by Harper Sloan
Right when I finish up, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Bending over, I pick up the picture that must have fallen out of one of the boxes. Turning over the picture, I see a younger, happier, Maddox Locke. His arms, minus the tattoos that heavily cover them now, are wrapped around a tiny, blonde chick and he’s smiling a smile I’ve never seen on his face. He doesn’t have one ounce of the heaviness that cloaks him every second now. No, in this picture, he is the example of a man happy and in love.
“Where the fuck did you find that?”
Before I even have a second to reply, the picture is ripped out of my hands and crushed inside his fist.
“Want to talk about that?”
“Do you want to talk about your shit?”
I shake my head, knowing that I should but that I’m not there yet . . . and I’m not sure if I will be anytime soon.
“Is that part of your nightmares?”
“This is my fucking nightmare.”
He storms from the room, slamming the door hard enough that the walls shake.
I let myself fall back on my ass and lean up against the bed, my head falling to my hand before rolling it to pop some of the tension from my neck.
Three months ago, everything seemed so simple. When the hell did I start living some soap opera shit for my life? I know he’s right, and he clearly knows what it’s like to be living hell on Earth. I’ve known him for years and this is the first time he’s ever let me see anything that could be haunting him.
Maybe he’s right. I need to start moving forward, but I know in order to do that, I have to make sure I’ve done everything I can to avenge my brother. Right or wrong, it’s what I need to do.
So with a new resolve to start moving forward from this limbo I’ve been stuck in, I pull myself off the floor and start pouring out every bottle of liquor I have stashed around my room and his apartment.
* * *
Walking into Heavy’s for the gang’s weekly family dinner is the last thing I want to be doing right now. I’ve spent the last four days going over all of the information I have gathered thus far on Coop’s murder. Or I should say the man behind the snowball that formed into a massive boulder of events that led up to his death.
Dominic Murphy.
That sorry piece of shit has his finger on literally everything gun and drug related in the southeast. Until recently, he’s been like a ghost, completely untraceable. That was until I finally caught a break. It caused me to cash in just about every single favor I’ve ever collected over the years. As a bounty hunter, I’ve established relationships with a lot of men I’m lucky to have on my side. Everything from FBI, DEA, and a few local cops here and there.
Dom’s been spotted most recently right here in Atlanta. Last night, I was lucky enough to have some surveillance footage of him at a local bar sent to me. I know what he looks like, what his security team looks like, right down to what he had for breakfast. And now that I know where to find him, nothing will stop me from taking the next steps I need to seek my revenge for Coop.
“Asher!”
I turn just in time to catch the slim body that is smashing into mine. The overwhelming stench of cheap perfume hits my nose at the same time that her large tits are crushing against my side. I put my arm up to brace her impact, but the only thing I succeed in doing is helping her mold her body closer to mine.
“Hey, baby, did you miss me?”
I just stare at her, and I can almost picture my face. My mouth slack, my eyes confused and slowly blinking, and my brows crinkled in either shock or disgust at myself because I have no idea who this woman is. Clearly she knows me, given that one hand is possessively on my ass and the other is about two seconds away from making purchase on my cock.
And I honestly have no idea if I should be more shocked that I have no clue who she is or that my cock is oblivious to her. She’s attractive enough—a tight, trim body, large tits, and legs that could wrap around my body twice. Given the fact that she is wearing next to nothing, she would be a guaranteed sure thing and the typical type of woman I’ve been going after for as long as I can remember. She’s the type of woman who’s good for sinking yourself into, but not for conversation. The kind who, if I had a mother worth taking someone home to, you would without a doubt keep far away.
I look over at the group. All of them, even the babies, seem to be staring at me in shock, but I only have eyes for one of them. The blonde who’s haunted my every fantasy since the day I met her. Those brown eyes as dark as rich mocha boring into my own. She’s never been good at hiding how she feels, which is why I know that the attraction I feel for her is far from one-sided, but right now, the pain that is flickering back at me shocks me even more than the woman mauling me in the middle of Heavy’s.
“Did you miss me, baby?” she whispers huskily in my ears.
Her warm, wet breath hits my skin and causes a chill of revulsion to run through my body—which she clearly takes as encouragement, unfortunately, since that damn hand that was tracing each one of my abs starts making its way past my belt.
Chelcie’s eyes widen, and before I can make sense of her expression, the woman next to me curls her hand roughly against my flaccid cock, squeezing so hard that I have to suck in a deep breath of shock and pain, again doing nothing but encouraging her to keep going. With one of her hands digging into my backside and the other doing its best to rip my dick off through my pants, she leans up and bites my earlobe between her teeth.
The shock keeps me rooted—silently—in place, but when I see a single tear roll down Chelcie’s beautiful cheek, I quickly start to detangle myself from the leech at my side.
“Oh come on, Asher. You liked it rough the last time,” she pouts in the most annoying baby talk I’ve ever heard.
“Babe, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t even remember who you are.” Figuring that honesty is the best road to travel right now, I give it to her as politely as I can without just telling her that she was a warm hole my drunken mind needed.
“Excuse me?”
“Which part of that didn’t you understand?” I ask.
“Oh shit,” I hear Axel laugh behind me.
“You idiot,” Melissa mumbles under her breath.
“Sweet Jesus, even I know if I loved the ladies like you hunks of sex, THAT is definitely not the right way to handle all of that hot mess,” Sway dramatically adds.
I turn around and glare at all of them quickly before returning my attention to the chick basically vibrating with anger.
“It’s Pammy,” she seethes.
Pammy? Jesus Christ, does every one of the chicks I sleep with have to have a name that screams, ‘Bimbo’?
“Right, Pammy. I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I really have no idea who you are.” I try to smile, but when I see the look of crazy-bitch come across her face, I know that things are about to get ugly. “Stop,” I say harshly under my breath, “whatever is about to fly out of that pretty little mouth of yours, babe. In case you missed this, there are kids in your presence. I’m sure their parents are already going to lay into me since you decided to relearn your basic male anatomy while standing right in front of them, so the last thing I need is for you to start running that mouth of yours.”
Her eyes turn glacial, and I know—I just know—that she didn’t hear a word I just said. Fuck. Me.
“You knew my name just fine A WEEK ago when you were driving that thick cock inside me.” She reaches up and attempts to slap me, but I quickly catch her around her slim wrist.
Braving a look around the table behind me wouldn’t be the best move. I can feel the energy getting electric as the group takes in what just flew out of her mouth. A few shocked gasps, deep mumbles of outrage, and one high-pitched laugh that I know belongs to Sway.
I close my eyes and drop my head when I hear Cohen speak.
“Daddy! Roosters can’t drive!”
Looking up, I narrow my eyes at Pammy before pulling her away from the table with her wri
st still in my hand. She practically has to run to keep up with me in those damn shoes she has on, but I’m so pissed that I don’t even care if she trips and falls.
CHAPTER 7
Chelcie
“Roosters can’t drive, little dude. She was talking about a movie that Uncle Asher took her to,” Greg utters as calmly as he can to a very curious Cohen.
The rest of the table is in a mix of anger and hilarity over the scene we just witnessed between Asher and one of his many whores. And I say whores because that’s exactly what they are. No woman I’ve ever had the displeasure of watching him hook up with has ever looked like she has an ounce of self respect. They’re always so . . . fake. Huge breasts, big butts, and tiny waists. One thing he doesn’t ever discriminate against is their hair color, so hey, at least he keeps an open mind. Disgusting.
There was a time when I felt like he could be the one. A time when he wasn’t drunk and sleeping with every easy lay that spread her legs for him. It didn’t happen often, but those rare moments when I would catch him sober were some of the greatest.
“Someone needs to talk to him. This is getting out of control, Ax. I’m shocked that he even remembered what day it is to show up tonight,” Izzy says to her husband.
“Clearly he ran out of liquor,” Dee speaks from across the table.
Beck shakes his head and reaches over her shoulder to pull her closer to his body.
“How do you forget the name of someone that you sleep with?” Sway questions.
“Hell if I know. I remember all of the ladies I’ve had the pleasure of,” Greg chimes in after making sure Cohen is distracted with Nate, Axel and Izzy’s two-year-old son.
“Pig,” Melissa, his wife, smiles at him.
I allow myself a second to feel the wave of jealousy wash over my body before quickly putting it back where it belongs—locked in a box deep inside me.
“When was the last time anyone even saw him without the stench of alcohol oozing out of his skin?” Davey asks.
He, like me, is pretty new to the group. He started as the front office assistant to the guys at Corps Security when Emmy left. Out of everyone who had a hard time after Coop’s death, Emmy might have taken it the hardest. Coop took the bullet that had been meant for her, and I can’t even begin to put myself in her shoes. I hate that she left abruptly, but I understand why she did.
“He’s been drinking nothing stronger than Coke for the last three days,” Maddox says, speaking over the group and gaining every single one of our eyes. But he isn’t looking at anyone else except me.
His expressionless face is just boring into mine, his eyes clearly trying to communicate some kind of hidden message for me alone. I frown at him, not picking up on his underlying meaning.
“You don’t say?” Beck responds dryly.
“Completely drink free?” I don’t know who said it; I’m too busy meeting Maddox’s eyes without breaking, trying desperately to understand what he’s telling me.
“Completely.” His eyes never waver from mine when he confirms.
“That’s good, man. I’ve been worried about him,” Axel, I think, says to Maddox.
There’s more continued conversation about the state of Asher and his grief over Coop’s death. Out of instinct, when I hear them bring up Coop’s name, my hand goes straight to my stomach. I realize my mistake a second too late when Maddox breaks contact and his eyes travel down to where my hand is splayed across my slightly rounded stomach.
Maddox isn’t a stupid man. He’s probably one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. His eyes stay on my stomach—even after I move my hand away as if I’ve burned myself. He just takes it all in. The only tell he gives me is when he looks back up and lets his guard down long enough to show the shock within the black depths of his normally blank eyes.
Shit.
“You,” he speaks through clenched teeth and points at me. “Come with me.” He doesn’t even look to see if I’m moving to follow him before he roughly pushes from the table and walks away.
“What the hell?” Izzy questions.
I spare Dee a quick slightly panicked look before making my way to where Maddox is waiting for me.
He pulls me around the wall that separates the room and the bathrooms, allowing us a bit of privacy for what I know is going to be a hard conversation.
“What’s going on, Mad?” I hedge.
“Don’t play games with me, Chelcie. I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. You don’t know me. Just let me get this out and then we can get back to dinner. Anything you need, anything you want, or anything you feel needs to be done, you let me know. I’m not going to pretend to be a chick and understand what you’re feeling, but you’re not alone. Yeah?”
For the first time since I met Maddox, every single trace of the hard man I’ve come to know is gone. Standing in front of me is a version of him that I’m not sure how to deal with. His face holds so much compassion and pain that I don’t know if he’s upset that I have kept this secret to myself or what. He almost looks vulnerable.
“Yeah, Maddox . . . Uh, thanks,” I whisper.
“Does he know?”
“No,” I can hear the shame painting that one heavy word. I’m not proud of myself for keeping this from Asher, and knowing that another person knows my secret and he still doesn’t drives home that pain.
“Are you okay?”
This side of Maddox, this caring, emotional side, is such a shock that I don’t speak at first. I’ve never, not once, seen this side. It’s no secret to anyone, even me though I’m new to this group, that Maddox holds his cards close and his pain even closer. There’s always been a cloud over him. Like his own personal hell just simmers too close to the surface for him to be anything but closed off. And knowing that he can see right through me is slightly terrifying and reassuring at the same time.
I’m not alone.
“Chelcie, how are you doing with this?” His eyes look . . . scared. Whether it’s for me, Asher, or whatever personal hell is chasing him, I’m not sure.
“I’m getting there, Mad. I’m worried, but not for me. I’m ready for this, excited even. It isn’t the way I imagined it happening, but I really am happy. I just . . . Well, you know, I don’t know how he will handle this. I’m not a slut.”
I’m not sure why I felt the need to throw that in there, but to me, it’s important that he doesn’t think I’m easy. I don’t just sleep around, and even though what happened between Coop and me could arguably make me a slut in a lot of people’s eyes, I don’t regret a second of it.
“I didn’t think you were, girl,” he says, his eyes losing that lost look, and he reaches out to pull me into a hug.
I let my arms curl around his back and hold on tight to his shoulders, soaking up every ounce of strength he’s offering.
The muscles in his back ripple and roll under my fingertips when he brings his head down and rests his lips against my temple. We stand like that for a few minutes before he dips his head lower and whispers against my ear.
“You’re never alone. Don’t for one second think that. You shouldn’t be worried, scared, or afraid right now. This is a time in your life that you should be smiling that beautiful smile every second of every day. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not alone. This baby will be loved, I promise you that. Asher needs to know, Chelcie. He needs that. And if you need someone there when that happens, you just say the words.” He pulls up, places another kiss on the top of my head, and with a small squeeze, walks away.
I stand there with tears in my eyes just begging to spill over, and I smile—a genuine smile—for the first time in weeks. I think I’ve always known that I wasn’t exactly alone, but to have someone I hardly know strip me bare emotionally and address every worry I’ve had since my baby’s father was murdered brings a kind of peace that I didn’t know I needed. A safety that I didn’t know I was lacking until this moment.
Deciding that I need a moment to collect myself befo
re returning to the group, I quickly make my way into the bathroom to clean my face up—completely oblivious to the furious eyes that just watched that whole scene unravel.
CHAPTER 8
Asher
I can’t even explain the fury that is racing through my veins right now. After dealing with Pammy, my mood was already deteriorating. But after seeing Maddox with his arms wrapped tightly around Chelcie’s luscious body and his lips against her creamy skin, what little control I had left snapped.
She’s mine.
She doesn’t know that yet, but I’m not going to sit back and let Maddox have her.
The small, rational part of my mind that isn’t clouded in a red-hot rage right now is trying to remind me that I have no claim over Chelcie. Not only that, but everyone knows that Maddox only has eyes for Emmy. I should recognize that there is not one thread of a reason for me to be this jealous, but I’m already too far gone to listen to that nonsense.
The only thing that matters is what I just witnessed. MY woman in the arms of Maddox Locke. MY woman holding him back just as tight. And MY woman with a smile on her beautiful face that could light up even the darkest caves in Hell.
Hell. No.
With a single-minded determination, I set off towards the women’s bathroom I just saw her duck into. It’s time to let her know exactly where my head is at, and I’m sick of this avoiding game she’s been playing lately.
“You.” I point to the waitress who just came out of the bathroom that holds my woman inside. “Is there anyone else other than the blonde woman wearing jeans and a white shirt in there?”
She shakes her head slowly, her jaw slack and her eyes wide.
“Does that door lock?”
She again just nods her head.
“Good girl. You didn’t see me, got it?” I pull a fifty from my wallet and hand it to her.
She hesitantly wraps her fingers around the bill before hurrying down the hall. Who knows if she will keep her mouth shut. All that I heard and care about is that Chelcie is in there. Alone. And I’m about to make it perfectly clear that she is fucking mine.