Kennedy (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries #1)

by Addison Jane

Us girls kept it pretty damn clean, but there was that kind of vibe that no amount of cleaning was ever going to remove. Just thinking about it made me shudder. It was a dirty feeling you got just stepping inside the clubhouse. Like you knew the people there weren’t good people. You wanted to scrub your skin clean to try and remove the atmosphere from your skin.

  This clubhouse, though, it felt comfortable, it felt homely.

  It was honestly a strange contrast.

  Avery came over to the table and placed her bowl of cereal down before she took a seat. “What’s up, guys?” She was beautiful. She had a slightly Asian feel to her features which only made her that much more striking. When she smiled, it was soft and warm. It made you feel like she was a friend who you’d known for years.

  “We’re gonna play a little game of twenty questions,” Repo responded, and Myth rolled his eyes. “Question one, what are you to the club?”

  She raised a brow as she filled her mouth with a spoonful of what looked like some fancy kind of cereal with flakes and fruit and other shit that only rich people and health addicts bought. Avery chewed for a few seconds before swallowing. “Uh, I’m a club girl?” she answered as if she was confused and maybe it was a trick question.

  “You’re being a dick,” I growled, wondering what the hell he was trying to do.

  “Just listen,” he insisted gruffly, the look in his eyes not ordering me to lay down and do what I was told, but more asking me to trust him and hear what Avery had to say. So, I gritted my teeth and pressed my lips closed. He nodded and continued, “And what kind of jobs do you have around the place?”

  “Uhh… other than the obvious,” she grinned widely. “We take turns making meals, two girls at a time, we also tend the bar and clean up when things get too crazy, but the guys are pretty good. They don’t make too much mess.”

  I got it now.

  He was trying to make a point.

  “And do you intend on being a club girl forever?” Repo asked, looking at me when he asked the question, his face dark and serious.

  Once again, Avery paused, her eyes shifting between the two of us as she chewed. “No…” she drawled, absently digging around in her bowl. It must have finally clicked as she examined the energy between us because she turned her body to me with a smile. “I’m going to assume he’s trying to explain the ‘club girl’ thing to you? Are you looking to be one?”

  Repo’s jaw clenched, and I had to clear the lump in my throat before I answered, “Maybe.”

  That was a lie.

  She smiled again, the same welcoming friend that I had felt when she sat down. “I’m going to school. Studying to be a psychologist, actually. The club pays for my classes, they give me a place to live and time to go to school when I need it, and if we want to earn extra money, we can pick up shifts at Empire, and we get paid for those.”

  I wondered what I looked like at that moment. I felt like my heart had stopped. I wanted to be sick. Was this girl honestly telling the truth? Not only did the club treat her with respect and dignity, they paid for her to be in school? She lived in the clubhouse, she ate here, and she had electricity and hot water. She didn’t have to worry about where her next meal was coming from, and she had the opportunity to earn more money for other things she needed on top of everything else.

  Why?

  Why the fuck had I been dealt the hand I’d been dealt. “So what fucking shitty things did I do in another life to be dealt the cards I was dealt?” I rasped, trying to hold back my tears.

  Avery suddenly appeared out of her depth, looking over at Myth who leaned back in his seat and shook his head, subtly letting her know to leave it alone.

  “Wasn’t you, pretty girl,” Repo answered, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. He looked me directly in the eyes, the sharp and frosty blue color seeming like it instantly became more intense, like his anger had caused them to freeze over. “Guys like Crow, they have a fucking nose for the vulnerable and broken.”

  I was broken.

  I thought I’d done pretty fucking well up until now. I held myself together—barely. For five fucking years. I made sure that Brooklyn was fed, that she went to school, that she kept her grades up. I did whatever I fucking had to, to make sure that we kept our heads above water. We might not have had Christmas, we might not have had birthdays, but fuck, we could get through anything. Because we were fighters.

  And I was at the point right now where maybe I didn’t have to fight anymore. And honestly, the idea of that being taken, being lifted from my body, was making my heart feel at that moment like it was going to fucking leap out of my chest.

  The need to be strong and fight back was gone, and the realization of every fucking thing that I had been living through for the last few months was beginning to pile up instead. I was beaten, I was starved, I was mentally and emotionally abused. My body and my mind had taken every kind of assault you could possibly imagine. And I was suddenly very aware of the fact that maybe, just fucking maybe, that was done.

  Repo had removed that danger, and now he was trying to prove why I could trust him. Why he wasn’t just another guy trying to get into my pants, and why this wasn’t just another club who collected women and broke them down until they believed they were worth nothing more than the dirt on the damn fucking ground.

  “Is it really over?” I asked, barely able to get the words out. I wasn’t even sure that he heard them, they were light and breathy.

  Repo’s eyebrows rose, I guess not expecting that to be the next question. “Like I told you last night…” he started, his hands clenching into fists as they sat above the small round table, “… I didn’t buy you. You don’t owe me shit. You can walk out right now if that’s what you want. But I’m offering to watch your back ‘cause I know there’s something about you that Crow wants, and he wants it fucking bad.” He slowly got up out of his chair grabbing his plate and walking toward the kitchen.

  I was shaking.

  I didn’t know what to think.

  I was so fucking confused right now.

  “Repo is a protector,” Myth explained after a few moments of silence. “We’d all say we would do whatever we had to do to protect the people we loved, but Repo, he already has. Again and fucking again. And he has the mental scars and the jail time to prove it. He doesn’t do injustice. He doesn’t believe in one person holding the power and breaking down others who can’t defend or protect themselves.”

  “What happened to him?” I whispered, remembering him telling me about how he had no memory of the trauma he experienced. Just knowing how it made him feel.

  Myth shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he really does either.”

  I got up, ready to chase after him.

  “Kennedy.” I’d barely gotten out of my seat before I heard my name and turned to see Shake walking toward me, holding up a cell phone. “You need to talk to your sister and tell her to stop trying to run away before the boys decide to lock her in a room.”

  I could tell by the look on his face he was completely serious.

  I nodded eagerly, reaching out for the phone. “I’ll get her to chill out.” I put the cell to my ear and took a deep breath. “Brook?”

  “Kennedy? Oh my fucking God, what the hell is happening?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the sound of my little sister’s voice even if it was shaking and panicked. It was okay because I knew she was okay. “It’s a really long story, Brook. It would take me forever to explain. All you need to know right now is that you can trust those guys who are looking after you.” She paused, I could tell she was thinking. My baby sister was nervous, and it was when she was nervous that she was the most dangerous. “Brook, listen to me. I know this is all a shock, but you need to trust them to look after you until I can get there.”

  “Are we in trouble?” she asked softly and cautiously.

  I didn’t know how much to tell her. Over the years, I had to wonder whether I’d been too open and honest
with Brooklyn, and whether that had really done her any good. Maybe I should have kept more information from her, tried to hide some of the bullshit from her.

  “I don’t know yet,” I answered, mostly honestly. “I just know that you need to stop trying to run.”

  She snorted loudly. “Damn tattletales.”

  I laughed softly.

  And there she was.

  “When do you think you’ll be here?” she urged. In my head I could see her tapping her foot impatiently.

  “I’m not sure, Brook,” I murmured. “As soon as I can. I promise. Until then, though, please listen to Huntsman. You’re safe there, and I need to know you’re safe right now. I don’t need any more drama or anything else to worry about.”

  She huffed. “Yeah, okay.”

  “It’s over,” I finally said, my voice catching. “We don’t have to deal with Crow again.”

  She didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Like actually?”

  “Like actually.”

  I could practically hear the smile on her face. “Well, I guess I could put up with these guys for a while then.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  REPO

  The past few days I’d felt like they were a physical fight against myself. I still had to work my hours at the club and keep my small jobs ticking over in the workshop. And anytime I had in between was spent with Kennedy.

  She talked about her sister, she talked about starting out as a stripper, she talked about the strange rules and laws that Red Riot had. The longer she was at the clubhouse, I think the more she began to realize her situation really was different.

  Yes, there were MCs out there who treated their girls like trash because they were fucking men on a power trip. But there were also a lot of MCs who looked after their girls, appreciated them. Maybe they didn’t do what the Brothers by Blood do and pay for them to go to school and such, but the foundations of our club were built on respect, and it was built on every person doing their part to keep the club going. Whether it was a small part or a large part, every piece of the machine was important.

  It was interesting for me to see her process this shit. But I knew it also hurt her a lot now to be reminded of what she went through wasn’t normal.

  Kennedy had me feeling more than just protective.

  There were very few people who I’d ever wished I could feel the touch of without wanting to fucking throw up or punch someone. I had to keep myself from pushing her buttons, eager to see that spark light because I knew she didn’t need that right now. I wanted to show her she was worth more than these guys had made her think. She deserved a life, one that didn’t have her wondering where their next meal was coming from, one that didn’t force her into a life of being a parent before she’d even had a baby.

  When you’d seen as many horrible fucking souls and dark, evil people as I have, and then you find one as sweet and as pure as Kennedy? Fuck! I just wanted to have her around me, I wanted to make sure nothing touched her.

  She’d been crushed and broken, that much I knew, but she’d come out the other side with beauty, loyalty, integrity, and strength that you can only find by walking through hell a couple of times. Trust me on that one because I’d made that trip.

  She deserved something more, and as much as I wanted to keep protecting her from the horrible shit in this world, I realize that I’d been the one to do some of that horrible shit. I’d taken lives, I’d ruined lives, I’d hurt and destroyed people’s beliefs and how they view the world.

  I can validate it for myself, make it so I can live with what I’ve done. But that didn’t mean that it made it okay. No matter how close we were becoming, I had to remember to keep my distance so the dark part of me didn’t touch her. She didn’t fucking need that right now.

  “Can you pass me the ratchet?” I mumbled as I buried my head deeper under the hood of the car. I was about to change the spark plugs, the oil and give it a new filter, then I was going to get Tyler to wash it because that wasn’t my fucking job.

  “I’m sorry, did I somehow give you the indication that I knew anything about tools when I offered to help?” Kennedy laughed, but I still heard her digging around in the toolbox to my left. “What does a ratchet look like?”

  I ducked out from underneath the hood with a smirk, watching her pull out tool after tool, examining each one like something was just going to leap out at her, and she was suddenly going to remember what a tool she’s never seen before looks like. “It’s that thing just to the left of you on the spare tire.”

  She looked over spotting the offending object and quickly snatching it up. “Wow, this thing is heavy,” she noted, hefting it up into her other hand before holding it out to me. “Your ratchet, sir.”

  I took it from her hands, noticing it had the wrong piece on the end. “Can you pass me a…” I paused, my brain alerting me to the fact that no matter what I asked, she was going to need my help to find it anyway. “Never mind.”

  She slumped, looking a little relieved as I walked over to the toolbox and found the right size socket I needed to get the spark plugs out.

  “Have you always known this stuff?” she asked, catching the corner of my eye as she took a seat on the tire on the ground.

  “No,” I answered, my concentration focused on getting the socket into the hole. “I knew nothing about motors when I joined the club, but I knew it was important to them to at least know the basics. That way I can help out with this kind of shit, and let the other boys who know what they’re doing keep doing their stuff.”

  The ratchet clicked loudly as I drew the spark plug from the hole and got started on the second one.

  “What made you join a club full of bikers if you weren’t into motors and engines and stuff?” she continued to prod, her curiosity growing and growing as she began to know more about me and piece shit together.

  Spark plug number two came out no problem, and I placed it on top of the motor before taking a step back. “The club stepped in and had my back at a time I really felt like I was alone.” I stepped around the car, taking a deep breath and leaning back. “I was arrested when I was seventeen. I did five years.”

  Kennedy didn’t look all that surprised but she leaned forward, like she was eager to know more. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t asking why even.

  Like she didn’t care.

  “I met a club member in there, and he helped me, he had my back when I needed someone,” I explained, folding my arms across my chest, tempted to finish what I wanted to say but scared she might not react the way I wanted her to. Fuck it. “When I got out, I wasn’t just the weird kid who didn’t like being touched anymore. I was the kid who murdered someone. The Brothers… they took me in, treated me like one of their own.”

  She was quiet.

  “Were you trying to catch me with some kind of shock factor with that one?” she asked, raising one brow. “I know what an enforcer is. I wasn’t under this false impression that you were some perfect fairy princess.”

  I didn’t know whether to be surprised or whether to laugh. That was when I realized that Kennedy had become desensitized to things which would make anyone her age more than likely vomit, or shit their pants, or both.

  She’d seen a lot of shit.

  Murder wasn’t something that seemed unnatural and unusual anymore. While most people would be running to the phone to call the police, ready to report any kind of death especially after the other night when she saw Shotgun annihilate one of the Red Riot members simply as a warning. In this kind of life, though, it was something that happened and sometimes quite often.

  “How many times have you seen someone killed?” I asked, sick of wondering.

  “More times than any normal person should have to,” she answered instantly, her shoulder shuddering at the thought.

  “And Brooklyn?”

  Kennedy shook her head very sternly. “Never. I made sure things with Brooklyn were kept very separate. I didn’t let the club anywhere near her.
Nothing touched her.” The fierceness in her voice was admirable. It was obvious there was at least one thing we had in common—we would fight to the ends of the earth to protect our younger siblings. She cleared her throat. “Do you know when we’ll finally get to Vegas to see her?”

  It was getting close to a week. But I wasn’t sure of what move to make next given that Kennedy still hadn’t given me all the information we needed. She’d only shared the basics like her and Brooklyn’s full names, their dad’s name, where they were born and all that kind of stuff. I’d passed it on to Wrench, a member of another Brothers by Blood Chapter, who knew his way around finding people or information, but it honestly wasn’t exactly enough.

  So far, nothing had dinged.

  Which was honestly making all of us a little nervous.

  I still had no idea how she got mixed up with Crow. I still had no idea how he’d managed to convince her to stay around for so long, or what he had or has hanging over her head.

  “Huntsman said there’ve been some Red Riot club members around their area,” I told her, deciding that maybe honesty was the best policy. “Yet, for some reason, not a single one has been seen in Phoenix since they left.”

  She shot up off the tire, her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

  I tapped the ratchet in my hand and looked her directly in the eye. “It means you need to tell me the whole story. It means no skipping anything and being completely fucking honest with me about how you got caught up in this mess.

  I could tell she was apprehensive.

  I understood that emotion too.

  Talking about the things in my past which caused me pain, I fucking hated it. I fucking hated having to explain why I was the way I am. It was like taking a knife to your skin. A painful reminder of the past that you were so desperately trying to forget.

  “He wants something, Kennedy,” I tried again, taking a step closer to her. “But for some reason, which I can’t quite yet figure out, he thinks your sister is the key to getting it.”

  Brooklyn was the key to Kennedy.