by A. C. Bextor
She yelps when I bend, lift her in the air, and toss her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before I’m on her. Sliding inside her, I groan with satisfaction.
So fucking perfect.
“Oh God. Please, Liam. Don’t stop.”
Swallowing her moans with my own, I cover her mouth, my tongue diving in with each thrust into her.
Vicious.
Raw.
Carnal.
All fucking mine.
As she clutches my cock from inside, her fingers dig into my back and she gives me exactly what she said she wouldn’t beg for.
And in return, I give her the same.
“Well, look who finally made their way here!” Abram smiles as we enter. Quickly walking toward us, he slows and then wraps me in his arm. He kisses my temple, his lips lingering as he smiles like he’s known me all my life.
Maybe in some ways, through Faina, he thinks he has.
“Keep your dirty Russian hands to yourself,” Pete jokes, and I hold my breath.
Too soon, Pete. Much too soon.
I’m not sure a comment like that will ever been funny. Thankfully Abram laughs.
“Pete doesn’t mean what he says,” Abram replies, draping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me tightly into his side. “We’re all family now.”
When Vlad had one of his men contact Liam, he was hesitant to accept the invitation to Saint’s Justice for a member’s going away party. The last time I was here, my experience was terrifying. Liam feared I’d stress.
Elevent had Chase’s death confirmed. When Liam told me, I felt nothing. No pity. No remorse. Nothing.
Elevent also confirmed Thanatos has been taken care of.
And in this club, no threats will come. Namely because Vlad is sitting at the bar as sentry. He appears incredibly uncomfortable in a roomful of bikers. It’s good he has Klara at his side, held closely to him. He’s merely tolerating this get-together, just like Killian, who also stands at his wife’s side.
Nothing in here looks as Liam described. The floor is clean, the bar is stocked, the guests are laughing as they mingle and the families in attendance come from various backgrounds. The place has become a melting pot of Chicago’s finest criminals.
Three weeks have passed since I found out about a life I had no knowledge of. In that time, my emotions have gone from regret in never knowing Faina and forth to being glad I still have Pete.
Not to mention, Liam and I are happily living together in his condo. We’re far enough away from the chaos of our families but close enough that we’re safe to visit when the mood strikes.
Not a day has passed where I haven’t seen Pete. He stops over all the time, mainly to see me but also because he’s bored and out of work. His health has improved and, with my encouragement, he’s been much easier to treat.
The only person I haven’t seen since what happened is Vlad. He’s kept his distance, but his wife hasn’t. Klara has called a few times, explaining that Vlad is still coming to terms and it must be done in his own time. She’s reassured me that things will progress and eventually the family will be as one.
Vlad’s son, Veni, has been texting, though. He’s busy now that Vlad has taken over a few operations Ciro left behind in way of business, but like Klara, he’s stated that Vlad will come around. From what Veni said, Vlad is elated to have a living piece of Faina, but he’s just not sure what to do with me yet.
The Palleshi estate has been abandoned. The kids Ciro had been recruiting are being cared for under Calloy’s supervision. Jamal is temporarily staying with him and Angelina.
No one misses Ciro. I’d expected Liam to feel remorse after the initial shock of what he’d done wore off. He didn’t. He says waking up together each morning, having us safe, me cared for and loved has been his life’s biggest reward. Now that he’s back at the hospital full time, it’s as if our lives are quickly back to what they once were.
“Vlad is waiting to see you,” Abram tells me. “My boss is nervous.”
“I wish he wasn’t,” I return with clear understanding.
Abram laughs. “You’ll get to know him and his tension will ease. He’s a little—”
“Bit of a brute,” Pete finishes.
“Pete,” Liam calls, shaking his head.
Now that Pete’s in control of his illness, he’s also in full swing of his charismatic ways.
“Come,” Abram says. “Let’s go show you off.”
Nodding, I kiss Liam’s cheek and then Pete’s before accepting Abram’s hand. As we turn into the crowd, Elevent stops us, his eyes smiling as his lips curve. Bending, he brushes them against my cheek.
Liam swears he’s still an ass and that will never change, but since Elevent did all he had for us, he’s willing to let go of the animosity between them.
“Wren,” Elevent greets. “Glad you and Liam could make it.”
“Thank you. How are things?”
“Not your worry. Go on, have fun. Cricket’s been waitin’ for you and she hasn’t been patient. She’s drivin’ the guys nuts.”
Giggling, I take Abram’s hand once again and he leads us to the center of the room.
“So I see I’m not the only one with a mind to escape the chaos,” Vlad laughs, coming to stand at my side, holding a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “May I sit with you for a few minutes?”
The Russian mob boss casts his eyes down, likely waiting for me to refuse his interruptive invitation, but I never would. After all he and his family have done for Wren and me, we owe them more than we could ever return.
Vlad is wearing a black suit fitted to his large frame. His face, as always, remains impassive, telling nothing he’s not absolutely willing to give away.
“I stepped out to catch my breath,” I return, pointing to the chair on the other side of the table.
Before his arrival, I’d been sitting out on the same balcony Elevent and I had sat around weeks ago. The air is just as bitter and cold, the night sky just as eerie but now dark.
So little outside my world has changed, but inside it’s all crumbled.
“You worry you’ve made choices you shouldn’t have,” Vlad assumes, pulling my attention and pouring two drinks.
Handing me one half-full, he tilts his head, signaling I’ve no choice but to accept. I do and he sits.
“You know, there’s a theory told from Indians that says there are two wolves who battle inside every man. One is evil, its heart jealous and full of hate. The other is good—its heart loves, prospering with truth and honor.”
I stare at Vlad’s profile as he looks into the empty yard and continues.
“I don’t believe Ciro ever possessed the capability of telling the truth or embracing honor. You may worry about your choice—”
“Not worry,” I assure. “Not exactly.”
“Regret, then,” he guesses.
“Not that either.”
“Then what’s weighing so heavily on your mind, Liam?”
When I turn my gaze to his, Vlad studies me with care. As if he can expose all that’s confusing, all that’s ruminating in my mind. If only he could decipher it so I don’t need to explain.
“I’m not sure what I’m expected to do now,” I give him the truth, unsure if he knows what to do with it. “What’s left of Ciro’s life is mine.”
“No. What’s left of your life is your own. There aren’t any shadows standing behind you anymore.”
“I want to marry her,” I blurt. “When the time is right.”
“Do you love Wren?”
“Yes.”
“And she loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Then other than now, when will the time be more right?”
I don’t know.
“As you may have heard, Klara and I never had what others deemed a traditional start to our relationship.” He smiles and mine follows.
I have heard this. When Pete found out all those years ago that Vlad had taken a woman, I’d heard him speakin
g to one of Ciro’s men, the surprise in his tone evident. Yet beneath the facade of hate Pete was supposed to have for the Zalesky family, I also heard remnants of admiration. He admired Vlad for finding someone who loved him, even with all of his flaws.
“You and Wren haven’t had much of a traditional start to your relationship either,” he notes.
“She’s still adjusting to her new life.”
“She’s happy? With her new family?”
“Yes. Very. She and Pete have always had an unexplainable bond. She loves him very much.”
“I like him,” Vlad comments, looking out into the dirty yard again. Only bare trees and dead weeds decorate the back of the club. “Killian’s always trusted him.”
“They’re both good people. I’m lucky to have them.”
Standing, Vlad sets his glass on the table. He slides his hands in his suit pockets and stares down, the weight of his gaze both curious and demonstrative.
“Wren was already yours before we ever met. You’ll get no interference from me, as long as you promise to take care of her as her family would.”
I nod. “Fair.”
“But if you or anyone else harms Wren in any way, this is your only warning. It’ll be the last you ever do.”
Thinking of his initial lesson in the way of wolves as he described, I ask, “Which wolf inside a man wins? If there were two in Ciro, why was he the way he was?”
Vlad smiles, cruel and uneasy. “Ciro fed the wrong one inside him. His end was his fault, Liam. Not yours. Don’t carry the burden anymore.”
“Thank you,” I tell him for the first time.
“You can thank me by coming back inside. Wren has claimed Klara from me, and I’d like to take my beautiful girl home soon.”
Gypsy stands alone, leaning back against the wall of the Saint’s Justice common room. His thick tattooed arms are tight across his chest as he wordlessly seethes at the scene in front of him.
Leglas, his brother and vice president, grasps Cricket’s waist in his calloused hands. He pulls her back to his front only to lean in and playfully kiss her neck. Leglas’s eyes meet Gypsy’s, and his gut stirs with jealousy, anger, and hatred.
Gypsy had his chance and he fucking blew it. While he was figuring out which path in this life he wanted to take, the love of that life had fallen into someone else’s bed.
Another brother in the club.
Go fucking figure.
Years have passed since the night Cricket came to his room where he’d been trying to sleep off a drunk along with all thoughts of her. He’d wanted her for his own for a long time, and he’d loved her even before realizing it. He tried to fight his feelings, but the pull between them was too strong. She insisted he’d be the one, and he gave in without much of a fight. She’d given him the most honorable gift a woman can give.
Then he’d left her.
The fateful day the two met, Cricket had been only eleven years old. Gypsy had been on a dangerous but lucrative run for the club in what was to be one of his first initiation assignments. At the time, his father was chapter president, so growing up, his life was always with the brothers. But living a half-life spent breaking the law and doing deeds for the dirty wasn’t his passion. His heart had always called him to serve his country. And he wanted to do it by helping others heal.
The charismatic young girl—Cricket, as he coined her—stood outside a roomful of armed men who were in the midst of negotiating a high-payoff drug deal. When Gypsy caught the young Cricket peering around a corner and listening in, he questioned the dealer on why a child of her age was free to lurk around. The dirty dealer advised the kid wouldn’t be around for long; she’d already been sold and was set to be carted off the next day.
Without his knowledge, Gypsy had walked himself into not only a gang of drug dealers but human flesh traders as well.
“The party is winding down,” Tasia observes. “You heading to your room after?”
Tasia, a woman Gypsy’s been fucking in place of the one he loves, is blatantly aware of the status of their relationship. She understands her place in his bed, knowing that Gypsy’s heart has always been in another’s.
“Yeah, in a few. Go on, and I’ll be up soon.”
Tasia rises on her toes, her height nowhere near Gypsy’s, and kisses his cheek. “I’ll wait up.”
As she scurries off, Gypsy turns his attention back to the crowd, eyeing the emptying room.
Parties at the club aren’t unheard of, but they aren’t put on as often as they used to be. Time for celebration has been sparse. Elevent keeps the brothers busy and lives by the idiom of what idle hands are capable of. He doesn’t allow the brothers to stray—not into trouble, not into laziness, and most importantly never into another brother’s woman.
Except the one time.
“You’re leaving soon,” Wren observes, coming to his side and looking at what he hasn’t been able to turn away from. “And you’re leaving her behind to do it.”
Gypsy turns to the beautiful girl he’s watched come into her own before his very eyes. Wren is a fighter, giving way to her roots. He’d heard Faina Zalesky was a force to be reckoned with. And not only is Wren part Russian, but she’s also the daughter of an Italian. Fighting for her life and those she loves comes naturally; it’s in her blood. She fought that bloody battle in a blaze of glory—and won.
His fiery little friend is also right. He is leaving. The time has come to find a life, and it can’t be the one he allowed this one to become.
Gypsy shrugs. “You’re safe. Shit here is quiet. With Palleshi dead, both will stay that way. I’m out.”
“You’ll miss your brothers.”
He will, but the brothers will stay in touch. Those he cares about, anyway. Those he doesn’t no longer matter.
Namely Leglas. The fuck.
“I’ll miss a few things,” he admits.
“Are you sure you want to leave? I mean—”
Wren. Crazy woman who deserved a better life than the one fate gave her.
“I want to leave,” he assures.
“She doesn’t love him,” Wren insists. “Not at all. But he’s a man who gives her what she needs.”
Arching an eyebrow, his curiousness gets the better of him. “And what’s that?”
“What every woman needs. Someone or something to care about.”
“I can’t give her that.”
“I don’t think you’ve tried.”
Smirking at her annoyed tone, along with her determination, Gyspy returns, “You’re a pain in the ass. You know that?”
Wren smiles, and he contemplates once again what a lucky bastard Liam Dawson is.
“I am a pain in the ass, but I’m also your friend.”
“You are. Now get outta here so I can hit the road.”
As Tasia did, Wren stands on her toes, leans in, and kisses his cheek. Before moving away, she squeezes his shoulder and states her final piece. “No one else can have her, Gypsy. She’s always been yours. Follow your heart and maybe you’ll see that you’re in hers, too.”
Once Wren walks away, the scuttle of boots approaches from behind. He doesn’t turn to look who it may be because it doesn’t matter. The only person in the room he sees is Cricket.
“Gonna have to ask you to delay your exit plans, brother,” Elevent’s dark voice says. “Got some heavy shit headed our way.”
Turning his back to the crowd, namely the view of Leglas pawing Cricket in front of everyone, he gives Elevent his attention. “What’s this?”
“We got problems.”
“That’s new?” Gypsy sarcastically counters.
“Your ol’ man is on the way here as we speak.”
Gypsy’s dad hasn’t been back to the club since he left it in the hands of Elevent all those years ago. Once he officially transferred the gavel to his best friend, Pop and Eleanor Davies left Chicago for Detroit and never looked back.
Elevent continues with more shocking news. “Cricket’s dad’s out
of prison and on parole. And I have on good authority that he’s coming here to get to her.” He looks beyond Gypsy’s shoulder. “Her old man has already tied himself to Dark Arrows MC.”
A terrifying shriek rips through Gypsy’s ears, so piercing and loud he wonders if Elevent can hear it. Arrows motorcycle club is about thirty miles south of the city. Their reputation is such that no one goes near their territory let alone steps foot on it.
“What the fuck? How long have you known this shit?”
Elevent nods but doesn’t elaborate on the club’s colossal fuckup. Rather, he requests, “Does it matter? You’ve been hell-bent on leaving so you could start over or whatever the fuck you’re thinking about doing, but I’m asking as a favor to me that you reconsider.”
“Shit.”
“I’m asking you to stay.”
“Fuck.”
“Cricket is part of this family, Gypsy.”
“Yeah.”
“You saw to that. Fought to keep her in a motorcycle club as a kid, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah.”
“Sort your shit. Sort her shit. I don’t give a fuck which one of you the bitch ends up with, but Gypsy, I need you on this. This club needs you on this. Your father will also need you. He and Bynes go back. There’s a lot of history there. Bad history. You know it, and I know it. So you and Leglas need to come to terms and do it quick. There’s another war coming, and this time the men carrying guns aren’t wearing suits. They’re wearing fuckin’ cuts.”
Christ.
“No way we can handle Dark Arrows on our own, El. Even you gotta know that,” Gypsy warns.
Looking around the room at the vast array of dangerous guests who are present, Elevent smiles. “Why the hell do you think I invited all these people here? No better men to have at your back than Vlad Zalesky and Killian Dawson.”
Fuck.
Ashleigh Hoodkiller: Maestro and Monkey are not only back, we’re badass back! Liam is done. Finally. The next time I say, “I want to write a book about a doctor,” please don’t let me walk down the dark road. Let’s make him sweet and kind.