Placing a soft kiss on the top of my head, Fury murmurs,
“I missed you too, darlin’. It’s been too long. I’ll give you my number before you leave, this time, then you can call me and tell me when you’re coming next and I can make sure I’m here if I can be.”
Him wanting to see me, spend time with me warms my heart, so in response, I give him a friendly grin.
“Okay,” I chirp happily. “Sarge is helping Emily with something today so I don’t have anyone to hang out with while Dad is busy. Are you busy?”
“Just got back last night, so I’ve got time, sweetheart. What are you thinking?” He smiles down at me.
Clapping my hands together gleefully, I tug on his arm leading him toward the back entrance to the clubhouse.
“I want to show you how good I’m getting with the Glock. I’ve been practicing a few times a week with Uncle Tank and he says I’m a crack shot now.”
Chuckling, Fury wraps an arm around my shoulders pulling me into his side. His body is large and warm, and he smells delicious. Like leather, musk, and sunshine.
“Really?” He replies, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Well, I think I’ll be the judge of that. Tank’s a good teacher?” He asks.
“Not as good as you, but he’ll do,” I tease, earning me a full belly laugh from him. Fury doesn’t laugh like this often, so when he does, I treat it as the gift it is.
“You’re great for a man’s ego, darlin’,” he rumbles in the deep voice I love so much.
After spending an hour with Fury showing him my skills and him teaching me how to use the new Berretta he bought a month ago, I collapse onto the grass under the shade of one of the trees surrounding the firing range.
“My arms are sore,” I complain, rubbing the muscles of my biceps.
“You get that when you’re holding your arms out straight like that for so long,” Fury states, taking a seat to my left. “You need to get Saint to take you to the gym. Lifting weights’ a couple of times a week will help build up the strength in your arms. Don’t need to be heavy, five-pounds ought to do it.”
“Hmm,” I groan, closing my eyes.
It’s then Fury does something he’s never done before. He takes my left hand in his and begins gently stroking his thumb over my wrist. I don’t open my eyes because I’m scared if I do, I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream.
I’m sure it isn’t affecting him the same way as it does me, and why would it? I’m just a kid and Fury’s just being sweet. But to me, this simple action makes my heart burst with love for him. The tenderness Fury shows me, the way he listens when I speak, like every word has him captivated, and the kindness in his eyes every time I look at him has me falling irrevocably in love with him.
*****
Like I said, it wasn’t a significant action or a grand gesture, but it was beautiful. It was also terribly, horribly painful. Excruciatingly so.
Our age difference aside – because, honestly, eleven years is just a number to me – there were so many reasons why it was wrong for me to fall in love with Fury. The least of which being my Dad. He would never accept or condone a relationship between us, that I knew.
It isn’t that Dad doesn’t like Fury, he does. In fact, Dad considers him one of his closest friends outside of his MC. The age gap would bother him, but even that wasn’t why he’d object to Fury and I becoming involved romantically. Dad’s issue would be that Fury is a biker, period.
From when I was old enough to understand – say, seven or so – my Dad has told me he wanted more for me than becoming a bikers’ old lady. He said he wants me to go out and see the world and have experiences I couldn’t if I was married into an MC.
Obviously, Dad, being a biker himself, wasn’t concerned with how brash, rough and crass men like him are. He is what he is, and he makes no apologies for it. But that being said, he doesn’t want his daughters living the same dangerous lifestyle my Mom has by marrying him.
Dad couldn’t have been happier when Dakota fell in love with, and eventually married Cody. Cody has ties to Devil’s Spawn MC, yes, but he isn’t a member and never will be. My younger sister, Neveah, until recently, hasn’t shown much interest in having a serious relationship, but when she did, my Dad all but lost his ever-loving mind. And I don’t blame him because God knows, I love my sister but even I have had a few moments where I’ve thought, ‘what the hell was she thinking.’
Nick Forbes, Emmaline and Cody’s brother, didn’t initially intend to prospect for Devil’s Spawn when he moved to Blackwater twenty years ago. All he wanted was to get his younger brother and sister away from their junkie Mom and somewhere safe. However, after floating around, picking up odd jobs here and there for seven years, Nick sat down and had a conversation with Cage, Tank, and Dad that changed his life.
A month later, Nick was sporting a prospect cut and had a new outlook on life. He had a purpose now, direction and somewhere that finally felt like home. Nick completed his eighteen months as a prospect, patching in as a full member eleven years ago, just before he turned twenty-seven. Now, at thirty-six, Nick is funny, handsome, devoted to the club, hardworking, and completely and utterly in love with, Neveah.
Sixteen years separate Neveah and Nick, but that wasn’t why Dad had a shit hemorrhage. No, Dad had kittens because Nick is a disgusting and prolific manwhore. As in, the phrase ‘one and done’ was coined for him specifically.
On any given day, you’ll see one, two, possibly even three women walking – gingerly, I might add – out of Nick’s room at the clubhouse. Now, I’m not judging him, because hey, he’s single, he’s hot and that’s his business, but when it comes to my sister, she will not be just another notch on his bedpost.
I’m not saying people can’t change, they can, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And with the way Nick loves Neveah, I honestly believe that’s possible. I think given half the chance, he would give up his in-depth study of the female body and devote himself to her, and her alone. The problem is, Nick hasn’t given up his willing pussy buffet. Not even when Dakota and I threatened to unman him in uniquely creative ways.
But all of that is beside the point, or maybe it’s not. What it confirms is my Dad’s likelihood of having a stroke if another one of his daughters came home and told him she was in love with a biker. Hence, me making the decision to remain friends and only friends with Fury, and sticking to it.
That brings us to now, and why looking at him, still to this day, hurts. I may have made the choice nearly a decade ago to stay best friends with the man I’m in love with, but that doesn’t mean my feelings evaporated when I did. If anything, it’s only gotten worse.
In my case, the old saying, “It only hurts as much as you care,” is absolutely correct. I wouldn’t be this hurt over Fury’s desertion if my feelings didn’t run so deep, which brings me full-circle to why I’m here tonight.
“I’m not reconsidering the week, Fury. I’m here because I want you to answer something for me. Honestly. No bullshit, no lies, no trying to spare my feelings. Just the truth,” I state, attempting to keep my voice as devoid of emotion as my expression.
Fury’s eyes are dark and assessing when he replies,
“What do you need answers to, darlin’? You know if it’s in my power, I’ll give you whatever you need.”
There are so many responses I can come up with to that statement, I muse sardonically.
“Do you think you can move out of the way so I can get passed?”
“Is that your question, Ave because I’ve got to say, if it is, I’m disappointed,” Fury smirks.
Dickhead!
“You wish,” I snap, pushing past him and taking a seat on top of his dresser. Not the most comfortable place to sit, but there’s no way in hell I’m sitting on his bed unless I can be assured he’s changed his sheets recently. As in, five seconds before I walked in.
Resuming his spot on the bed, Fury rakes his hot gaze over my body, making me involuntarily shiver at his perusal. There
are some days I wish I didn’t react to him this way because it would be so much easier if he didn’t have the same magnetic pull over my body as he does my heart.
Shifting restlessly, my head snaps up when he groans,
“Ask away, darlin’.”
The intensity of his stare has my hands breaking out in a cold sweat and my nipples hardening against the lace of my bra. See, confusing. Not wanting to waste any more time, I blurt,
“Why do you want my forgiveness?” I give him a minute, but when he doesn’t reply and I can almost feel his confusion, I clarify further. “I spoke to my therapist today, Fury. He helped me to understand why you want to explain why you did what you did. But, what I still don’t get is why you need me to forgive you? We’re friends, we were best friends, but you don’t have to answer to me. Nothing in the friend code says you need to be accountable to me for your whereabouts. So, in essence, I suppose what I mean is; you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, it wasn’t nice and you hurt me, but I’m not your keeper. You’re a grown man and you’re entitled to do what you want. Other than being my friend and because you said you would, there wasn’t any good reason for me to expect that of you. So, why? Why do you need my forgiveness when you haven’t done anything wrong?”
“Bullshit,” Fury doesn’t hesitate to snarl. “Fucking bullshit, Avery. I abso-fucking-lutely did do the wrong thing. When I make a promise, I keep it. And do not doubt it was a promise I made when I said I’d stay in contact with you.”
Launching himself off the bed, Fury buries his hands in his hair and begins to pace. He doesn’t look at me, he keeps his eyes trained on the floor, but I don’t need to see his face to know he’s angry. The irritation is pouring off him in waves.
“You might not be my wife, girlfriend or old lady, Avery, but that doesn’t mean I’m not accountable to you. And even if I’m not, I want to be,” he mutters. “I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things while I was gone, and what I thought about most was you. We may have been friends for years, but you and I both know there’s something more between us than just simple friendship, babe. We’ve been dancing around that shit for years, hurting us both in the process. Back when I realized what I felt for you went deeper than caring about you, my head was all sorts of fucked up. I lost my wife, my parents, my sister, my grandparents, pretty much everyone I’ve ever loved. In my mind, me loving someone meant losing them. Stupid, I know, but that’s how it felt,” he admits with a self-depreciating laugh.
I hadn’t thought of it like that.
“But that’s not true, Fury,” I return, my voice beginning to waver. “You have your brothers, their families, and mine for that matter. I know they aren’t related to you by blood, but family is family in whatever form it takes.”
“Like I said, I know that, babe. Never said it was rational, it was what it was. Suppose you can say, I had an epiphany after I left New Mexico. I couldn’t stop thinking about making that trip with you, or how it would feel to have you on the back of my bike, showing you everything God’s country has to offer. That’s when I knew I’d fucked up. I realized I didn’t want you on the back of my bike as my friend, Avery. I wanted you there as my woman, my old lady. Shit doesn’t look as bright if I’m not seeing it through your eyes. I missed everything about being with you. Your laugh, hearing you bitch about your day, watching your face light up when you talk to your sisters or your Dad, I missed every-fucking-thing. That’s why I want, no, need you to forgive me. Because I want it all back, but this time, I want it with you in my bed and in my life in all the ways you can be.”
I’m shocked. Truly shocked. The sincerity in his voice isn’t something I’ve heard from him before. Not that Fury can’t have serious conversations because he can, but like this? Never.
I need time to process this, meaning, I have to get the hell out of here. I can’t think straight when I’m around Fury, and I definitely need to be functioning on all cylinders when I sort out what this means. To me and for us.
Sliding off his dresser, I walk on unsteady legs close enough to grasp his huge hand in mine and say,
“Thank you,” turning and hurrying out the door immediately.
CHAPTER TWELVE
~ Fury ~
“If I promise to apologize for why I asked you if you needed that extra muffin do you promise not to smother me in my sleep?”
- Text from Fury to Avery
“You see Avery since she ran out of here like she’d seen a ghost the other night,” Gage asks, taking a long drink of his beer.
“No,” I reply shortly.
“You going to?” Shrugging, I don’t bother answering him because we both know I am.
Nothing and no one can keep me from showing up at her place tomorrow night. Avery wanted time – which I’ve given her – but after her late night visit, it only got harder for me to stop myself seeking her out earlier. If it takes me begging for her to forgive me, then I’ll do it. I’d do anything for that woman. Fucking anything.
“Are you going keep acting like someone killed your dog until you do?” He chuckles.
“Fuck off,” I growl, downing the last of the glass of whiskey one of the prospects set in front of me.
Gage pats me on the shoulder condescendingly, grinning at Sierra, one of the clubs’ newest whores.
“She can suck the chrome off a tailpipe if you’re looking to release some of that pent-up frustration you’ve got building, brother.”
“Not interested,” I grunt.
“No, I wouldn’t suspect you would be,” he returns cryptically. “You sure about her, Fury? I can’t say I blame you for wanting to claim her. Avery’s fucking perfect. But you’ve gotta be sure because you’re going to have a hell of a battle convincing her Dad you’re good enough for her, and this isn’t just a fling for you.”
Twisting, I face Gage head on, narrowing my eyes at him heatedly.
“You’re my brother, and I’ve got all the love in the world for you, but I don’t need you questioning how serious I am about Avery. You know, you fucking know, there’s no one but her for me. Spent years fucking around and wasting time when it comes to her, but that shit stops now. I don’t deserve her, never will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not selfish enough to claim her anyway. I’ll deal with, Saint. He’s never going to like any man in Avery’s life, but I guarantee you that when I’m finished explaining what she means to me, he’ll get it. He won’t like it, but he’ll get it.”
“Good,” he mutters. Gesturing for another beer, Gage then asks, “You still heading out to see Jonas in a few?”
“Planned to. Why, you coming with?”
“Thought about it. Been wanting to finish the piece on my back for a while now,” he rumbles. “Promised Blaine I’d check on the big man for her too. Jay’s been avoiding her for a couple of weeks now and she’s worried about him, so I said I’d stop in and make sure he’s still breathing.”
Blaine has been trying to help Jonas recover after losing Bec, but unfortunately, he isn’t cooperating with her efforts. In the beginning, we thought she was making headway. Jonas talked to her, stilted, short conversations, but he was talking. However, for the last month and a half, things have taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Almost as if he’s going backward in the grieving process, not forward.
“How’s Blaine handling that?” I ask, genuinely interested in her reaction to Jay shutting her out. Blaine isn’t a firecracker like, Avery, but in her own way, she’s got a will of iron. A steely determination that’s as quiet as it is deadly.
“Not well. She’s pissed off, but there’s not a lot she can do if he won’t open the door when she goes round there or pick up the fucking phone when she calls,” he replies, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “That’s another woman who needs her fucking head read. For now, Jay’s a lost cause because until he wants to move on, he’s going to keep wallowing in his own misery. Blaine’s too good to put up with that shit, she deserves better, but you can’t tell her anything. She�
��s bound and determined to pull him out of it.”
“You think there’s any chance she’ll succeed?”
“Not likely,” he grumbles. “The fucker is neck deep in grief, so until he has something to fight for, he isn’t changing anytime soon.”
I can’t say I disagree with him. I know from experience it takes a modern-day miracle to jar a man from the despair that runs that deep. My miracle was Avery; Jay’s is anyone’s guess. I just hope Blaine doesn’t get too caught up in helping him that she thinks they can have anything more. The last thing she needs is to hook her star to a man a broken as, Jonas. Because Gage is right, Jay can’t be helped until he wants it.
Pushing myself off my stool, I announce,
“I’m heading out now, so if you’re coming with, you better decide now.”
Gage gulps down the last of his second beer, standing, he flicks hand out signaling goodbye to Cash, who’s sprawled on one of the couches watching Sienna move around the room.
“Let’s ride.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 47