by Jen Davis
“You’ve already made this argument and lost.” Scott stuck a cigarette in his mouth but didn’t light it. “We’re doing this my way, little brother. You better get on board, because this train is leaving with or without you.”
Scott put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The hardness drained from his face, leaving him with a hopeful expression. “I’d rather have you with me, man.” Letting him go, Scott left the room.
He rubbed the same ache at his temple again. His brother wanted his approval. That much was obvious. How many times had he felt the same way? But this was a mistake, no matter how he looked at it.
What would Mandy think if she could see him now? Not only part of the MC. Not only running guns but pushing drugs. Hell, cooking the shit.
As much as it had killed him to watch her walk away from him at the restaurant, maybe it was better this way. At least now, he wouldn’t know the shame, the look in her eyes, when she saw how far he’d fallen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Amanda
Amanda took a few minutes to collect herself before getting out of the car and walking the sidewalk to her father’s front door. She didn’t want to see him. The very idea of looking at his face made her stomach turn.
I can’t have you upsetting the balance right now, he’d said.
She hadn’t seen him since he ordered her to keep herself available for Nathan almost two weeks ago. She hadn’t seen Nathan either, which was a blessing since the bodyguard her father had promised never materialized. Technically, she hadn’t turned down any dates with the bastard because she hadn’t taken any of his calls. Maybe he’d lose interest.
And maybe the earth will open up and swallow my car whole.
Not likely.
Nathan Shaw liked to win, and right now she was the prize.
She cursed her father for what felt like the thousandth time, though the hard truth was it wasn’t only his fault. No one had forced her to accept his deal. No one had forced her to accept Nathan’s attention. Or to leave Kane in his hospital bed years ago.
No. Those were her sins. The ones she stayed up at night thinking about. Why it was damn hard to look at herself in the mirror. Why she felt so fucking worthless sometimes, the next horrible thing someone asked of her didn’t seem beneath her at all.
Enough feeling sorry for myself.
She needed the other twenty-five thousand her father had promised her, and she needed it now. Jared Berringer wasn’t a man to rest on his laurels. She would be ready to start work the minute he made the call.
Which meant start-up costs had to be in place.
Steeling herself for whatever her father would throw at her next, she approached the front porch only to run into the groundskeeper, Raul, who was pressure washing the pavement.
He stopped the spray and tipped his hat. “You may want to go in through the back, ma’am. Don’t want to ruin your nice shoes.”
Though the advice came too late to keep her pumps completely dry, she turned, then rounded the house to enter through the French doors into the sunroom. There, she slipped her shoes off her feet and carried them into the house, in search of a hand towel to wipe off the patent leather.
The linen closet was only a few steps down the hall.
What’re a couple more minutes? It’s not like Dad is expecting me anyway.
Frankly, she’d been rather surprised when she’d gone to his office, and his assistant had told her he was working from home for the day. Her father was never home during business hours on a Thursday, or any other weekday, come to think of it.
She padded in her bare feet toward the towels, trying to remember if her dad had ever worked from home in her life.
“—can’t possibly stand for this.”
She froze a few steps away from her father’s office. The man’s voice wasn’t familiar, but it was a rare occasion to hear anyone talk to her dad in such a tone. Generally, he surrounded himself with smooth-talking politicians like himself, servants, or sycophants. This man sounded…angry.
“I know how you feel about the Skulls. It’s a damn cautionary tale about getting on your bad side. Imagine our surprise you would allow this to happen.”
The Skulls? Why was someone talking to her father about Kane’s biker gang?
“To be frank, Mr. Bennett, I had no idea this was going on,” her father said. “I pride myself on having my finger on the pulse of what’s happening in this community. Though I was aware of Mr. de la Cruz’s unexplained absence, I didn’t realize someone had stepped in to fill the void so soon.”
De la Cruz? The drug dealer?
“The darks are always gonna need their fix. It’s a fact of life. But we should be the ones in charge of distribution; we should be the ones who profit from their weakness.”
She ground her teeth at the man’s racist rant.
“Why come to me? What do I get out of your success?” Her father gave words to the questions rioting in her head.
“Because nothing happens in this city without your blessing. If you don’t want the Skulls taking over the drug line, you’ve got the connections to take them down. And here’s the thing, Mr. Mayor. Taking them down is win-win for you. Not only do you get to stick it to the Hales, but you guarantee a stake in our business. One percent of our profits will go directly into your campaign fund. A penny of every dollar we’ll make. You get money out of it…and satisfaction.”
Silence greeted the man’s offer. She let out a wavering breath. The man had underestimated her father. He wouldn’t—
“Five percent. Direct deposit into the campaign fund.”
“Done.”
She braced her hand on the wall, her head swimming as her father wheeled and dealed in the next room.
“Give me a few days to get everything in place, and Mr. Bennett, don’t call me; I’ll call you. I’m sure you understand why discretion in this matter is vital.”
She took two steps backward, then whirled and rushed back down the hall to the kitchen. Her thoughts spun out of control. Kane’s club was dealing drugs? Was he? If her father had it out for him, it didn’t really matter. He’d go down one way or another. Unless she warned him.
Even as her dad kept Kane out of jail all those years ago, in his own way, he’d stolen Kane’s future. Their future. She’d be damned if she let him do any more damage.
Slipping her shoes back on, she rushed back around the house but froze when she caught a glimpse of Raul lugging the pressure washer back to his pick-up.
She couldn’t leave without seeing her father. Someone would mention the fact she’d been here; she hadn’t exactly been stealthy.
Her hand shook as she pulled her phone from her purse and pulled up her father’s contact. He answered on the first ring.
“Now is not a good time, Amanda.” He didn’t even bother to say hello.
“I’m here at the house, Dad. Eddie said you’d gone home. Are you sick?” Her voice didn’t shake once. “Raul’s been working on the porch; I’m coming around back, okay?” Slowly, she started retracing her steps.
“No. There’s no need. You and I can catch up later. Maybe have lunch tomorrow.”
She paused. “It really can’t wait. Dad, I need to talk to you about the money—”
“I’ll wire it to your account before close of business,” he said sharply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m really not feeling well.”
He disconnected before she could say another word.
If he was sending the money, it was one less thing to worry about, but she still needed to tell Kane what she’d heard. And she needed to do it fast.
***
Kane
Brick held up the closet door with hinges hovering over the holes in the frame while Kane knelt down and screwed them in place. Work on the house was moving much faster with a five-man crew. Brick’s strength and construction know-how helped him do the work of two guys, and Cy’s Army buddy was slowly getting up to speed.
He was glad to have the distraction of work. He was p
lagued by memories of holding Mandy’s hand at the restaurant, the need in her eyes. He’d shake his thoughts away only to replace them with questions about how he could fix the club and save his brothers from disaster. No answers had presented themselves.
He grunted as he leaned into the drill. “Any word when Will’s coming back to work?” If anyone would have the skinny, it would be Brick. His fiancé was Will’s sister, after all.
Brick’s deep voice carried over the electronic whir in his ears. “Probably the first of the new year. The doctors say he’s on track, but the bullet collapsed his lung. He was a lot worse off than I was.” Brick seemed to be no worse for wear after the shot he took to the shoulder. Meanwhile, the guy who pulled the trigger—one of Sucre’s thugs—was resting permanently, six feet under.
It was no loss. From what he understood, Tre Lowry had been every bit the stain on humanity his boss had been. With the bottom hinge secure, he stood to screw in the top. “Have you spent any time with the new guy?”
“Evan?” Brick shook his head. “Poor dude is really fucked up. Cy says an IED caused all those burns. Fucking brutal.”
Brutal barely scratched the surface. Cy’s friend had thick, ropey scars along the left side of his body. They covered his jawline and his neck as well as the top of his left hand. It was hard to tell where else the burns extended beneath his clothes.
He had never heard Evan speak. It wasn’t clear if the guy couldn’t talk or if he just chose not to. Neither would surprise him. Though to be fair, he hadn’t worked with the man very much. Cy and Matt were showing him the ropes, which had to be interesting since none of the men were what anyone would call talkers.
“How’s it coming, you guys?”
Speaking of talkers.
Robby grinned as he hugged his ever-present clipboard to his chest.
Brick gave his arm a gentle tap over the long-sleeved Oxford. “Almost finished with the doors. We only have one left. Master closet.” He gestured at the remaining door, leaning against the wall.
Robby canted his head, his brown bangs falling into his eyes. “Xander says we need to be done here before the end of the month so we can get started on the new development. You think we’re gonna make it?”
“No sweat.” Brick lifted one shoulder. “All the bones are in place. Cabinet guys are coming tomorrow. Electricians and plumbers are putting in their fixtures at the beginning of next week. We’ll be done by Christmas.”
Robby bounced on the balls of his feet. “You’ll be in your new house by then, right?”
“Yep. We close next week. Which reminds me, Olivia wanted me to invite all of you to the new place to have Christmas dinner with us. She—we—want—” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then shook his head ruefully. “We want to celebrate with our family.”
Kane warmed at Brick’s reluctant admission. Celebrating Christmas with family would be a first for him too.
Robby was out-and-out beaming. “Of course, we’ll be there, right Kane?”
“Sure, kid.” He chuckled.
Brick shot Robby a sly look. “Why don’t you go extend the invitation to Matt and the other guys?”
Robby’s cheeks pinked, but he wasted no time bounding out the door in search of the object of his affection.
“You know Matt’s going to figure it out someday, and when he rejects your boy, it’s going to break his heart.” Robby was really growing on him, and he found the idea of his heartbreak…unsettling.
Brick shrugged. “We can’t help who we fall for, man. You know as well as I do.”
“You can shove your fortune cookie wisdom right up your ass.” He grimaced at the knowing expression on Brick’s face.
“What?” his friend asked innocently. “I can’t help it if you can relate to the idea of carrying a torch for someone. Even when it’s a bad idea.” Brick rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “On a totally unrelated note, have you seen Amanda Griffin around lately?’
“Fuck you, brother.” There was no heat in his curse, only grim acceptance. Brick saw right through his protests about Mandy, but it seemed everyone else did too. “Does everybody know?”
Taking a sip of the Gatorade he had pulled from the ice chest near the wall, Brick looked up at the ceiling, clearly weighing his words. He swallowed, then sighed. “Yeah. But nobody is judging you about it. We’ve all got soft spots that hurt when you poke ‘em. She’s yours. No shame there.”
Kane’s phone buzzed, saving him from having to find an answer.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured.
A text lit his screen.
I need to talk to you. It’s important. Meet me at my apartment.
-A
No address, but then again, he knew exactly where she lived. He knew what kind of car she drove. What men she attended events with, splashed across the online society pages. Not that he ever Googled her.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I’ve got to go. You cool to finish up here?”
“Yeah. No problem.” Brick grabbed his arm, then let it go. “You call me if you need anything.”
He was out the door and on his bike before he realized he hadn’t even answered his friend. Mandy called, he came running. She was his soft-spot all right.
His first love. His only love.
The only woman who made his heart race, his blood boil.
Even after all these years, he still treasured the memories of every kiss, every touch, and the promise of a future they never ended up having.
***
13 years ago
July
Kane flitted a nervous glance around the room he’d rented at the Hampton Inn. It was nicer than anywhere he’d ever slept before, and he’d skipped lunch every day for a month to save up the money to pay for it.
No doubt Mandy had slept in better places. Hell, her room at her dad’s house was probably classier than this, but deep down he knew she wouldn’t care. She’d never judged him for how much money he had or what he could spend on her. Still, he wanted to give her the best of everything. She deserved all the finest things, and one day, when he was a successful investment banker, he’d give them all to her.
Tonight, he’d have to settle for the king-sized bed he had covered in rose petals, soft music from a playlist on his iPod, and a bottle of white zinfandel. He didn’t know anything about wine, but the lady at the store had told him it was good.
“Can I open my eyes now?” Mandy squeezed his hand, pulling him back into the moment.
He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, breathing in the subtle smell of lavender. She hummed softly against him.
Taking a step back, he moved out of her line of sight. “Yes.”
Her eyes flew open, and she took in the scene. She blinked rapidly.
Dread pooled in his stomach.
Had he read her wrong? Was it too soon?
Obviously, she had to have some idea where they were when he’d led her through the lobby and into the elevator, even with her eyes closed, but still, maybe his attempts at a romantic set-up were a bust. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, sweetheart. I would be happy to just spend the night with you in my arms.” The sad thing was, he meant every word.
“Are you kidding? This is perfect. I love it.” She bit her bottom lip. “Did you bring—”
“Condoms?” He grinned. “Two boxes.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “My, aren’t we ambitious? What happened to just spending the night with me in your arms?”
His smile dimmed. “Of course. I mean—”
Mandy’s laugh was husky as she closed the distance between them. “I’m teasing you.” She kissed his throat, right above the neckline of his T-shirt, and he shivered beneath the soft press of her lips. “I want to make love with you.” Her hands traveled up the outside of his arms. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”
With one kiss and a feather-light touch, she already had his dick standing at full attention. “Weeks?” he croak
ed.
“Mm-hmm.” Her delicate hands slid over his shoulders, then her fingers moved down to trace his collarbone. “I want to see you.” She pulled on his shirt. “Take this off.”
Like a randy schoolboy, he couldn’t move fast enough. He scrambled to pull his T-shirt over his head. His nipples pebbled in the chilled air-conditioned room.
Mandy’s fingers moved straight to them, gliding over their peaks in small, circular movements. Her eyes flashed as she watched her hands glide down his torso, over the trail of hair beneath his navel, to the buckle of his belt.
“I want to see everything,” she whispered. Her gaze flashed up to his.
Was she asking permission?
He gave it to her with a quick jerk of his head.
His Mandy didn’t waste one second. She had his belt unbuckled and his fly open in a heartbeat. Tugging his pants down to his thighs, she freed his erection, and it strained to get closer to her.
She tilted her head as she surveyed his eager cock. “I’m not sure it’s going to fit.”
Mandy was always so self-confident, so poised and perfect, it was easy to forget she was a virgin. No, not to forget her virginity, but to forget she might be nervous or unsure. God knew, if she ever was, she never showed it.
She stepped toward him, taking his shaft in her hands. “I’ve dreamed about it. What it would be like to feel you inside me.” She put her lips against his ear. “I ordered a dildo online.”
His dick jumped, and suddenly his mind was filled with the filthiest images imaginable of her pleasuring herself with his name on her lips.
“It’s supposed to look like the real thing.” Her tongue grazed his lobe; her breath was hot and damp. “But it’s not like yours. You feel different in my hands.” She squeezed him. “Show me how different you feel between my legs.”
“You play dirty,” he growled, then kicked off his shoes and tossed the rest of his clothing onto the floor. He palmed her between her legs and squeezed over the thick denim of her jeans.