BRANDED: Wild Aces MC

by April Lust

  I was comfortable with the Sin Reapers; I wasn’t happy with them.

  The man took a sharp hit to the side of his face, but it didn’t look like it did too much damage. It looked like he bit his tongue because there was blood trickling out of his mouth. There was no question as to if he were in pain.

  I gave him credit; he didn’t ask them to stop. That was one of the rules here: if you asked for it to stop, it would. But you’d also be gone. No club, no patch, no initiation. If you wanted in, you had to suffer the consequences, and it looked to me like this guy was ready to do that.

  My eyes slipped away from the grunting, moaning man on the pavement, unwilling to look at him any longer. He was ugly, but determined, and that made it so much worse. Determination always made things take longer and I never needed to see this much violence again.

  Of their own accord, my eyes found Max. They couldn’t help it; he stood out in a crowd.

  A bloodied, bruised hand raked through his thick, dark hair. It was damp with sweat, but it didn’t make him look greasy or unkempt. If anything, it only added to the sex appeal that oozed from him. He was grinning wickedly, like he was enjoying this, and I admitted quietly to myself he probably was. He was probably getting a kick out of this whole thing.

  That should have disturbed me, but I was long past the point where any of this disturbed me. It made my stomach twist in knots and caused my heart to ache from time to time, but I knew it was all part of the life and if I wasn’t capable of handling it, I should get out.

  But Max.

  He rolled his shoulders, flexing those large muscles of his. He was wearing a black t-shirt, the shoulders cut off to expose his biceps, and jeans that hung low on his hips. When he raised his arms, I could see a strip of skin beneath that shirt. Tight, muscled, and towards his belt buckle, covered in just a few dark hairs that led to promising, seductive places.

  It was only Max throwing the next punch that jerked me from the inappropriate places my mind was slinking down to.

  Max’s already bloody fist caught the man—they called him Thunder, a new recruit—square in the jaw until he coughed up a spittle of blood. I saw a tooth scatter across the pavement and took a small moment of comfort in knowing it was over. Lose a tooth, that was another rule. I cringed as Thunder spit up blood again, but tried to keep it in. No use in showing these guys fear; they’d never leave me be after that.

  Oh, Max would hold them at bay. He was my warrior and my lover and no one would cross a man like Max, but it would go easier for everyone if I acted like the tough bitch I was supposed to be.

  Times like this, though, it was hard.

  Thunder worked at getting himself back onto his feet. He got up halfway and I knew someone would go to help him soon; the initiation was over, so the punishment was, too. But while he was on his hands and knees, I saw a guy out of the corner of my eye. He moved too fast for me to say or do anything—what could I do anyway? I was just an old lady—and before anyone even knew what was happening, Bills slammed a steel toed boot right between Thunder’s ribs.

  I caught myself before I screamed, but Thunder didn’t.

  He let out a sharp wailing sound as he slammed back into the pavement, clutching at his ribs and groaning. I was willing to bet money Bills had caught the rib they had already broken. More than that, I was almost positive he’d meant to.

  The protests were instantaneous and none were as loud as Max. It gave me a little smidgeon of hope that things were still okay in his heart and soul, that Max was still a good guy. Maybe not a great guy, maybe not the kind of guy who wore a white hat and did things by the letter of the law, but a decent guy when it counted.

  It didn’t take more than a minute with Bills to know he was not.

  “Back the fuck up,” Max said to Bills as the other large, menacing man laughed like the maniac he was. “He’s passed; he’s in. The rules stand.”

  Bills shoved Max off, but still smiled. It wasn’t a good or comforting smile, but he held up his hands to show he respected Max’s authority. Or at the very least still abided by it.

  Bills was around six-foot four or five inches with broad shoulders that were built from lifting weights and other types of abuse. He had a shaved head and a snake tattoo spiraling around behind his ear and dipping down his neck to his shoulder. Bills was the kind of guy that a motorcycle club had a tendency to attract: big, mean, and a little unhinged. There were probably other, worse things to say about Bills, but I didn’t like to think about them.

  I didn’t want to know the truth, because then I wouldn’t be able to be brave. And I needed to be brave.

  My eyes flickered over to Thunder, who had thankfully stopped wailing. Several of the other guys had gathered around him and for a moment, I saw it all starting again.

  “You think you’re Reaper material?” Max asked, his voice low and rough and sexy as hell. “You think you belong with us?”

  “Yes,” Thunder said, though his hands trembled at his side. I didn’t know if he knew what was coming, but he must have sensed the danger.

  The club members encircled him. They were a ring in the parking lot, roping him in, ensuring there was no escape. Either he would make it or he wouldn’t. By the looks of his fat, blubbery stomach, everyone was probably pretty sure he wouldn’t. But there was determination in his eyes.

  He would see this through.

  Bills threw the first punch and that was when I knew it was going to be bad. He had a mean streak in him that was so much worse than everyone else.

  I knew when I heard the slap of his fist against flesh that Bills wasn’t going to be able to take it easy on this one. He couldn’t, it wasn’t in his nature. It made him a good lieutenant, the kind of man you could go to when you needed something dirty done, but it didn’t make him a very good person.

  I’d caught him looking at me a time or two since my dad’s death and it didn’t leave me with warm fuzzy feelings about the whole thing. Max would protect me, I knew, but he couldn’t be there twenty-four seven. And besides, I wasn’t sure where Max and I stood anymore.

  Bills hit him again and I thought maybe Max caught on to what I’d already realized: Bills was going to make things hard for Thunder. Before Bills could throw the next punch, Max stepped in and slung a hard fist into Thunder’s gut. He whispered something I couldn’t hear, but I didn’t care. Things would be bad, whether Bills was throwing the punches or Max was.

  When Max pulled away, the others began. A barrage of violence and I had to look away.

  But I was wrong. Things weren’t starting again; they were over. Thunder had survived initiation, most did these days. It was rare that an initiate didn’t survive, and that usually had a lot more to do with underlying problems than anything else. And that hadn’t happened in years. Except for—

  I shook my head. It wasn’t important, and I told myself if Max had been there that day, if things hadn’t been left to Bills and those who followed him, it would have ended differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have joined the club anyway, but he wouldn’t have died.

  The members grouped around Thunder and embraced him as they might a brother. These guys took the club seriously and considered members family, even the ones they didn’t like.

  They helped Thunder up and patted him on the shoulder, offering wonders of congratulations and encouragement. Max even shook his hand and said he believed Thunder would be an excellent addition to the Sin Reapers.

  That was nice of him, I though snidely before I could catch myself.

  That wasn’t fair of me to think, not really. This was a violent way of life, that much was definitely true, but Max was a loyal, good man. If he said it to Thunder, he meant it, and I shouldn’t be so critical.

  But it got hard when you knew the kind of violence that was going on right under your nose. Everything was hard.

  Max looked over at me, his eyes bright with excitement and adrenaline. It was a familiar look, one I’d seen a thousand different times before. It didn’t u
sed to bother me when he looked like that, but things had shifted lately and now I wasn’t sure what I thought. But I knew there were things that bothered me now.

  He sent me a wink, grinning that smile that I had always loved so damn much, but I didn’t know what to think of it this time, so I looked away.

  I loved him, I had loved him since high school and I didn’t think would ever change, but I didn’t love this anymore. I didn’t love the violence, nor the blood or the fear. Not anymore.

  My eyes slipped shut and I sent a silent prayer out to my father. An apology for all the things that had gone wrong in such a short amount of time. An apology for the things I couldn’t let go, no matter how much he would have wanted me to.

  Because whether this had been his life or not, he never would have wanted it as mine. Never.

  Chapter 2

  Max

  I watched as the other members helped Thunder stand up. He was beaten pretty badly, his left eye ringed with yellow and purple colors, and his mouth and chin stained with blood. It covered his shirt, too, an awful, dirty white wife beater that did little to help with the gut situation.

  He wouldn’t have been my first pick, I had to admit. He wasn’t the sort of image the Sin Reapers liked to promote most of the time, but rather a wider, jigglier version of what we liked people to think of us. But, then, we weren’t really about appearances.

  I’d had this argument with Bills before things got started. He’d wanted to know what the hell I thought I was doing, letting a guy like Thunder get into the game. It wasn’t any of his business really, and I’d told him that much. I was leader of the Sin Reapers, whether anyone liked it or not. True, Bills was my lieutenant and I valued his opinion in a lot of things, but when a call had to be made, in the end it was my call. I didn’t care what kind of position Bills was in, he was still beneath me.

  Even so, he was only saying what more than a few of the guys were thinking. I understood that. The Sin Reapers had a reputation to uphold—a pretty nasty one, all things considered—and that reputation would be shot all to hell if the motorcycle club was made up of people like Thunder.

  Except I didn’t give a shit what other people thought. Our reputation was based on more than appearances and I intended to keep it that way. I thought Thunder would bring something to the table, something valuable, something we’d been missing for a while now. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but I thought it was something to do with morale.

  Thunder was determined, wanted to be here. Sometimes I wondered if that were true for any of the other members. Sometimes I wondered if that were true for me.

  Besides, when it came right down to it, it didn’t much matter what any of us thought. Thunder was in and, more importantly, he was a full-fledged member. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, or the toughest, but at least he was a tool on our side.

  The Slayers, a piece of shit baby club, were starting to get a following. They were flexing their muscles and they were doing it on our turf. If we wanted any shot at keeping up our strength and holding on to our territory, we were going to have to increase our numbers. Fast.

  I wasn’t sure we were going to swing it, if I were being honest, but I had to try. This was my club; they looked to me for help. I couldn’t let them down.

  I watched as the other members, my brothers and my family, patted Thunder on the back. I decided if Thunder were half as determined and loyal as his head was hard, he would make an excellent addition to the club.

  It didn’t take my eyes long to wander, though. I was leader of the Sin Reapers and took my job very seriously, but there was one thing that could tear me away from business: Lucy.

  I spotted her standing off to the side, arms wrapped around herself and hip cocked in what might look like a tough chick position, but I knew better. She was holding herself. Something tonight had upset her and I yearned to know what it was.

  Sometimes I thought Lucy was too damn innocent for all of this shit. It wasn’t true, not really, but it felt like it. Lucy had seen more violence and grief and trouble in her short life than probably most of us here combined.

  Bills wouldn’t be included in that, but then he was usually the exception.

  She was the kind of girl who was sort of fragile, though. She put on a brave face when the guys were here and smirked in all the right places, pushed out her chest at all the right moments, and fought like the best of them when she had to—but it was all just an act. It always had been.

  I came from a family where violence was the norm, and, in a way, Lucy did, too, but it was different for her. The violence wasn’t directed at her. Her dad maybe didn’t always do right by her, but he tried.

  And what did I do? Dragged her right back into the middle of it.

  But I couldn’t help it. I needed her here with me. I needed to feel her legs wrap around me and her nails claw at my back. I needed the things an innocent little girl shouldn’t give, but it didn’t matter, I had to take them anyway.

  She’s not a little girl, I reminded myself, because I couldn’t be that kind of an asshole. But sometimes, when I looked at her and she had those big eyes, that vulnerable look on her face with that trembling lower lip, I felt like I was anyway.

  It took me a moment, but finally I caught Lucy’s eye. I knew she hated these things, initiation. She didn’t like the violence and didn’t think it was necessary, not really. I thought she knew it was, but didn’t want to admit it to herself. She wanted to believe we all could be better. I wasn’t so naïve.

  I sent her a smile, cocky and self-assured, though I didn’t feel much like either of those things lately when it came to her. Things were different between us, strained, and I hated it. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

  When she didn’t smile back at me, I winked at her.

  She’d been different recently, and I couldn’t really blame her for it. Things had changed abruptly for all of us six months ago and Lucy out of everyone was taking it the hardest. She had the right to; after all, it was her father who died.

  His name was Preacher—it was actually Marcus Gilles, but the only people who knew were me, Lucy, and the Preacher’s widow—and he’d led the Sin Reapers like a righteous but stern king. No one crossed Preacher and everyone respected him.

  But six months ago, that changed. He died and no one had an answer for that, least of all me. And I wanted one, bad. I wanted to be able to tell Lucy everything was fine, everything would be fine, and there was a reason for this terrible thing that ripped through her family.

  What the hell did I know?

  Now, I could see it in Lucy’s eyes that this wasn’t the same for her anymore. It wasn’t more violent by any stretch, but she’d lost her shield and I was beginning to think she didn’t feel like I was enough to make up for that.

  I wanted to prove her wrong, but didn’t quite know how. Not yet.

  The beating was over and Thunder was on his feet. Someone had even given him a bag of ice to press against his face in the hopes that one of his eyes at least might open the following morning. I sincerely doubted it. The guys were still congratulating Thunder on his successful initiation, but they were starting to filter out now. It was just about time to go.

  Strictly speaking, it was part of the biker’s code—ours at least—that the women of the club stay back when it came to the beatings. They could be present, like Lucy, but had to stand off to the side and wait.

  Once, I’d told Lucy she didn’t have to go. I wasn’t sure if I’d really meant it or not, probably not, but I had said it anyway in the hopes of appeasing her. We’d been arguing for the last week before that, it seemed, but when I’d made the offer, she just seemed all the more pissed off at me. It was like I had insulted her.

  Even now, I wasn’t really sure what had set her off, but after that she’d made it a point to not only attend every initiation and every meeting, but to force herself to watch as much as she could stand.

  Tonight had been especially brutal, and I’
d noticed her look away several times.

  I didn’t think it affected the other women—the old ladies of members of the club, since Lucy was the only “official” female member, and that was more due to special circumstances than anything else—like it did Lucy. She was more delicate than they were.

  I watched as the women who had been standing near or sitting on the bikes head into the ring now. They joined their men, hugging and kissing and showing general displays of affection that was maybe more than I wanted to see just then.

  I waited for Lucy, but I knew even before I saw her turn away that she wouldn’t come to me. I knew it. Part of me wanted to stalk over to her and grab her wrist as she reached for the car. I wanted to jerk her around and make her look at me, make her stare deep into my eyes until that familiar yearning, burning sensation filled my body and I kissed her like I couldn’t breathe without her.