Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series

by Thomas, Natasha

  “You weren’t crazy, babe. If you hadn’t agreed to that date, I would have stalked you and sweet-talked you until you did,” I grin.

  “I know, that’s why I said, yes,” she mutters. “You looked so determined, refusing to take no for an answer, and at the time, I thought it was cute. You said all the right things, you were hot, and unlike most men, you didn’t take your eyes off mine once during our conversation. The fact that you didn’t stare at my boobs or my ass the whole time was the turning point for me if you must know. I was so used to guys talking to my chest, that it felt good to have a man capable of recognizing I was a human being, not just a piece of meat.”

  “Princess, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and if those pricks were too stupid to notice that, then that’s their loss and my gain.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. It was your gain, it isn’t anymore,” she says ominously.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? There is no way I’m letting this little misunderstanding ruin the good thing we’ve got going, babe.” Shaking my head, I add, “Not

  a chance in hell. You’re mine, just like I’m yours. If I’ve got to prove that to you, I will. If you need some space for a day or two, okay. I won’t like it, but I’ll give it to you if it’s what you need.”

  “Oh my God, stop,” Gemma all but shouts. “Proving to me that you want my body or giving me space won’t fix the fact you spent months lying to me. And before you say you didn’t lie,” she says, anticipating my next words, “think about it from my position. For months, you spent time with me and made me trust you, only for me to find out you were doing it for a man who is your brother but is also my estranged father. A relationship built on lies and distrust is no way to start a relationship, Shade. If that’s even what this was.”

  Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, but like the strong woman she is, Gemma roughly brushes them away and continues.

  “I let you into my life. I let you into my bed and my heart, Shade, only to have you ending up treating me with the same disdain you treat everything else.” Dropping her head in what I fucking hope isn’t defeat – because little does Gemma know, but I’m never giving up on us, regardless of how much she hates my ass right now – she sniffles. “The absolute worst thing, though, is that I trusted you. So much

  so, I believed every ridiculous promise and every bullshit lie that came out of your mouth. Nothing you can say will fix how badly that hurts, Shade. Nothing.”

  I’m stunned. No, that’s not true. I knew when she found out why I was initially assigned to her we’d have some shit

  to work out, but I truly thought we’d fight, make up, and go back to what we were; happy. Obviously, I was totally fucking wrong. Shit!

  Mumbling to myself about what a fucking idiot I’ve been, I lift my head just in time to see Gemma hightail it out the back door. Double fucking shit! This didn’t go anything like I’d planned, and I’ll be damned if I know what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  On the flip side, there is one thing I know, and that is, Gemma can run, but she can’t hide. One way or another, I’ll find a way to make this up to her, and when I do, I’m going to slap my patch on her back and make her mine.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ~ Gemma ~

  “There’s a fine line between saying too much and saying too little. I walk that line like a drunken clown at the circus.”

  – Gemma’s constant struggle

  There have been plenty of times in my life that I’ve pondered the decisions I made and wondered ‘what the hell was I thinking,’ but never, not once have I wanted to kick my own ass more than I do right now.

  I mean, how could I have been so stupid? Men like Shade don’t want plain, normal, boring girls like me. We don’t pose a challenge. We don’t play hard to get because honestly, we wouldn’t begin to know how to play the game.

  The truth of the matter is, our insecurities make us susceptible to charming, charismatic, sex God’s like Shade and his friends. We are but mortal women who succumb to the allure of their promises and are left behind in the wreckage when inevitably, they leave.

  Shaking my head, more in disgust at myself than

  anything else, I walk-jog out of the clubhouse, making a beeline for my car. I don’t stop once, not even when Vengeance MC’s President himself calls out my name. Fuck him, and fuck them. At this moment, I want to be here less than I want to be back in the shitty excuse for a home I escaped years ago.

  While I walk, I chastise myself for what an idiot I was to come here. How stupid and naïve I am to think I was anything more than a conquest for Shade. But even with those toxic, soul-crushing thoughts wrapping around my heart, fortifying walls I was foolish enough to let down, that isn’t what caused tears that burn like acid to well in the corner of my eyes. No, Shade isn’t worth my tears, and he certainly will never know that he’s broken my heart beyond repair.

  But my, dad? The man I didn’t know existed. The man I prayed would come and save me from the hell I lived in for most of my adolescence. The man I kept on a pedestal until now is worth every ounce of pain coursing through me.

  I’m not just shattered at what I learned quite by accident mind you, I’m devastated.

  *****

  “A week. You’ve got a week to find a job that’ll pay your way around here, or you can get the fuck out,” she sneers through her hacking coughs.

  My caregiver, although anyone who knows her

  wouldn’t call her that, is an evil woman. She is more worried about where the next twenty dollars is coming from so that she can fund one of her many addictions, than any of the four children that were thrust into her care. Albeit, ten years ago, that was what she wanted; us in her care. She claimed that she wanted to become a foster mother, more than anything else. Especially, since she couldn’t have children of her own.

  Ha, that’s a fucking joke. Darla didn’t try to have kids, and if she did, she was only unsuccessful because she couldn’t keep a man longer than her current high. The truth of it is, Darla wanted the paycheck. The state funding given to foster parents.

  It isn’t much, but for the most part, it’s enough to keep her in alcohol, cigarettes, and prescription pain pills more often than not. Which is a boon as much as it is a curse. When Darla is sober, she’s even worse if that can be believed. She’s a belligerent drunk, nasty and spiteful, but when she’s sober, she hits damn hard and never misses her target. See? A boon and a curse.

  “You hear me bitch?” Darla rasps through another wet cough.

  I keep my head down, staring at the discolored, stained rug, giving her a slight nod.

  “I heard you.”

  “Well, then what you gonna do about gettin’ me my money?”

  I don’t answer her at first, considering all my options, most of which are less than desirable or out of the quest altogether. But one resounding slap and a stinging, reddened cheek later and I’m forced to tell her something.

  This would all be so much easier if I didn’t have Ebonee, Jacob, and Christian to think about. But I do. They are more than just children thrown into the same house as me. They are my sister and brothers. They are why I keep enduring Darla’s wrath, and when I can, redirecting toward me instead of them.

  “I got a job today,” I say quietly. And I did. It’s not something I ever saw myself doing, but I will do it nonetheless. If it means I can stay in this hell hole to watch over the kids, I will do just about anything.

  “Where, and how much you gonna be earnin’?”

  How did I know that was going to be her first question? Oh, right because she’s a bitch, that’s how.

  “Fullhams bookstore on Third,” I lie easily.

  My best friend Chastity and her parents are acutely aware of all the facets of Darla’s sparkling personality and have offered to cover for me. They own the bookstore and are more than willing to keep up my lie as long as I need them to. Which, for their sake and mine, I hope isn’t to
o long.

  All I need is a few months to get enough money together so that Ebonee, Jacob, Christian and I can get the hell out of here. I don’t care where we go, or if we have to live in a one-room apartment until I can find a job to move us somewhere nicer. All that matters is that we’re together and out of Darla’s prison disguised as a house.

  “They giving you full-time, or what?” Darla smiles cruelly, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of a full-time paycheck coming in.

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  Thankfully, when I start working at, Snake Charmer (I know, sexy and original, right?), I’ll have more than enough money to hand over what Darla expects and save for my ultimate goal.

  “Good, but that don’t mean when you start payin’ your way you can start sittin’ on that fat ass of yours doin’ nothin’. You still gotta do your chores and keep those brats in line.”

  I don’t say, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Instead, I nod and concede,

  “I understand, Darla. Did you want me to start dinner now?”

  Flicking the butt of her lit cigarette at me, she snaps,

  “Course I do. I’m fuckin’ hungry, and that little bitch

  Ebonee’s been cryin’ about bein’ hungry for the last few hours.”

  Of course, she has, I muse to myself. Darla probably hasn’t fed the kids since I left this morning before breakfast, nor has she let them venture out of their room to make themselves something.

  “Okay, let me do that now,” I smile slightly, backing away from her slowly.

  “And after that, keep ‘em quiet. I’ve got a man comin’ over, and I don’t need to hear their snivelin’ and bitchin’ all night,” she demands.

  With another nod, I make my way into the small, dingy kitchen not for the first time wondering if I’ll ever be truly free.

  It’s hard to remember what my life was like before everything changed. Every day the memories become hazier, and I feel them slipping further and further away.

  See, I wasn’t placed here first. I didn’t live in group or foster homes until my circumstance changed dramatically. Originally, I had a family. A mom. A dad. A brother. But then, one day, they were just gone. There in the morning when I went to school but gone by the time the lunch bell rang.

  It was an accident the police said. A drunk driver crossed the median strip and collided with them head-on. It was quick, they said. Painless. I don’t know how the police knew that, and I was too young to question it. All that

  mattered to me was that they were gone and I was alone.

  A week to the day after the accident, I stood beside an elderly lady dressed in black with her hair pulled into a severe bun, and watched as my parents and brother were lowered into the ground. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t do much of anything. I simply stared at the caskets as they made their way to their final resting place and begged for all of it to be some horrible karmic joke.

  It wasn’t, though. And in the weeks and months that followed, as Ms. Patchenka, my social worker worked to find me a permanent home, it became glaringly evident that nothing would ever be the same again.

  *****

  “Sweetheart?” My bio dad's gravelly, yet kind voice I’ve learned he reserves for me sounds from behind me.

  Whipping around to look at him, I keep my face carefully blank and stare into his slate gray eyes. Eyes that are so similar to my own, it’s uncanny really.

  His face darkens, and his mouth pulls into a firm line when he notices how tense I am.

  “I get that you don’t know me all that well yet, sweetheart, but if there’s ever a time you want me to kick that boy’s ass for you, you just let me know. I’d be more than happy to help you out,” he ends with a caring, but

  unnecessary smile.

  I almost burst out with, “if you’re going to kick ass and take names, add yours to the list,” but I don’t. Instead, I reign in all the underlying anger I feel after finding out I was nothing but a game to Shade, and channel it into the determination I’ll need to get out of here and home to the boys.

  “That won’t be necessary, but thanks for the offer,” I eventually mutter. “It’s been a really long day, and I have to get going now, but do you think we could plan to catch up sometime next week,” I ask, already knowing his answer.

  While I do sincerely hope he accepts my halfhearted invitation, my reason for leaving isn’t entirely the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But then again does he really deserve that from me?

  I mean, it wasn’t only Shade who lied to me, but my dad too. Until now, all of my anger at how badly I suffered at Darla’s hands, fists, and feet was solely directed at the woman I referred to as, ‘The Incubator.’ I know, it’s harsh of me, but I can’t help what I feel. But since finding out that my dad is as capable of breaking the tentative relationship we were forming, I honestly don’t know which of them is worse.

  My mother; the woman who gave me away like the unwanted complication I was. Or my dad; the man who reeled me in with false promises, which he broke every time he looked into my eyes and lied to me over and over and

  over again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ~ Sarge ~

  Forgiveness is a verb, not an adjective

  Two days after finding out Gwen is pregnant…

  “Where the fuck is she?” I snarl, slamming Hoss into the wall.

  Grabbing ahold of the front of my shirt, he snaps back,

  “For the hundredth time, brother, I’m telling you, I don’t fucking know.”

  Two days ago, I left Emily curled up in bed after I spent the night before fucking her unconscious so I could go to the clubhouse and deal with Gwen. One of the prospects on gate duty called early that morning to tell me some crazy bitch had shown up at the compound demanding to see me, refusing to leave until she did.

  Forget the fact that I had told Gwen weeks ago that we were through because obviously, to her, that didn’t matter. She wanted to see me and wasn’t giving up until she got what she wanted. Such a fucking Gwen thing to do. So, against my better judgment because this shit had to be done

  once and for all, I left Emmy, soft, warm, and what I knew would be willing asleep in bed to go deal with a psycho.

  The look on Gwen’s face when I rode up to the gate should have been warning enough that something was off, but I was pissed about being pulled away from Emmy, so I wasn’t paying attention. Ten minutes later, Gwen dropped a bombshell on me the likes I wouldn’t in any lifetime be ready for. She was four months pregnant, and it was mine.

  I took her inside the clubhouse, sat her down, and made her explain how the hell this happened. We were careful. Always. I never rode bareback inside a woman, unless that woman was Emmy, so I knew I hadn’t fucked up, which left Gwen. When we hooked up the first time, she told me she was on the pill. That didn’t stop me from wrapping my dick, though. Gwen had been with almost as many men as I had women when we started fucking each other, so that was a risk I just wasn’t willing to take.

  Throughout the entire conversation, Gwen was calm, relaxed even – a first for her. Especially, seeing as only minutes before she’d been a raving harpy. She didn’t touch me, didn’t push for me to make a decision about the baby and my involvement in all that entailed. She merely sat and explained that she wanted a commitment from me, wanted me to play an active part in our baby’s life, and she would wait until I came to my senses and realized that’s what I wanted too.

  I had no earthly fucking idea what to tell her. Did I want to be a part of my kids’ life? Yes. Did I want to be front and

  center when it was born? Fuck yes. Did I want to be with Gwen in order to do that? Absolutely not. I had another woman, my woman that I was planning on giving my ring and my patch, and that woman was not, Gwen.

  It wasn’t until we walked out of the clubhouse that Gwen’s disposition changed. One minute, she was a foot away from me the next, she was wrapping her arms around my waist and crushing her mouth
to mine. The only reason I can give for not pushing her off me the instant her lips met mine was because she was carrying my child. That, and I didn’t hurt women.

  When I eventually did have the wherewithal to untangle myself from her octopus-like arms, arms that were touching parts of me that weren’t hers to touch, I dragged her to my bike and took her home. I told her to stay put and wait for me to call her, that one of the boys would drop her car off later. I needed time to think. Time to work out what I was going to do, and furthermore, what the fuck I was going to tell Emmy.

  We had just worked out our shit. We were happy. For the first time in a long time, I was at peace. But Gwen’s little revelation had blown that to smithereens.

  As far as I could see, this was going to go one of two ways. Emmy would understand, she would see that my shit with Gwen happened long before she came back into my life, and she’d support me through it. Or, Emmy would lose her fucking mind, kick me out of her bed, out of her life, and we would be done. Done in every way we could be done.