Misguided (Fallen Aces MC Book 5)

by Max Henry

“Pardon?” I smack myself on the chest to help the sip of Sprite I was taking work its way down.

  “Yeah. They hooked up a few months back, not long before he dealt with his old man.”

  Well, shit. Never saw that coming. But it kind of makes sense—they’re kindred spirits. She’s just as unhinged as he is.

  “I don’t think I would have any problem with him anyway.” I set my drink down and run my finger around the rim of the glass as the hangarounds head out to the back deck for a smoke. “I haven’t seen Sawyer since he left our chapter.” The two of us did a fine job of avoiding each other at first, knowing that one minute alone would reignite the fire we’d been ordered to smother. After that, it became habit to keep our distance at the club functions.

  “You should talk to him about Dana when he gets back in.” Callum pulls his pack of smokes out, yet he doesn’t pick one out, he simply shakes the remaining sticks from side to side.

  “Why?”

  “He was there, you know, when the shit hit the fan.”

  Oh my God. He was involved in that too? What kind of mess did Carlos have going on? “I … nobody told me that.”

  “Well” —he smiles— “now I have.”

  I slide my Sprite out of the way and then drop my head onto my arms. If I’d known coming home was going to be this much hell, I would have locked the door of the trailer and told Hooch to get lost. A life sentence in a quiet prison cell sounds like heaven right about now.

  Callum rubs circles between my shoulders, a much-needed comfort in a time when I feel like I’m falling into a bottomless pit, unable to get purchase on the dirt walls as they fly by.

  “What am I missin’ out on?”

  Callum’s hand stills at Dog’s question. I peek out from behind my arms at the cocky bastard as he approaches from the doors that lead to the back yard. I didn’t even know he was out there, let alone back already.

  “Nothing much,” I say, wiping my cheeks on my sleeve before straightening up. “Thanks again for letting me use your room.”

  Callum coughs as he slides off his stool. “I, uh, I’ve got something I need to do for King.” He legs it toward the front door.

  Dog and I watch him go before exchanging a look that leaves me giggling. “He okay?” I ask, thumbing in Callum’s direction.

  “Don’t know.” Dog frowns as he takes the abandoned seat beside me. “He was fine when we got in.”

  “Great. So it’s just me then.”

  “You have that effect on people.” He nudges me with his elbow.

  The mood instantly shifts to something a lot more intimate, and a darn sight more confusing. Seems time does nothing to lessen the impact he has on me.

  “Anyway.” I clear my throat, shifting on my stool to dull the buzz that took hold.

  “Anyway,” Dog echoes.

  I smile at the cocky way he looks at me, as though waiting for the punch line. “What’s a girl to do around here to pass the time?”

  “You’re bored?”

  I shrug. “It helps keep me distracted.”

  His eyes narrow, and he smirks.

  “What?”

  “I could offer you a fun way to pass the time, but you know, you’ve already shot me down more than once. Not sure my precious heart could take it again.”

  I smack him on the arm with the back of my hand, smiling. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  “I’ve been told.” He bites his bottom lip and waggles his eyebrows before cracking up at the mortified look on my face.

  “Seriously,” I cry. “Give me something we could do.”

  “We?”

  I blanch, staring at him as I blink away the realization of what I said. We. “Sure,” I bluff. “Why not?”

  He taps a finger against his lips, drawing my focus to how the top one turns up it’s so full. “Well … Maybe not.”

  “What?”

  “I had an idea, but it might not be so clever considerin’ you’d be brandishing a weapon should I piss you off again.”

  “Simple,” I sass. “Don’t be a cocky asshole and I won’t have a reason to hurt you.”

  He smiles, twisting on his stool to face me, one elbow resting on the bar. “You ever shot for sport before?”

  “I discharged my first three into a federal agent this morning if that counts?”

  His lips curl up at the corners as though he’s about to laugh, yet his smile fades as the realization sets in. “You’re for fuckin’ real? Your first time with a gun, and you shot a fed?”

  “I thought you knew?”

  He coughs, sliding off his stool and making his way around to grab a drink. “No.”

  “Why did you think you needed to pick me up then? Where did you think Hooch was going?”

  He shrugs, necking a quarter of a bottle of Jack in one go. “Fucked if I know. I just do what I’m told.” He lifts his arm to wipe away the residual liquor on his lips, and I damn near melt on the spot.

  There are a certain few things a man can do to look effortlessly sexy. Shirking his T-shirt is one. Wearing any sort of a uniform is another. And drinking is the best of all of them.

  He leans an elbow on the bar, regarding me with a sigh.

  “What?” I let my hair fall forward, hiding my face a little.

  “I still can’t believe you’d never shot a gun before.”

  I shrug. What can I say? I’d be surprised too, considering the environment I was raised in.

  “Daddy didn’t train us girls; said it was the man’s job to protect the family. I was given the gun by the guy who took me away. He said it might come in handy, and I guess it did.”

  “Explains why it took three then,” Dog mutters to himself.

  I sip my Sprite as he stares at his hands, seemingly in thought. He’s a rare find in how attractive he is. There are usually three things that make up a pretty boy: face value, personality, and vibe. Majority of the cute guys have the first—face value. It’s a pretty face with nothing else to carry it through life. Only useful in pictures, or for admiring from a distance. Every now and then you strike it lucky with a guy who possesses the second as well—personality. Sawyer was one of those, despite the fact his character isn’t really the most approachable, it still makes him who he is. He captivates you.

  But Dog, he’s all three. He’s fucking gorgeous to look at, has a heart of gold under all the bravado, and most importantly he has the vibe—that feeling you get when you’re around a person who just clicks. I’ve never had to try hard with him; we’ve always just got along as though we know each other from way back.

  And that’s what I appreciate most after being alone so long; he makes it so familiar to spend time with him. It’s easy to slip back into old habits.

  “What were you going to suggest?” I ask when he stays quiet.

  He smirks, still staring at his hands as he peels the label off Callum’s empty bottle. “Thought we could go hunting.”

  “For real?”

  “Why not?” He looks across at me, and I can’t help the smile his own inspires. “We still could.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Just need to work on your aim first. You don’t often get a chance to put more than one into a deer.”

  “You’d teach me to shoot?”

  He grimaces. “Probably not my wisest move, considerin’ you wouldn’t miss when you get the shits with me, but yeah, I would. We’re going to make sure you get your first buck, little lady.”

  “Deer?”

  “Why not?” He shrugs. “Season’s open, and I’ve got a permit. If you’re not too precious about camping out, then we’ve got the time to kill—no pun intended.” He takes another swig of the whiskey before recapping it. “You’re just lucky we’re not heading out next month.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Otherwise you’d be doin’ it with a crossbow.” He waggles his eyebrows and I can’t help but laugh at the visual of me trying to fire an arrow in a straight line.

  “Promise I won’t shoot you. I’ll
be the perfect student.”

  “You say that now, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s gone all crazy on my ass.”

  “One difference this time, though,” I say with a twist of my lips.

  “What’s that?” His gaze narrows.

  “You haven’t fucked me and dumped me, so I haven’t got any reason to be pissed with you.”

  He grins lazily and leans across the bar until we’re an inch apart. “Yet.”

  NINE

  Dog

  Inappropriate? Totally. Fair warning? Most definitely.

  This girl makes me laugh. She smiles at me as though I bring light to her day, and best of all she makes me just want to hang with her.

  I need to wife the woman, now.

  She shakes her head at my suggestion; probably assuming I’m just fucking with her to get a rise as always. But I’m not. I totally meant it. I’d put a hundred on it right now, that by the end of the month she’ll know what it’s like to have me make her forget her own name.

  “When do we start then?” she asks, palming that glass of Sprite.

  “Fuckin’ or shooting?”

  Yeah, I test the boundaries a lot.

  All I get in response is narrowed eyes and a tight little smirk.

  “Shooting, right? Aww.” I make a show out of pouting, my shoulders sagging as I return to my seat. “Tomorrow, I guess. Gotta go to the old man’s and get my rifle if you want to use the same gun we’ll hunt with.”

  And after the fucking grilling he gave me last night, I’m going to need one on the sauce here to get me in the mood for another altercation with the asshole.

  “Can I come?”

  “To my old man’s?” Sure as fuck aren’t acting when I look at her confused out of my goddamn mind. Why would she want to do that?

  “Yeah. I just …” She shrugs. “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me,” I urge, struck with the need to know what’s on her mind.

  “I thought it might be nice to get away from the place for a bit of fresh air.” She fidgets with the coaster under her glass. “I know I only just got here, but the place has too many memories right now.” She stares wistfully at the fucking sofas as though her old man is there giving her a smile right back.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.” What the fuck am I doing?

  “Thanks, Dog.”

  The bitch slides off her seat and wraps those scrawny arms around my neck, snuggling in close and reminding me I’m nothing more than her best friend.

  I trap her right arm to me by lifting my hand to it, breathing in deep and relishing how fucked up it is that she smells sexy as sin wearing my body wash.

  Is that how good I smell to chicks? Figures …

  “You gonna be okay with how noisy it’ll be here later?” If she’s already twitchy about the place, the weekend wind down might be too much all at once.

  “I’ll probably just hide out upstairs.” She pulls free and jams her hands in the pockets of the cargo shorts somebody’s given her to wear.

  “Alone?”

  Mel shrugs. “Used to it, ain’t I?”

  I guess. Still doesn’t sit right with me that she’d be on her own after the two hell on wheels days she’s had since Hooch picked her up. “I’ll keep you company.” I smile.

  “Dog.” She frowns. “Just give the pick-up lines a rest would you?”

  Only I wasn’t saying it like that. Kind of fucks me off that she took it that way, but I’ve only got myself to blame, don’t I?

  “Yeah, right. Sorry about that.” I slip off the stool and take two steps away before hesitating and turning back to her. “You’re really cool, Mel. I mean it when I say I’m fuckin’ glad you’re back.”

  She smiles, seeming as lost for anything else to say as I am. The sentiment was awkward as fuck, and it’s no wonder; I don’t say shit like that much. Especially not to a girl. And especially not to one I really am scared of screwing things up with a second time.

  I picked my moment wrong the first time she shut me down, trying to make the most of the fact her old man had sent Sawyer away and then screwed things up by matching her with a guy she had no interest in whatsoever. I thought I could slide right into the dust cloud left by Crackers and remind her why it is we’re so perfectly matched, but instead, Mel shut me down and damn near cut all contact before she left.

  I want to believe it’s because she was denying the truth to herself, but I also know it has a hell of a lot more to do with how sleazy that was of me to try and catch her on the rebound, as lame of a one as it was considering she never had feelings for Crackers.

  Well, none she told me about.

  I step away before I say something even more heartfelt and head for the back deck when King intercepts me near the pool table.

  “Got a minute?”

  Can a guy get a head start? It was inevitable, though. I had fair warning from Callum, and I knew if King had sent his second in command after me, then he must be getting frustrated.

  “Sure.”

  He gestures toward his office—or should I say his second home—and I lead the way. The click of the door as he follows me in is deafening to my guilty conscience, my ability to sit and act nonchalant scratched.

  “Thought I’d grab you while we’re both here so I can get those next of kin details off you,” he says casually as he rounds his desk.

  I watch Pres dig around on the surface for the blank form, and then swallow back the need to profess my innocence as he hands it over.

  I’m not guilty of anything serious—lots of people pass themselves off as another person if they’re unhappy with who they are … don’t they? Fuck it.

  “Only take you a minute.” King holds a pen out, the smirk on his face saying he knows he may as well be handing me a noose.

  “What do you want me to say?” I mumble, tossing the sheet of paper on the front edge of his desk.

  “The truth,” he counters, setting the pen down on the discarded form. “That’s all I ever expect from our members.”

  The truth.

  Fuck, even I don’t know how to make head or tails of it. The way I feel about who I am, and how that relates to who my father is, is complicated. I can’t deny the pride at what our name carries, but I also can’t ignore the anger I have at what he’s made it.

  “The truth,” I murmur, rolling the concept around in my mind while he patiently watches. “The truth is, if I didn’t have this place as a second home, I think I’d be gettin’ around in an orange jumpsuit, awaitin’ my turn in the chair.”

  “Everybody here has personal issues,” King says, “but you keepin’ them to yourself only puts us all in danger if something were to come knockin’ on our door looking for you.”

  “Trust me,” I say with a bitter snort. “He won’t come here.” Rollan von Essen wouldn’t be seen dead around a place like this for fear of what it could be misconstrued as.

  God forbid any of his precious cronies thought he was in fucking cahoots with a motorcycle club. The fact half of them know I’m in one is enough of an embarrassment for the asshole.

  “Yeah, well that’s what everyone says right before it does,” King muses. He taps the form. “Just fill it out, Dog. It’s kept under lock.” He gestures to his filing cabinet. “Only me that needs to know.”

  He’s right, yet it doesn’t stop me panicking at that slim chance somebody else finds out. I’m not ashamed of who I am, I just don’t want it swaying my brothers’ opinion of me. I’ve had that happen before, the whole “what are you even doing here” speech, and I’d like to avoid losing friends because of it again.

  “You’ve got the only key, right?” I narrow my gaze on Pres.

  He nods, patting the chain on his hip.

  Fuck this shit. Why didn’t I think of this eventuality when I strutted in the door with some bright idea to reinvent myself ‘Total Recall’ style? I honestly thought that I could use this club to erase any memory of who I was, have them make me a new person.<
br />
  Reality is, the heart of who you are never changes, and the fears that drove you to run from yourself continue to influence every decision you make.

  I slump into the chair beside me and snatch up the pen and paper. Using my leg as a table, I fill out the form, feeling physically ill as the undeniable truths of who I really am are inked onto paper embellished with the Aces name.

  I slide the completed questions across to King, setting the pen down on his desk also and wait.

  He strokes his beard absently as he reads, his expression firm but otherwise not giving a thing away. “Why is your surname familiar? Other than it’s kind of unique …” he muses.

  I’m not entirely sure he’s ready for an answer, so I sit a while longer as he keeps reading.

  King sets the paper aside and rests his elbows on the desk. “I don’t see much else that would have me worried, Dog.” I could kiss the guy for his decision to keep using my road name, and not rub my birth name in my face. “So,” he continues, “you wanna tell me what it is I should be concerned about?”

  “You’re right,” I say, staring down at my hands. “My surname is familiar.”

  “Why?” He leans back, crossing his arms.

  “Heard of a little company called Leidend Industries?”

  He scoffs. “Heard of it? They only stamp their name on most of the medical research that’s carried out in this country. There’s articles all over the web about the shit they do.”

  “Yeah. That one.” I toss my head back with a sigh. “My old man heads it up.”

  “Why the fuck would you be so ashamed of that?” King asks. “They do amazing work towards new treatments and cures for common disease.”

  “They also hike the price up on medications so they can turn a fat profit,” I snap. “Fucker could make sure every goddamn kid in this country had access to basic care, but instead he auctions off the medicines they develop to the big five pharmaceuticals for whoever wants to pay the most.”

  King frowns, his fingers tapping on his stomach. “Yeah, I feel your anger there.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with him or what my name makes people think.” I push out of the seat and point to the form. “So I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us like you promised.”