He grabbed my wrist suddenly. “Thanks. You might not realize how much you’re puttin’ your life on the line, but I do. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I’ll let you know what happens. I will text you tomorrow but it will be generic, cryptic. Please come by my office. It would be better for us to discuss it there. My office is swept for bugs often—”
“What? And you’d actually think someone could get a bug by me here? Don’t worry about anything you’ve told me today. No one will ever know about this outside of you and me, all right?” His warm hand let go.
I nodded briefly, left his room, and didn’t bother to look back. I felt bad enough for the absence of his touch but to ask anymore would have been downright criminal. It wasn’t everyday someone found out their mother—who they thought were dead—was alive, well, and wanted to see their kin again.
If I had my own personal demons, Trey had all of that and more.
In spades.
Chapter Three
Trey
He couldn’t fucking believe it.
His mother wasn’t dead after all. In fact, she was alive and fine, and she wanted to see him.
The implications were too much to bear, therefore, Trey didn’t bother thinking about them at all. He could only concentrate on the softness of Kyra’s flesh when he’d grabbed her wrist.
A man could wax poetic about how beautiful certain women were but Kyra wasn’t like that. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it, but he’d grown up with her unique beauty.
He remembered her bright orange-red hair as a teenager, which had been tamed to a deep, alluring auburn before her eighteenth birthday. Long and silky strands of fire with golden highlights replaced the auburn now, and she still managed to keep her striking good looks. Those bluer than blue eyes all the Hughes children had set her apart from her siblings due to their depth and ability to demonstrate humility and empathy. They definitely contributed to her being a damn good attorney.
Kyra’s skin was fair, bordering on healthy peaches and cream but the luxuriousness of her paleness couldn’t be underestimated. Upon the pale canvas of her flesh, freckles decorated her nose, arms, and back. They were her own homage to the red hair she’d always be known for, no matter how much she experimented with the color. Trey realized he could wax poetic about her lithe body and height, too. She wasn’t petite; in fact she was the height of an average runway model at only a few inches shy of six feet. Her body was fleshy but not voluptuous per se with long lean arms and dancer’s legs, but just enough tummy to not ever be considered washboard fit, a heart-shaped ass with enough cushion to even out her body, and a set of breasts that were both generous yet still perky enough to defy gravity.
All this from a woman who was thirty years old; three years his senior – not that he gave a damn about that. Age was nothing but a number and he’d always been attracted to the unconventional and quirky.
Most of his brothers made fun of him when he was a Bastard because he chose to pursue a porn star. It didn’t matter her specialty was girl-on-girl; all they could think about was how anyone could purchase her videos and see his woman in all her splendid glory.
Trey didn’t give a fuck. Sure, they could look but they wouldn’t have been able to touch. Keri loved him deeply, more than any woman he’d ever had the pleasure of having on the back of his bike. Wasn’t that what mattered? Not what a woman did as a profession—as long as she wasn’t hurting anyone—but how she felt about her man?
No woman would ever be able to replace her but Trey couldn’t deny having feelings for Kyra, and it went well beyond the length of his relationship with Keri. He’d lusted after her since he joined the Bastards and lust quickly transformed to a slow-burn attraction when they became friends. He enjoyed chatting with her and would have loved to pursue more but Jonesy quickly put a kibosh in that plan.
“Son, I know you think the world and all of my daughter, Kyra, but she’s not for you. I don’t even know if I want this life for her but if she does choose to be a part of it, I hope to God she manages to meet a good guy…just not you. You live like you love—hard. I know you’d never take her for granted but I can’t have my first-born girl with a man who might not live to see thirty. It’s not fair to her or to you—got me?”
Jonesy never raised his voice and he’d treated Trey with the utmost respect. He’d laid it on the line and knowing the man, feeling the way he did, he couldn’t possibly defy his Prez. Instead, he buried his feelings for her and moved on.
Now this situation came up, his mother wanted to see him, but she purposely used Kyra as the gateway and he didn’t understand why. Seeing her again stirred all those old emotions and no matter how many times he told himself he wasn’t ready for a relationship, one look into those gorgeous sky blue eyes of Kyra and his resolve was shaken to the core.
It wasn’t even about her looks as much as her strength as a woman. She definitely had a wild streak but she never stopped being her own person. She wasn’t ever looking for a man to save her or fulfill her; though it was obvious she wanted love. Who didn’t? It wasn’t realistic to think anyone wanted to walk through life, wounded, damaged, and alone.
No one ever said it would be all flowers but everyone needed a little strength in their backbone. Someone who’d be able to compliment the fire they had inside with something calming, soothing, and pure. Love wasn’t a cure-all but it was one hell of a vaccine, protecting one from the most horrific aspects of life and the human psyche.
Love didn’t change or transform people but it could become a foundation that held two people together during the good times and the bad. Love wasn’t a feeling that only swelled the heart—it worked its way into the body and bloodstream, becoming a catalyst that fueled the mind, body, and soul. It was intangible, all-consuming once it was there, a part of a human being. It could thrive if given oxygen and goodness, yet wither away and die a cruel death if starved the breath of life and fed nothing but evil and bad intentions.
Trey grappled with whether he deserved love at all. He wasn’t a good person. He’d murdered people and caused suffering. His long history of adrenaline-fueled runs was legendary. Yes, he was one of the best hackers in the MC world but he had many more faults than good qualities. The one line of thought running through his muddled mind centered on his worth as a human being. Perhaps Keri should’ve been his first and only chance at love.
It was his club who’d ultimately murdered her. She died because of what he’d done and fled from like a little bitch. He’d acted impulsively and childishly yet he was alive and she was dead. It didn’t seem fair and, as much as he loved Kyra’s spunk, he couldn’t risk putting another person in danger because of his bad choices.
Trey finished his cigarette and put it out in an ornate glass ashtray before opening the door and closing it, locking it behind himself. He walked down to the garage bay and got back to work on the Harley he’d been restoring. It was easier to get lost doing mundane work like this than to think too much.
Hacking involved intense concentration and whenever he allowed himself to do that, his thoughts always wandered back to the last day he had Keri. There was nothing positive about thinking about her and the pain he caused himself became too much. He couldn’t wallow in his own misery anymore. It was time to move on.
Cillian strode over and knelt near him. He sat up and looked at his brother without acknowledging anything, wrong or not.
“Everything taken care of?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Whatever Kyra needed to talk to you about seemed serious. You don’t have to share everything with us; as long as it doesn’t affect the club it’s your business, brother.”
“Yeah, it’s good. I overreacted… sorry about that.” Trey paused and looked away. “I didn’t know what she wanted. If it had anything to do with Jonesy and the Bastards, I couldn’t deal with it, not today—not right now.”
“That’s obvious, brother. Doesn’t look like you can concentrate on much of anythin
g at the moment—not that anyone blames you. Was she able to shed any light on…the body?”
Trey winced at Cillian’s careful words. Yeah, the body. Unfortunately, Keri was nothing but a rotting corpse interred at Black Oak Cemetery.
He nodded, purposely choosing to be non-committal. “I know where she is. Her dad had her shipped back here and buried in the Decker family plot. I want to go see her but I don’t know—I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”
His brother patted him firmly on the back. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You lost your parents and your brother… then you lost Keri. I suggest you go see her one last time, even if only to yell in frustration. You need to go through the process, Trey. No one expects you to be Mr. Perfect, least of all me.”
Trey sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right, as always. I guess I should take off early, shower, and go see her before the weather gets any worse.”
Cillian smirked. “We’re expecting a snow storm tonight, brother. I’d suggest you leave as soon as possible.” He walked back into the garage bay while Trey turned around and headed back into the clubhouse.
In record timing, he’d showered, shaved, and slid on a pair of slightly baggy jeans, a long black and red flannel shirt before sliding his cut over the ensemble. It was dangerous to ride out to Black Oak looking the way he did, but he simply didn’t have a single fuck to give at this point.
He needed to say goodbye to Keri, once and for all.
Trey drove the Escalade to the impoverished town and directly to the cemetery. It was miraculously well kept compared to the rundown section of the Tri-Towns area. He could only guess the reason there weren’t incidents of grave robbery was because most of the meth-addicts were too afraid to cross the White Knights.
The Decker Family Plot took up a nice size of real estate in the cemetery. It wasn’t a secret the Knights had lost more than their fair share of members over the years though Nel, his brother, Brad, and a couple cousins who were part of the WK Originals were still in good health and free from harm.
Hell, Brooklyn should’ve been in one of the plots but he was safe and sound, though keeping a relatively low profile.
Trey stepped out of his SUV, locked the door behind him, and stuffed a nine-millimeter Beretta in the band of his jeans, pulling down the flannel shirt and his cut to hide it. If trouble did find him, he was prepared, a full clip in his back pocket just in case.
His pulse raced like he’d just finished ten miles on the treadmill, his stomach a mess of aches and somersaults as he finally located Keri’s grave. Her plot was clean, free of debris with a massive headstone. There was a photo of her in between her full name—Kerri Anne Nielsen Decker—and the dates of both her birth and death.
She smiled at him beguilingly, her blue eyes shining bright while her small features and natural blonde hair complimented a light summer tan. The photo was beautiful and he’d remembered the year it’d been taken.
The whole situation was all too much and the tumult of emotions that began to take over his body overwhelmed him. He knew he’d be affected but the out-of-body experience he felt went beyond the need to howl and scream. He needed to cry, to sob, and actually absorb her grisly death. She’d meant so much to him and she deserved to know, even now when she couldn’t possibly respond to his actions.
Trey sank to his knees, the impact lessened only by dying grass. He didn’t feel discomfort, only his emotions betraying him as tears fell from his eyes. He sobbed quietly, his hands covering his face. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, wiping falling tears from his cheeks. “It’s my fault you’re gone. I should’ve left you here but I didn’t want to be away from you. I hope wherever you are, you’re makin’ angels smile and someone laugh. I never deserved you, babe.”
“You got that right,” a male voice responded.
He stood on shaky legs and turned around to face Jake Decker. He wasn’t alone. There was a young blonde woman with him he vaguely recognized as Marian. She was Chantal’s friend from the University of Lake Tahoe and Jake’s cousin. They’d spoken a handful of times about business dealings with the cartel but he considered neither of them acquaintances, let alone friends.
Trey’s hand wandered behind his back to locate his Glock pressed against his back, but he slowly brought it back down to his side. “Yeah, I know. I can’t resist gettin’ into trouble. I came to Black Oak and I’m on your territory wearin’ my cut but I swear to you—this was my only destination. I just wanted to say goodbye to Keri.”
Marian stared at him suspiciously before glancing at Jake. “If he was just payin’ his respects…”
“Fuck that, Mari. This piece of fuckin’ shit is the reason she’s dead—”
“Yeah, you can blame me,” Trey interrupted rudely, his temper flaring in anger. “I shouldn’t have taken her with me to Belfast but I didn’t fuckin’ kill her! No, your old man did that shit so if you have a problem—you wanna really blame someone? Nel was the one who put the dumb Irish fuckers on our tail. They didn’t even know they were shootin’ his daughter. I woulda gladly taken that motherfuckin’ bullet but they aimed to murder her.”
Jake glared at Trey with dead blue eyes. “You’re not lyin’, are ya? I know the part my old man had in her death but he said it wasn’t intentional.”
“I don’t think it was intentional on Nel’s part—he wasn’t there, remember? But thee fuckers who took the job knew exactly what they were doin’.” Trey walked closer to them until they were a few feet away. “Listen, I’ll get in my Escalade and get the fuck outta your territory. The Saints and the Knights—we got business together. Nothing you do to me would be worth it.”
Jake shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t I fuckin’ know it? You being old man Cox’s son, I’m not fuckin’ touchin’ ya with a ten-foot pole. Did I wanna shoot ya in the kneecaps after you shot Brooklyn and put his dumb ass in the hospital? Fuck yeah, I did. I’d shoot your ass now but Nel would murder me himself. Is it true about you guys takin’ over what used to be Carlito’s score?”
Trey smirked. “Is that what Nel told you? If it he did then you already know the answer. Eyes and ears—they’re everywhere, bro. I don’t talk shop outside chapel if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not your motherfuckin’ bro. You may be Dizzy’s lost boy but you don’t mean shit to me. So go ahead, cry over my sister and get the fuck outta my town before I change my mind and shoot you on principle alone. That wasn’t okay what you did to Brooklyn and you know it. Now, everything just goes away. That shit ain’t right—”
“No, bro, what ain’t right is that piece of shit threatened my sister in L.A. while she was mindin’ her own motherfuckin’ business. That’s what isn’t right. If he’d kept whatever shit he wanted to say between him and me—you and I wouldn’t be exchangin’ words now,” Trey said coldly. “I wouldn’t have had to leave the motherfuckin’ country from tryin’ to end him when he fuckin’ told my sister he would kill her if she wouldn’t tell him where I was. She didn’t know—hell, she’s not even in this world. You don’t threaten my blood and think nothin’ happens!”
Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he replied, “Yeah, I know all about what happened. He told me and what he did was stupid but…we had info on that pretty boy rock star she married.”
Trey took a step back and threw his arms up in exasperation. “They weren’t even datin’ back then, let alone married, so that isn’t an excuse.”
“Yeah but…now they are. And since you were brought back from Belfast, shit’s changed. Now your sister is part of our world. Her hubby’s a Saint, ain’t he?”
Trey’s jaw ticked as he mashed his teeth together. “I don’t know what Linx is to the club. I do know he plays a mean bass for Winter’s Regret and it’s pretty cool to have him as a brother-in-law.”
Jake laughed out loud as he shook his head. “It’s like that, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
Mar
ian squeezed his shoulder. “We gotta go, cuz.”
Trey stared him down as Jake pointed his index finger in his direction. “Get the fuck outta my town, Lennon.”
He mock-saluted and reluctantly turned around, walking back to his Escalade. “Take the Bullets Away” played on his phone; he grabbed his Samsung from his pocket and answered the call.
“What’s up, K?” Trey greeted, using Cillian’s road name initial.
“Change of plans. We need you to get back pronto,” Cillian replied quickly in his slight Irish accent.
“On my way back now. Give me about twenty. I’m in Knights’ territory—I gotta make my way back.”
“See ya soon.”
Trey slid his phone back into his pocket.
Shit had just gotten real and his own feelings didn’t matter anymore. All he could think about was the club—he had to focus. It was the only way he was going to get over Keri’s death and move the fuck on.
“As you fellas can see, neither the Prez nor any of the Originals are here but don’t think for a second they haven’t sanctioned this,” Cillian said, his voice strong and authoritative.
Trey sat in the chapel along with Cricket, Bookie, Quinn, and Kink. All five men stared at the man who would one day take over the gavel from Dizzy. He had almost as much power as his father and they all knew whatever he discussed with them was the final word on the subject. “What’s goin’ on? I thought we were waiting to hear back from Emilio,” Quinn spoke up. He wasn’t usually known for being assertive—he and Ronan were twins and he’d taken his brother’s absence from the club the hardest. However, with Ronan gone, the guy seemed to have found his balls, along with his voice.
Naked Dirty Love Page 5