewhere, yeah? We met at Meitheal. We were in the same fight class.”
Meitheal?
Fight class?
Five years ago?
“What’s Meitheal?”
“Training.”
“They didn’t go to college, then,” I mention.
Liars.
“Nope. No one can know where you’re going. Unless they’re actually in the Syndicate.”
“You were in fight class…?” Rook reminded me of one of the bitches back at the club, begging a brother to share details with her.
“It was the day of the Culling,” she stopped, her gaze transfixed on the wall as she remembered. “It’s a fight to the death with the other bitches in your class, only you’re fighting all at once. The goal is to cull the class down to the strong and eliminate the weak. Only a TKO or death is acceptable.
They score you based on things like strength, duration, and stamina. Mila’s roommate at the time, Jessa, was the most vicious one in ours. She killed seven of our fighters that day and eliminated the rest in the first Culling. Reynard personally awarded her for her dauntlessness. She thought that gave her the right to provoke and harass all of us. Except Mila. Jessa never bothered her, but Mila still found out about it.”
“She do anything?” Rook grabs his soda from the counter, taking a sip.