Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series

by Thomas, Natasha

  It was hot as hell the second you walked out of your front door – the wall of heat slamming into you as if you had

  stepped into a convection oven – and it didn’t let up until the sunset which made for long boring summers spent mostly indoors.

  But regardless of it being only barely ten in the morning and the mercury steadily rising, I had a feeling that it didn’t matter how hot it would get outside today, the scorching heat of Scott’s unpredictable temper would be far worse than anything mother nature could conjure up.

  “I missed you, baby,” Scott groaned as soon as he took a seat beside me, pulling me into his arms.

  I didn’t want him to touch me, and not just because I was already sticky and sweaty from the long drive home and the five minutes it took to unload my bags from his car. I didn’t want Scott to hug me and pet me like I was his possession because I was about to break up with him. But he gave me little choice. What Scott wanted, Scott got. And right now, he wanted to hold me, so I gave in and loosely wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  Scott is an only child, and his parents had no problem perpetuating their son’s belief that he was entitled to whatever and whoever he wanted. They spoiled him, made excuses for his poor behavior, and paid his way to straight A’s throughout high school by donating a new library to the school at the start of his junior year. I hated them for that. Not the library since I loved to read, but for overlooking everything that was so glaring wrong with their son and

  covering it up with their money and status.

  At seventeen – a week off turning eighteen – I knew the difference between good and bad, right and wrong. Scott was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, given everything he could ever want, and rode on his parents’ coattails, while I believed in hard work and not being dependent on others for my start in life.

  Scott’s parents, June and Jim came into a sizeable amount of money a few years before Scott was born. Jim’s elderly cousin passed away, leaving him his fortune and his very well-known international shipping company. A shipping company that Jim sold for a hefty profit that allowed his family to live off the interest. Neither Him or June working, instead they chose to wield their money and the power that came with it over the people of Furnace, deeming themselves the town's own royal family.

  From what I’ve said so far, you can probably gather my family was nothing like the Matthews, and truthfully, for all his ego and bravado I didn’t honestly believe Scott was as bad as his parents. But my misnomer about my boyfriends’ true nature was soon revealed, and I learned how unequivocally wrong I was.

  My dad, Lucius, better known as, Skull, is the President of Soldiers of Havoc Motorcycle Club in Torment, Arkansas, and he also works long, demanding hours as the head engineer for a local construction company when he isn’t playing badass biker king.

  My mom, Leanne, is the high school guidance

  counselor here in Furnace, and donates a lot of her free time to helping troubled kids at a youth shelter a few towns over. My parents are the best people I know, and I have never been more appreciative for the parent’s I had when I met Scott’s.

  Jim and June have never been overtly nasty to me, but their snide comments and subtle digs about me not being good enough for their son were enough for me to know everything I needed to. Simply put, they are snobs, elitists,

  and generally arrogant people, that given a choice, I want nothing to do with.

  Which is why it’s always baffled me that they not only allowed Scott to work toward his goal of joining an MC after high school, but actively supported him in it. Jim and June seemed like the least likely people on Earth to encourage their only child to throw his lot in with an outlaw motorcycle club, and as such, the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right with this picture continued to strengthen as the days went on.

  When Scott first mentioned his desire to prospect for the club, I wrote it off to an act of rebellion and kept telling myself it was a phase. That soon enough he would forget about it and find something else to focus on. But as weeks turned into months, and months bled into two years I realized this wasn’t a fleeting whim of Scott’s, he truly intended to follow through with it.

  Pulling out of his arms, I looked at Scott and tried to

  remember why I loved him. We had been together for so long – since our junior year of high school – and I sincerely

  thought the two of us were meant for each other when we first started dating. But after countless break-up’s and make-up’s over stupid, petty, meaningless things, I finally began reassessing what I ever saw in him in the first place.

  Sure, Scott is handsome in a classically elegant way. His blonde hair is short and styled, not in a messy I don’t give a damn kind of way, but in an, I spent fifteen minutes in front of the mirror and don’t I look good kind of way. His blue eyes are just that, blue. Not bright, not deep, just plain, regular blue. His body is lean, slightly muscled, very different to most of the men in my dad’s MC and the Vengeance brothers I’ve seen around town. In short, he looks more like he belongs on the golf course of a country club than the back of a bike.

  “I have something to tell you,” I say, edging away from him.

  “I don’t like the sound of that, gorgeous,” he replies, the grin on his face dying an instant death.

  “It’s not a big deal, or it shouldn’t be, not if you hear me out,” I hedge quietly.

  Scott immediately becomes restless, his fist balling at his sides, and the muscle in his jaw ticking dangerously.

  “Just spit it out, Emily. I’ll be the judge of whether it’s a big deal or not.”

  Complying with his wishes, I share my plans, which goes over just as I expected; like a lead balloon.

  “You know that school lets out for summer soon, and since you’ll be spending most of your time with the club, I thought it was an excellent opportunity for me to go on holiday with some friends. Shelby, Mandy, Jessica, and Cynthia are doing a road trip down to Tampa, and invited me to tag along.”

  “No,” Scott growls, shaking his head. “You know what I think about those bitches, and I won’t have you hanging

  out with them.”

  “That’s not your decision to make,” I grate out forcefully. “I’ve already spoken to dad about it, and he’s on board as long as I limit the trip to six weeks.”

  “Fuck, Emily. Six weeks?”

  “Yes, Scott. Six weeks. With how busy you’ll be, you won’t even have time to notice I’m gone.”

  Narrowing his eyes at me, Scott’s voice raises in volume when he yells,

  “Not going to happen. Those bitches are not taking my girl away from me for six weeks, not when I need you here to support me. Prospecting’s going to be hard enough, let alone doing it without you by my side. Who the hell am I supposed to talk to when I’ve had a shit day? Huh, Emily, who? Apparently, not you because you don’t plan on fucking being here,” he snarls viciously, slamming his fists down on the coffee table, making me flinch.

  “I understand you’re angry, and this has come as a surprise, but…” I start to soothe him before he interrupts, continuing his tirade.

  “Bullshit. You don’t have the first fucking clue why I’m so angry. Why? Because you’re a selfish fucking cunt, Emily. Everything’s always about you, and what you need, never what I want or what would be best for me.”

  Now if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t

  know what is. If I’m not mistaken, everything that just came out of Scott’s mouth was I, I, I.

  “Scott,” I whisper tentatively, knowing now is not the time to provoke his temper further.

  “No, fuck you, and fuck that. You go on this trip, you and I’ll have problems, Emily. Problems, mommy, and daddy won’t be able to fix for you this time.”

  “Please listen to me,” I beg uselessly.

  Ignoring me completely, Scott stands up quickly and clenches one fist by his side, but raises the other to waist level with his palm open
and heading in my direction.

  “I suggest you think about what you’re gonna do next boy and do it smart. You lay a hand on my daughter in anger, and I’ll put a bullet in your head and have my boys dump you somewhere your body will never, ever be fucking found,” my dad’s deep rasps sounds’ from behind me.

  I didn’t even hear him come in, nor did I expect him. Especially, when my dad hasn’t been to my mom’s house since they divorced over a decade ago.

  *****

  Jarring myself from the memory with as a cold shiver races down my spine, I look over at Avery who is watching me with a look of pity and concern etched all over her beautiful face.

  “So if Scott was so terrible, even back then, how did you end up with him?” Avery asks with genuine curiosity.

  While I don’t blame her for asking, it’s not something I’ve ever had to explain before. Not entirely, at least. Most of the time, I can deflect or give partial answers, hiding the twisted truth of what my life was like then with some prettied up lies, wrapped in an even prettier bow.

  “That’s a story for another lifetime, sweetheart. But I will tell you this much; albeit redundant now, there was a good reason for why I married and stayed with Scott. No matter what happens after I leave, I want you to remember that. I never planned to hurt anyone, at least not intentionally. But sadly, regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t help it.”

  “Em,” Avery voice wavers. “From the little I’ve been able to piece together, someone was bound to get hurt, but that’s not all on you. You weren’t the only one in that situation, so as far as I see it, everyone who was has to take

  some responsibility for how it turned out.”

  Giving her what I hope is an appreciative smile, I open my arms. Avery walks into them and allows me to take the comfort I need from her and give her the same in return.

  After long moments and more than a few tears from both of us, Avery looks into my eyes and requests,

  “When you get to where you’re going, please call and let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to tell me where you are, just that you’re safe.”

  “That won’t be fucking necessary,” Atlas growls, making both of us jump. His face is set in stone, not one readable emotion is present on his usually handsome face.

  Oh, God, I know that look. Rage and disappointment flare in the depths of his eyes, telling me all I need to know; he is furious with me. I have only seen this look twice in the dozens of years I’ve known him, and never once aimed at me. But just like the rest of our relationship, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that too had changed.

  “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me,” Avery hisses, clutching her hands to her chest.

  Tipping his head at her, Atlas states,

  “I think it’s about time you got on home, Avery. Fury left the clubhouse a few minutes after I did, so I’m sure he’s already waiting for you.”

  Avery looks to me for confirmation that she should

  leave, and I simply nod. Truthfully, I should have known

  this was coming. It is past time for me to atone for my sins, and obviously, finally, Atlas thinks so too.

  “Okay,” she murmurs. “Just do me one favor, though, old man?” Atlas doesn’t reply, but he does lock eyes with her. “Go easy on her. I don’t understand everything, and I won’t pretend I do, but what I do know is that there is more to the story than any of us, including you know. And by the sounds of if, Scott is only a small part of that. So maybe, if you can, before you say or do anything you might regret, you should hear her out and reserve your judgments for later.”

  My husband flinches at the mention of my late husband and his dead brother's name, and I can’t blame him. Scott’s name will forever be a sore subject, no matter how much time has passed.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart. Emmy and I just need to talk. And we need to do that alone,” Atlas

  grunts, taking a step closer to me.

  It takes every ounce of strength I have left not to shy away from his touch when Atlas grasps my hand in his, but I manage. Just. With one glance at my husband, I know this little show he is putting on is for Avery’s benefit, not the show of solidarity I was hoping for.

  “Okay,” Avery relents, looking between us nervously. “Um…if you’re sure.

  As if Atlas can read her mind too, he says,

  “I’ll get Em to text you after we’re done. That work for you?”

  “Yeah,” she murmurs in relief. “That would be good.”

  Wrapping her arms around me tightly, Avery hugs me, and I feel the first fissures in my armor cracking. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to lose the friendship of the beautiful, strong, inspiring women who came into my life just when I needed them most. But alas, that’s what this is. Whether Avery and Atlas know it or not, this is goodbye. Maybe not forever, but for now, at least.

  Quietly, Avery slips from the room. Neither Atlas or I move until the front door clicks shut, leaving us alone in the silence of what used to be our home.

  As if propelled by raw anger, Atlas spins me so that my back is to his front and my arm is wrapped around my waist with his hand on top, anchoring me to him.

  “This is the last time I’m going to chase you, Emmy. If you really want out, then have at it. I won’t stop you, and I

  won’t beg you to stay. This, me and you has to be something you fight for. For once in your goddamned life, I need you to stand up and put us first. Fight for me, Em. Prove to me that we’re worth whatever shit we’ve got to wade through to get to the other side.”

  I wish it were that easy. I really, honestly do. But it’s not, and the mere fact that Atlas thinks it is proves he doesn’t have the first clue what he’s asking of me.

  The guilt that has eaten away at me for years is no match for the love he has for me. My choices, the decisions I made, knowing they would destroy any chance of an ‘us,’ knowing that they would wreck me are mine. I own them. I live with the knowledge that I put my future in jeopardy for years, not once doing a damn thing to change it.

  Squeezing the breath out of me, Atlas murmurs,

  “I only came home to pick something up. I’m going to get it and head back to the club. If you’re here when I get home in the morning, I’ll have my answer. If you’re not, then don’t bother coming back. Ever. I can’t do this with you again, Emmy. As much as I love you, and I do, Em, down to the depths of my soul, I won’t take you back if you chose to leave.”

  “Atlas,” I whisper, not recognizing my own voice for the enormity of fear reflected in it.

  “No, Emmy. I love you. I’ve always loved you, but maybe what everyone’s been telling me is right. Maybe love isn’t enough,” he struggles to get the last words out. “I fucking prayed it was. Night and day, I got down on my knees and begged for the strength to forgive you.”

  That is like a knife to the heart. Hearing Atlas say out loud that he hasn’t forgiven me shatters something inside me I had already thought was long dead and buried. Pain like nothing else knocks the wind out of me, leaving me desperately gasping for air and ripping myself from his grasp.

  “Stop,” he shouts, trying to hold onto me. But it’s too late, I’m already lost in a sea of regret and agony as my legs threaten to go out from under me.

  “No. No. No. No. This can’t be happening,” I chant, tugging my hands through my hair.

  “Emmy, stop,” he demands.

  “No!” I screech, backing myself into the corner between the window and our bed.

  “Baby, come here,” he croons this time, holding out his hand for me to take.

  Gripping both sides of my head, my voice comes out monotonous and dead, even to my ears.

  “What did you think when you walked in here and saw that?” I ask, pointing to the half-packed luggage on out bed. “Let me guess, that I was leaving you. That I was giving up on us and walking out. Running again. Forget it, I know you did. You just said as much,” I end on a screech.

&nbs
p; The thing is, that’s not even a little bit true. I’m not leaving Atlas, nor had I ever planned to. All I wanted was to get out of his and Gemma’s way so that they could develop a relationship without being constantly reminded of why they were only just now meeting each other.

  I’m not stupid; I know that my presence is an unwanted reminder of all the things Gemma and Atlas wished for. My

  daughter wanted nothing more than a stable home, a father

  who protected and cherished her, and a mother who would risk her own happiness because that’s how much she loves her. But what my daughter doesn’t realize is that the latter is true. I did that and more. I risked everything just to make sure she lived, while I died a little more each and every day I was separated from her.

  There wasn’t a minute of any given day that I didn’t wish it were different. That I could find her and beg for her forgiveness. But I made a promise when I placed my baby into the arms of another woman – a woman who pledged to love, care, and cherish my precious girl. I promised her I would walk away, that I would give Gemma a chance at a life I couldn’t give her.