Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series

by Thomas, Natasha

  Emmy, come a close second to a traveling freak show in the entertainment stakes. Take it as a compliment that I’m willing to give up a few minutes of pounding inside the insanely fuckable, Miss Natalie to stick around and watch the show.”

  Wisely deciding to ignore him, Em just shakes her head as if she's humoring him. Good choice because once Hoss really gets going, he can be hard to control. Make that impossible.

  Circling my fingers around her wrist, I give Emmy a firm yet gentle tug in my direction, moving us further away from the peanut gallery.

  “We need to talk.” The second she opens her mouth to argue, I cover it with my free hand and dip my forehead to hers. “This is going to be uncomfortable for you, and I get you don't want to do it, but get over it. It's happening, and there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop it.”

  Crowding her against the wall, I shelter her body with mine, blocking out the curious stares and ensuring she can focus on no one but me.

  “This is how it's gonna go. I'm going to ask questions, and you're gonna answer them. How long this takes, is up to you, but you've got to know I'm not letting you leave until I've got what I need from you. Now nod if you get me, sweetheart.”

  Bobbing her head up and down in the affirmative, I press a soft kiss to her non-bruised temple.

  “Good. Next question; how long, and don't bullshit me, Emmy?”

  When I uncover her mouth the first thing I expect her to do is to scream bloody murder, cuss me out, or even try to lash out and kick me in the shin. Much to my surprise, Em does none of the above.

  “Fourteen years, five months, and three days,” she murmurs quietly.

  Rage like nothing I've ever felt before swamps me as I do the math.

  “Just to clarify, are you seriously telling me that motherfucker laid his hands on you while you were pregnant?”

  “Yes,” she whispers in confirmation.

  “Jesus Christ,” I snarl out, sounding more animalistic than human. “Where the fuck was your dad? There's no way you could've hidden this shit from him.”

  “He doesn't know,” she rushes out. “Please. Please, Atlas don't tell him. He'll lose his mind and end up in jail, or worse.”

  “So fucking what?” I snap. “It was his job as your dad to protect you, He should have dealt with this shit when it

  started happening.”

  “No!” Em yells. “This is my problem, not his. And

  ]definitely not yours, Atlas. I got myself into this, and I'm getting myself out of it. I promise.”

  “How am I supposed to believe that, Em? Tell me. This isn't just you we're talking about; you've got a kid to worry about too.”

  Emmy's gasp has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The look in her eyes is frantic as she looks anywhere but at me. I know this woman better than I know myself, so her reaction to me mentioning her boy tells me there's more to this than she's letting on.

  “I'm not going to ask again, Em; what's going on?” Before she can open her beautiful mouth, I warn, “And no bullshit. I'll promise not to kill your asshole soon-to-be-ex-husband if you start talking. The second I think you're lying, all bets are off.”

  Don't ask me why I made that promise, especially since I never intend to keep it, but I did. The moment Scott and I cross paths he is going to feel the full weight of my wrath. Every single time he's laid his hands on Em, I'm going to make him pay for, and then some.

  The tone of my voice must trigger something deep inside, Em because before I can blink, the full weight of her tiny frame hits mine as her body is wracked with silent sobs.

  We stand like this for long minutes. Neither of us saying a word. But then again, we don't need to. I can feel

  her pain in every hitch of her shoulders. I can sense her need for comfort each time she buries herself deeper into my chest. The worst part is, my woman is hurting, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. At least, not until she tells me the whole sordid story.

  As her tears dry, Em's body stiffens, and she pulls away from me. I'd give anything to have her back in my arms, but I've got a feeling that what she has to say next is more important than my need to hold her.

  “I don't expect you to forgive me,” she starts out by saying. “And if you don't believe another word I say, please believe me when I tell you I only did it because I had to.”

  Cupping her stunning, tear stained face in my hands, I lower my voice and give her a soft smile.

  “There's nothing you could ever do that would be unforgivable, Em. Nothing.”

  Em blinks up at me in equal parts confusion and awe. As quickly as it was there, it's gone, leaving a stoic mask of determination in its wake.

  “You've probably guessed by now that Scott has issues. For years I've gone around in circles, thinking, planning, plotting even, the best ways to get him help, but I've always come up empty handed. So many times, I've thought about talking to, Hog and telling him what was going on, but then I watched him educate a woman on what it means to keep her, and her man's business at home and I changed my mind. It's not that I wanted to air Scott's dirty laundry, it's just that I'm fully aware I'm not equipped to deal with his issues

  alone.”

  “What issues, Em? Obviously, we aren't on the same page because you know if you'd gone to anyone of fifty Vengeance brothers' they would have taken care of that shit for you.”

  Em nods.

  “I do know that, and you're right. We aren't on the same page because Scott hitting me is only the tip of the iceberg. It's also a symptom of a much bigger problem. I'm not going to share what that is, so don't ask. I made Scott promises, so if you want to know the depth of his problems, you're going to have to ask him. What I will say, is that I'd urge you to do that sooner rather than later. After me telling him to pack his stuff and get out, he's bound to do something stupid that will end up getting him hurt, or worse.”

  “Not sure I give much of a fuck if he ends up hurt or worse right now, Em. I'm more worried about you and what you think is so unforgivable,” I reply thoughtfully.

  “You don't mean that, Atlas. First and foremost, he's your brother,” she reminds me needlessly. “I'm not saying I won’t tell you everything you want to know, it’s just that I need you to talk to Scott first. No matter what he's done, I can't be the one to tell you his side of the story and mine.”

  “Can't or won't?” I growl, knowing the answer before the words leave my mouth.

  “Both,” Em murmurs sadly. “I made a deal with the devil years ago, Atlas. At the time, I actually believed it was for the best, but knowing what I know now, I would do anything to go back in time and change it.”

  “Then tell me. Trust me to make things right for you and Diesel,” I implore, gripping her upper arms tightly.

  “I said I would, and I will. But you have to talk to Scott first. Ask him what happened the day night he caught up with us in Tampa. Ask him why it was so important that I marry him. Please, do this for me. When he gives you his reasons, I can fill in the blanks.”

  “This is sounding more like a bad day at the circus, than a confession, Em. You've got me jumping through fucking hoops here,” my voice reverberates in a low snarl.

  “I know, and I'm sorry. Please trust me, though, Atlas. Scott has to be the one to tell you because even though I asked him to leave, he's still the one holding all of the cards,” she mutters dismally.

  “Fine,” I grate out. “I'll hunt his pathetic, abusive ass down, get my answers, and then I'm coming for you, Em. I want you back, and if the only way to have you is to go through him, I'll do it.” Em's body shudders violently under

  my hands at my declaration, causing me to pull her into my arms again.

  Caging her in, I drop my mouth to her ear and promise,

  “I don't care what you've done, what vows you've made, or how long you've been hiding shit from me, I want you back. I'll always want you, Emmy. You're my reason for breathing. Don't ever doubt that.”

  “Fin
e,” she breathes out raggedly. “Meet me at my house tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll sit down and talk, and see if you feel the same way after you hear what I have to tell you.”

  I didn't know it then, but those words, my words, were about to be put to the test. A test I couldn't afford to fail.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~ Sarge ~

  Never the two shall meet

  Pulling up in Emmy’s driveway the next morning, I turn off my bike and dismount, praying to God, if there is one, that for the love of all things holy, Em wasn’t stupid enough to take her shitheel of a husband back. But as I look into the face of the man I'd have to force myself not to kill a million times over, in a myriad of creative ways, I knew my odds were only fifty-fifty. I mean, why else would he be here? Sheer determination rippled through the air with each of his angry strides, telling me all I needed to know. Scott was here for his wife, whether she wanted him back or not.

  Stepping in front of me, blocking my direct view of Scott, Em crosses her arms over her chest and sighs.

  “Is there a reason you're standing in my doorway without an invitation, or am I to assume you're just here to cause trouble I'm not interested in partaking in?”

  Scott's frame goes solid at Em's words, but he doesn't make a move to enter the house.

  “Not here to start shit with you, Emily. I just want to see my boy. But after that, you and I do need to talk.”

  I highly fucking doubted that. Both his being there to see his son and him needing to speak to his wife.

  Scott checked out of Diesel's life the second his son was old enough to see him for the asshole he actually is. As far as I knew, Scott hadn't really spent much time with the boy since he was around six years old, maybe younger. If he wasn’t camping out at the clubhouse, using every available pussy that wasn't at the time occupied, he was at Hounds or in Denver with one of the many pieces of ass he kept on the side. So Scott being here to see his son, I highly doubt that’s got anything to do with why he’s here.

  I, however, would be willing to bet my left nut the chat he wants to have with Emmy is the only reason he dared to show his face. And I hate to be the one to break it to him, but that shit won’t be happening. Over my dead rotting corpse am I letting him get inside her head to fuck with her more after what he did last night. No. Just, no.

  The last time they had words, he saw fit to lay his hands on her in anger - something I wouldn't be allowing a repeat of in the near or distant future. Never if I had my way.

  Rolling her eyes, Em shrugs his reassurance off, stating,

  “Diesel's not here, but you would know that if you'd called first. Not to mention, saved yourself a trip.”

  “It's hardly a hardship for me to ride the ten miles to see my wife.” I didn't appreciate his tone, and by the sounds of

  it, neither does Emily.

  “Well, then let me put it this way. It is a hardship for me to see you standing on my porch after everything you put my son and me through. It is a hardship that you are still free to live without having to face the consequences of your actions. And it is a fucking hardship to share precious oxygen with you when my only wish is for you to just go away and leave us alone.”

  At the venom in her tone, I instantly knew I'd made a grave misjudgment about their relationship. When I found out she and Scott were on the outs, I showed up here this morning with one thing in mind, and one thing only. I was finally going to claim my woman back, and I wasn't going to take no for an answer.

  Seeing my Em fired up like this, standing her ground, and finally putting Scott in his place solidifies the decision I made and followed through with before I rode over here. I was done with Gwen. Done in every way we could be done. After a dozen attempts to get me to reconsider the status of our relationship there is no doubt in my mind that Gwen isn’t questioning where we stand now. Thank fuck!

  I took advantage of the situation when it arose. Sure, I could have timed it better – losing my shit on the woman that had turned into my own personal stalker in front of a dozen of my brothers probably wasn’t fair, but I needed Gwen to get me. As in, understand the words coming out of my mouth and accept them.

  Regardless of the fact that Gwen and I weren't, nor ever would be exclusive, she simply didn’t see it that was. To me, Gwen was nothing but a good time, and someone to take my mind off the woman I would spend the rest of my life pining for. Gwen, on the other hand, wanted to be an old lady; my old lady. My biggest mistake was not setting Gwen straight the hundred or so times she dropped that shit into conversations. Stupidly, I figured if I ignored her, she’d take the hint. Apparently, I was fucking mistaken.

  Sure, I laid it out for Gwen when we got together – explained what we would and would be, making damn sure she agreed before taking her to bed – but obviously, like the few other women I've taken to bed since Em, Gwen thought she could change my mind. Why I'll never know, but she did.

  The only way to describe what being with anyone besides Em is like is to compare Filet Mignon to undercooked hamburger. Gwen being the hamburger. It's wrong, it's unfair, but that doesn't change facts; no one can compete with my Em.

  However, no matter how certain I was that I'd be back in Em's life in the way I've always wanted to be after tonight, her next words and Scott's demeanor bring my plan to a screeching halt.

  “I mean it, Scott. I'm done. We're done.”

  The question echoes in my head for all of thirty seconds before Scott opens his mouth and every one of my questions are answered.

  “We had a fucking deal, Emily. Nearly fifteen goddamn years of taking care of you and that brat, and this is what it comes to? This asshole's been sniffing around since the beginning. I knew it. You knew it. Shit, even my boy is smart enough to see what this guy, my fucking brother for Christ's sake, wants from you. When we made our deal, I agreed to leave him out of it, but seeing as he's standing here, on my fucking porch, with his hands on my fucking wife, I figure he's about as in it as he could be. So how about you fill the man in, Emily? How about you tell him why you've been so scared out of your goddamn mind he'd find out?”

  Jesus, what in the fuck is going on?

  “Stop it!” Emily hisses.

  A nasty smirk creeps across Scott's face, making Emily flinch and my back to go ramrod straight. I've seen this look before, when Scott and I have had to do wet work for the club together, and it doesn't bode well. This is his usual expression when he's about to unleash unforetold pain on an innocent victim without so much as a blink of his eye.

  “Nah, I don' think I will. Not this time,” he states, confirming my fears.

  It doesn't take a genius to interpret all hell is about to break lose, and I for one, don't want Emily caught in the crossfire. So pushing her behind me with one arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to my back, I suggest,

  “You got something to say to, Em, maybe you should call her later and set up a time and place to meet. Somewhere neutral.”

  “I'm thinking that's not going to work for me since I already drove all the way out here and all,” he sneers.

  Reigning in my growing anger, I narrow my eyes at Scott and offer him a look that I hope communicates, 'get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass.'

  “Look,” I try reasoning with the dickhead again. “You want to be pissed, be pissed. You want someone to take that out on, then I'll follow you back to the clubhouse, and you can take it out on me in the ring. But what you don't do, is show up at Em's house, hoping to corner her alone and start

  shit.”

  Scott's control over his temper snaps first.

  “Who the fuck, do you think you are?” He roars. “She's my fucking wife, and this is my fucking house.”

  Emily doesn't skip a beat.

  “Ex-wife! I am your soon-to-be ex-wife, Scott, and the sooner you come to terms with that the better we'll all be for it.”

  That's news to me. I mean, I know from what I've heard from Hoss that Scott and Em's marriage is on the
rocks, but what I didn't know was it had deteriorated to divorce court already. Although, after what I witnessed, seeing her at Hounds, I can’t say I’m surprised. Nor am I complaining or

  anything. In fact, I couldn't be more ecstatic.

  “Not yet you're not,” Scott growls, taking a menacing step forward which sees me pushing Emily further into the house.

  “Go inside and lock the door, sweetheart,” I say, gentling my voice.

  “Atlas,” Em whispers. “I don't think...”

  “Trust me,” I implore, praying for once in her life she'll listen to me and let me take care of her.

  She hesitates for a few seconds, but eventually, I feel