Burning Ember

by Darby Briar

  I never even got to do that. Hold my own child.

  “That girl has the heart of a mother, though she’s not one yet. She reminds me of my grams. She was the salt of the earth and everyone knew my grandpa was the luckiest son of a bitch because women like that are hard as hell to find.”

  Beats of silence spread between us. I see the truth of her words before my eyes.

  “I hear you’re responsible for that bandage on her neck.”

  Holy fuck! I’m going to find out who’s ratting to her and break their fucking neck, after I cut out their tongue. “Who told you that?”

  She raises a brow. “I have my sources.”

  I chuckle darkly. I’ve never doubted that she knows almost everything that goes down at the clubhouse. Cap must have too, because he kept Becca in an apartment across town. She wasn’t allowed to live at the clubhouse.

  “You know, Edge won’t care who he fucks when he gets out. Star or Jade. Either clubpiece is just as good as the next. It would be a shame to turn that beautiful girl into something ugly when she’s so obviously somethin’ special.”

  She pats my face roughly, right over the bruise her son gave me. “She’s old lady material, Mav. Anyone who can’t see that is a fool.” Then she hammers the last nail in the coffin. “Dozer’s smart, but I thought you were smarter.”

  She looks over at her son pensively. “He made a good decision speakin’ up for her though, so maybe he’ll make another good decision and claim her before the party.”

  Over. My. Dead. Fucking. Body.

  I grind my teeth and my skin tightens all over. I grunt and cross my arms. Not only has she insulted my intelligence, but she’s also prodding at the jealous feelings that stir inside me every time I see Doll with Dozer. She’s right, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell her so.

  “God knows I’m not always gonna be around to take care of you boys, especially if somethin’ happens to Cap. It would do my heart good, havin’ an old lady like her around.”

  Fighting solves nothing . . . That’s bullshit. Fighting solves a whole hell of a lot.

  MAVERICK

  I push through the swinging door of the kitchen expecting to find Doll alone, but what I find instead is a leather cut, and the back of Dozer’s head.

  “Septic’s gonna kill me. I was supposed to be at the hospital twenty minutes ago,” Dozer says hoarsely. “But I was hopin’ to get a minute alone with you. Maybe get a kiss to tide me over for the night.”

  He’s standing against the counter, and on either side of his hips are feminine legs. Legs that he’s currently running his hands over. Legs that look a hell of a lot like the ones I was eye-fucking not ten minutes ago.

  My pulse goes from a steady beat to a fast thump, thump, thump in an instant.

  Dozer’s head bends forward. The airs discharges from my lungs. The need to haul him off her and rearrange the bone structure of his face grabs hold of me.

  I’m about to do so when I hear Doll speak.

  “Did you talk to Mav?”

  Dozer groans and lifts his head. “No. Not yet. Haven’t gotten a chance to.”

  Every cell in my body revolts. “Talk to me about what?”

  Dozer spins around. His hands go up defensively. “Mav, it’s not—”

  “Save it. Been standin’ here long enough to know what it is.” He was going to kiss her. Questions run rampant through my mind . . . Was she going to let him? Has he kissed her before? Have they done more than that? Fuck. All the times I walked past his door and heard them on the other side . . .

  What in the ever-loving fuck have they been doing?

  Doll slowly slips off the counter. I try to find the answers in her expression but she won’t look at me. In fact, her eyes stay focused on the floor. Her cheeks though are beet red.

  “I agreed she’d be for Edge,” Dozer starts, “but—”

  Oh no. NO! Fuck no. He’s not doing this. “No but’s. That’s the fuckin’ deal you made, brother.”

  I say it because I can’t fuckin’ tell him the truth. That I want the same goddamn thing he wants. Doll to myself, and to put an end to her being a present for Edge.

  The last thing I need is Dozer and me going head to head right now. Not when we’re going for a stroll in Greenback territory without them knowing. And I sure as hell am not going to play tug a war with Doll when she’s right here and already skittish.

  I’m also a little terrified that if it came down to it and we made her choose right now, she wouldn’t fucking choose me. Why would she? From day one I’ve been making her life miserable. And Dozer’s been protecting her.

  What I need is time. Time to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do, and time to prove to Doll that I’m not the asshole I’ve been.

  To Doll, I bark, “Pack your shit. You’re not stayin’ here anymore.” I don’t want her here while I’m gone. Obviously, I can’t trust my brothers to keep their fuckin’ hands to themselves.

  Her head snaps up and worry fills her eyes.

  Yes, there’s probably a better way to approach this, because I’m not winning any points still acting like a dick, but I can’t help it. I’m pissed. I’m jealous as fuck, and I’ve never been on the losing end of this game before.

  Charging toward me, Dozer gets right up into my face. Nose to fuckin’ nose with me. “You want to dole out punishment . . . I’m right the fuck here. You’re not sendin’ her packin’ because of somethin’ I tried to do. Fuck, she didn’t even want me to.”

  The admission is music to my fucking ears. But I push it to the back of my mind to think on later. I stare him dead in the eyes. “I let you beat on me last night because I had it comin’. But if you don’t step off me right the fuck now, we will throw down. And I won’t be the only one bleedin’ this time. That what you want?” His nostril’s flare and the muscles in his neck flex. I see in his eyes that he wants to hit me. Instead, he draws in a big breath and steps back.

  “I stepped up because you wouldn’t. Now I’m runnin’ this fuckin’ club and since I can’t trust you all to keep your hands off her, I’m makin’ some changes. Her being here for you to take advantage of is one of them. Plus, we gotta hit the fuckin’ road. As it is, we’re gonna be drivin’ all night. And she’s not stayin’ here while we’re gone.”

  His brows are pinched together. “Hit the road . . . and go where?”

  “Whiz has a lead on our witness. We leave in an hour. She’ll stay with one of the old ladies until we get back.”

  Before I leave, I tell Doll, “Get your stuff, and come find me.”

  Dozer hollers after me, “Mav, where the fuck you takin’ her?”

  I stop midway through the swinging doors, and ask over my shoulder, “What? Don’t you trust me, brother? I give you my word she’ll be in good hands. That should be good enough for you. Right? My word.”

  In the main room, I slap Taz on the back. “Headed out to the garage. Need to blow off some steam. You in?”

  He rolls his shoulders and stands. A crazy fucking grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

  EMBER

  Mav told me to pack a bag, but I don’t need to. It’s already packed, ready, and waiting. So, here I sit on Dozer’s beige bed, staring at his blank walls, in his overly plain and impersonal room, letting time tick by as I chew on my thumbnail and worry if the near kiss I had with Dozer will turn Mav against me yet again.

  It seemed to. Dozer’s declaration didn’t help matters either. Not only did it make my lunch curdle in my stomach, but also it brought out the same sharp-tongued devil I met the day I came here.

  Luce.

  I don’t know how I could have prevented it from happening though. I’d been standing in the kitchen scrubbing a plate, when Dozer’s large body pinned me to the counter. At first, I thought it was Mav. I secretly hoped it was Mav. Then Dozer’s woodsy scent swirled around me, and his massive hands gripped my hips. I tried to play it off, made up some pitiful excuse about needing to fini
sh the dishes. Dozer simply took the plate from my hands, dropped it back into the sink, and turned me to face him. In one quick move, he planted me on the counter, spread my legs, and stood between them.

  He asked for a kiss before he left for the hospital. But I still had the taste of Mav on my lips. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I stalled.

  What are the odds Mav would choose that moment to walk in on us?

  Now, I can only imagine what he thinks of me.

  Griz is sitting on the far side of the main room with Grinder and a pretty blonde hang around. I approach their table and ask, “Have you seen Mav?”

  “In the garage sweetheart.” His eyes swing to the bag I’m carrying. “You goin’ somewhere?”

  “I guess I’m staying with one of the old ladies while Mav’s gone.”

  He smiles, slaps his leg, and slowly stands. “Good.” He palms his ginger beard and smoothes it down. “That the reason Dozer tore outta here?”

  “Yeah. That and he wanted to spend some time at the hospital before him and Mav head out,” I say, not wanting to go into further detail.

  He pumps his chin toward the front door. “C’mon, I’ll show ya where to go.” Griz walks me to the sheet metal garage on the other side of the courtyard. After opening the door, he gestures me inside. “In the back,” he says, leaving me to find Mav on my own.

  The garage is massive and dimly lit. What sunlight there is comes from windows set about fifteen feet off the ground. The air’s cooler in here than outside, but also muggy and reeks of oil and gas. So strongly that it burns my nose and reminds me of things I’d rather not remember. Like Warner. Eight-foot high flames. And the deafening cry of a fire truck siren.

  I force those thoughts to the back of my mind as I cautiously make my way through the clutter of cars, motorcycles, tools, and toolboxes.

  It’s not until I come around a far wall that I spy them.

  Mav is in a boxing ring facing me, and Taz with his back to me. They’re both shirtless and circling each other. They’re wearing boxing gloves and holding their hands up to block their faces. Taz is bouncing around, whereas Mav is more centered, focused, and firm footed.

  I stay partially hidden in the dark. I don’t want to interrupt the match and put an end to this delectable show. Not when I can watch Mav from afar without him knowing.

  Because he’s quite the sight.

  Perspiration drips like honey from his temple to jaw line, and neck to chest. The light from the bulb hanging above him reflects off the moisture coating the dips and valleys of his pecs and ropy abs. Sex appeal radiates off him in waves, and I’m suddenly incapable of looking at anything else. He’s not thick and throwing muscles everywhere like Taz, but taut in all the right places. Lean hips, nice arms, a small six-pack, and dear God he wears those jeans as if they were made just for him.

  The color of his skin is like the color of the Pacific Coast sand when wet. The kind you want to touch and feel under your hands all day.

  My eyes roam over the rest of him. The chain around his neck. The words inked across his chest and the small angel on his arm. The one I’ve seen hints of under his sleeve, but have never seen before. It’s beautiful in a broken and mysterious way, and it calls to the part of me that is insanely curious about him.

  In a quick move, Mav throws a jab. But Taz dodges it by rapidly swinging his head to the side a split second before it connects. They trade places and Mav puts his back to me.

  When he does, my eyes roam over the biggest tattoo I’ve ever seen. The HOC colors as the boys call them. The HOC insignia spans from the top of his spine to his lower back. It’s massive. The middle arrow of the chaos symbol follows the line of his vertebrae. It sinks under the hem of his jeans, and as he moves, the muscles in his back bulge and pop, making the image dance. It’s so damn sexy I have to clench my thighs together to fight the ache building between them.

  I’d like to trace the design. Every line, every nuance. The wings. The arrows. The banner with the words that every HOC besides Mav lives by, Revel in chaos, regret nothing.

  Mav’s the exception.

  Because Mav is full of regrets.

  Taz’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Gettin’ slow, brother.” He bounces on his feet and moves to the side. He moves fast, throws a punch, and lands a solid blow to Mav’s ribs.

  An oomph sound escapes Mav and a grimace spreads across his face.

  Taz chuckles. “Shit man, you’re gettin’ soft. Or should I say hard. The stray still got your head spinnin’ but not the head above your should—”

  Mav throws a jab and slams his fist into Taz’s cheek, cutting off whatever he was going to say.

  “Fuck!” Taz laughs, cups his jaw, and rubs it with his glove. His laugh comes out manic and unstable. “Damn, that one’s gonna leave a mark. Hey, maybe I can get her to kiss it better.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Mav walks to the ropes. He says just loud enough for me to hear, “Try it, and Doc will be wirin’ your jaw shut.”

  Taz finds his response hilarious.

  I readjust the heavy bag on my shoulder and as I do, it knocks a wrench on a shelf and sends it clanging to the floor. I cringe as the noise echoes and both men turn toward me.

  There’s no point in hiding anymore, so with my head down I trudge forward until I’m a few feet from the ring.

  Taz leans with crossed arms on the top rope and peers down at me. “You wanna go a couple of rounds with me, little stray?” The side of his mouth lifts. “If it’s your first time, I’ll take it nice and easy on ya. Go as slow as you like. Don’t worry, it only stings for a sec.” His cunning smile tells me he’s not talking about boxing.

  Rolling my eyes, I say to Mav, “I’m ready when you are.”

  His eyes pierce me where I stand as they take me in. He blinks, but doesn’t say a thing. In fact, I’m beginning to doubt he heard me at all. His head is tilted down and he’s looking at me through those thick, black lashes, which make his eyes appear darker than normal. Bringing one glove up to his mouth, he bites the strings to loosen them while keeping his eyes on me.

  “How about you throw a few with Mav? Or is it Luce? I’m so confused.” Taz grins and glances at Mav, then back to me.

  I shake my head. “No. Pretty sure he’d hurt me.” Mav’s eyes narrow further at that comment. Maybe because just a few hours ago he promised not to hurt you anymore.

  “I’ll hold him while you get a couple good licks in,” Taz offers.

  I can’t deny that hitting Mav, getting a little revenge, sounds satisfying. I smile a little to myself at the thought. I look up to see Mav scrutinizing my face. He lifts his hand and scrapes his thumbnail over his bottom lip. Meanwhile, his eyes run down my body and back up.

  My core tightens and my nipples turn rock hard.

  A wicked smile slides across his mouth and my heart quickens. “You want a piece of me, Doll?” His accent stretches his vowels and the gruffness of his voice sends a pleasant flutter through my lower abdomen.

  Damn him. Even though my brain is screaming YES, I say, “Nope.”

  Maybe it’d be better if I wait for him outside. The fresh air might help me keep dirty thoughts from running rampant through my mind.

  “C’mon. Here’s your chance at a free shot. Time to let out some of that fire you keep under wraps,” says the devil’s pit bull.

  “Fire?” The word has chills rising on my neck.

  “That Irish temper, Doll,” Mav replies.

  “Time to be real, little stray,” Taz adds.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask incredulously. “That I’m usually fake?”

  They share a look, some kind of silent communication. When they look back at me, Taz smirks. “Why do you think he calls you, Doll?”

  What?

  A hot and heavy rock hits the bottom of my stomach. My gaze swings to Mav. “That’s why you call me Doll?” I knew it wasn’t a compliment. But I thought maybe, it was about my height.


  Mav glares at Taz for a moment then his gaze swings to me. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re not denying it, are you?” Grinding my teeth, I wait for his reply. His silence drives me to act. “One punch,” I say, dropping my bag to the floor. “If I hit you, you’re not going to do anything?”

  The side of his mouth twitches as if to smile. “I won’t move a muscle.”

  Taz helps me put on the gloves. I’m fired up and ready to lay into Mav until I turn around to face him. When I meet his eyes, I freeze as doubt circles through me.

  What if this is a trick?

  He steps closer. “Eye for an eye. Blood for blood. How shit works here. I owe you this, Doll. I spilt yours. Do your best to spill mine.”

  Then I realize I’m forgetting one vital thing. I have no idea how to throw a punch. I mean, I get the mechanics, but I heard of people breaking their hands throwing a punch and the last thing I need is a broken hand.

  Mav raises an eyebrow. “Change your mind?”

  “I’ve never thrown a punch before.”

  He peers over my shoulder, makes some noise in the back of his throat, then mutters, “I’ll show her.”

  Taz snorts and chuckles.

  Mav steps into my personal space. First, he straights my wrist. “Keep this straight and strong.” I do what he says. “Good. But it takes more than your fist and your arm to throw a punch.” Taking my fist, he guides it in slow motion to his damaged yet beautiful face. “See, that’s weak. But use your whole body . . .” He puts a hand on my stomach. “Tighten these muscles here.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me. My muscles automatically contract as I fight not to show how much his touch affects me. His hand even over my shirt sends sparks of electricity firing through my nerve endings.

  “Good.” Grabbing my hips, he twists my body forward. “Now put those together.” We do it together in slow motion. Three, four, and then five times, me pushing my fist out and him twisting my hips.

  “Perfect, Doll.”

  Perfect Doll.

  Irritation pings through me at the nickname and its meaning. However, it’s quickly drowned out by the flames fanning out from his hands on me; the intoxicating scent of him that’s overwhelming my senses. This time, his scent isn’t cloaked by tobacco. It’s all him. His scent. His sweat. All Mav.