“I’m just not sure what your play is here, sweetheart. You clearly don’t like the Club or your brother’s lifestyle. You haven’t been in his life for a long time after turning your back on him, yet you’re here, playing the doting sister. I don’t get it. I want to know if you’re here meaning him harm. I want to know if I need to protect my brother.”
My heart freezes in my chest at his words. I have no idea what Josh has told these people about me, but clearly, they seem to think I’m the bad guy here. I got the impression when I first arrived that Josh had said very little about me, but obviously conclusions have been made.
I clasp my hands together on the table. “Wow, okay then. You seem to have made a lot of assumptions there.”
“I don’t think I’ve assumed anything. You do hate the Club.”
“Yeah, I hate the Club,” I agree and watch as his jaw tightens and his body snaps straight. “For good reason, Jem. You took my brother from me.”
“We didn’t take anyone. Wade came to us.”
“You see me as the bad guy,” I tell him, “but despite what you seem to think, Josh isn’t exactly innocent in all this. I wasn’t the only one who let things get this bad between us.”
“I never said he was.”
“You all act as if it was me who did the dirty on him, as if it was me who left him.” I lean over the table. “He’s not the one who was left alone, Jem. He’s not the one who was left behind. It was me. I was drowning. I needed my big brother to step up for me, and he was more interested in running off and joining a biker club.”
Heat rises in my neck, settling in my cheeks. I clamp my mouth shut, realising I’ve said more than I should. The past is the past, and I’m not about to drudge it up with a near-perfect stranger, but Jem is looking at me with shrewd eyes that suggest he’s not about to let this go.
“What do you mean?”
Bugger.
“It really doesn’t matter, Jem. What matters is we both messed up, and all we can do now is rebuild what we destroyed.”
“Piper, why did you need your brother?” he presses, and I have to admit the look he’s directing my way is a little intense.
“Look, just trust me when I tell you I’m not here to cause problems for Josh. I just want to know my brother.”
“The Club comes with him.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Then you have to accept that part of his life if you want to be in it.”
“He told me as much when he woke up. You don’t need to worry about me and Josh. No doubt we’ll go our separate ways again as soon as he’s back on his feet.”
Jem’s brows draw together, but before he can counter my words or start poking around more, I say, “Come on, I’ve eaten enough. Let’s head back upstairs.”
Chapter Six
When I first arrived in Kingsley a few weeks ago, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me into the Lost Saxons clubhouse. Now, I find myself almost itching with curiosity to see the inside of the building.
I follow Beth, one of the old ladies, inside. Although why they call her an old lady, I have no idea because she’s about thirty and gorgeous—even with signs of the beating she took at the hands of the same man who shot my brother still evident.
She has dark brown hair that is pulled into a ponytail, the ends curly, exposing her neck, which is encircled with bruises, the black fading to a mottled purple now. There are other marks across her face, and her clothes hide more injuries, I’m sure. The police still haven’t found the man who inflicted them, although that horrible DCI Morgan chap who harangued me outside the hospital that day with Jem has been by the hospital several times over the past few weeks. I tried to intervene, to keep him away, but Josh told me—ordered me, really—to stay out of it. He said the Club would handle it… whatever that means.
I like Beth, but I can tell she’s clearly haunted by what she experienced. Behind the smiles and bravado, there’s a hint of fear in her eyes, ghosts that I’m sure did not exist before.
She also happens to be engaged to Logan, Jem’s big brother. Luckily, the two men share few similarities beyond being huge, scary looking behemoths, so being around him isn’t too traumatic.
Logan is dark haired, where Jem is blond, and Logan seems much more stern, quiet, while his younger brother takes nothing seriously. They do both have those dark brown chocolate eyes, though. I see why Beth falls into them when he looks at her, because I get lost in Jem’s sometimes, even though I know I shouldn’t. Jem shares more traits with their younger brother, Adam.
If I’m being honest, I’ve found myself latching onto Beth for no other reason than she reminds me a little of Cami, and I miss my best friend. Beth’s been good to Josh, too. She’s been at the hospital almost as much as I have, annoying my brother, but I think he needs it. Josh has become increasingly morose in the past week. I think the speed of his recovery is getting him down, especially now Beth and Dean are both home and getting back on their feet.
Considering the extent of his injuries, I’m not sure what Josh expects, but if it’s to bounce back to full health so quickly, he’s going to be disappointed. The doctors have been hinting rather loudly that his recovery could take months, depending upon the physiotherapy he needs to rebuild the muscles in his back and chest. Josh isn’t listening, though. He wants to be back to himself instantly.
My eyes rove the walls as Beth leads us through the maze of corridors. I guessed the building was big from the outside, but I’m already turned around, even though I’m attempting to take in everything. I’ve never had a particularly great sense of direction, but all the twists and turns and doors off each hallway have my mind spinning. I would need a map to find my way around this place.
If I’m being honest, it’s not what I expect. Where’s the caches of guns and knives lining the corridors? The stacks of drugs? The mass orgies? The debauchery?
So far, I’ve seen two prospects painting the picnic tables out the front and some old bloke supervising them while swigging a beer like it’s juice. It is barely lunchtime, but I’ve been known to imbibe the odd glass of wine before eleven, so who am I to judge?
It’s quiet as we make our way down the narrow hallway lined with photo frames. I don’t get a chance to stop and look at them, but I can see they are members of the Club with various women. I catch flickers of people I recognise: Beth, Logan, Jem, other members. My eyes try to linger on the blond giant as we pass and seem to magnetise to other photographs of him as we move up the corridor. Jem’s clearly an exhibitionist: he’s in nearly all these pictures.
What a bloody show off.
The décor is pleasant, plain, no skulls and crossbones, no half-naked women. Just plain. There are lots of Lost Saxons emblems emblazoned at different locations around the place, and there’s even a wall of mug shots.
Tasteful…
“So, your brother kicked you out of the hospital?” Beth says over her shoulder at me, not slowing her pace.
I slide my gaze to her. “Apparently he’s sick of looking at my face and I need to do something other than staring at his hospital walls.” He used far more colourful language, but that was the gist of what he said.
Beth grins. “Sounds like Wade. Tactful as usual.”
A few weeks back, this statement would have hurt—the fact she knows Josh better than me. Now, it rolls off my back. I’m coming to terms with things, and I’m getting to know my brother better with every passing day. We’re not exactly a happy family yet, but I think we’re making progress. I feel like we’re making strides anyway.
“He cut his hair,” I say.
“I heard.”
“Jem came in with clippers. He was getting sick of trying to keep it clean, so it made sense to do it, but he’s been grumpier than usual since he did. Do you know why?”
I’m hoping she will offer some insight into why my brother has been like a bear with a sore head over this. It’s just hair and he was the one who suggested cutting it in the first
place.
Beth stops walking and turns back to me.
“I shouldn’t say. This breaks all kinds of bro codes, but Logan did tell me. He said cutting his hair was a big thing to Wade. He’s had it long since he’s been with the Club—since before that.”
I think back to when I first met him prison. “He wore it long when I first met him, too.”
“Lo said it was something to do with sticking it to Curtis. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Curtis is mine and Josh’s father, but I’ve never had anything to do with him. He doesn’t even know I exist, so I have no idea why he would care about his hair.”
It’s yet another puzzle piece to my brother I don’t understand.
“It’s probably not a good idea to ask either.”
“No.” Josh and our father did not have a good relationship.
Beth smiles at me. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come and have a drink with us—even if it was by force. Your brother is right to make you do it. It’s not good for you spending all your time at the hospital or shut up in Wade’s flat.”
She’s not wrong, although it is slightly humiliating being forced to have ‘fun’ like some socially inept pariah.
“I must admit, I am starting to go a little stir crazy. Not that Josh’s place is terrible, but he doesn’t even have any streaming services. I had to buy a couple to keep myself sane.”
I’ve been staying at Josh’s flat. He insisted after he found out I was staying at a hotel and not bedding down at the clubhouse or with one of the girls. It was a blessing when he gave me the keys. My bank account was not thanking me for spending so much on room fees.
Beth steps through the doors into the common room. The bar runs the length of one wall and looks well-stocked with a range of beer and spirits. There’s a mix of old and new furniture that doesn’t match, but seems to work in a strange sort of way. The dark wood floor looks newish, but is nicked in places. I imagine these boys like to party and party hard. There’s a few empty pint glasses and bottles littered around the room, but other than that, it seems clean enough.
I notice a few brothers are hanging around playing pool, some drinking at the small tables while a few have gathered around a large flat screen television watching a football match.
Jem, I notice, is not here, thankfully.
Not that I’m looking…
The girls are sitting together in a huddle around two tables on the far side of the room and wave at us as we enter.
“Let’s get a drink before we join them,” Beth says, waving back to them.
Since I figure I’m going to need some Dutch courage, I nod and follow her to the bar.
King, one of the prospects, gets us drinks while we wait. There’s an older man sitting at the far end, nursing a pint. His shoulders are hunched over, as if he’s trying to get as close to the glass as he can.
Beth sighs when she notices him.
“How long has Tap been sitting there?” she asks King when he returns with our drinks.
“Most of the day.”
She lets out a frustrated breath. “Does Derek know?”
King’s expression softens. “Yeah, he knows. Don’t worry; I’m keeping an eye on him.”
“If he needs a lift home let me know, okay? I’ll call Logan.”
The prospect nods and wanders back down the bar. I want to ask more about Tap, but I don’t, sensing it’s a topic that I shouldn’t push.
Beth, a little more subdued, grabs her gin glass off the bar, and we both head over to the table where I’m greeted like a long-lost sister.
After three gin and tonics, I’m starting to relax and actually enjoy myself. These girls are fun. Josh was right to make me unwind. I needed this. Weeks of nonstop bedside vigils have taken a toll. It’s nice to just relax.
“I hear you’re heading back to London tomorrow,” Sofia says to Beth.
Jem’s little sister looks like him. She definitely got all the good Harlow genes, because she’s stunningly beautiful with all that dark hair that falls around her shoulders. So is Mackenzie, her older sister, although her colouring is a lighter brown. In fact, the entire family is too good looking for its own good.
Beth snorts. “Yeah, somehow it’s turned into a road trip with your brothers.”
Mackenzie’s hands flash back and forth, and I watch them, not understanding what she’s communicating, but enjoying the motion, nevertheless. She’s unable to speak, so uses sign language to talk, but she can hear.
“Alistair pretty much said if I don’t pick up my stuff, he’ll have it sent to charity.” Beth rolls her eyes and rubs at her neck, over the bruising. She winces as she does this and everyone seems to notice. “I’m not sure he’s entirely happy about our breakup.”
“Well, screw him,” Sofia mutters. “I’m ecstatic you broke his heart. It means you’re coming home. Although you and Logan need to keep the PDA to a minimum. All that tonsil tennis is gross.”
Beth chuckles. “Get used to it. I can’t keep my hands off him.”
Mackenzie’s nose wrinkles before her hands flash.
“Kenz says try to keep it PG-rated,” Sofia translates her signing, “and I agree.”
It’s Jamie, the little red head with the short hair and filthy mouth, who interrupts this time.
“Screw that. You girls are crazy. Your brothers are hot. Please ask Lo to parade through the clubhouse topless as often as he can manage, girl. If you can get Jem and Adam to do the same, I will forever be in your debt.”
Sofia smacks her bicep.
“Stop it!”
“Oh, come on, Piper, you’re the new girl. You’re an unbiased opinion: back me up here. Those boys are hot, right?”
I blink at Jamie’s question.
“What?”
“The Harlow wonder triplets.” She points at me using her glass, sloshing the liquid over her hand in the process. She either doesn’t notice this or doesn’t care.
“Uh… I…” I stare between the four girls, my face heating. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
Liar.
Jamie’s brow arches. “You’ve never thought about Jem Harlow. Naked. Not even once since you got here?”
“I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation with his sisters sitting right here.” Because I’ve thought about it more than once.
She grins at me. “You totally have.”
“Why would I think about a man who is utterly irritating to the point of infuriation?” I turn to Sofia and Mackenzie, wincing. “No offence.”
“None taken.” Sofia waves this off. “Jem drives us all nuts.” She turns to Jamie. “I am with Piper, however. This conversation is not appropriate—and it’s gross. Leave your dirty bedroom fantasies about my brothers locked away in your filthy brain, please.”
“I need to use the little girls’ room,” I exclaim suddenly. I don’t need to think about Jem Harlow or how hot he is or his abs, or bedroom fantasies.
Jamie grins at me. “Are you drunk?”
“Drunk on three G and T’s?” I scoff. “Please. I could drink the bottle and still be sober.”
This is not a boast. Years of imbibing at black tie events means I have a fairly high tolerance level to alcohol.
Mackenzie’s hands flash back and forth, even as her mouth kicks up into a grin.
“Kenzie says that sounds like a challenge,” Sofia translates Mackenzie’s signing for me. I need to learn BSL. It’s mesmerising, watching her hands move the way they do. “Kenz, do you really want to face Wade after we get his sister blind drunk?”
The elder Harlow sister shrugs, her expression mischievous. Clearly, she is not afraid of my big brother.
“Okay, no one is getting blind drunk,” Beth interjects. “Logan will hit the roof if he has to take anyone home and they vomit in his car. He’s not going to be happy about having to cart anyone around either.”
The thought of her enormous behemoth fiancé carting me around does not give me happy th
oughts anyway, so I have no intention of getting that drunk.
“I’d need a vat of it,” I admit. “I have a titanium stomach when it comes to alcohol. I do not when it comes to the actual process of putting it into my body, though, so I do really need to pee.”
“Do you remember where the bathroom is?” Beth sounds amused.
“I’m sure I can find it.”
This assertion might have been a little overstated. The moment I step out into the corridor, I realise I have no idea which way to go. Pride prevents me from returning to ask, so I pick a direction and start walking in it. I consider back-tracking, but the laws of probability suggest I’ll hit one sooner or later. The building is huge, but it’s not infinite.
I come to the end of the corridor and round the corner, but I don’t see anything that looks remotely like it could be a bathroom. Then again, it’s not like any of these doors are labelled. They really should think about handy little signs. I don’t want to try any of the doors in case I bust in on a sex room or drug store.
I’m about to turn around and head back the way I came when the sound of a door opening ahead of me catches my attention.
Glancing up, I see movement and a figure step inside from what looks like an external door, if the change of light is anything to go by. It’s one of the brother’s—Dylan, I think. He’s been by the hospital a few times, but Josh doesn’t seem overly fond of him, none of the boys do.
He gives me the creeps.
Instinctively, I turn and start to walk in the opposite direction. I’m not sure why, but intuition tells me it’s a bad idea to get caught alone with him.
“Hey!”
Too late. Bugger.
I stop and slowly turn to him. He saunters towards me, his mouth tugged into a grin. It’s not like Jem’s, which is usually playful, whimsical. I’ve only spoken to Dylan a handful of times, but I always feel like there is something more sinister with him. I have no idea why I think this because he’s done nothing to me and has been nothing but polite when we’ve met, but he still puts me on edge. It’s crazy to feel this way, but I keep my wits about me when he approaches, even though he doesn’t move into my space either.
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