by Brogan Riley
She’s twenty. Very attractive twenty—big boobs, big green eyes, a waterfall of blonde hair, but Tank is my best friend, so she’s no woman to me. I made her very aware of that fact two years ago when she attempted to shove her hand into my pants. From that evening, she only flirts with me.
The white door of the bathroom that’s situated opposite the metal stairwell swings open and a girl walks out.
No, not a girl. A forest fairy.
Her big brown eyes rise to mine and she freezes for a few seconds. So do I. A timeless eternity connects us for a split second and it feels like we’re the only two people in the void of universe.
Fuck me. I’ve never seen a chick as beautiful as her. She looks barely eighteen and reminds me of a fawn. What a fragile, unearthly creature. A gust of wind could scare her away.
My eyes devour her full lips forming an ‘o’. They remind me of ripened cherries. I realise I want to kiss those sinfully beautiful lips of hers.
No, I want to wind her long brown hair around my fist.
I want…
Fuck me. She looks barely legal.
Alexandra grips the girl’s tiny hand and drags her over to us. The girl is limping.
I shoot forward, driven by my primal instincts. I lean over the girl and scoop her up into my arms. She sighs like a startled little animal.
“Always so chivalrous,” Alexandra says as she rolls her eyes. Her hand strokes my arm up and down in a friendly gesture. “Good to see you, Jackson.”
I pull that tiny fawn to my chest as her body shivers against mine. “Good to see you too, Alex.” I don’t pay attention to Tank’s daughter though. All my senses are zeroed in on the fawn staring up at me. “Who are you, you little fawn?” I ask.
“I’m Poppy,” the girl says, her voice tinged with delicate rasping, her cheeks flushed.
Her skin is as white as snow and that delicate redness of her cheeks lures me with the promise of untouched innocence. I shouldn’t be interested in her. She’s too young, too ethereal, but I can’t help it. I am very fucking interested.
“I can walk, sir,” she murmurs, clearly embarrassed by my attention.
“You can’t,” I say. My eyes travel to Tank and Marion. “Your family?”
“Yes and no,” Marion says as one of her thick eyebrows rises. “I mean she’s not our relative by blood, but we already love her like she is.”
“Put Poppy on the couch and come with me,” Tanks says. He leans over the bar top and reaches down with his hand to grab a bottle of whiskey. He straightens. His bushy grey eyebrows form a line as he thrusts his chin out towards me. “Put the girl on the couch.” One corner of his lips quirks up.
I realise I’m still holding Poppy against my chest. I’m shielding her with my arms. She clears her throat as our glances meet. Her hand rises and she points a finger to the couch.
I tighten my embrace around her.
Her eyes widen and I’m mesmerised.
Tank clears his throat and that brings some clarity to my brain.
I lay Poppy on the couch and this separation is almost painful to me. Like she fucking should be plastered to my chest all the time.
Fucking hell. I’m thirty-seven, but that girl makes me feel like I’m a teen again.
Tank pulls forward and I follow him to the office that’s situated behind the bar. We enter it and take our seats at the oak table.
“Talk to me, brother,” I say. “Why am I here?”
“You love my ugly gob?”
“I love your homemade whiskey.” I nod several times. “Marion loves your ugly gob.”
Tank opens the bottle and fills two glasses with the golden richness of alcohol. He shoves a glass towards me and I grab it.
“To our friendship,” Tank says.
We clink glasses.
“To our friendship,” I say.
Tank’s face turns into a cold mask like he’s doing club business. “That girl, Poppy…”
“Very fucking pretty.”
“Good you said that,” he says more to himself. “Everything will be easier.”
A chuckle escapes my mouth. “You’re weird, man.”
His cold eyes fix on mine. “We found Poppy on the beach.” He wrinkles his forehead, concern filling his eyes. “She was unconscious, beaten up. She’d almost drowned in the ocean.”
Rage surges through me at his words as I rise to my feet. “Just tell me the name.”
The piece of scum that did it to Poppy is already dead.
“We can’t, brother.” Tank attempts to calm me down with a wave of his hand. “Big money, you know. Very big money. That bitch, her stepmother, is untouchable.” He threads his fingers through his shoulder-length silver hair. “I asked here and there. There’re rumours that Poppy is on a hitman’s list, but I don’t know the motherfucker’s identity.”
I’m stunned. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Poppy didn’t tell us much. Probably it’s all about the big money. Poppy’s stepmother rules a pharmaceutical empire.” He nods several times. “Maybe the bitch doesn’t want to share?”
There’s gravely silence as I try to process the information.
“I have a wife and a daughter,” Tank says. “I love that girl, but—“
“I’ll take care of Poppy.” It just slips out of my mouth.
“Good. She turned eighteen two months ago.” He grins at me.
“So what?”
“She’s an adult, Jackson. And she’s very pretty. Since you’re gonna take her to your clubhouse, you need either to give her a job as one of your girls or to…” He nods several times like he can see more than the human he is can.
No fucking way. I can’t bring Poppy to my clubhouse. She’s an adult and my boys are uncontrollable while around a pretty chick. The thought of a man’s hand touching her wakes a possessive animal inside of me. The thought of employing her wakes an urge to murder inside of me.
My club, the Furious Daggers, is a bunch of wild men. We bring justice to where the police or victims are helpless. We help other people, but we’re no saints.
My mother had a publishing house. She was a widow, but we were rich and happy until a piece of scum killed her. I was eighteen years old then. The killer was put on trail, but the judge pronounced him innocent. The scumbag had money, and a brilliant lawyer.
I sold the publishing house, bought a gun, and learned to shoot. I killed the scumbag two years later and then the Furious Daggers MC was born.
Thoughts tumble in my head as Tank’s grin widens. We’ve been best friends almost since forever, and we know each other as two old horses having lived a lifetime in one stable would. Sometimes, no words are necessary. Sometimes, a tiny gesture is enough.
“Poppy is a beauty,” Tank says. “My boys can’t tear their eyes off her. And she’s very obedient. Very sweet and well mannered.”
I fucking want to kill Tank’s boys.
My head feels like a hot carousel, but a moment later, my mind detaches.
Why the fuck not? Poppy is a cute little thing. She could be only mine.
“Can you brand her for me?” I ask as heat rushes to my dick and it twitches in my pants.
“Of course, I can.”
Excerpt: His Lily
Chapter 1
Lily
I wake up and my heart hammers in my chest. I’ve had this horrible nightmare again. I was spitting out my teeth and blood at a gravestone. Death and illness, this is the meaning of my dream.
I crawl out of the bed and shuffle towards the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. My head throbs. Panic sits on my chest. I hate my dreams and I hate my life sometimes.
A cup of coffee boosts my mood a bit. I force myself to eat the lunch Nadia prepared for me and left in the fridge yesterday. Then I take a travelling bag out of the bottom of my wardrobe and put it on my bed.
My mama told me to dance when I was sad or nervous or scared. My mama was a wise woman. I cherish every memory of her.
She told
me to dance so I let the piano tunes from my laptop abduct my soul and take me to another realm where I don’t feel like a leper. The music is beautiful and evokes both my sadness and happiness. My body is floating around the bedroom as I toss my clothes into the bag. A sense of freedom surges through my veins.
Nadia calls me, shaking me out of my sweet forgetfulness, and checks on me.
“Have you packed your equipment?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten your lunch?”
“Check.”
“Can you take the garbage out?”
“I can.”
“Don’t,” Nadia says. “It’s too heavy for you, Lily. I will do it myself when I’m back from work. Be ready in the evening.”
I want to scream. I can manage with that stupid garbage.
“Take your vitamins,” Nadia says.
“I eat a lot of fruits and veggies.”
“You need to support your organism—“
“I know.”
Nadia huffs. “Otherwise you’ll get sick again. It’s important.”
I’m too tired for her uplifting monologue. “I will take my vitamins; don’t worry.”
“Can you do the laundry?”
“Sure.”
Nadia disconnects, and I return to packing. We will depart in the evening when her fiancé and she finish their day shifts.
Nadia and I are going to spend five days with Shay and his brother, Dreven. My lips curl into a smile. Dreven is such a weird name for a man so I create an image of a male troll in my head. I haven’t met Dreven and his son, Micah, yet and Shay doesn’t talk much about his family. Nadia is sometimes annoyed that he’s hiding that part of his life even from her. On the other hand, she complains that if Shay were to choose between Dreven and her, he would choose Dreven.
I think she is wrong. Shay loves her. Well, he is kind of mysterious, but it doesn’t mean that he won’t make the right choice in life.
I sometimes envy my sister and her fiancé. They will get married in six months yet I still wonder whether I will ever find a man who wants to marry me. I won’t. Finito. Period. What sensible man would want a grown up baby to look after? Not to mention that every man would get nauseous at the realisation of what I am.
I finish packing my clothes and go to the bathroom. One of the benefits of my miserable life situation is that I can do pleasant things whenever I want to. I take a long relaxing bath, pamper my body with coconut oil and massage a hair tonic into my scalp. It helps me to prevent my long black hair from falling out. As I slip into my clothes, my eyes roam over the bathroom. It needs some cleaning. I grab a bottle of bathroom cleaner and dampen a cloth under the tap. The tiles, the window and the toilet are easy. The floor makes me breathless.
After half an hour, I leave the bathroom spotless with the fresh scent of detergents lingering in the air, but my mind is foggy and I have the impression that I will collapse at any moment. My feet shuffle, carrying me to my bed, and I fall onto the mattress. A stubborn thought hammers in my head. I should have done something else but I have no energy to move. I drop off to sleep at once.
The noise of a feverish conversation shakes me out of my dream. It’s drifting up from downstairs. I recognise Nadia’s and Shay’s voice. They’re discussing their honeymoon plans and are unable to reach an agreement. Nadia is insisting on visiting Majorca and Shay wants to go to Scotland. I would prefer Scotland to be honest.
I crawl out of my bed, change my clothes and brush my teeth, then go downstairs to the kitchen. Shay is eating at the narrow table and Nadia is squatting down and putting the laundry into the washing machine.
Coldness fills my veins. I’ve forgotten to do the laundry. Nadia’s glance meets mine and I see that she is angry but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are burning with an urge to murder though. Like they always do when she asks me to do a tiny thing and I forget to do it.
I forget things all the time and Nadia must sometimes think that I’m lazy. I’m not lazy. I try so hard to be useful but it doesn’t always work out.
I would sell my right foot in exchange for a normal brain.
“I asked Laura to dry the laundry for me,” Nadia says through clenched teeth as she stands up.
I don’t say anything. Shay gazes at me with warmth and winks at me. He threads his fingers through his short brown hair.
I make myself a sandwich and soon we hurry to pack our bags into Shay’s car parked in front of our two-bedroom house. Nadia has been renting that house for four years.
“Will your brother be happy to host me with Sergio?” I ask Shay.
Sergio is my beloved rat. Of course, I forgot to ask whether I could take him to Dreven’s cabin.
“He may wince but don’t pay attention,” Shay says.
“Maybe I’ll ask Laura to look after Sergio,” I say.
“No, bunny, pack Sergio into the car and then we are leaving,” Shay says. “It’s late.”
“Are you sure?” I insist.
“I am,” Shay says.
Nadia settles herself into the passenger seat as I help Shay place Sergio’s cage into the boot.
“I can look after Micah,” I say. “Tell your brother that I will look after Micah in return for his permission to keep Sergio with me.”
“Dreven won’t be angry with you, bunny.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just ask him nicely,” Shay says.
“But—“
“And smile when you are asking him.” As Shay looks at me, something eerie flickers in his grey eyes.
“Okay.” I bob my head at him even though his suggestion seems weird to me. “What should I call him? Sir or Dreven?”
He shakes his head. “You are still such a little bunny.”
Blush pours onto my cheeks. I said something stupid, but I’m not sure what.
“Get in the car,” Shay says. “Nadia wants to be there before ten.”
Chapter 2
Dreven
I tighten the grip on the steering wheel of my Audi, look into the rear-view mirror and catch a glimpse of my seven-year-old son who’s curling into the child’s seat behind me. Micah is asleep, and we reached our destination two minutes ago.
The memories of my date three days ago flash through my head. She was nice and good-looking but talked too much. Her voice had an unpleasant hysterical crack as she complained about her two exes. We ate in a restaurant and after the meal, she invited me over to her flat. It was as sterile as a hospital. She gave me a professional blowjob but I couldn’t force myself to kiss her lips or touch her tits so she called me an asshole, moron and a few worse names. I escaped from her flat as fast as possible.
I’m not an asshole. Not regularly, at least.
I’m a lonely man, a lonely ship tormented by the furious ocean of life and I can’t find my peaceful haven. I want a wife, wild and passionate love, and a good mother for my son. So simple, yet so difficult at the same time.
I look at the cabin through the windscreen and make a promise to myself that Micah will enjoy this short holiday like never before. I work a lot and owe that to him.
My little brother and his fiancée will arrive late in the evening. Nadia and Shay are working their day shifts and they will finish at seven. Then they’ll have about a one hour’s drive to the cabin so I expect them to arrive around nine or ten. This time they are taking Nadia’s sister, Lily, with them. I haven’t met her yet but Shay has mentioned that she is eighteen or something so I could use her as a babysitter for Micah if the three of us wanted to go out.
I turn towards the back seat and shake Micah’s leg.
“Are we at the Greywood Forest, dad?” Micah asks in a sleepy voice and sweeps away his blonde waves from his face.
“Yes, and we have to tidy up the cabin,” I say.
Micah rubs his blue eyes and nods. “Auntie Nadia likes cleaning. She can do that.”
I chuckle. Nadia is an obsessive cleaner. She loves neatening things up, placing t
hings according to size and colour and giving orders to Shay. Those character traits make her a perfect paramedic. Shay talks about her all the time and I don’t blame him. This chick is respected at work and so fucking hot that each time I see her I can’t take my eyes off her. Her almond shaped eyes flicker with something mischievous each time our glances meet; her black hair reminds me of a crow’s wing. Not to mention her full sensual lips and curves in all the right places.
Micah crawls out of the car and looks up at the cabin. I open the boot and take out two bags and a basket with grocery shopping. We are going to spend five days here—Nadia’s orders for the family to bond properly. I don’t mind bonding with Nadia but not so much with her teenage sister. Even the word ‘teenager’ creates images in my head, images of those mouthy flirty rats that think they’re grown. They visit my shop every Saturday and the guys I employ grind their teeth so they don’t scold them.
I place the bags onto the grass and slam the boot shut. The early February air is still chilly and I exhale a cloud of vapour. Micah walks on the lawn path, shaking from the cold, and climbs the wooden stairs that lead to the veranda. He takes off his jacket and tosses it on to the floor, pulling the door handle.
“It’s locked,” I say and shove my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, taking out the keys. I throw them towards Micah and they land at his feet, chinking.
The cabin is modern and quite spacious, topped with a tiled roof; the stone and wood exterior gives a warm aura. It’s far from civilisation which I love. I bought it seven years ago when my girlfriend was pregnant with Micah. She didn’t like it. She also didn’t like being a mum and despised the idea of becoming my wife. I haven’t heard from her since Micah was born. Fuck her.
I lift the bags and join my son as he manipulates the key, trying to insert it into the lock.
“Let me do it,” I say.
“I can manage, dad.”
I nod. Micah wants to impress me all the time and I often have to stop myself doing things for him. He wants to be a tough guy. I know that he needs a woman around him and I welcome Nadia to our family, hoping that she can give Micah a bit of her female gentleness.