“Pizda, Lily. Don’t bring it up.”
She shrugged. “Who in their right mind turns down a bank account with ten million in it?”
My eyes bugged out. “Huh?” I whipped around to face her. “Ten million? What the hell are you talking about?”
Lily straightened up but her arms moved around her stomach like she was comforting herself. From what, I wasn’t sure. The past, the present, Alessa’s rejection? Who the fuck knew? These women were obviously insane.
I was definitely bisexual, but men were so much more fucking rational that I’d spent a good chunk of my sex life burning off my needs with other dicks. This just confirmed why guys were easier lays.
“I want her to have independence from you, from the club too. I want her to know that she can do whatever she wants. Even if she has to return to Ukraine—”
My brow furrowed and tension hit me. My ribs felt constricted, and suddenly, it was really hard to choke out, “What the fuck are you talking about? Return to Ukraine? Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to stay here, Maverick,” Alessa answered grimly, her cheeks still pink from exertion. Fine strands of gold clung to her forehead where sweat beaded. They also clung to her throat, and I’d admit my fingers itched to release the locks from their inadvertent prison.
Christ, she was beautiful.
The name Alessa suited her actually. It was a pretty name for a woman who was so much more beautiful than pretty could even begin to describe. There was something about her that was frail and delicate, but the golden blonde hair, and the angelic features with their slightly pointy edges that made her look like a fairy—I had to admit, she was gorgeous.
In a weird way, she reminded me of my mom. Which sounded skeevy and positively oedipal considering Alessa was my type, but skeevy or not, I shoved two fingers up at Freud. I hadn’t wanted to bone my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bone Alessa, no matter how hot she was.
Not that my dick was on board with that statement. Not with her looking like a warrior angel intent on finding justice—
“Why won’t you be allowed to stay here?” I parroted before my mind could be swept out from under me by thoughts of her under me.
What the hell was going on with my head? I didn’t think I could blame this on the CTE either.
“Because they might think we only married for a green card,” was her patient reply. “If we were hauled in now and they questioned you, they’d think our marriage was fake, wouldn’t they?”
That had Lily huffing. “Which is why I want Alessa to know that she can do whatever the hell she wants. With that amount of money, she’s free to buy her green card.”
Unease swept over my wife’s features. “I don’t want to be like them.”
Lily shrugged, appearing to know exactly who ‘they’ were. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” she retorted. “I’m sure as hell not about to throw their money out. I want to use it for good. You can too, Alessa. You can do whatever you want with it.
“Donate eight million to a charity, use the other million for Kat and her schooling, then secure your future with that final million and know that you never have to bow down to any man again.” She sniffed at that, then shot me a defiant glance that had my hackles rising.
Like I was doing any of this on purpose, for fuck’s sake.
“Look, Lily—”
“No, Maverick, I won’t look. You’ve treated Alessa like shit. Maybe that’s because she’s a stranger, and I understand that she is to you, but the guys you love like brothers have told you what she is to you, and you still aren’t treating her the way she deserves. Why the hell would I want her to think she was tied to you forever when this you isn’t whom she tied herself to, hmm?”
Her snarled retort had me gritting my teeth.
She had a fucking point.
Goddamn her.
Before either woman could say another word, I stormed off, not wanting to deal with Lily or Alessa, not wanting to deal with how hot under the collar she’d made me, or how Lily was right—why would Alessa want to stay tied to me? Why, when I was as much of a stranger to her as she was to me?
But the thought of her leaving… No, that didn’t sit well with me either.
I wasn’t sure why when she meant nothing to me, even if her kindnesses over the past few days had brought some relief to my life, but I didn’t want her to go.
As the shadows of the garage, with its harsh lighting that messed with my eyes, gave way to sunlight, I winced as spots danced around my vision. I wanted to run back inside the house, but my head wouldn’t let me. Just crossing the neat courtyard was enough to make sweat pop out above my top lip, and I nearly fucking wept when I finally made it to the front door.
Pressing my back to it, I took some deep breaths, trying to calm down, trying to stop that strange throbbing in my head from overtaking me, and just when I was sure I was about to lose the fight, I felt a hand on mine.
“Can I help?”
The voice was soft, childish. I peered down, way down, at a little girl who was Alessa’s image—if Alessa didn’t brush her hair and had constantly filthy cheeks.
“There’s no helping me,” I told her rawly, then because there was way too much emotion in that statement when she’d only been trying to be kind, I managed to force a wobbly smile before rasping, “Thank you for offering though. That was sweet of you.”
She narrowed her eyes at me for a second, then murmured, “If you don’t let me help you, I’ll tell Star on you.”
I sniffed. “What kind of threat is that?”
“A big one,” she retorted. “Star’s the best at punishments. She knows exactly what you don’t want to lose and will take it away.”
She’d always been a bitch.
Maybe my distaste was clear in my expression, because Katina sidled up to me and said, “I can tell you’ve been in her bad books too.”
“Yeah,” I said gruffly. “A few times. What did you do?”
“Nothing. Yet.”
My pounding temples couldn’t put up with this much longer. “Meaning you’ve done something she hasn’t found out about yet?”
“Exactly.” She heaved a sigh. “Anyway, I can talk to you all day or I can help you. Which do you prefer?”
I let my fingers fold around hers. “Lead the way.”
She beamed a smile that was brighter than the sun and just as painful to behold because it was the spitting image of her sister.
A sister I really didn’t need to think about just now.
“Star doesn’t want me to know, but I’m not stupid. You’re different now than you used to be, so I mean, how couldn’t I tell?” she groused. “She knows I’m smart, so she should have told me the truth instead of me having to poke through all her things.”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
Her snort was derisive. “Yes, Maverick, you look it.” Then, her derision disappeared and a flash of vulnerability overtook her expression. “I was glad you were going to be my big brother.”
“You were?” I asked, surprised by her remark.
“Yes. But then you turned into a big jerk.” Her mouth twisted, and a pugnacious cast creased her expression. “Now I don’t want you to be my big brother until you start acting like one.”
“How are they supposed to act?”
“Protective, of course.” She huffed with disgust. “Don’t you know anything?”
Not about being a goddamn big brother when I was an only child. “How old are you again?” I grumbled.
“Why does everyone always ask me that?” she muttered. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady how old she is?”
“It’d be rude to puke on a lady too, so if you don’t want that, I’d hurry the hell up.”
Her eyes flared wide at that, but she managed to hustle us forward. I didn’t put much weight on her, but for some stupid reason, the feel of her small, sweaty hand in mine gave me the drive to stagger through the hall like I
was coming off a ten-hour bender. When we made it into the great room, she didn’t lead me to the doorway that would take us into the yard, she aimed for the sofa.
It was a long black thing, more cushions than made sense, and it looked better than my bed ever could.
Accepting the wise decision not to push it much more, I let her help me down onto it, let her grab my feet and lower them onto the cushions, even fucking let her take off my boots.
“Your feet stink.”
“They don’t,” I retorted numbly.
“Well, they do to me,” she complained, before she fell silent.
Thinking she’d left, I placed my forearm over my eyes and tried to think about anything other than passing out. If I could just relax, maybe nap, then that would stop the inevitable from happening.
To some people, there might not be much of a difference between the two, but to me, there fucking was. Thirty goddamn years, that’s what.
“Do you need Lessie?”
The soft whisper almost had me leaping out of my skin, which made my brain rattle, but I rasped, “No. I’m okay.”
She grunted. “You don’t look okay.” Her small hand patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Maverick. You go to sleep. I’ll guard you.”
And even though it was stupid to think that a kid could guard me, maybe that was all I needed to goddamn hear, because getting to sleep stopped being a struggle and started being inevitable…
Nineteen
Quin
I felt a little like a kicked puppy trying to earn the way back into his owner’s good graces when I took a seat at the table and waited for Nyx to show.
I mostly expected him not to turn up, even though logic dictated he was here otherwise I wouldn’t have been brought into the visiting room. Of course, Indy might be here in Nyx’s stead…
I could easily see that happening.
She’d have found out about Nyx rescheduling the visit and would have told him to fuck off and leave the baby of the family to her to look after.
That was my sister all over. Protective of those she loved. Defensive to the point of self-annihilation when it came to making sure the people she cared about weren’t hurt.
I was a lucky guy to have Indy as flesh and blood, but it didn’t really have anything to do with good fortune. I’d saved her once upon a time, and she’d gotten it in her mind to save me.
Over and over.
I was such a fucking mess.
Fitting, I figured, that I’d learned that in Rikers.
Maybe it was the constant threat of a beating, of getting raped, of having murdered a prisoner for my MC in here, or simply the slow passage of time that was making me introspective, but Rikers had shaken some sense into me.
If the parole board was kind, I had eleven months left in this hellhole… some days, I wasn’t sure if I’d survive another twenty-four hours, never mind a week or a month. But something would happen. A letter would come in, or I’d get a visit, and that would see me through.
My hand was shaking when I lifted it to rub the back of my neck because today was one of those days. One where I felt like grabbing the shiv I kept in my boxer briefs—which I was getting sick and tired of using as a purse for carrying all my contraband—and slicing my wrists wide open.
I needed this visit.
And as much as I wanted to see Indy, I needed to see Nyx more.
He was like a father to me rather than a brother. Dad had been around for most of my life, but he’d been deadbeat. That wasn’t me casting shade either. After Carly, things had gone to crap in our family, and I didn’t think we’d ever really recuperated from it. Maybe we never would.
Maybe we were destined just to go around and around and around in a constant, vicious circle. All of us self-destructive, all of us just trying to find a peace that had been denied to us for decades.
The thought had me bowing my head.
I had to think of the future. I had to think of a year from now, when I’d be free. Fucking free, at long last.
Releasing a shaky breath, I heard the clanging of the doors, the clicking of the goddamn endless locks, and peered up, trying not to hope too much that Nyx was here.
It wasn’t just that he might have had to reschedule—he could have been pulled aside. After all, he was an MC affiliated with me. He wasn’t supposed to be allowed to visit. But ‘supposed to’ and ‘could do whatever we fucking wanted’ were synonymous in my world.
Unless we got caught.
There was no ‘getting out of jail free’ card once we were locked up.
I rubbed my chin, unashamed to admit my palm was sweaty as I watched the family tumble in through the doors. Kids and sisters and wives and girlfriends, baby mommas and mothers, they were all here. Their eyes lit up like they were heading for a day trip to the New York Zoo and not a trip to this shithole.
As much of a fuck up as Dad had been, at least we’d never had to visit him here.
Thank Christ for small mercies, eh?
When my brother stormed around the corner, looking his usual growly self, the relief that hit me was instantaneous. Another shaky breath escaped me, this one loaded with joy because, fuck, it felt so good to see him. So fucking good, especially after the news driving around the joint.
I didn’t want to believe it, but this place was worse than a fucking hair salon in a two-bit town. Gossip spread like chlamydia. If I could have hurled myself at him for a hug, I would’ve, but my limbs weren’t exactly mine to control right now.
Instead, I stared at him, willing him to see me, willing him to not give me shit. Ever since I’d been sent down, he’d barely spoken to me, hadn’t written, had never visited. Only Indy had passed on the gossip, and she hadn’t been by in a while even if she called every couple of days.
I felt like a parched desert in need of rain.
I needed more information, I needed to keep going, to stay alive.
Eleven months was nothing compared to what I’d already served, but the prospect of another fucking week was killing me.
I needed Nyx to give me some fucking reason to carry on.
He wasn’t wearing his cut, which was so strange to me because since I was a kid, I’d never really seen him without it. He wore a pair of boots, some jeans, and a thick Henley because it was getting cold out—something else to dread, another winter in this fucking place—and looked so normal that it had me blinking a few times.
The cut didn’t make the man, but he looked like a guy. A random guy walking into a random prison visiting room to see a random sibling.
It was weird. And nice.
I was used to thinking of him as both a brother by blood and by MC, even though I’d barely been a member of the Satan’s Sinners before I’d been tossed in here. Since I knew what the MC was, I’d been waiting to be patched in, and then I’d gone and screwed everything up.
Story of my life.
When his eyes finally met mine, I was surprised by the lack of distaste in them. I’d changed since I came in here. The signs of youth had all gone now, replaced with a man who had to fight to survive, who had to fight to stay intact.
His lips parted, but he didn’t miss a step, just strode toward me, as powerful as always, as sure of himself as always, and didn’t stop until he was taking a seat opposite me.
Nearly all my childhood, I’d wanted to be like him when I grew up. Instead, I was a fucking patsy.
Goddamnit.
Anger lit up inside me, but I contained it. Just like I had to contain everything else that involved feeling in this shithole.
Eleven months.
That wasn’t so long, was it?
“Hey, brother,” he rasped as a greeting, and I swear to fuck, my throat choked up.
I bowed my head, breaking the eye contact, and squeezed my hands into fisted balls. When I got some composure, I looked back up at him and noticed his mouth was turned down as he studied me.
“You’ve bulked up some,” Nyx mumbled.
“No alterna
tive.” My smile was tight. “Let’s just put it this way… Link’d have a whale of a time in here.”
Nyx snorted, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Fucker only likes butt play with chicks, not a hundred fucking serial killers.”
“He has some taste then.”
“Some. Although, you should meet his Old Lady. Lily’s class.”
“Still find it hard to believe how many of you are getting tied down,” I said a little sheepishly. “Starting with you. I’m looking forward to meeting Giulia.”
He cleared his throat. “I’d have brought her with me today, but I wanted to talk to you about something, and I didn’t want her here, not in this place. She’s… You’re going to be an uncle, Quin,” he rumbled, his smile tight as he imparted that bombshell, and what a fucking bombshell.
My eyes bugged wide. “You’re shitting me?” It was rhetorical, because I knew he wasn’t, but fuck… Then, I looked at him. Properly. And I saw there were shadows around him, shadows I knew meant his demons were haunting him even if he was happy.
I saw that too.
I was used to a Nyx whose mouth looked like an asshole because it was puckered so tightly with displeasure. I was used to a scowling Nyx who made a sourpuss appear cheerful. I was used to a Nyx who hunted down sick fucks because that was the only way he could get to sleep—and he was constantly exhausted. Bowed down with the weight of his self-appointed mission.
This wasn’t that Nyx.
Relief for him filled me. I loved my brother, was proud to admit it, but I’d never thought he’d be happy. He seemed to be though. There seemed to be less edginess around him. Like this Giulia, the mother of my niece or nephew—goddamn, I was going to be an uncle—was mellowing him out.
I hoped so. For his sake, I really fucking hoped so.
“That’s great news,” I told him after a few seconds of processing the truth. “Absolutely fucking great.” I didn’t really know if this was true or not, but from what he’d been like with me, I knew I wasn’t far off when I told him, “You’re going to be a badass dad, Nyx. I just know it.”
Maverick: A Dark MC Romance (A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Series Book 6) Page 17