Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5

by Ames, Jessica

  “Fuck, Pipes, for me too. And I’m sorry about the other day. I know I upset you with what I said. Sometimes, I don’t engage my big arsehole brain before I speak.”

  He’s apologising? Has hell frozen over?

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have said it. Look, I don’t know how to do this brother shit, but I’m trying, and I’m probably going to fuck it up a lot along the way.”

  I snort. “Yeah, probably.”

  He half grins. “You’re going to have to cut me slack while I’m getting to grips with things. I just want you to know it means a lot that you’ve been here while I was recovering. I’ll never forget that.”

  I wonder if he’ll remember this when I tell him I’m leaving, and I’ll have to tell him and soon because Grant gave me a timed deadline.

  I also wonder if he’ll remember this if he ever finds out about me and Jem…

  Bugger. Jem.

  What do I do about him? Nothing, I suppose. It’s not like we haven’t been avoiding each other since we last hooked up. The distance will make it easier to dance around each other.

  Maybe it’s just as well I’m leaving. We can never be anyway. Grant hit the roof over me rekindling my relationship with my brother. He would lose his mind if he found out I was hooking up with a biker. He’d probably ship me to Antarctica.

  “You okay?” Josh asks, breaking through my thoughts.

  “What? Oh, yes. Just hungry.”

  “Let’s get you fed then.”

  I wait until we’re at the cafe to break the news I’m heading back to Manchester. This is deliberate on my part. Firstly, because we’re in a public place, and I hope it will curb his response, but also because I wait until the last possible minute I have to tell him. I don’t want to ruin our morning. I make up some bullshit about work freaking out about the time I’ve missed. He seems to buy it, and why wouldn’t he? It’s a reasonable explanation and I haven’t given Josh any reason to doubt my word, but it’s another lie, another deception on top of the one I’m already keeping from him. The lies I’m weaving are winding around me tightly, constricting my lungs until I can hardly breathe.

  He takes it better than I expect, doesn’t question my lies, which makes them stick in my throat like barbed thorns, and promises we can still see each other on weekends. He even suggests he’ll visit Manchester. I don’t deserve him, I really don’t. He’s doing his best to be a good brother and I’m treating him like this. Tears clog my throat as he asks if I want to stay tonight and leave in the morning, but I tell him I need to leave immediately. I hate to see the disappointment behind his eyes. It makes my guts twist, but what choice do I have? Grant has become unpredictable, and I have no idea if he will follow through on his threats. I can’t risk Cami’s safety on a hope that he won’t.

  I try to hold it together until I get on the train, but I can’t. I’m not usually an emotional person, but leaving like this kills me. I sob brokenly. I can tell Josh is lost, that he doesn’t have a clue how to handle a crying female, but he does his best to offer comfort. He hugs me tightly to his chest and I cling to him like he’s my saviour, all the time wishing he was Jem, and hating myself for thinking it. Josh is my brother and should be the one to offer me comfort, not the man I’ve shagged a couple of times in secret.

  Josh wipes my tear-stained face as the train starts to pull into the station. “No more tears, yeah? You can visit anytime, Pipe. I mean it. You’re always welcome here.”

  This would change if he knew the truth, if he knew the real me. I’m a terrible person.

  “You’re too good to me,” I tell him in a wobbly voice.

  “I’m nowhere near as good as I should be.” He kisses my forehead. “Thanks, kid, for coming, for taking care of me. You can’t know what it means to me that you did.”

  I give him a watery smile and glance over my shoulder as the train grinds to a halt behind me, the hydraulics making a racket. “Josh, promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “No matter what happens, don’t walk away from me again. I don’t think I could take it. Not this time.”

  His brow draws together, the consternation clear on his face. “I know I haven’t been the best brother, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  A whistle sounds down the platform and I snag my suitcase. I need to get on the train if I’m going to make it before it leaves.

  Moving towards the open door on the carriage, I say, “No matter what happens, Josh, you promise me that.”

  I don’t know if he senses something in my words, or a change in my tone, but there’s a definite shift in his demeanour when he says my name in a questioning tone, “Piper…”

  “Say the words,” I press, needing to hear it.

  “I promise.”

  Relief floods me and I climb the step and hoist my suitcase onto the train. “I love you, Josh.”

  I don’t care if he says it back. I just need him to know it because I have the feeling things are going to get ugly down the road. I need him to know before that happens that I do care, that I’m not this horrible beast.

  He stares at me for a moment, and I don’t think he’s going to say it back, then he says, “I love you too, kid.”

  The carriage door slides shut and the train lets out a groan and rumble before it starts to move. I watch my brother through the window of the carriage, standing on the platform in his jeans and kutte, looking every inch the biker he is and my heart feels full and yet empty at the same time.

  Leaving is wrong.

  I stand in the doorway until Kingsley’s urban sprawl gives way to fields and hills. It’s been a while since my life last felt like it wasn’t mine and I hate that Grant took that control from me. Even more so, I hate that I allowed him to. I should have told him to shove off, but the education centre would die without the funding and the kids need it. I couldn’t do that to them.

  By the time I’m back in Manchester, I’m bone-tired and ready to crash. I text Josh when I get off the train to let him know I arrived safely.

  I feel drained, defeated, deflated.

  I start the walk back to the flat I share with Cami. It’s the weekend, so she’s probably staying with her on-and-off again boyfriend, Spencer.

  I’m looking forward to having a bath and a glass of wine, and offloading my feelings about the weekend with my best friend.

  As I step out of the stairwell onto my floor, I stop in my tracks. Grant is waiting outside the front door of the loft. Great. I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now.

  Why is he waiting here, waiting for me?

  Grant doesn’t move as I approach, his eyes tracking my movement as I get closer. I stop a few feet away, feeling it’s prudent to keep some distance between us. He doesn’t speak, merely roves an eye over my suitcase before bringing his attention back to me.

  “Why are you here?” I demand finally.

  He pushes off the wall, straightening his suit jacket.

  As usual, he’s impeccably dressed. He grabs the back of my neck and I freeze, my entire body going tight as he leans down to kiss my forehead. It’s a paternal kiss, but it’s laced with so much danger, my legs shake.

  When he pulls back, his eyes are hard as they meet mine.

  “No more visits to Yorkshire, Piper. Understand? I would hate for there to be any mishaps.”

  He releases his grip on my neck and my throat throbs. Then he makes his way up the hallway to the exit, leaving me reeling.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Can you turn your head slightly to the left, Piper?”

  I jolt out of my daze, my eyes snapping towards the photographer who is smiling at me, his camera poised ready. I must have zoned out again. I can feel everyone’s eyes locked on me, waiting for me to respond. Discomfort slithers down my spine. I’ve never enjoyed being the centre of attention and now is no different.

  I shift on the soft cushions, trying to get comfortable, but my dress feels constricting, m
ore like a straight-jacket. My hair is also pinned too tightly, making my scalp tingle, and the lights overhead are too hot, the megawatt bulbs radiating so much heat I feel light-headed.

  I shift my gaze towards Mum and Grant who are watching me carefully from the other end of the French-style chaise we’ve been perched on like circus animals to undergo this latest ritual humiliation. I’m sure they’re waiting for me to crack.

  Grant looks unhappy, Mum a little embarrassed by my lack of focus. I don’t care. I’m done with this day. I feel like a marionette, being positioned this way or that for some stupid pictures I have no interest in.

  I have no idea why I’m here, or why I even need to be here, but for the past hour I’ve been subjected to pose after pose of us playing at the perfect family. It’s sickening really. We’re not even close to perfect. I wonder what this roomful of people would think if they knew the truth behind the fake smiles and suave clothes. I wonder what they would think if they knew the great Grant Hollander is both a handsy bastard and threatens to hurt women in the name of his campaign for power.

  “To the left,” the photographer instructs again.

  He’s a forty-something-year-old Boho wannabe from London called Damien or Duncan. He’s wearing skinny jeans and has been wandering around all afternoon in bare feet, directing this shoot.

  He’s also getting on my last nerve. I want to go home, have a glass of wine, a shower and forget today ever happened. Unfortunately, I’m stuck here until Damien or Duncan and his hoard of helpers decide we’re done. I don’t even know what magazine this shoot is for. Honestly, I don’t even care. What does it matter? It’s the same shit, rinsed and repeated, no matter whose name is attached to it.

  I comply with the devil photographer’s command, turning my head to the left, even though I want to tell him to shove off. I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Grant’s barely veiled threats to Mum, Cami and me—although my safety matters less than the other two. I feel caged, trapped, and I have no idea how to fix things. Would he really hurt them if I don’t do as he asks? Part of me thinks Grant is posturing, that he’s not capable of the threats he hinted at, but then he did bruise me and he did hit Mum. She’s in that house alone with him. Maybe I can convince her to leave. I’ve been trying to get her alone since I got back, but she won’t meet with me. I’m going to ask her to come to lunch after the shoot, see if I can convince her to move out. That will remove one piece of leverage Grant has over me.

  In all honesty, I want to go back to Kingsley, which is something I never thought I would say. My life there was simpler. I miss my grumpy brother. Josh has been texting me and we’ve spoken on the phone a few times, keeping up correspondence, as he said he would. I’m worried about doing much more than that in case he realises something is going on with me. I can’t have him white-knighting into my mess, so when he asked if he can visit, I made excuses. I feel terrible for doing it, but until I know what danger Grant poses to me and Cami, I can’t risk Josh being here.

  But not seeing my brother jeopardises the bridges we’ve been building. I have to find some way to visit him, to get back to Kingsley, which means I have to discover if Grant is just posturing.

  I also miss Jem.

  Ridiculous, I know, to miss someone I’ve shagged twice, but I do. We haven’t spoken since the night we fucked outside the clubhouse. Then again, this is becoming a ritual with us. We hook up, and then avoid each other until we next run into each other and hook up again. Only this time, I’m breaking the cycle by leaving town. I don’t know if he’s aware I’ve gone. It was all so sudden, but it’s probably for the best. All the lying, all the sneaking around, it’s not good for either of us.

  But I can’t say I don’t yearn for him because I do, and the mind-blowing sex is only one part of why. Jem has been a constant in my life for the past few months. Despite being supremely annoying, I also find him… well, a little endearing and a whole lot of fun.

  He also makes things quiet in my head, which is ironic, given the man never shuts up. I wish he was here now. My mind is storming, and I’m struggling to keep my emotions locked behind my walls to maintain my polite front. Really, what I want to do is grab the front of Damien’s shirt—I’m fairly certain his name is, in fact, Damien, not Duncan—and toss him and his stupid camera across the studio.

  I’m sure Grant would murder me on the spot if I did.

  “Okay, and I think that’s a wrap,” he says, finally.

  He’s barely finished the words before I’m pushing up and moving away from the lights. I take a bottle of water that is offered to me by one of the assistants, uncapping it and glugging down at least half of it before I feel the pinch of my mother’s fingers on my elbows.

  Without risking causing a scene, I have no choice but to let her steer me over to a quiet corner of the studio, away from the hustle of people. Grant, I notice, keeps them busy—schmoozing and doing his usual routine of playing cock of the walk.

  My mother glances around me, no doubt making sure we are actually alone and not about to be overheard, before she hisses at me.

  “What on earth has got into you?”

  I stare at her perfectly coiffed hair, her overly done makeup and her no doubt botoxed forehead.

  It’s all a front.

  Everything is a lie.

  I thought Josh’s life was the falsehood, that he lived a sinister existence behind the kuttes and bikes, but he’s not the fabricator. He’s upfront about his criminality. It’s Grant that is the deceiver. He’s violent, and he’s not above using threats to get what he wants. I always saw Grant as this holier than thou kind of person. I’m coming to realise this is not the case.

  “How are you with him?” I demand in a low voice.

  “What?”

  “Grant, Mum. How are you with him?”

  She stares at me, her forehead not even moving. She could be trying to frown. It’s hard to know. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  “He threatened me. He threatened you and Cami, too, if I didn’t do what he asked. He’s not a good man.”

  I watch as her hand flutters to her hair, checking it’s still in place. It’s a nervous tick she has. It also tells me something. She knows he’s threatened us.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. And you should show Grant some respect. That man clothed you and kept a roof over your head from the time you were a little girl.”

  “So, that gives him the right to push me around? To threaten to hurt me if I don’t do what he demands?”

  “It does when you’re spending your time with bloody criminals,” she hisses in my face. “I would have him beat you every day if it kept you away from that man.”

  Oh, yes, she knows. She knows I was in Kingsley, that I was with Josh, and that my stepfather threatened me with violence if I see him again. And not just me, but my best friend, who isn’t even involved in this.

  “You think Grant isn’t a criminal?”

  “He’s never been in prison, unlike that scumbag you’re visiting.” Mum roves an eye over me like I’m shit under her shoe. “Knowing what that family did to me! How could you go there, Piper?”

  Curtis Wade hurt her, I know this. It was why she ran from him, why she left town, alone and without anything to her name. I think she was genuinely scared of what he might do to her if she didn’t. I don’t know the full story of what happened between them, but I can surmise it was not a fairy tale romance. I do know Curtis employed my mother and charmed her into bed. She was young, impressionable, and she thought she’d landed on her feet when her handsome boss was showering her with attention and gifts. Curtis had other ideas. He had his fill of her and then made her life a living hell until she was forced to leave town. Mum discovered she was pregnant with me weeks later. My biological father is one of the few topics that causes my mother genuine pain, so I’ve never pushed, but I do know it’s why she never once told my father I existed.

  But Josh isn’t Curtis.

  He hurt
me emotionally in the past, sure, but he’d never lay a hand on me—or any woman—physically. I’ve never felt threatened by him that way, by any of the Saxons men, in fact.

  Except Dylan, but he was more pushy than anything else, and Jem got me out of that situation anyway.

  My denim-clad white knight.

  “Josh is my brother, whether you like it or not. He’s family, and he’s been good to me.”

  Which is more than I can say for her and Grant right now.

  “So good he left you a wreck?”

  I jolt at her words. “He was a different person back then. Curtis messed him up, Mum, then prison—”

  “Don’t talk to me about that man or his spawn!” she growls at me. We’re lucky there is so much noise from the other end of the room to mask the anger in her voice right now. “You stop seeing him, Piper, immediately.”

  Her tone makes me bristle. I’m not a child, and despite what she and Grant think, I don’t have to dance to their tune.

  “No, and you’ll tell Grant to stop making threats.”

  “I won’t, and I won’t be responsible for what he does if you don’t do as you’re told.”

  Bile collects in my throat. She’s throwing me to the wolves. My own mother is choosing the side of a man who thinks nothing of hitting her.

  “You deserve him,” I tell her. “And I’m done helping you. I thought you were a victim of his temper, but you’re just as complicit. You would help him hurt me, hurt Cami to protect your reputation, to keep this lifestyle you’ve built. That means more to you than your own daughter.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Of course it doesn’t mean more, but Grant and I have worked hard to get here, Piper. Do you expect us to let you undo all that work because you’re having a teenage rebellion?”

  “I’m twenty-five, Mum. I think the days of teenage rebellions are long over.”

  I try to push around her, but she grabs my bicep, pulling me close to her. From a distance, I’m sure it can’t be seen that she’s digging her claws into the soft skin of my arm, but I can sure as hell feel it.