Tormented (Fallen Aces MC #3)

by Max Henry

  “Tired,” I lie, flashing Dog a winning smile.

  He nods, easily pleased.

  I’m freaking the fuck out. The night before Sawyer left for Cali, Hooch was in my bed—talking. He basically laid out the ground rules that he didn’t want to see me anywhere near Sawyer in “that” way. If he hears what we did, if Sawyer decides to be a typical male and brag to one of his closest friends, then hell . . . war might be closer to home than anyone thinks.

  “Can I grab that drink after all?” I ask.

  Callum chooses the perfect time to walk through the common room. “No alcohol for her,” he announces, hand raised and pointed in my direction as he strides by.

  Dog jerks his chin up, and then gets back to ignoring me while I slide off the barstool, defeated, and head upstairs to the living quarters. I showered at the motel in Grand Junction, but for obvious reasons I’m suddenly feeling a whole new desire to get clean all over again.

  My room’s exactly how I left it—a slip of comfort in turbulent times. I kick my boots off and drop onto the mattress, staring up at the reflection that looks back down at me from the ceiling. I had the mirrors put in back in my pigheaded liberating phase, right before I headed off on my soul-searching trip around the Southwest. Now though, I’m regretting the fact I can see what a fucking wreck I am in full detail.

  Potential problems with Sawyer and Hooch aside, I’ve got other slightly more important things to worry about. By simply thinking of letting Sawyer in, I’ve inadvertently opened the floodgates to things I’ve kept buried, issues I’ve compacted with all the other trash. It never occurred to me that in order to tell him about my past, those words have to go through me first. I can’t stay neutral in this, there’s no denying that explaining what happened to me is going to resurrect feelings I’d rather not relive.

  Those girls Cash killed, they triggered something deep in me. Their brutalized bodies have played on my mind since we left the filth-ridden house. Was that what transpired for the women Evan would bring home? Or did he do worse? Although I’m not entirely sure what worse would have been. And just how much of his sick shit did I help in my ignorance as a kid?

  “Honeypie, won’t you go get Daddy some fresh towels?”

  “What for?”

  “No askin’ questions, precious. Just do as you’re told, okay?”

  I shiver at the memory of his hand stroking my hair off my face while he stood there before me with his knees bent, and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. Momma loved that man, and still, to this day, I have no fucking idea why.

  Shaking the memory away, I get up and strip down, wrapping the towel that hangs on the back of my door around my body. Gathering up my toiletries, I head down to the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. King’s promised that as soon as he can he’ll remodel and give us all our own bathrooms when he adds in more bedrooms, but I know the club is in the shit financially; I’m not expecting him to work miracles.

  At least the bathroom is empty, it being a little after lunch.

  I turn the water on and drop my ass to the edge of the bath while I wait on the shower to heat up. Part of me hopes by some freak miracle Sawyer will stride through that door again and give me an encore. The sensible side of me knows that was a one-off. I saw the way he shut me down, not once, but twice before Dog provoked the beast. The carnal part of him might want what I’ve got to offer, but the part I’m interested in, the intellectual, is fighting to keep me at arm’s length.

  Did I presume too much? Is he embarrassed by me? Does he not want the guys to know how low he’s stooped?

  Maybe so, but I refuse to believe what we did in that motel shower was nothing but raw animal desire. There was something else in his eyes, something that said he felt more than he bargained for too. We had a connection. Maybe it was young, underdeveloped, and yet to fly, but it was alive.

  I rise to grab my shampoo from the bag on the counter with new conviction. The Abbey who left to find herself in the back roads of America might have been this timid and doubtful of herself, but the one who came back wasn’t. I owe it to her, the new me I worked so fucking hard on, to keep up the hard work I put in, to not let my doubts win. I didn’t go through hell for this. I didn’t risk my safety more times than I should have just so I can fall apart over a man.

  You’re a badass bitch.

  Yeah, I am. I need to fucking remember that. And maybe if he’s not so keen to go after what I’ve got, I need to remind him of it daily until he admits that I’m exactly what he needs.

  Fuck the maternal hearts like Ramona. Look how that worked out for him.

  Fuck the naïve good girls. Look how they run from him.

  He doesn’t need something better, something more pure. Fuck what his head might tell him. He needs what his heart clearly desires: me, the female fucking equivalent of his madness to balance his scales.

  And it’s on me to prove why.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Sawyer

  “You’ve got this pretty well planned out, huh?” I take the tumbler of whiskey King offers.

  “Got to be a point to my sleepless nights, right?”

  “Guess so.”

  “I’m sure I don’t need to check you’re on board?” he asks with a sly grin.

  “Fuck, man—you’ve just cleared the plate for it to be me and my old man puttin’ this shit to bed once and for all.” I grin, wide and genuine. “I’m all fuckin’ in.”

  This is going to be so much fun . . . .

  Going to need to give you a workout to prepare, aren’t I?

  You really know how to sweet talk me, don’t you?

  “You think it’s achievable, though?” I take a swig of the drink. “I mean, you’ve got a lot of players here, a lot of pieces that have to fall into place just right.”

  “I’ve got backups, plan B’s, the works.” King drops into his seat, kicking his boots up onto the desk. “Sick of fuckin’ being walked over by your asshole father. Sick of him underestimatin’ me.”

  “Hear, hear.” I raise my glass.

  “Time he was laid to rest, don’t you think?”

  “Fucker should have had lead between the eyes years ago.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t make it that easy on him now, would you?” King smirks, raising his tumbler to his lips.

  “Not in a month of Sundays.”

  The two of us sit in amicable silence, grinning at each other like the sick fucks we are. Only difference is King is the kind of person who believes in second chances, and I’m most likely to shoot on sight.

  Like the time you killed that bitch so she would stop sharing how pathetic your virgin ass was at popping her cherry . . . .

  Shut the fuck up. So her murder was questionable. Still. She should have known not to run her mouth all over town like that.

  But what? You’re so much better with your self-control now . . .?

  I like to think of myself as a work in progress.

  “Hooch is already here somewhere.” King places his empty tumbler on the desk. “You know how he likes to party up large when he has somethin’ to celebrate, so I suggest you take the opportunity to rest up before the rest of the ragtag bunch arrive.”

  I laugh, placing my own glass on the edge of the desk. “Not all of us are as old and worn out as you.”

  “Easy now.” He lifts an eyebrow in friendly warning. “I ain’t that much older than you.”

  “Maybe not, but the job’s aged you plenty.”

  “Has it ever.” He draws a hand over his face and sighs. “Best go see what Bronx and that girl he brought in here are up to.”

  I nod as I rise out of the chair, stepping aside so he can open the door.

  “Let me know if you think of anything else, yeah?” King says as he passes by.

  I stop him with a quick tap on the shoulder. “Will Ramona be here tonight?”

  “Yeah, man. She’s bringing Mack in to see you.” King smiles and shakes his head. “You two not know how to
use a phone?”

  I cringe before answering, “I might have pissed her off on the last phone call we had.”

  “Of course you did,” he says dryly. “Might need to keep that side of things in check if you want her to let you keep seeing Mack.”

  “Yeah, I might.”

  He gives me a slap to the shoulder and then heads out the door. King knows me well, and he knows the only thing I love more than the satisfaction of being the last face a person sees as they take their dying breath, is my boy. If it wasn’t for that kid . . . I hate to say it, but I swear to God if Ramona hadn’t sprung that pregnancy on me I would be just like my old man. Probably be living under his roof again, too, being the son he always wished for.

  Instead, I’m about to be the son he deserves, all to keep the son I don’t, safe.

  King hangs a right and disappears outdoors to where Dante is currently riding an old BMX over a crudely knocked together jump.

  I scan the common room, but aside from Dog reclined on one of the sofas with his feet kicked up over the back as he plays on his phone, there’s nobody in sight.

  “Where the fuck is everyone?” Most notably Abbey.

  Dog lifts himself up on his elbows to peer over the end of the sofa at me. “Buying shit for tonight, working, visiting, sleeping at home . . . you know how it goes.”

  “Why aren’t you then?” I come to a stop by his feet and fold my arms over my chest.

  He shrugs, unaffected by me. I kind of like this kid.

  I don’t . . . .

  “Never did like the idea of a nine to five.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He goes back to fiddling with his phone, both thumbs a blur as they scream across the screen. “If you’re looking for Abbey, she went upstairs.”

  Punk ignores me, even when I add a growl to the stare I’m currently envisioning cutting him in two with. Kids these days . . . no respect.

  You do have a little time, you know . . . .

  No. I don’t.

  The kid smirks as I head for the stairs. Where the hell else am I going to go? Dog can grin that smarmy fucking smile all he wants, but he doesn’t stand a chance at holding my clear interest in Abbey over me. Pretty sure everybody has figured it out for themselves, judging by the friendly words of warning I get from every which direction.

  Still banging that drum, are we . . .?

  Get fucked.

  I hear her before I lay eyes on her. Or should I say, I hear the music she has playing in her room. Rob Zombie—beautiful choice. Her head lifts to take me in as I step into the doorway. She’s laid out on her bed, phone resting between her hands.

  “Well hello, stranger.”

  “Stranger?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Tempting little bitch swings her long legs around and perches on the side of the bed, back arched just so, making her tits pop and her waist appear smaller. I know how these women work. “I thought we were going back to pretending we didn’t know each other.”

  “Subtle.”

  She backs up a little as I enter the room, kicking the door shut behind me with my boot.

  “What was with you blowing me off then, if that’s not the case?”

  “Got something else you can blow off.”

  Her eyebrow lifts as I reach for my buckle.

  “Come on, now. We’re past this bullshit, don’t you think?”

  “Are we?” I keep my hands on the leather and metal—never know your luck.

  Abbey huffs out a heavy breath, making her long bangs flutter. “I’m not one of the club whores, Sawyer. You can’t sway me with cheap pickup lines, and lewd suggestions.”

  “Well aware, girl.”

  Her dark eyes find mine, and she frowns. “What are we?” She flicks a finger between us. “I mean, are we making this an item kind of deal? Or are you out for some fun and that’s all?”

  “Do you think that’s all I want? A fun time?” We talked about the whole childhood crush shit, and I warned her that I wouldn’t let anyone else near her. What else did she get from that if not long-term?

  “I wasn’t sure.” She ducks her chin.

  “Well, I am,” I admit, causing her to look up in surprise. “Nobody’s ever looked at me like you do, as though they’ve thought further than the things I could do for them right then and there. Nobody’s ever looked at me like they wanted a future, Abbey.”

  “Not even Ramona?” she whispers?

  “Not really.” I shake my head. “Deep down she knew the same as I did, that we weren’t meant to last.”

  A small smile creeps across her lips.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I never thought she was right for you, and knowing that you see that too?” Her hands stroke an even rhythm on her shins. “It makes me feel better.”

  I step forward, and drop to my haunches before her. “Why?”

  She shrugs, a vague attempt at dismissing what bugs her.

  “Tell me, Abbey.”

  “I was worried you’d go back to her.”

  I sigh, reaching out to wrap my hand around her neck. “Baby, I’m done with Ramona. It was done a long time ago, but neither of us wanted to admit it. We worried about what it would do to Mack.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “You don’t like her,” I point out.

  “But at least I have a valid reason.”

  I drop my hand away, and rise to my full height. “Which is?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Abbey.”

  She looks up at me, clearly startled by the anger in my voice as I uttered her name.

  “No secrets, remember? We can’t have secrets if you want this to work.”

  Her throat bobs, and she fidgets with the comforter. “When I was eleven, Ramona and a couple of the other girls tried to pressure me into offering myself around, you know, like be one of them.”

  “A whore?” I throw both hands on my head while I stare at her in disbelief. I know Ramona can be pigheaded and arrogant at times, but fucking hell, making a kid a whore?

  Abbey nods. “Said it’s what all women did to pay their way around here.”

  My hands drop away. She’s not serious.

  Oh God, she is . . . .

  No way.

  It certainly appears so . . . .

  “Sawyer?”

  “Who did you tell?” And why the fuck wasn’t anything done about it?

  “I didn’t tell anyone. King saw what was happening and put a stop to it.”

  “Damn, Abbey.”

  “It’s in the past, Sawyer.” Her whole sex kitten show long gone, she tucks her legs up Indian style. “Let it go.”

  Silence hangs thickly between us as I steal the moment to look her over . . . the right way. Yeah, she has a fucking fine body, and yeah her face isn’t hard on the eye. But there’s more to her that, until now, I never gave her full credit for: the honesty in her eyes; the acceptance of the man I am when I’m with her, not the guy other people see; and the way that even though we’ve been talking about her, she’s sitting there, watching me, trying to figure me out. She’s more selfless than she realizes.

  “Tell me the truth, Abbey-girl. Do I bring out the worst in you?”

  Her head tips to the side, a confused frown in place. “What do you mean?”

  “I keep pushin’ you to stop hiding, to face who you are and put your demons to bed, but . . . I don’t know. Is that right?” I lace my hands at the back of my head, trying to get into words what I mean. “What I’m tryin’ to say, is, the way I’ve always dealt with the things that get at me, the regret that I’m not the same as my brothers out there, is by facing the problem head on. Instead of acceptin’ it as a flaw, I make it a feature, you know? Like, why hide that I enjoy causin’ pain when I can embrace it and make it somethin’ I’m known for? Turn the negative into a positive, sort of?”

  “I don’t follow where you’re going.”

  Fuck it. I drop m
y hands, shaking my fists at my sides to save from lashing out in frustration. “What if what’s right for me, isn’t right for you? What if you were doing the right thing all along by burying your hurt? Maybe me forcin’ you to drag it to the surface is doing more harm than good?”

  “Why do you think you’re harming me?” She frowns as she slips her legs off the bed and stands. “What gave you that idea?”

  She steps toward me as I explain. “You have nightmares, right? I never knew that before, so I’m guessin’ they’re worse now since this started between us.”

  She shakes her head, coming to a stop a foot in front of me. “No. I’ve always had them. Ask Hooch. Ask Sonya.”

  I frown, reaching out to hook my hand on her hip. “You freaked out at the diner. Was that because you were out with me?”

  Her hip bumps mine as she closes the space between us. “No. I had anxiety at being shut up in the truck for too long.”

  I arch an eyebrow in question.

  “Later. I promise I’ll explain later.”

  “What about Ramona?”

  “I thought we sorted this,” she snaps.

  “I mean, is she givin’ you trouble . . . because of me.”

  Abbey bops a shoulder, staring off to the side. “She’d do it anyway. I mean, she’s made a few snide comments while you were in Cali, but that’s nothing new.”

  “Like what?” What the hell could she possibly have against Abbey? We’re through, she said it herself, there’s no true feelings, no real love between us.

  “That I’d make a terrible mother. That the kids don’t hang out with me when they’re here because I’m scary. And that she can’t imagine I’d ever have a lifetime with anyone because I couldn’t be a proper ‘woman’, doing all the homely, motherly things.”

  “That worries you?”

  “Not really. I’m happy being a grease monkey for Fingers right now.”

  I duck my head, still not convinced that my issues wouldn’t burden her when she’s fighting so hard to control her own. “I still don’t know.”

  “Know what?” she asks, clearly frustrated as she runs a hand over the side of my face.

  “What if you change your mind? What if you see everything that goes on behind the scenes and decide it’s too much?”