Releasing her to light a cigarette, Snake blew the smoke in her face and smiled at her coughing. “Know what? That you had your pussy taken at seventeen or that you’re Val’s whore?”
Rack sniggered and Zoann lowered her lashes, wondering how...but then it hit her. Big Joe must’ve had Joey following her. That’s how he’d known whenever she tried to do something about her trauma. “Who else knows?”
Spying him preparing to bombard her with more smoke, she turned away, bracing herself for when he forced her face back to him. He was the epitome of a vile biker, everything Granddaddy had ever raged against.
“Val and Johnnie don’t know, that’s for sure,” Snake informed her.
“Does Christopher?”
“He’d have to give a fuck about you to stop long enough to hear anything,” Snake said. “Since he doesn’t give one fuck about you, my guess is no.”
Turning and smacking into Rack’s bulk, Zoann raised her chin. “I need to go on duty.”
“Our resident Florence Nightingale,” Snake sneered, then nodded to the house. “Val’s waiting on you. You’ve been annoying the fuck out of us with your calls and he saw your car when you turned the corner. He’s inside. First bedroom on the right.”
“Probably with dick in hand,” Rack chortled, sizing her up.
“You two are the most disgusting assholes I’ve ever met.” Glancing around and glad for the bright light, she zeroed in on Matthew’s bike, so she hurried around Snake, running up the three steps and passing a tall, rangy man with an unfamiliar cut. Torpedoes MC. Why was Val with these traitors? Following Snake’s instructions, Zoann hurried down the hall. Even if Val was angry with her, she’d feel safe.
As she neared the bedroom, a giggle followed a moan. Her heart sinking, already knowing what she’d find, Zoann pushed through the half-open door and crashed to a stop. A girl covered Matthew’s face while she tongued his dick, licking the wide head and gobbling him into her mouth.
One hand flew to Zoann’s mouth and the other to her belly just as the girl raised her head and blinked. Staring at Zoann’s horrified face, she wiggled against him and moaned. “Lick my cunt, Val. Lick it, baby. I’m about to come allll over your mouth.”
Whirling around, Zoann ran away, unable to get outside fast enough, barreling right into Snake. He grabbed her shoulders.
“You found him, I take it.” His cruel laugh joined Rack’s and the other man’s.
They wanted her to cause a scene or fall apart or both, but she wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction. She didn’t need any of them. She especially didn’t need Matthew and she’d never, ever forgive him or any of them.
She’d forgotten the brutal lesson she’d learned so many years ago. All bikers were alike. Not one had a redeeming quality, so she was getting no more than she deserved.
“Don’t bother telling him I came by,” she flung over her shoulder, too angry and hurt to cry.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Rack returned. “He won’t give a fuck. He has too much pussy here for him to worry about a cunt like you.”
She flipped him off, not deigning to answer, just getting in her car and speeding away.
Later, when Sylvie drew her blood, and came back with the news that, yes, Zoann really was pregnant, she excused herself. She needed a moment of reflection.
Her innocence had been lost so long ago, but the tiny life inside her filled her with wonder. For a few, insane weeks, Matthew had taken her back to a time before her rape. He’d given her her innocence back.
It seemed only right that a baby resulted from their time together, the only good that Matthew had ever truly done for her.
Chapter Eight
18 months ago
Zoann’s screams reverberated in her head and bounced off the walls of her house. Over and over, the wounded animal sounds escaped her.
Momma was dead. Shot. Killed. Stolen from them.
What would she do without her? Patricia had already started telling her about having babies and what to expect. The three of them, Ophelia, Momma, and Zoann were going to decorate the spare room in Zoann’s house and turn it into a nursery.
But Matthew insisted Patricia was dead. That Christopher had been buried alive and Meggie had been kidnapped. They were alive, though. Patricia hadn’t made it.
“This is all Christopher’s fault,” she screamed, pounding her fists against Matthew’s chest, the absolute last person she wanted to see. Ever. Again. He’d never called her. Even when she’d left the message and told him she was having his baby, he hadn’t responded. And, now, he stood, watching her fall apart. The only person in the world whom she could depend on one hundred percent was gone.
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” She fell against Matthew. “My God, please tell me she’s still here. She can’t be gone. I need her,” she said wildly. “Ophelia needs her. Fee has a tear in the hem of an expensive dress. Momma has to sew it. She promised. And…and Avery’s birthday is soon…Did you know that?” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Get her back for us. My baby needs its grandmother.” Clutching his cut again, she shook him. “Go get my mother…NOW.”
“She’s dead, Zoann. There’s no bringing her back. Her brains were blown out.”
“Liar,” she screamed, slapping his face. “You fucking, dirty, filthy liar.”
Grabbing her hands, Matthew held her tightly and shook her. “Fucking listen to me. She’s fucking dead. Pull it together and accept it.”
Accept it. All they ever told her—accept horrible situations. Big Joe. Rack. Momma, Now, Matthew.
His cold tone broke through her grief and she drew in deep breaths, trying to pull in enough air to breathe. Her airways were closing. She was smothering. He gave her a disgusted snort.
“I’ll come back later when you act like you have a fucking backbone. No wonder Outlaw sent me to deal with you.”
And he turned his back on her and his baby. Reaching out for him, Zoann fell to the floor, gasping, just needing a small bit of air to get to her inhaler.
“You stupid motherfucker, she’s having an asthma attack.”
K-P. K-P was there. He’d save her life.
“Fuck, she’s not doing that for attention?”
Through her fog, she saw K-P punch Matthew, who yelped in pain. A moment later, Matthew dragged Zoann to her feet and shoved her inhaler against her mouth. Matthew pumped the medicine into her four times, until she gasped for air and caught her breath, leaning against K-P, who wrapped her in his arms and rocked her.
“Calm down, babe. You got to. Patty wouldn’t want you so overworked,” he whispered kindly.
She nodded, knowing the wisdom of K-P’s words.
“You need to get to a hospital,” Matthew said gruffly, swiping at his bloody lip. “You and the kid.”
His words were the first time he’d acknowledged her pregnancy. He sounded so disinterested. She sucked in a breath, her heart slamming against her chest at the dawning realization that he didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby.
“You expecting, babe?” K-P asked in surprise.
She had to pull herself together. Though her heart had been ripped out, she had her baby to think of. But the tears wouldn’t stop. Each time she swiped her cheeks, more fell.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Should there be congratulations?”
She nodded again.
“Do I have to bust somebody’s head in?”
Sniffling, she smiled and shook her head.
“Who’s the daddy?”
“No one worth mentioning,” she said quietly, surprised when anger marched across Matthew’s features and he stiffened.
“Patty knew?”
A deep well of loss pitted her belly, but she had to stop crying. Tears did no one any good. Weak and tired, she wanted them to leave, so she could be alone. She had a bunch of photos of her mother and she’d go through each one of them. So she didn’t answer, just stared at her wall.
K-P came
to his feet. “I get it, babe. You want us to leave.”
He got the message. He always did. Matthew, on the other hand, never did and he didn’t move. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her.
“Come on, roach.”
“She needs to be checked out.”
“Fuck off,” she growled.
“I need to talk to her.”
K-P narrowed his one eye, assessing the situation a moment before growling in frustration and comprehension. “For fuck’s sake, Val,” he snarled, disgusted. “Can you keep your dick in your pants ever?”
“What are you talking about, Kitchen Bitch?” he snapped.
“I’m talking about kicking your fucking ass, pussy.” K-P glanced at Zoann. “You’re having his baby?”
She’d had it. “Get out. Both of you.”
K-P shook his head. “Call me if you need anything, babe,” he said and stomped away, leaving Matthew behind.
What could he say to her? If only Val knew. Words might escape him, but he couldn’t leave her so heartbroken and after an asthma attack. Jesus H. Christ. He never would’ve forgiven himself if he would’ve left and…God, what the fuck was wrong with him?
“What’s going on with the kid?”
Her nostrils flared and more tears filled her eyes. Fuck. Tears. He didn’t know what the fuck to do with them. He should’ve left her alone after the first time. In his defense, each time he went to her bed, he’d sworn he wouldn’t do it again.
Yeah, Zoann had a hard, bitter edge, but deep within her lived a little girl who searched for someone to protect her. Daddy issues made her too fucking needy. She’d dumped the whole burden of having an authoritative male figure on Outlaw’s shoulders, then got fucking pissed because he didn’t always have time for her.
Val wasn’t equipped to handle her bullshit and he definitely wasn’t ready to be a fucking father. He probably never would be. His folks had raised him the only way they’d known how, but, sometimes, he fucking hated them. He’d decided, once and for all, that, fuck yeah, they’d turned him into a sex maniac. They’d also shown him the destruction of emotions, especially attachments.
Then, he’d gotten into Zoann’s bed. The more he had her, the more he wanted her. The more he wanted her, the more power she had over him. But she refused to suck his dick and she refused to let him eat her pussy again. He’d decided he could try and overlook those two defects in her personality. He figured, eventually, she’d give in. She hadn’t. Instead, she’d talked about his club and he’d fucking lost it. After Outlaw had beaten his ass because he’d gone too fucking far in provoking the man.
The goal had been to make Rack believe a rift existed between Val and Outlaw, so Val could get the intel they needed, not only on the shooting but also on who else might be plotting Outlaw’s downfall with Snake.
But, fuck, Val could only think one Achilles’s heel—Meggie. He’d thought, maybe, Outlaw would let his comments slide in this situation, so he’d decided to have some fun and talk about Meggie’s pussy.
Motherfucking Outlaw had gone all stalker psycho on Val and had gotten killing mad for real.
So, yeah, by the time he went to Zoann and lied about how he got fucked up and she’d hit him with her bullshit, he’d stormed out and went to that motherfucking snake pit and called April. In the midst of fucking her, he’d realized that he didn’t really want her. He didn’t think he could do without sex and had never fucking tried. But he just couldn’t be with Zoann and that hurt the shit out of him. She made him feel and he fucking hated her for it.
Looking at her now, though…Jesus H. Christ, his head was all over the place. Snake had buried Outlaw alive. Val’s best friend had almost died last night. And Meggie? They’d touched her, jammed their fingers into her pussy until she’d screamed her voice away.
Val hadn’t been able to get away to free her. They’d brought her in and strapped her to Rack’s torture table. Shit had been happening too fast and it had only been him amidst an army of enemies. He’d had to keep himself alive to somehow figure shit out.
But, fuck him sideways in hell, they’d all went to a room and there in hell with him and Meggie had been Ellen and Kiera. Club ass, yeah, but chicks who did a lot for them around the club. They all liked the two of them. They’d looked at him like he was a piece of shit, believing he’d betrayed their beloved Outlaw. There hadn’t been shit Val could do.
He’d known then, down to his bones, he’d have to watch those girls die. If he revealed himself, then he’d fail in his purpose for being there. If Outlaw was dead, John Boy was still alive. He might’ve been nomad now, but he’d come back to avenge Outlaw and he’d need the information Val had been sent to get.
Snake had kept Meggie alive, though, and blown out Ellen’s and Kiera’s brains right in front of her. He hadn’t flinched. None of them had. Not even Val and he’d fucked both of them, but they were just collateral damage.
This was their chosen life.
Swallowing, he stared at Zoann, torn up to pieces inside. Had Patricia been collateral damage?
The question taunted him and he flinched, hurting for Zoann. She loved her mother so much. He’d loved his mother, too, and mourned her still. That’s why he’d gotten the teardrop tat. For the rest of his life, the boy in him would cry for the unknown whereabouts of her body. For the way that she’d died. And for the way she’d lived.
He blinked and stared at the ceiling. Would Meggie’s death have been collateral damage?
God, if she’d been killed and Outlaw had survived…
Val didn’t want to think about the scenario. Meggie’s murder would’ve ruined his best friend.
“Say what you have to say and leave,” Zoann demanded hoarsely.
He’d say the things he’d been wanting to say for a while to her, then, he’d get the fuck out. Ignore the fucking ache in his chest for her and for himself. For their baby.
Since he’d gotten the first message about her pregnancy, he’d dreamed of her having his baby and he’d dreamed of them being together. Not now, though. This wasn’t the life for her. Fuck, he didn’t even want to bring a baby into this world. “Are you keeping it?”
She shot him a dirty look.
“I take that as a yes.”
“Take it however the fuck you want to, asshole.”
“I don’t want it.” He didn’t know what the fuck to do with it. A son would be bad enough, but a fucking daughter with Zoann’s beauty? Val would just slit his fucking throat. In a few years, he’d be up on murder charges, anyway, for all the little dickheads who chased her. He rubbed his eyes, the memory of Kiera’s and Ellen’s heads exploding thumping in his head. “I don’t want a fucking kid,” he almost snarled, sick inside.
Those two hadn’t deserved to die like that. Fuck, Snake had fucked them himself. How the fuck could he just kill them?
Fuck. This was Snake. Val should expect no less. Sadistic motherfucker, partying in hell with Boss and Rack now.
“I don’t give a fuck if you want it or not. It’s mine. I’m keeping it and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.”
He gritted his teeth at her belligerence even as he wondered if his mother had ever protected him in such a manner. “This isn’t a playground toy, Zoann,” Val barked, balling his fists to keep from taking her into his arms and soothing the hurt away. Would she even let him? She hated sex. “This is a baby,” he continued, his gaze dropping to her flat belly.
“There’s no fucking time for ‘it’s not yours, it’s mine’.”
“Think what you want. But since the baby happens to be in my body, I get to choose what I want to do with it, so go fuck yourself. That’s all you’re fucking good at.”
“I have to be to get off a cold cunt like yours.”
“I hate you so fucking much, Matthew,” she cried on a sob, sounding so pitiful.
“If you hate me, then you’ll make my kid suffer. Better for you to get rid of it now then take out all your frustrations for me
on it.”
“Stop judging me by what you’d do. I’m not you. I’m ten times better than you or Christopher.”
“Keep telling yourself that. I don’t see it and I know you don’t either.”
She got to her feet and swayed a little.
“So I can’t fucking talk you out of getting rid of it?”
Her lips thinned and her eyes scanned the room. Val suspected she searched for a weapon to fuck him up with. K-P had already punched him once. He didn’t need Zoann hitting him, too.
“I’m bored with the same question, Matthew,” she said in a distant tone. “If you can’t come up with anything new, fucking leave.”
With nothing else to say, Val stalked past her and slammed the door closed, sick to his fucking stomach at the thought of being a father to an innocent little baby, but, in a fucked up way, thankful for Zoann, too.
Despite it all, she refused to destroy his baby. Somewhere, deep down, she saw something good enough in him that she wanted the life he’d helped to create.
He might not have thought himself worthy to pass on his fucked up genes, but, she did.
Somehow, in that moment, with his heart hurting and his head so screwed up, nothing else but Zoann’s decision mattered.
Chapter Nine
Almost thirteen months ago
It was storming outside, the wind howling and the lights flicking on and off. Zoann had no cell phone reception, something she desperately needed right now as a small bit of wetness ran down her thighs. Not a big gush like she’d expected, but enough to let her know her water had broken.
Twenty-five days too early, an intense pain hit her lower back, racing around to her belly and she groaned. Her baby was on the way. She’d have to make do and, hopefully, have enough strength to drive herself to the hospital after she delivered.
Really, Zoann?
Holding onto her cell phone and stumbling out of bed towards her bathroom, Zoann grabbed a stack of towels, then climbed into the tub, her body trembling in pain. Hating the dark, she kept the light on at night. Another contraction hit her and she gasped. They were…what? One minute apart now?
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 130