Point of Return

by Stacey Lynn

  Point of Return, The Nordic Lords

  Copyright © 2014 Stacey Lynn

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permissions from the author, except for using small quotes for book review quotations. All characters and storylines are the property of the author. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks in not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing provided by: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design provided by: Cover It Designs

  Internal formatting provided by: Fictional Formats

  PROLOGUE

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I hated hospitals. I hated the smells, and the desperation of the workers, and the people who sat in the waiting rooms. I hated waiting for death to overtake the people trapped behind the curtains, or enclosed in the rooms with only a window opening to a brick wall where the bright fluorescent lights were brighter than any emotion carried by anyone roaming the halls.

  I knew where I was before I could find the strength to open my eyes.

  A warm, strong hand clamped down firmly on my shoulder. I squeezed my already closed eyes tighter.

  I knew who it was. I could smell him, the familiar burn in my nose of his smoke and cologne. This time, he was here for me.

  I pressed my teeth together and turned my head away from him.

  This time, I didn’t want him here.

  A flash of red flew into my mind and I saw a man slump to the ground, a red stain blooming on his chest before he ever hit the pavement. I cringed and bit my lip to keep from crying out his name.

  It was my fault he died.

  It was my fault both of them died.

  I felt the physical pull of darkness surround me and I gasped out one loud breath before it consumed me, pulling me back to sleep.

  Five weeks earlier

  Climbing out of my eight-year-old black Nissan, I blew out a long, shaky breath and ignored the glances from the people I passed on the street. In a town of only twenty thousand people, and coming from an infamous family like mine, I was used to their shifty-eyed looks. As if they expected me to whip out my pink Beretta and start firing shots at anyone who looked at me the wrong way. I had tried for years to change people’s perceptions of me but had finally given up.

  As I pushed open the door to Penny’s Bar and Boarding House, the thought hit me that if anyone knew the secret I was literally carrying with me, no one would be surprised.

  I eyed the surprisingly respectable looking establishment. I hadn’t stepped foot into this bar since I was too young to be drinking. Only a few years, yet it felt like a lifetime ago at the same time. There were a handful of scantily, yet classily dressed women sprinkled around the bar area. Some lounged on blood red leather couches, probably waiting for clients. Others sat together at the bar-height round tables, enjoying a drink with the other escorts.

  I had to admit that the place and the girls were classier than I, as a young teenager, remembered them being when I had visited with my dad for business. At one point, The Nordic Lords Motorcycle Club had helped fund the bar. They had gotten out of the sleazy escort business right around the time my former best friend, Faith, jumped in with both feet.

  At least that was how it felt to me. We hadn’t spoken since.

  Now, she was the only one who could help me.

  “I’m looking for Faith,” I told the bartender, and currently the only male in the bar. He took me in with one eyebrow raised, as if he were examining me. For what, I didn’t know. Perhaps they didn’t get many female customers. Regardless, I resisted the urge to cower under the tall man’s dark and broody stare while he silently perused my body. His large frame was encased in his Black Death MC leather cut, and I wondered for a brief second if he knew who I was and if he’d kick me out.

  Finally, apparently satisfied I had answered his unasked question appropriately, he nodded as if I were in here every day. Like this was a normal lunch with my best friend. We were best friends who had the same September birthday, born two years apart to the day.

  Two club princesses born on the same date. Our fathers’ club had partied for a week straight after my birth, at least that’s the story I had always heard growing up once Faith and I became inseparable. I was pretty sure the story had been embellished over the years like men under the heavy and constant influence of drugs, booze, and sex tended to do.

  I watched the quiet man stroll to the back and took a seat at the bar, all while fighting the instinct to run my hands over my stomach, or wring my hands together nervously, but I failed. One hand slowly rubbed back and forth over my stomach. I propped my other elbow on the bar and dropped my head into my hand.

  I could only assume his silence meant Faith was in the back, hopefully not with a client.

  “Well, well, well.” I jerked my head up and stared at the sarcastic singsong voice only Faith could make sound pleasant and evil at the same time. She was as stunning as she always had been. Jet black hair that looked too shiny to be real, exotic almond shaped eyes and a body, that I knew from local gossip, helped make her one of the most sought after escorts in our sin-filled town of Jasper Bay. “I’d never have expected a visit from you.”

  I nodded, checking to see how much malevolence she felt for me. Surprisingly, I found none, at least none I could detect.

  “How are you?”

  Faith leaned forward with her elbows on the bar and dropped her head. Her eyes held nothing in them. They were completely blank. I didn’t know if it was because she was dead from the lifestyle she had chosen or if it was because of her empty emotion for me. Either way, a pang of sadness hit my stomach for her. At one time, we been closer than sisters could be, and now we were further apart than strangers were.

  “Cut the shit, Olivia. What do you need?”

  My nose twitched. I deserved that. Faith had always been blunt, completely intolerant of bullshit yet able to master the art of bullshitting others. I closed my eyes and tried to blink away the fear I felt, the overwhelming knowledge that if she wasn’t able to help me, no one could.

  “I need help.” My words came out jilted. I held her eyes the entire time so she could read my desperation.

  She sighed and her shoulders dropped. “And I was your last choice? You must be in bad shape.”

  I was. But that wasn’t why I came to her. “You’re my only choice.”

  For a second, I thought I saw a familiar look
of compassion dance across her eyes, but it was gone before I was certain. “What is it?”

  “I need to go to a clinic. Cash only, no names. Today.”

  Her eyes dropped to my stomach even though she couldn’t see it from behind the bar, but she knew.

  “How far along are you?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m not really sure, but I missed my last period a few weeks ago,” I answered and then glanced around the bar to make sure no one could hear me. If I was correct in my assumptions though, it was the night Travis and I partied too hard at The Bridge Tavern, throwing back shots and beer while we played pool and darts and then later, completely forgot to use a condom.

  “Travis can’t take you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised, but I knew before I answered that she’d understand. She always knew my greatest desire was to get out of this town. Travis may have been my quasi-boyfriend, and a local cop, but getting pregnant with his baby would cement my status as a lifer in Jasper Bay. I refused to let that happen.

  Even if I had never found the courage to truly leave.

  Tears filled my eyes when I thought for a second that she might not help me. All I needed was someone to drop me off and take me home afterward. One hour of her time, tops. Still, I felt the burn in my eyes as I prepared to beg her.

  “Please…”

  She raised a hand to stop me from saying anything else. I closed my mouth and wiped a tear from my cheek. Faith pressed her lips together before she smiled slightly. It wasn’t genuine and it wasn’t friendly, but I took it anyway. “Let me make a few calls and see if the clinic Penny has used before has openings today.”

  “Thank you,” I said in a rush, but she was already gone, walking out from behind the bar and passing the sullen bartender on the way.

  “Is your friend here to take you home?”

  I didn’t look at the nurse. I couldn’t. The guilt over what I had almost done filled every pore of my body and suffocated me. I knew regardless of the choice I made, she wouldn’t look at me with judgment. Her eyes were kind, even if they were a bit sad. I wondered if she did this job because she wanted to, or if it was the last place she wanted to be in the entire world.

  I knew the feeling.

  I nodded and declined the wheelchair she offered me, hanging my head in shame as I followed her silently down the back hallway. When she pushed open the back door and the sunshine hit my face, my eyes clamped closed to block out the bright sunlight as we entered the back parking lot.

  Nothing like walking in through the front of a free clinic only to be ushered out the back door like the unwanted orphan—even if you hadn’t actually done anything.

  I didn’t care. If there was ever a day I deserved to feel condemnation it was this one. I had almost killed my baby. The fact that I couldn’t make a decision today when the moment came meant nothing. I still didn’t know what to do.

  Footsteps approached on the broken gravel and I finally looked up, expecting to see Faith walking toward me to take me home.

  Instead, my breath caught and a lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. He walked toward me with purpose, clearly there for me. My mouth parted and I licked my suddenly dry lips. Vaguely, I heard the nurse say something about calling to make an appointment if I changed my mind, but her voice sounded too far away and muffled, as if I were underwater. I was too stunned, too afraid, and too upset at Faith. Damn her. The one time I had asked her for help in five years.

  My head spun with silent questions. She threw me to him? Of all people? How did Faith know how to get hold of Daemon? Were they still friends? She worked with Black Death MC, The Nordic Lords’ enemies. None of it made sense, and as the questions swirled in my head, I stopped trying to answer them. Because once Daemon fixed his dark green eyes directly on me, all rational thought in my head dissolved.

  The innocence of the boy I had once loved was gone now; hardened by years of being a full member in the motorcycle club we had once pledged to flee. His cheekbones and jaw line were more prominent, his evergreen eyes as bright as I remembered them being. He stalked toward me with the grace and sleekness of a panther on a kill, dressed in loose fitting blue jeans, biker boots, and a short sleeve black shirt, covered by his leather cut. I knew from years with my dad that the leather would be soft, supple and smell like a mixture of oil, beer and cigarette smoke.

  I used to love that smell when I was a little girl and relished the few times I was able to crawl into my father’s lap and rub my skin against the leather, like a kitten purring and rubbing against her favorite scratching post.

  He cleared his throat and smiled at the nurse. “I’ll take care of her.”

  His eyes pierced straight into mine and I gasped as he cupped my elbow with his hand, pulling me toward him. My steps faltered, my grey flip-flop kicked a loose rock directly onto his scuffed, black biker boots. He reached out to steady me with his other hand.

  “I got it,” I said. The muscles in my arm tensed as soon as he touched me. But for some reason, one I didn’t want to look into further, I didn’t move to get away from him.

  He began leading me toward the same beat up and rusty black Chevy truck he bought when he turned sixteen-years-old. He didn’t speak to me. He didn’t acknowledge my existence in any way except for his hand on my skin.

  A moment of desperation hit me and I twisted around to find the nurse. My hair whipped around, stung my cheeks, and got stuck on the sweat dotting my hairline. I wanted to beg her not to leave until I could get someone—anyone else—to come get me.

  Not Daemon, he was last person I would ever want to see me like this.

  I was going to kill Faith.

  But the nurse was gone, the back exit door closed, and I was twenty minutes from home with no one else I could talk to or trust.

  So I let him slowly walk me to the beat up truck and I shifted on my feet when we reached the passenger side.

  “Let me help you.” One of his arms reached around my shoulder and I jerked out of his reach.

  “No,” I said, staring at the chipped cherry red nail polish on my toes. “I can climb in on my own.”

  He sighed, opened the passenger door to his truck and waved his arm, giving me the go-ahead.

  I put my right hand on the open door handle and braced myself with my left hand on the side of the truck. My hand, sweaty from nerves and the stress of the day, slipped from the door and I lost my balance. Before I knew it, Daemon’s arms were wrapped around my waist as he picked me up.

  The same arms that had at one point in my life, held me and protected me were now helping me again. I hated it and I embraced it at the same time. He sat me in the cracked faux leather bench seat, handed me my paperwork, a bottle of prenatal vitamins, and a sealed envelope with a picture from the ultrasound.

  Daemon Knight.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of my seat. He wasn’t out of the parking lot before the tears began to fall silently down my cheeks.

  Faith. Daemon.

  For five years, I had run from my past and my life, and in one day, both Faith and Daemon had swept in to save me. It was too much. I was too raw. Sadness and guilt festered in me at lying to Travis about my plans for today. The only boyfriend I had had since the night Daemon had held me, loved me, taken my virginity, and then the very next day succeeded in breaking every promise he made to me.

  Yet, he was here.

  And if I had been able to be honest with myself for once, I would have realized that out of everybody in the entire world, there was no one else other than Daemon I wanted around when I felt like life was crushing down on me, forcing me to face my demons. No one made me feel safer.

  Not even Travis. At best, he was a distant—far distant—second.

  We said nothing on the twenty-minute drive back to Jasper Bay while tears silently fell down my cheeks. Daemon clutched the steering wheel so tightly with his right hand that his knuckles turned white. A muscle in his jaw twitched and I wat
ched him fidget with a cigarette every few minutes, weaving it over and under his fingers on his left hand.

  I recognized his gestures as part nerves and part anger. I may not have spoken to him for five years, but prior to that day, we had been friends since we were two. Over twenty years of knowing him made it easy to read his mannerisms.

  Right then, his silence told me he was wound so tight that I knew only an hour in a sparring match in the boxing ring would settle him.

  The cuts on his knuckles and the slightly faded bruise on his jaw told me he still fought. Not that I was looking, and not that I didn’t love the smell of leather and stale smoke. And I certainly wasn’t looking at the way his dirty blonde hair fell to his shoulders or the way his short eyelashes fell into his eyes, giving him a tired look.

  “I’ll walk you up,” Daemon spoke softly, but with a voice deeper than I remembered him having.

  I had once loved his voice. I had yearned for his smile and his laugh and his whispers as his lips brushed my skin.

  I now hated that voice.

  It was a reminder of all the things in my life that had fallen apart. He shifted the truck into park and I looked up at my second story apartment. The small, one room studio was a crap hole; but it was the only place I could afford after I dropped out of college, and moved back home to Jasper Bay. Fortunately, my boss, Gunner, owned it and rented it out to me for dirt-cheap.

  The added bonus was it sat directly above the tattoo shop where I did their bookkeeping.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He didn’t listen. I didn’t expect him to, really. I watched him open the door and without him asking, or demanding, I slid into his muscled arms and let him set me on the ground.

  “I’m helping you upstairs. I’m going to make sure you’re safe, and then you’re going to tell me what in the fuck just happened today.”

  I flinched at his harshness. My jaw dropped and then I snapped it closed. I shook my head back and forth but exhaustion had overtaken me on the ride home and I was too tired to argue with him. Daemon always did what Daemon wanted to do anyway.