DUKE: A Alpha Male Bad Boy Millionaire MC Romance (New Adult & Contemporary Romance)

by Jax Hart

  “Give me a minute?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  I reach up to press a kiss on his cheek, “Thanks.”

  I round the corner, stopping short. Fifty large, burly men sit in tribute. They turn, standing when I’m spotted. Meat helps Pops up. I’m confused. Mom left years ago, and yet all these men are here, like she was family.

  Like, I’m still family.

  I was hoping for a minute alone to collect myself and say what I needed to her in private.

  “Shanna?”

  I tremble hearing him speak my name. I can’t turn around—can’t face him. I’m still stewing in anger and regret. He pledged the world to me and I believed him. But then he left, giving me only sweet promises of a tomorrow that never came.

  The heat of his body is at my back. From the corner of my eye, I watch his hand come out to touch me but he drops it instead.

  “Why are you here?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, “Could you at least get them to leave for a minute. I wanted… I needed—”

  He brushes by me signaling with his hand. The men walk past me one by one, each dipping their heads at me in a show of respect.

  But the last five, bow at my feet pledging to protect me with their lives.

  “What? What in the hell is going on?” I mumble more to myself than to anyone.

  His gruff voice answers, “They just made a vow to protect you with their lives.”

  I turn, facing him for the first time in three months. With one eyebrow raised I mutter, “I don’t think so. I’m not part of the MC and we’re not together. So, no-thank you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s my club now. And if I say you are under the protection of Creed for the rest of your life. It’s done.”

  I try to fight back. I’m so pissed that nothing I seem to do even matters. I’ve been the Creed’s princess since the day I was born and nothing I do seems to change that. His presence is overwhelming; the smell, size and strength of him all going straight to my head. I sway on my feet causing him to reach out to steady me. I jerk back, burned by the feel of his hands.

  I feel sick.

  It’s clear down to the very marrow of my bones. I belong to him. He’s going to kill Spence… possibly me as well when he finds out what I’ve been doing… and with whom.

  “Shanna?”

  Spence walks past Duke putting his arms around me and plants a firm kiss on my lips marking his territory. My eyes open locking with Duke’s.

  He’s smoldering with eyes promising punishment. I want him to do it; punish me for hurting him. I want to feel his rough hands on my skin; pain and pleasure spiraling out of control.

  My nipples pucker, my thighs feel slick and heavy.

  I’m demented; standing in the middle of my mother’s memorial service wet and ready for a man who will destroy me.

  He wouldn’t mean to.

  But loving him is something I’ll never recover from and the life he’s in would inevitably break me as much as a hammer to my bones.

  My want… my need for him is irrational. I turn away from them both and sit alone in the dim room next to my mother’s urn. A canvas frame of her smiling face stares down. She was in her twenties and radiant.

  She looked happy. I just know the picture was taken before club life dragged her down. I shiver, scared if it could happen to me too.

  Closing my eyes, I take a quick breath, nails digging into palms as I try to stay firm in my resolve to stick with Spence and not fall back into the arms of a dragon.

  “I wish you would’ve stayed. Why didn’t you ever come back, Mama? Why did you leave me?”

  Tears fall down my face. I’m filled with so many questions; she’ll never answer.

  I sit alone trying to make sense of everything I’ve learned in the past few months.

  “Shanna? You ready darlin’?”

  “I’m not your darling,” I mutter.

  He sighs, takes a seat next to me and presses a key into my hand.

  “It’s to your mother’s apartment. It’s safe to go there now. Maybe you’ll find some of the answers you’re lookin’ for. Oh, I think she would want you to have this. Apparently, she never took it off.”

  He opens my curled fist, placing a small blackbird flying with its wings held in the delicate gold chain.

  “Thank you,” I whisper swiping a tear. I still can’t look him in the face. Shutting my eyes, I use them as a dam to stay the flood of tears I feel coming.

  I sob, feeling his strong fingers brush the hair off my neck. He takes the necklace from my hands, fastening it around my throat.

  “Does he make you happy?”

  I shrug, still staring at the floor. “He was there for me.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, muttering a curse.

  “How does it feel to be the club Prez?”

  “Tiring, I carry a lot on my shoulders.”

  “Well it looks good on you,” I reply standing up.

  “What does?”

  “Your father’s leather and patch,” I answer, finally looking him in the eye.

  He smiles softly. “Do you need more time here?”

  “No. I’m done.”

  He nods his head, standing. “It looks good on you, too.”

  Looking down, my fingers fiddle with the blackbird hanging between my breasts.

  “It does.” I smile wistfully, remembering the lines to the song she used to sing to me every night.

  I try to walk away, but he grabs me. “Don’t cry baby girl. Better days are ahead.”

  I feel the pad of his thumb swipe a tear and watch helplessly as he brings it to his mouth. My moan echoes through the empty room betraying me.

  He answers with a sad smirk then jumps back as he seems to realize what he just did.

  His eyes lick flames across my skin. The heat burning between us is going to combust any second. He shakes his head, “I won’t touch another man’s woman again.”

  Again?

  He doesn’t say another word but steps back with his fists clenched. Two slashes of red stain his cheeks above his clenched jaw. He turns on his heel and slaps the door open, leaving me more confused than ever. Or maybe my first gut instinct was right along; fire and ice. He burns me either way.

  It still hurts as much as it did the first time I watched him walk away. I look back at my mother’s portrait before slumping in a chair in the far corner of the room.

  One by one, the men shuffle back in, Meat escorting Pops. My father’s aged twenty more years since the news. Every breath still seems a struggle despite the oxygen tanks he’s continuously hooked up to. I’m terrified I could lose him too.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Spence sits next to me, placing a strong arm around me. It feels comforting but wrong. What we’ve been doing is wrong. I can’t make myself fall in love with him. God knows I’ve tried. But how do you give your heart to someone when another man holds it?

  A woman I don’t even know gets up and starts talking about my mother. As she shares stories of her, the anger builds. This stranger knew her. Knew her in ways I never will. The walls close in, the air is too thick with pain and resentment. I hate the club. I just know it’s what destroyed the smiling woman with the once bright eyes. If I’m not careful—it’ll kill me too.

  I can’t sit in here another second. Heads turn as I bolt from my chair and run out the exit door. The sun is momentarily blinding, causing me to stumble in my heels.

  “I’ve got you.”

  As his strong arms close around me; every wall I had in place crumbles.

  “Wanna get out of here?”

  Nodding weakly, I let him lead me across the lot to his father’s old Harley. He quickly places a helmet on my head, and we’re off, racing away. My face is pressed against his back, my arms locked tightly around him, palms pressed flat on his hard pecs.

  “Shanna!” Spence cries, running after us. I squeeze
my eyes shut. I wish I could love him. But Duke’s imprinted on me. He’s in my blood—in my soul, and I don’t think he’s ever getting out. His powerful bike races up the hills above LA while my hair streaks out behind us.

  The wildfire in my blood is strong. I want this beast of a man to mate with me. Claim and plunder me like only he can. My heart pounds, I haven’t felt this alive in months.

  Duke pulls off in a patch of dirt off the side of a road.

  “This is beautiful. Where are we?”

  “The Hills.”

  I climb off on rubbery legs, shaking my hair free from his helmet. The lush hills above LA are filled with stucco houses with red clay roofs all the way down to the Pacific Ocean, but all I see is him.

  “Shanna…” He breathes my name, trembling, standing a foot away.

  This huge man is shaking… for me. On a cry, I hurl myself forward savoring the smell and feel of him again. I place my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.

  But he turns his face, and his arms don’t come around me like I dreamed. They stay fisted by his side.

  “Duke?”

  His head drops, feet planted apart, and with a hand planted in the pocket of his jeans, he half turns.

  “I can’t. We can’t. I want better for you baby girl. The club life ruined your mother. She cut and run, but in the end, it killed her anyway. I won’t have that for you. Meat tells me you’ve been keeping up with your classes and that you are on track to graduate at the top of your class. I won’t have you fall to the bottom because of me. I shouldn’t have taken you out here. But I saw how much you just need to escape.”

  I can’t say anything. Because in my gut; I know he’s right.

  “Stay with Spence. He’s the one who can save you—not me.”

  “You don’t mean that?” I answer on a broken whisper.

  “It’s fuckin’ killin’ me to say this. You’ve taught me what love is, baby girl. I’m lettin’ you fly in someone else’s arms.”

  “You’re wrong. I never fly in his arms… only in yours.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be, baby girl. We needed closure. This is our goodbye.”

  With a tear streaming down my cheek, I turn around, walking up to the road. “I’m still your cherry. I never fully gave myself to him, Duke,” I mutter under my breath so he can’t hear. He’s right. He’s so motherfucking right, that walking away is the only thing to do. I know we’d burn together but doubt I’d survive the fire. Part of me desperately hopes he’ll chase me. Run after me and haul me into his arms… take me captive and ride off into the sunset to plunder me all night. I want him to do that with every fiber of my being. But a bright red pickup navigating the curves of the hill below tells me someone else is coming to bring me home. I stop and wait.

  “Get in.”

  “Hey Meat. Duke called you?”

  He nods, cutting his eyes back to the road.

  “Where’s Pops?”

  “Back at the funeral home.”

  “I can’t—won’t go back there.”

  “Where you gonna go then?”

  “Her place? Duke said it was safe?”

  He nods again, pulling the truck around back down the hill. In my rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Duke, riding his bike like a total badass. A new tear falls down my cheek. Tearing my eyes away, I feel in my jacket for my cell and text Spence.

  Me: Sorry. I’m so sorry.

  Spence: Me too. Where are you?

  Me: On my way to her place. Meet me there?

  Spence: Okay.

  Sliding my phone back in my pocket, my shoulders slump with the truth: I’ve been using him, leaning on him to get me through these past months. It’s not fair. I hate needy, clingy people and I’ve slowly been turned into one. He deserves better. He deserves a woman who can fully commit.

  My hand turns the key Duke gave me into the lock. The door to her condo slowly opens. I’m not sure what to expect. I never knew her. But I never imagined this. It’s modern, chic. The walls are painted a muted grey with high gloss black trim woodwork and matching dark hardwood floors. Two couches sit in the middle of the room. The faint smell of cigarettes smoke still clings in the air combined with another scent that I long remember—her—Mom. It’s a soft combination of jasmine and wine.

  The fuzz around my memory clears. I guess, I wanted to remember her, a certain way; fantasize a little bit. Pausing in the center of the room, I remember how her breath always smelled sweet when she tucked me in. I was too young and naïve to know what it was at the time—cheap boxed wine on her lips. I pass the kitchen, stopping at the frame of the bedroom. I feel his hand at my back.

  “Are you sure that you are ready for this?”

  I nod my head. Spence follows me in.

  “I’m hungry. Do you mind going and getting some takeout?”

  “Are we going to talk about this? About him?”

  “I-I’m sorry. I just can’t right now.”

  “Whatever. I’ve been patient, but I won’t be played.”

  He kisses the top of my head, sighing as he leaves. My breath exhales in relief. I need to do this alone. Walking over to her dresser my hands find a glass bottle of perfume. Unscrewing the top, I hold it up to my nose. Falling back onto her bed; I fall back in time, the scent of her opens the floodgates. Every year that went by I never gave up hope that she would come back. I might have showed the world my brave face, but deep down I was just a little girl who wanted her mommy. But she never came and now she’s gone, leaving me with so many unanswered questions.

  On shaky legs, I get up and open her closet. It’s pristine. Her clothing is hung by color, arranged like a store. Her life might have been a goddamn mess, but her home is orderly. My hands push the perfect clothing aside; I gasp seeing a box with my name penned in ink.

  Taking it off the shelf, I bring it back to her bed, pausing for a brief moment before opening the lid.

  My eyes brim with tears, pictures of me and her lay on top of a few old journals. My fingers riffle through the photos of her holding me as a baby before I flip open the first journal.

  My Dear Baby Girl,

  This is my story. I hope you can forgive me for the choices I made. I am far from perfect; truthfully I’m a coward and selfish. I’m not strong like you. I loved two men, and my foolish heart destroyed lives. I fled, ran from the mess I made, and I hoped that in leaving, I’d spare you from the stain of my sins.

  Love you to the moon and back baby girl.

  MA

  Opening her first journal, I gasp at the date. It’s her whole life. Her first diary begins when she was fifteen. I quickly take the rest out of the box. Flipping open the last one, I leaf through the pages. The last entry was written two years ago. I have her entire life; recorded here in my hands.

  “You found them.”

  My head jerks up in surprise. He’s quiet for such a monster of a man.

  “Your father wanted me to check on ya’ and Duke needed to know you’ll be okay.”

  I shrug placing the journals back in the box. “I’ll be fine. Men like you raised me. I’ve heard of you… you’re Will, right?”

  “Yeah, guilty as charged. I knew your Ma. We hung out sometimes.”

  I shrug. “You mean you fucked her, right?”

  He shrugs, “She had a rough life. We had a lot in common. But I can already see you have a strength in you she never had.”

  “Little good it’s doing me. I gave my heart to the wrong man, just like she did.”

  “Fuck. I don’t do girl talk. But Duke… he’s changing shit for good. He’d never cheat on the woman he marries. That fucked up shit both your parents’ pulled—isn’t him.”

  With my legs dangling over the side of the bed, I confess. “I used to watch the stars at night. Thinking our love was written in them. That our souls were made to be together. How else can you explain this crazy, instant need we have for each other? But then when I learned more about the past… I thought it’s too fucked up for u
s to be together.”

  “Lust is like that. You’ll know if its love when all the shit settles and you find your way back to one another. I tell you one thing: You’ve fucked him up good. He’s at the club right now half-way into a bottle of JD. I haven’t seen him like this since he came back from Iraq.”

  “I thought you didn’t do girl talk?”

  “Shit,” he mutters tugging a hand through his slicked-back gray hair. “Don’t stay too long. We’ve been watching the place, but Zach is still out there. And please—either stay away from Duke or run back to him and never leave.”

  “He’s hurt me more than I’ve hurt him.”

  “Debatable.”

  He turns to leave as quietly as he came. “Will?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Promise me something?”

  “I don’t make promises sugar, not even to pretty young fillies like you.”

  “Find out who killed her and make them pay.”

  “Well… that’s a promise I will make.”

  “HOW YOU HOLDING UP?”

  His answer is a grunt. I heard Colin Flynn hasn’t been down here in a decade. The way his tired eyes took in the room, the bar and the bikes—I can tell he misses his glory days when he ran the MC with my old man. The LA chapter’s clubhouse is a paradise for an old fucker like him.

  “How’s she been?”

  Another grunt.

  A heavy hand rests on my shoulder, forcing me to turn away.

  “Leave it and him alone,” Meat says with a frown.

  My fingers reach out clutching the cold glass bottle, pouring the last drops of amber liquid into my glass. I knock it all back and slam my fist down on the bar. “She’s fuckin’ mine. Damn this mess… and know that prick dick is puttin’ his hands on her.”

  “Calm down.”

  “I can’t friggin’ calm down,” I roar.

  Heads turn my way, eyebrows raise.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” I groan sinking back down on my stool.

  “Hey sugar, what’s got you so worked up? Maybe I can help?”

  In my drunk stupor it takes me a few seconds to realize her hands are on the fly of my jeans and trying to snake inside.