The hollers had faded but the hoots and wolf whistles hadn’t. When he lifted Annette back up, she flushed as the MC applauded, but rather than shy away, she ducked down into a deep curtsy.
Mars bellowed out a laugh that the rest of his men shared before they all went back to their beers and previous conversations.
As a slow James Bay song came on, shouts of discontent were aimed Mundo’s way. He’d been picked to be tonight’s DJ and it wasn’t the first time he’d selected a song that had the crowd booing and hissing. Each time, Mundo flipped the bird to the yard at large, uncaring if they liked or disliked his choice.
For himself, Mars was happy to have the slower songs, because it meant he could hold Annette in his arms. For that reason, he understood why the guys hated this kind of music—it wasn’t like they had a mate to slow dance with—but he knew Mundo was playing the tracks for him and Annette. It was sweet but Mundo was about to get his ass kicked so Mars had already decided this would be the last track before they headed on up to bed.
As the soft, sad sounds filled the air, he held Annette tightly in his arms, rocking to the music.
It probably looked incongruous. The big, bad biker dressed in leathers, his hair loose to his shoulders, the tats on his neck and arms exposed thanks to the wife beater and sleeveless cut he wore. He had his steel-toed boots on and dark jeans. In comparison, Annette was dressed like a lady. She had one of those old-fashioned A-line skirts on that flared as she danced, and the white of the petticoat underneath twirled about her legs. She had a thick red belt on that toned well with the black skirt and the white, tight bandeau she wore.
In comparison to him, she looked like an angel. Down from her chignon to the red-painted toes that were tucked into smart wedges.
Only a mate bond could bring them together. Only the Goddesses knew that someone who looked like her would ever share a soul with someone who looked like him.
The notion had him pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, and as the music faded and another song started, Mars led Annette from the grass to the terrace and back into the clubhouse.
The instant he left, a heavy duty Metallica track came on that had the men cheering and the building’s foundations rumbling.
Annette laughed at the transition, saying, “I’m guessing Mundo was playing those slow songs for us, huh?”
He grinned down at her as he led her through the bar and to the corridor that would take them to their quarters. “I thought as much when he put that last track on. I figured I’d best take us out of the equation before he got his ass kicked. I need him on that run tomorrow night.”
She snorted. “You’re all heart.”
That had him winking. “You’d be the one in the know; after all, it’s all yours.”
The teasing in his words disintegrated the instant he said them when he saw how they’d floored her. She dragged him to a halt, raised a hand to cup his cheek and whispered, “Do you really mean that?”
“You know I do,” he chided, reaching for that hand and pressing a kiss to the center of her palm.
She gulped. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Are you being serious? I’m the one who should be asking that question. I’ve dragged you here into the middle of a shooting, a challenge to the death, and a war with a cartel.” He shook his head. “It’s shameful the way I’ve endangered you.”
“You’d have endangered me more by never letting me know what and who you were to me.” She tugged at his hand. “I mean it, Mars. Nothing that has happened could ever make me regret meeting you.”
He licked suddenly dry lips. “I’m glad,” he told her, his voice a whisper. “I want to be everything you need, Annette.” The words were sappy and utterly unlike him, but the truth of it was, she made him that way.
She was his ultimate weakness and the bitch of it was, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Moisture filled her eyes, and the tears glinted like diamonds as they pooled and tumbled over into her lashes. He used a thumb to swipe them gently away as he murmured, “Hey, no tears.”
She bit her bottom lip a second, shaking her head at him as she tried to comport herself. “You know I feel the exact same way, don’t you, Mars?” she asked, an urgency to her tone that surprised even him.
“I do.” He smiled, then tugged at her hand and urged her down the path to her bedroom. I’ve known that since we first bonded, he told her using that special link that bound them together with a tie and a knot that were gifts from the Goddesses.
It was getting easier to communicate this way, and soon, he knew there would be times when speaking aloud would be a chore. He longed for that day because of what it signified—their mate bond would be so deeply entrenched, their levels of communication would astonish even the oldest of bound couples.
I’m glad, she replied. I know I do things my own way, Mars, and I know that can be irritating, but I’ll try to butt out in future.
That had him snorting. Even if I wanted you to butt out, which I only do if business compromises your safety, the rest of the council would probably argue otherwise.
You saved our asses, Annette. I was mad at the idea of you contacting the cops, I won’t lie. But honestly, you found the weak link in the chain between Martinez’s cartel and the mafia. He shrugged. That was a stroke of genius that saved so many of these guys’ lives. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. They might be dipshits but they’re my family.
I know they are; why do you think I was doing my damnedest to help out?
I know, I should have realized. He really should. He’d thought she was eager to write the article to get revenge on Martinez for his treatment of the women, and while that had certainly acted as motivation, he hadn’t known she’d been keeping tabs with Major on the status of the MC’s health.
After every run for the two weeks following their clash with Martinez at his warehouse, she’d asked after the riders. Dickie had later told him that after every conversation she’d had with Major, Annette had squirreled him away to translate for her as she tried to find a weak link in the women’s story that could help her unravel a cartel.
Five days ago, she’d published her nameless article, titled No Honor Amongst Thieves.
Three days ago, they’d gone on a run and for the first time, there had been no clash with an El Salvadorian gang loyal to Martinez.
Yesterday, they’d tried out their regular routes again, and the same thing had happened; nothing. Jarvis’s pristine planning had once again come to their aid, and they’d made a tidy profit on that particular shipment of LSD.
And today, to celebrate the fact her article had worked, they’d held a party in her honor.
Annette’s article had been more of an expose on the local mafia and gangs, discussing and explaining their allies and their enemies, their ties and their proclivities.
Subtly—and for all she’d known—making it up out of thin air, she’d explained how rivals worked together sometimes, if the deal was prosperous enough. She’d discussed how they did this under the nose of the head branch, risking the lives of their own foot soldiers for a profit. She’d loosely mentioned a cartel managed by an El Salvadoran with a penchant for silk shirts working with a branch of the Ukrainian mafia.
Mars had bought the copy of the paper, stuffed it in an envelope, and had posted it to the Odessa branch up in Brooklyn himself.
The article hadn’t been factual; instead, had relied upon conjecture and supposition. Both of which had obviously turned out to be true for the skirmishes to have stopped.
Annette had changed him. Mars knew that. She’d changed him in ways that were impossible to calculate. He knew a part of that was down to the mating bond, another to the blood sacrifice he’d had to make to save her. Either way, she’d enhanced the best parts and softened the worst.
Case in point this situation with the cartel.
Five months ago, he wouldn’t have given a damn about their being at war with the cartel. He’d have h
urt for every lost brother, but that was the price of war with a bitter rival, and each brother knew that when he went on a ride. He’d done his duty as second in the council by promoting Jarvis and getting him to assign better, safer, and more profitable routes, but that was it.
Now, he cared. Each man that had returned from a run with a bullet wound or a broken limb thanks to a fight, he’d felt it deeply and had regretted the pain the other man suffered.
A part of him feared that she’d turned him soft, and maybe she had. Maybe that was the way it should be. He wouldn't deny he’d been relieved at the satisfaction he’d felt when news had trickled down from the police scanner about a skirmish between a Russian gang and one of Martinez’s. He’d felt a bloodcurdling amount of pleasure at the numbers both sides had lost.
As long as his people were all right, that was all that counted. And what else could be expected of a man who had run on the wrong side of the law for far longer than he’d run on the right side?
The mate bond could only do so much; it wasn’t a go-to miracle cure.
The thought had him smirking, and as he closed the door behind him and Annette, shutting out the MC and locking them into their own small world, the world that counted the most, he realized he was grateful for his dual nature.
The need to protect what was his, and the need to destroy what dared to hurt what was his…
It made him weaker and stronger. A better and worse leader. But more than anything, it made him a wiser and more foolish mate.
The dichotomy was something he knew would keep Annette on her toes, and for that, he was grateful.
She was a beautiful woman, but her intelligence was what she cherished more. Only an idiot would fail to see one before the other. And he was no idiot. The contradictions in his nature would ease her need to right the world, because she’d try to right their world. Her hunger to investigate and report, dutifully, on subjects would be quenched by the myriad situations that arose as part and parcel of being a member of an MC.
He’d noticed she was sleeping more, that she was more at ease. Her PTSD seemed to be under control; at least, he’d never seen her have an attack, and if any of his guys had, they’d have told him right away. The crazy universe he’d dragged her into might have been dangerous and filled with fragility, but he had the feeling it was exactly what she needed. It was her kind of crazy, as was he.
And as he kissed her, his hands dropping to her hips so he could drag her closer still, he thanked the Goddesses for his unusual and beloved mate, and deep inside, where his ties to the magic that freed his bear were housed, he felt sure the Goddesses were pleased by his thanks...
The End.
Battle Scarred
by
Becca Fanning
They had pulled up in front of the Golden Valley Community Center at exactly 9:43. Now, it was only four minutes until 10, and Toby still had made no move to open the door and head inside. Katrina Crawford sighed, putting her forehead on the steering wheel. She let out another sigh and leaned back in her seat, turning towards the man sitting beside her.
“I can’t do it, Kat,” he muttered under his breath, wringing his hands. He looked at the building nervously, as if by walking through the front doors he would be walking into a trap. Or Hell. Kat leaned across the seat, looking at the building. It was an older building made of old red brick, two stories dotted with more windows than she could count. Most windows were dark, but a few shone with harsh fluorescent lights that Kat had never gotten used to. Inside of one, a group of degenerates milled about, waiting until 10.
9:57. A couple of people started taking their seats in the big circle of chairs.
9:58. A man walked into the middle of them, a smile on his face. Kat couldn’t read lips, but she knew what kind of spiel he was giving. She hoped it would be enough.
“Toby, it’s time for you to go inside,” she said, her voice soft. She hadn’t seen her brother in months, maybe even an entire year – and the last thing she wanted to do was push him back out on the streets. “We agreed.”
“Yeah, Kat, I know, but maybe –”
“Toby,” she said, her voice still soft, but firm. Not enough for him to get defensive, she hoped, but enough to make him realize what the agreement was. “Remember our deal. You move in with me on certain conditions. And one of those conditions is that you start going to meetings.” Inside, a man greedily scarfed down half a donut and washed it down with some coffee out of a Styrofoam cup. “They even have free coffee and donuts! I’ll be joining you next time!”
“Ha, ha,” Toby said, looking over at the window. It was now 10 on the dot, and Toby hadn’t even reached for the door handle. She looked at her brother forlornly – his weeks’ worth of stubble, just wild enough that you could tell her didn’t care about how he looked. His dark, brown mess of a hair wasn’t much better, but at least you couldn’t tell with the hood of his stained hoodie pulled up over it. His jeans, if you could still call them that, were barely more than holes held together by thread, and not in the trendy way.
Kat looked down at his dirty hands. His knuckles were bruised, flecks of dried blood still on them. She wondered how that had come to be, but decided it was better not to dwell on it. Dirt was encrusted under his fingernails.
Kat looked down at her own, comparing them. Hers were immaculately manicured. Her clothes were perfectly matched, specially chosen for her night in the lab. Her hair had been done up into a tight bun, yet the bun was deliberately symmetrical. She was tidy and neat to a fault; in her world, you had to be. She followed a system. You had to have a system for things, had to have habits. She knew that without them, her job – her life – would be unreliable. Undependable.
And that was Toby’s problem: he didn’t have a system. He had habits, sure, but not the ones he needed. He was wild, his life was chaotic, and there was no order. Kat loved him more than she could express, but she was forced to admit she didn’t have the slightest clue how they could be related. Her life revolved around order, neatness, and attention to detail. His was the complete opposite.
She looked back up at his worn face. She hadn’t asked where he’d been this past year, but in their brief snippets of what was almost conversation after he’d shown up on her doorstep, she knew it hadn’t been good. He’d been homeless, forced to spend his days begging for change and spending his nights shivering under bridges.
He was different from what she remembered. But underneath that, he was still the same brother she’d always known. The same brother she’d always loved. The only family she had left.
“Have you ever been to one of these meetings, Kat? They’re not fun.”
Kat shook her head, surprised to find that Toby had been before. “No, Toby, I haven’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that you still need to go in there. Just… keep an open mind about this one.”
“Easy for you to say. What do they always say? Something about cutting ties with all of those bad people in your life, putting yourself in a positive situation? Staying away from the junk that put you in this position in the first place?”
“Yeah, that’s what they say.”
“Then why the hell would I want to go to a meeting full of addicts? Listening to them moan about their problems – they lost their job, lost their family, spent all their money on drugs. It’s all the same, everywhere you go. Everyone you listen to has the same sob story, over and over. It makes me go crazy. No one can take any responsibility for their actions. And you know what, Kat? You know what these meetings really do to me?” He paused, and Kat was too afraid to answer. “They make me want to use again.”
“Did you think it would be easy? Getting clean? Finally taking control of your life? It’s not going to be easy, Toby. That’s just not how life works. Either you get in there, or you get out of my car and don’t bother coming back home.” Kat clamped her mouth shut, afraid that she’d finally pushed her brother too far. It was a delicate balance with him, it always had been, and Kat was usually ab
le to deal with it in a smart manner. This time, she’d gone too far.
MARS (BBW Bear Shifter MC Romance) (MC Bear Mates Book 1) Page 18