Timber knocks my hand down. “She shot me down. I thought I was telling her my deepest, darkest secret. Turned out she already knew.”
I growl, clenching my teeth and my fists. “Lainey never told me.”
“Why would she? There’s no way that woman’s going to cause trouble between us, plus she had me all figured out. Princess put me in my place. Quick smart. Told me that I’d placed her on a pedestal as the unattainable woman that no one else could live up to. She said I was using her as an excuse to continue licking my wounds about Amy and our kid.” He stops talking, and lets out a big breath. He stretches his neck from side to side, clearing his throat. “She was right, and she gave me the shove I needed to move on.”
Pointing at the French doors, he laughs. “Now look where I am? Got a kid, a beautiful woman, and a fucking purple engagement ring tucked away in my tool kit just waiting for the right moment.”
“Shit.” I laugh at the dumb look on his face.
“It’s not shit, brother. It’s bloody perfect and it’s what I want for you two.” Timber looks back at the doors then leans closer to me. “I know Joel wants you to tell Princess before you do it so she can choose. I think you need to let go of killing Beast all together. I get where you’re coming from—fuck, every single Shamrock agrees with you. It’s just that some things are more important than the Club. One thing I’ve learnt, Mad Dog, is that you have to put your woman first. Happy wife. Happy life.”
The pain behind my right eye had let up a little during our conversation; only to return full force now. My back throbs with remembered pain and the need for retribution that filled my veins while I recovered from the attack floods my system again—burning-hot hatred heating my blood. I pull my jacket off, then my cut. Lifting my T-shirt over my head, I show Timber my back. His harsh intake of breath is clear as day, followed quickly by cursing. “Fuck me dead. That cunt. Why didn’t you say?”
Swallowing the bile that’s threatening to make me spew, I try to stop the shaking in my hands as I drop the material and turn around to face him. “Now, you know why I can’t let it go. He didn’t just betray the Club, sacrifice his only daughter for a blood allegiance, and send me down for murder; he sold her soul to the devil.”
“I don’t understand why she’s not on board when she knows what he did to you?”
“Lainey doesn’t know and she never will. I want her to choose me, to trust that I’m doing what’s best for us without needing another reason. What he’s already done should be more than enough.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADDI
Locking the door to the toilet cubicle, I pull my soft coin purse out of its hiding spot in the side of my bra. With one ear listening out for anyone entering the ladies room, I spread the contents of my purse on top of the toilet cistern.
Alcohol wipes. Check.
White bandage that looks exactly like the one already on my thigh. Check.
Sterile razors. Check and check.
I massage the back of my neck with both hands while I stare down at my equipment with intense longing. I’ve tried all day to distract myself from my need. Nothing’s worked—even thinking about how angry and hurt Mik will be if he finds out pales in comparison to the endorphin rush I crave. It’s a miracle that I’ve made it to midday to give in; although, I think part of that was sheer desire not to get caught combined with the knowledge that the office would be a ghost town at lunch time.
Hiking my skirt up, I flick the toilet lid shut with one finger and then lift my right leg onto it. Picking at the edges of the bandage, I pull it off and dispose of it in the sanitary pad bin. The silvery white scars that tell the story of previous cutting episodes shine under the bright lights of the ladies room while the three cuts that I managed to make three days ago before Benji caught me have scabbed over and almost healed. Inspecting the damage, I decide that if I cut as close as I can to them, there’s no way Mik will be able to tell that they’re fresh.
Taking the safety cap off one of the razors, I run my finger lightly across the sharp edge. Examining my finger brings a smile to my face; the straight line that oozes one perfect drop of blood sets my pulse racing. Licking the blood away, I take a deep breath through my nose and hold it in my lungs. My entire body is vibrating with excitement, delicious anticipation of the rush that’s about to come, filling every fibre. I let out the breath I’m holding and look down at my thigh.
With a quick, precise, practiced movement, I slice my leg right next to the first scabbed over incision. Watching the blood well to the surface instantly, I imagine that the warm red liquid that runs down my leg is the poison left behind by Brendan’s disgusting touch. Goose bumps rising all over my flesh, I drag in another lungful of air through my nose. Slowly letting it out through my teeth, I cut on the other side of the same incision.
“Two.” It always feels better to count the cuts aloud. My eyes roll back in my head as the scalding pain that I’ve come to love makes my thigh burn. I open my eyes and grin as more blood—more poison—leaves me and I feel absolute power course through me.
After another experienced slice of the blade, I begin to shiver. My mind is clearing with each cut; the control I need to function, to hide how ruined I am from everyone I love, is taking shape into a tangible form that my mind can grab hold of. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I wipe the blood before it hits my ankle and drips onto the floor. A satisfied laugh rumbles from my chest as I move my leg so I can lift the lid and flush the bloodied paper down the toilet.
“Bye, bye, Brendan.” I wave with the hand that holds the razor as the sodden paper disappears from view. “Off you go. Some more of your poison gone.”
“Maddi?” The voice of one of the other junior attorney’s interrupts me. I jump, my heart in my throat. The razor clatters to the ground. I clasp both hands over my mouth to stop the gasp of surprise I let out from being heard. “Is that you?”
Removing my shaking hands from my mouth, I swallow and answer as evenly as I can. “Yeah, it’s me. You busted me talking on my phone.” I force a laugh and pray that she believes me.
She giggles. “God, you’re not the only one. I do that all the time.”
I stand stock-still, listening as she goes about her business. After washing her hands, she leaves. The second the sound of the door slamming shut dies down, I snap out of my zombie state. Bending down, I pick up the razor then slide it back into my purse. Uncapping the second one, I let out a wry laugh as the need to finish assaults me. “Only two more to go until you’re clean,” I whisper to myself, lining up the blade so I can slice again.
***
I’m typing away, lost in the world of legal jargon and lawyer-speak that’s coming through my headphones, when a jean-clad backside sits on the edge of my desk. Jumping in my comfy chair, I giggle when I discover Mik regarding me with a big smile on his face and a bunch of flowers that he obviously picked from the gigantic display in the reception area in his hand.
Pushing my headphones off my ears, I roll my eyes at him jokingly. “Did you steal them from the waiting room?”
He hands them to me, then leans down and kisses me with too much tongue for such a public place. I laugh when I hear the rest of the girls in the office whispering about bad boys and what they’d do to have one of their own. Part of me wants to tell them that it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, except one look into Mik’s eyes tells me that I’d be lying. It doesn’t matter what the world throws at us, or how “bad” society perceives him to be; he’s mine forever. The one thing that I couldn’t deal with—my man killing my father—was dealt with last night. I see nothing but smooth sailing in our future.
“Angel, it’s not stealing when you sweet-talk the receptionist into giving them to you.” Biting my knuckles so I don’t laugh too loudly, my shoulders shake as I picture the man-hating old biddy who mans the front desk melting enough to let Mik take the flowers. I’m still laughing when Mik holds his hand out to me. “Come on, I’ve arranged an early m
ark for you.”
Ignoring his proffered hand, I shake my head. “I can’t. I’ve already had too much time off.”
My phone buzzes on my desk, a cheeky smile curling Mik’s lips when it does. I look at the extension number and grimace. “Oh, you didn’t?”
He blows me a kiss. “I did. Now you gonna answer your boss or what?”
After a quick chat with my manager, where I’m summarily dismissed for a long weekend, I walk, hand-in-hand with Mik out of the building and to his bike. Looking at the Harley and then my skirt, I grind my teeth as the predicament I’m in dawns on me. I’ve ridden behind him heaps of times with my skirt pulled up, although, I’ve never done it with a blood spotted bandage that I’m trying to hide from him on my leg. It was stupid—I knew it at the time—yet, I still let myself get carried away and slice too deep with the last two cuts. My plan to go home and change the bandage before I saw Mik has been hijacked by his strange decision to be spontaneously romantic. Mik puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles. Dane, the prospect, comes running in from the parking lot with my overnight bag in his hands. He sets it at my feet and holds out his hand with expectation that I don’t understand on his face.
“What?”
“Give him your keys, Angel. He’ll take your car back to the Compound. There’s jeans, your jacket, and your property vest in the bag. Find somewhere to get changed so we can head out.”
I salute him, then bend down to grab the bag. “Yes, boss.”
Unable to face the twittering women inside my office again, I decide that the big block of trees to my right will do. A plan formulates while I’m making my way. Dropping the back to the ground, I execute an exaggerated stiff-legged bend that makes my skirt ride halfway up my ass. Pulling a pair of jeans out, I kick my heels off, then shimmy my pants up my legs and under my skirt. Once my bandage is out of the way, I turn to face Mik. My cheeks heat, flushing red when I see Dane standing next to my man. At the same time that I realize he’s still there; Mik does.
“Oi, fuck off. This is a private show.” Poor Dane receives a slap to the back of the head for his trouble. He starts trotting away toward my car without answering Mik. “And close your fucking mouth. You drooling asshole.”
Embarrassed, I pull my vest, my riding boots, and my leather jacket out of the bag. Slipping my skirt off, I button my jeans then stuff my skirt in the bag with my shoes and handbag. Throwing on my jacket and zipping my boots with speed, I head back to Mik, who’s laughing at my red face. Grabbing my hand when I reach him, he runs it down the front of his jeans—right over his hardening cock. “See what you did to me? That was hot; so fucking hot, I didn’t notice our extra bystander until it was too late.”
Sighing, I run my hand down the side of his face. “I wonder how quickly that’s going to get around the Club?”
“It won’t if he has half a brain in his head.” Slapping Mik’s chest because we both know Dane’s going to say something, I pull my arms through the straps of the backpack and look at his bike. The biggest grin possible splits my face.
“Well, look at that.” I point at the sissy bar that he’s attached to my seat. Walking forward, I pat the seat that he’s swapped out with the usual one. “Someone’s pulled out all stops. Put on the sissy bar and swapped out the pussy pad for a seat with some padding. My pussy’s going to think it’s in heaven.”
Pinching my ass as he passes, Mik tosses my helmet to me then pulls his on his head. “Angel, your sweet cunt is mistaken. Heaven’s where I’m sending it with my tongue tonight. The seat’s just my way of making sure the only soreness you’ll be complaining about is caused by my cock.”
Biting my bottom lip, I try my hardest not to give the smartass the reaction he’s seeking with his sexy words. My cheeks twitch and I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my laughter. If I give him a response, he’s going to take it and run. Then my face is going to be permanently red from his sexy banter. I’m still trying to contain myself when Mik throws his leg over the seat and sits on his bike. Hitting the ignition, the beast roars to life, the deep rumble bouncing off the buildings around us. Mik turns and pats the seat in the same spot I did a moment ago.
“Make yourself comfy. We have a fair ride ahead of us.” Adjusting the straps on the backpack, I make sure everything’s secure. Sliding on behind him, I work my hands under his jacket. Mik stiffens before grabbing my hands and pulling them to his stomach. I run my fingers down the hard ridges, content to finally touch him. I let out a groan when the seat cushions my backside. My hands are touching the best set of abs this side of Mars, I’m heading away for a long weekend with my favourite person, and my ass isn’t about to be assaulted by the rock hard seat he usually has on his Harley “because it looks hot”. What more could I want at the moment?
Mik pats my hands, then gestures me to lean forward with a tilt of his head. Moving so I can hear what he has to say, the laughter I was trying to deny him breaks free when he deadpans. “By the sounds of that groan, I’m thinking we might need to do some parking on the way.”
CHAPTER NINE
MIK
Cutting the engine to my bike, I glance around our immediate vicinity while I kick down the stand. Nothing but trees to be seen for miles, the sound of the breeze blowing through leaves and the trickle of water from the creek that runs nearby is all that I can hear. The wood cabin that’s in front of us holds good memories; fuck, it’s basically where our relationship made its official start. Could also be where our relationship takes its final bow once I’ve come clean with the woman behind me.
Her fingernails dig into my gut, and I feel shuddering begin to overtake her skinny frame. Pulling my helmet off, I dismount my bike. Holding my hand out to Lainey, I’m left hanging when she sits there staring at the cabin, ignoring me.
“Why’d you bring me here?” Her voice has that breathy quality it gets when she’s trying not to cry. Not exactly the reaction I was going for.
“Because we need a new start so what better place to do that than here.” I jerk my hand toward the building. “Where it all began.”
In one swift movement, she gets off the bike and throws herself at me—resembling a blonde tornado as she does it. While she hugs me tightly, I press my nose in her hair, breathing in the lavender scent that is uniquely hers. The one that sustained me through my incarceration after I had her smuggle in a bottle of her perfume. “It’s perfect, Mik. But, we don’t need a new start; where we are, is exactly where we should be.”
Images of the last time we were here—six long fucking years ago—play out in my mind’s eye. We’d been three days into our bike trip when a guy at the local pub had told us about this secluded cabin. One look at it and I was fucking certain it was where we needed to be. Somewhere away from her bad memories and my guilt; somewhere for Lainey to get her head on straight. Here’s hoping this trip yields a goddamn repeat.
“Come inside,” I’m keen for her to see that it’s exactly the same. Opening the door, I usher Lainey through first. I pluck the backpack off her shoulders and grin when she twirls in the middle of the open plan living area.
“Oh my God, Mik.” She lets out a girly squeal and claps her hands. “It’s the same. Everything is in the same place.” She drags in a deep breath. “It even smells the same.” Hugging me quickly, she runs into the sole bedroom, yelling through the doorway, “Even the bed looks the same.”
“There’s a new spa,” is shouted at me excitedly when Lainey investigates the bathroom.
Knowing that her good mood is going to change later ruins my enthusiasm. Fishing my smokes out of my pocket, I head for the door. “I’m going to unload the bike. Make yourself comfortable, Angel. I won’t be long.”
Lighting up the instant the front door is shut behind me, I run one hand through my hair while I suck on the smoke like it’s going to save me from what’s coming. Pulling my mobile from my pocket, I send Timber a quick message to let him know that we’re here, safe and sound. Now is not the best time to abando
n the Club, but what Timber said made sense. Sometimes, your woman has to come first.
TIMBER: Good luck. I’ll keep everything calm here until you’re back. Chapel first thing Monday. Kid has news.
ME: Good news? Do you need me to come back?
TIMBER: Nope. Will keep you posted if that changes.
And, just like that, the worry that I was already struggling under is increased. Everything’s going to shit. Thomas fucking Taylor’s trying to find a way to get back at Benji and the Shamrocks. Beast’s walking around when he should be six foot under for what he’s done. My dad’s on his last legs. Me and Lainey have her brothers to raise. And, anyone with eyes can see that my woman needs all of my time devoted to bringing her spark back. All of this is on top of the normal running of the Club and trying to find Wendy’s kid for her. I need eight arms and seventy-five fucking hours in a day to get everything done.
“Mik,” Lainey’s voice draws closer. “Do you want me to make something for dinner?”
Slipping my phone back into my cut, I stamp on the butt of my cigarette, and start pulling our stuff from the saddlebags on my bike. Once I have everything, I turn to head back inside, only to find her staring at me through the screen. Her eyes are narrowed; her hands balanced on her hips. Lainey stares at me with an unsettling intensity. I swear her blue eyes can see right through me—right into my soul—and she knows that I’m hiding something.
“Hey, I asked if you wanted me to organise dinner?”
Pulling my shit together, I force down my earlier thought that she’s on to me. The perception I thought I could see on her face is gone, replaced—or had my guilty conscience imagined it—by the same excitement she’s had since we arrived.
“Sounds good. I’ll dump this is the bedroom and then come help you.”
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