Hyde's Absolution: Sydney Storm MC

by Nina Levine

  I sat at the table across from Hyde and did my best not to show my disappointment. For our first date, he’d brought me to a pub for dinner. And because there was some huge soccer or football or what-the-fuck-ever game on that night, the pub was rowdy and full of assholes, one who had already spilt beer all down my dress.

  He’d started the night out well by turning up to my house early and fucking me senseless. I’d thought at that point it wouldn’t matter how the rest of the date went, but this pub proved me wrong.

  We’d just finished eating—the food was the worst, but I didn’t tell him that—and he’d asked me more about the plans I had for my shop. However his phone kept sounding with text messages, which distracted him a little.

  “Everything okay?” I asked. I loved my phone as much as the next person, but I never put it on the table during dinner with someone. I kept reminding myself that he had a daughter, so that was probably why he kept checking the messages.

  He placed the phone down and gave me his attention. “Sorry, sugar, it’s my family. We’re dealing with some issues at the moment.”

  After we had discussed his parents the other day, I hadn’t realised he had any other family members. I loved that he opened up like this. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  His forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Huh? None.”

  “Oh, I just assumed you meant siblings when you said family.” He must have meant cousins or some other extended family.

  “No, it’s my ex and my kid.”

  His ex? He referred to her as his family still. I kinda liked that—because in this day and age of messy breakups it was refreshing to hear a man call his ex-wife family still—while at the same time experiencing a stab of jealousy in my chest.

  Not wanting to get into a discussion about his ex, I decided to focus on his daughter. In my experience with dating divorced men, talking about their ex never went well. “How’s Charlie going with her skating?”

  The tension that had crept across his face while taking those text messages settled and he smiled. “I haven’t had a chance to take her again, but she went on her own the other day. She came home in a good mood, so I figure we need to get her there as much as possible.”

  “So she and her mum are still here?” I recalled him mentioning that Charlie’s mother was coming to get her, but that he wasn’t sure Charlie would want to go.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t offer any further information, and I didn’t push.

  “Well, at least you get to spend more time with her. Have you guys done much since she’s been here?”

  “I took her on a ride the other day. First time on a bike for her. She seemed to love it. Other than that, we’re taking it slowly, getting to know each other after never really being in each other’s life.”

  I drank some of the cosmo he’d bought me. “I remember when I was sixteen. I gave my parents hell. It’s a miracle we all survived that.”

  “I’m figuring that out pretty fucking fast. We’re in the middle of World War III at the moment because of some baly hair colour shit that her mother doesn’t want her to have. You’d think Charlie’s life was crashing down around her with the way she’s carrying on.”

  My ovaries exploded a little while listening to Hyde talk about his daughter. And him trying to say balayage and trying to keep up with what his daughter wanted only helped that explosion along.

  While I’d been playing it cool, trying not to bombard him with questions about his life, I suddenly couldn’t contain myself any longer. It wasn’t how I usually operated, and I figured it would soon shed some light on whether Hyde really was ready to date me or not. “You guys had Charlie young. I’m figuring you for about thirty-five or so.”

  “Thirty-six.”

  I smiled. “You just earnt points for not asking me how old I am. But FYI, I’m thirty-one. When’s your birthday?” If there was one thing I was anal about, it was keeping track of the birthdays of those in my life. I liked to make sure their days were special.

  His eyes darkened. “May seven, but I don’t ever celebrate it.”

  “Why not?”

  He reached for the whisky in front of him. He’d ordered a drink earlier but hadn’t actually drunk any of it, which seemed odd. However, at that question, he drank half the glass.

  “We never celebrated it when I was growing up, so I’ve continued that tradition.” It was like he had to rip those words from his soul. The pain in them sat heavy between us, and I knew this wasn’t a conversation I should continue. Not tonight.

  “Okay, so changing the subject a little, why did you decide to join Storm?” I’d always wondered what made men choose the biker life.

  He drained his glass of whisky and sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s talk about you, sugar. You always been a tattoo artist?”

  I would rather he’d answered my question, but I got the distinct impression Hyde didn’t share personal stuff easily. I could be patient; I just hoped it wouldn’t take him long to open up to me. “Yeah, and I’d always wanted my own shop, so I bought it three years ago when the previous owner put it on the market for cheap.”

  “That—”

  He was cut off when another asshole spilt some of his drink on me as he walked by our table. Drunkenly stumbling along, he grinned at me and said, “Sorry about that, baby.” He stopped and let his gaze drop to my chest, whistling low as he did so. “Damn, you shouldn’t be allowed out in public. Those tits—”

  Hyde shoved his chair back and stood, towering over the asshole. His anger oozed from every pore, scaring me a little. “You need to keep your eyes and your fucking mouth closed when you walk past my woman.” He didn’t bellow his order, but rather it came out in a low, murderous tone that anyone would have trouble misunderstanding.

  The asshole held his hands up defensively, backing away from Hyde. “Sorry, dude, it’s just hard not to notice a beautiful woman when I see one.”

  Hyde hissed. It looked like he was about to go to battle. “Back the fuck up and stop fucking talking.”

  The guy nodded madly and was turning to leave when a friend of his joined us. “What’s going on, Kenny?”

  Kenny, the asshole who spilt his drink, tried to pull his friend away. “Nothing. It’s all good, man.”

  His friend shrugged out of his hold and eyed Hyde. “I’m not fucking intimidated by some biker asshole. You think you can come in here and threaten us just because he looked at your slut the wrong way?”

  Hyde’s fist connected with the friend’s cheek, causing him to stumble back. Without giving him a chance to recover and walk away from the situation, Hyde kept going, punching him over and over.

  I jumped to my feet and yelled, “Hyde! Stop it! He’s not worth it.”

  My requests for him to stop were futile. The other guy fought back, turning this into a bloody and violent fight. I’d seen plenty of fights in my life, but Hyde took it to a whole new level. It wasn’t until security got involved, three of them yanking Hyde from the fight, that it calmed down. By then, they were both covered in blood, and I was so done with this night it wasn’t funny.

  I didn’t wait around for him to deal with security. I picked up my clutch and stalked outside in search of a taxi. Fucking bikers. I knew they were bad news, so why the fuck did I let my guard down and let one in? As far as I was concerned, this was the first date from hell, and I wasn’t convinced there would be another date for us.

  Chapter 26

  Hyde

  Fuck.

  I’d managed to fuck this night right up. I’d thought bringing Monroe to a fucking pub on game night was the worst mistake I could have made. That was during dinner when I saw the disappointment sitting on her face. Turned out I was wrong. The worst mistake I could have made was letting some motherfucker get to me when he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  Jealousy wasn’t something I was used to. Hell, this was the first time in my life I’d ever experienced it. Seeing another man even glance sid
eways at Monroe caused a nuclear reaction in my fucking head. I’d fought like fuck not to react to the asshole who mentioned her tits, but when his friend referred to her as a slut, I saw fucking red.

  And then I’d lost my shit.

  And my woman.

  After cleaning myself up, I headed over to her house. She stood in front of me now, at her front door, a bewildered look on her face.

  “I don’t want to talk to you tonight,” she said as she pulled her sexy dark-red robe around her. It was distracting as hell because it barely covered her thighs and revealed enough cleavage to get me hard, but now wasn’t the time to be distracted, so I kept my eyes off her body.

  “I fucked up, Roe.”

  “You think?”

  I shoved my fingers through my hair. Fuck. “Let me in so we can talk.”

  “I told you that I didn’t want to talk tonight. I need some space to figure out how I’m thinking.”

  I didn’t know much about women, but I knew giving her that space would lead nowhere good. “No.”

  Her eyes bulged. “You’re kidding me, right? You screw up and then you refuse to give me some space to process what I saw tonight?”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry you saw that, sugar. I let that asshole get to me when I should have just told him to fuck off and left it at that.”

  “Tell me something, Hyde. Is that standard behaviour for you? Because if fighting is something you do a lot of, I’m not interested in going any further with this.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Not usually.” There was no point bringing up my past, because it was exactly that—the past, not the present.

  “So does not usually mean you do it sometimes?”

  “It means that sometimes it’s called for.”

  “Often it’s not. Just so you know.”

  I was a fan of Monroe’s attitude but not when it came flying at me like this. This just pissed me off. “There are some things you don’t know about that do require my fists. Let’s just leave it at that. All you need to know is that I don’t usually get them out in this kind of situation.”

  She fell silent for a moment. When she crossed her arms over her chest, I knew she was shutting down on me. “I’m getting the drift. You should go. There’s no way you’re getting in my pants tonight.”

  Fuck, didn’t she understand? This wasn’t even about getting my dick wet. This was me, trying to make things right.

  Frustration filled me, and I tried to force the point. Stepping one foot inside her house, I pushed my way in and had her up against the wall before she could open that pretty mouth of hers and argue with me. “We need to get one thing straight here. I didn’t come over to fuck you. I came to apologise and tell you I would do better next time. I’m far from fucking perfect, though, so if you’re looking for perfection, you’re right—this should end now.”

  I’d caged her in with my arms against the wall either side of her, my body flush against hers. I’d expected her to fight me, but she didn’t. Instead, her breathing picked up and she said, “I’m not looking for perfect. I’m just looking for a man who isn’t going to lose his shit like that all the time.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper when she added, “You scared me tonight, Hyde.”

  Regret was a vicious bitch, one I was well acquainted with. Seemed I spent half my fucking life with her on my back. She swooped in and reminded me what a fuck-up I was. The difference this time? I had a reason not to sit with that regret and drink my way through it.

  I cupped Monroe’s cheek. “I’m sorry, red. I can’t take it back, but I can sure as fuck vow never to do it again.”

  The hesitation I saw in her eyes told me she wasn’t quite sure. Her words confirmed it. “How do you even know you can make that promise? I watched you tonight. You lost yourself in that fight. It was like the violence consumed you. I don’t want you to make promises you can’t keep. That’s even worse than not making a promise.”

  She was dead fucking right. How the hell could I promise her that when I couldn’t get a grip on my temper? But fuck, I didn’t want to lose her. I needed her light to help me through my dark. I’d figure this shit out so she never needed to be exposed to it again. “I’ve only got my honesty to give you. I will make this right. You will never be scared of me again.”

  “I wasn’t scared of you,” she whispered. “I was scared for you. And for the guy you were fighting. I’ve never felt afraid of you, but I really thought you could have killed that guy tonight. That’s what I was scared of.”

  “So what are you telling me here, Roe? Are you walking away from this before we even get it started?” I’d fight her tooth and nail, but first I needed to know where we stood.

  “I’m saying what I said when you first got here—I don’t want to talk about it tonight. I want you to give me the space to think it over.”

  Out of everything that had gone on, I realised that if I didn’t give her that space, the rest wouldn’t matter. She needed to know up-front that I’d not force myself on her when she needed time out.

  I nodded and dropped my arms. “You’ve got tonight. After that, you let me back in here,”—I placed my hand against her chest—“so we can talk this out.”

  On the way home, I grasped how important this thing with Monroe was to me. I’d never looked for another woman after Tenille. Had never wanted the complication again. Had never wanted to put a woman’s life at risk like Tenille’s had been just by being married to me. But leaving Monroe’s house that night, without knowing where we stood, caused my chest to constrict in ways it never had. This wasn’t love—not yet—but it meant something to me. Something I wanted to fight for.

  I spent the next day taking care of club business. King and I had managed to move past our issues. I’d been making an effort not to lose my temper with any club members, and he’d been distracted by shit going on with Jen. He’d also been walking around in a mood due to Bronze finding no dirt on Ryland yet. He also hadn’t found anything useful on the guy whose head had been delivered as a warning.

  King sent me out early to clean up a mess one of our clients had gotten themselves in. The cleaning side of our business had ticked along quietly over the years, but King had ramped it up over the last month due to our drug income dropping. The club was bleeding cash, so he took on almost any cleaning job sent our way these days. He’d been more picky until recently, which concerned me. Who the fuck knew whether these new clients could keep their mouths closed about what we did for them? The last fucking thing we needed was one of them singing to the cops.

  I arrived back at the club around four that afternoon to find King in his office having a heated discussion with Bronze. Something about an attack King planned that Bronze was against.

  “You do that and you’ll have the feds crawling over you like you never imagined they could,” Bronze warned.

  The vein in King’s neck pulsed. He was worked up more than usual. “I’m sick of sitting here doing fucking nothing, Bronze. Ryland’s had my hands tied for far too long, and Marx has evaded me because of it. I need to get out there and slit throats and cut some fucking balls off. Anything to make people talk and tell me where the hell Marx is and who’s behind it all.”

  “Jesus, King, stop fucking talking,” Bronze muttered. “I don’t want to fucking know this shit.” He was exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped told that story.

  I stepped in. “Whose throats are we slitting?”

  Bronze held up his hands. “I’m leaving. Don’t call me when the feds throw you in jail.” He didn’t wait for King’s response, just simply walked away from the conversation. King didn’t try to stop him either, which told me he was serious about his plans.

  “Bronze ruled out one of the three Italians we’ve been looking at. That leaves two. I’m done with quietly investigating them. I want you to take one team of members to one of them, while I take another team to the other one. If we have to slit their men’s throats in order to make them talk, so fucking
be it. This happens tomorrow. By the end of the day we’ll know which one it is.”

  “And Marx?”

  “He’ll be out of business once we know who’s controlling him.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck as the tension crept in. “Fuck, King, I’m not sure that Bronze isn’t right about this.”

  King scowled. “Last week you would have been all over this plan. What’s changed?”

  “Last week I let my mood dictate my actions. This week I’m trying like fuck not to do that.” I’d failed so far, but a man could only try. And this shit King suggested could fuck the club right up if we weren’t careful. “We go out there and cause a blood bath like you’re suggesting, that’s a lot of potential enemies we’re creating. Those crazy fucking Italians have some loyal supporters.”

  “You think we can’t handle ourselves, brother?” King had a god complex some days. On others, he managed to lock it down. Today was not one of those days.

  “Have we been handling ourselves, King? You tell me. From my perspective, it feels like we’ve lost some of our edge because of Ryland. He’s too close to us for you to even consider this attack. Bronze isn’t shitting you when he says the feds will be all over us if we do this.”

  “So we just sit with our hands tied, holding our balls, and allow one man to decide what we can and can’t fucking do? Fuck that. We’re in the middle of a fucking war here, Hyde. We don’t run from war. We stand and we fucking fight to the bitter end.”

  I pushed my anger away. I needed to get my point across without my temper getting in the way. “We stand this time? It might be the bitter end.”

  King stood with his hands clenched by his side, with an expression on his face I knew to mean he’d already made up his mind. “Tomorrow, Hyde. We get this done.”

  Chapter 27

  Monroe

  I relaxed into my comfy chair in my office, both hands wrapped around a hot mug of coffee, and let the stress of the day leave my body. It was just after five on Wednesday night, and Fox had two more clients to finish up with. One, he was almost done with, the other waited patiently for him. He had one of the best reputations in Sydney, so people were always happy to wait for him. I was certain that if he ever left me, my business would go downhill fast.