It had taken years for her dad to let her ride on the back of my bike, but she’d worn him down eventually. Thank fuck. I hated driving the piece of shit truck Casper had given me when I got my license at sixteen, but I’d driven it often back then—for her.
Fifteen minutes later, I rode slowly down a gravel driveway and stopped at a large gate so Trix could unlock the pad lock and let me pull the bike through. As soon as I’d gotten a few feet inside, I was off the bike and turning toward her as she locked the gate behind us.
No one except us ever used the gate at the back of the club’s property. It was secluded and there was nothing much back there but trees and blackberry bushes. The road stopped a hundred yards from the gate, probably because at some point, they’d wanted to carve a path all the way to the clubhouse, but had lost interest.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, stomping toward me.
She was either completely oblivious to how pissed I was or was itching for a fight, because she didn’t stop until she was a foot from me and glaring up into my face.
“You need birth control?” I barked, the words torn from my throat.
I wanted her to tell me no. As she opened and closed her mouth twice, I waited for her to tell me that she had just been curious or some shit.
So, when she spoke, I had a hard time not reaching out and shaking her.
“Don’t really wanna be a teenage mother,” she snapped, throwing up her hands. “Is nothing freaking sacred around here?”
“Are you shitting me?” I growled.
“How did you even know?” she asked, tucking her thumbs into her fists and leaning up on her toes in a pathetic attempt to get in my face. She was almost a foot shorter than I was—she’d need a fucking step stool.
“You gonna have sex? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?” I sneered, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. “Got a little boyfriend?”
“I’ve already had sex with him,” she spat back.
I’d never looked at Trix in a sexual way. Never. She was my little Bea. My other half. When we were kids, she’d been best buds with my little brother, Curtis, and after he died in the fire that killed my family, she’d somehow switched her affections to me. I didn’t know if it was because she missed Curt or she’d just had no one to play with, but she’d followed me around and I hadn’t had the heart to make her leave me alone. She’d been so sweet, with her long dark hair and big brown eyes—I hadn’t stood a chance.
She was mine.
She’d always been mine.
And suddenly, the thought of her being someone else’s made me livid.
She’d fucked someone else?
She’d let someone else see her body?
I couldn’t even feel my hands when I reached out and fisted her hair between the fingers of one and gripped her jaw with the other. It felt like a fucking out-of-body experience as I watched her eyes go wide and her body freeze.
“You’ve been fuckin’ someone else?” I hissed as her hands came up to grip my forearms, her nails biting into my skin. “You belong to me!”
“Fuck you!” she yelled back, pulling at my arms.
It was like waving a flag in front of a bull—and later, I’d wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing—but in that moment, all I saw was red.
I pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her hard as she went completely still. Her fingers went lax on my arms and she stopped pulling away, but she didn’t move her mouth, either. That pissed me off even more.
I spun us around and pushed her up against a tree, the wet bark and moss soaking the back of her shirt and hair within seconds.
“You wanna be fucked, I fuck you,” I ordered into her mouth.
“Yeah, right!” she screeched back, reaching up to grab my head. My hair was too short for her to latch onto, but her fingers wrapped around the back of my head hard, neither pushing me away or pulling me forward.
As if she wasn’t sure what to do.
“You let a boy touch you, I’ll break his fuckin’ legs,” I growled, stepping in closer until my knee was wedged between her thighs.
With a moan, she finally relaxed against me, and my heart started pounding in my ears when she opened her mouth for my tongue.
God, she tasted good. Like cinnamon gum.
I inhaled deeply as I ran my tongue over her lips, letting go of her jaw so I could wrap my hand around one of her thighs and pull it up high on my hip.
I loved Trix’s thighs. I’d never thought of her as a conquest—that wasn’t how we worked, but I was a man. Hard to ignore it when a girl was shaped like she was. She was far from fat, but her thighs and ass were thick. Round. When she wore a bathing suit, no matter what type, bottoms rarely covered her ass—to the point that I’d forced her to start wearing shorts when I took her to the river during the summer, so I didn’t have to kill anyone. It was the type of cushion men dreamed about. The kind of thighs that you fucking knew would squeeze you to hell when they were wrapped around your waist.
I hated that I was still too tall in the position we were in, so I dropped my other hand, using both to hike her up my chest until I could notch my dick right between those gorgeous thighs.
Shit, that felt incredible.
I wasn’t prepared for her to bite my lip, and I jerked my head back in surprise to find her glaring at me.
“Does that go for you, too?” she asked breathlessly, moving her hand to press against my throat as I tried to catch her lips again.
“What?” I asked dumbly. Did she expect me to talk to her when I could feel the heat between her legs pressed against me?
“I don’t sleep with anyone else, you don’t sleep with anyone else,” she ordered, immediately pissing me off.
“What?” I asked again, lower.
“If I’m fucking you, you aren’t fucking anyone else,” she said, finally letting go of my throat so she could kiss me.
Oh, fuck no.
“I’m not gonna fuck you,” I snapped back, shaking my head.
What the fuck was I doing? All of a sudden, I was thinking clearly again, and I couldn’t believe what the hell I’d just done.
This was Trix.
My little Bea.
Jesus Christ.
I stepped back quickly and dropped her legs, making her stumble as she tried to catch her balance. “This isn’t happen—”
My words were cut off as she punched me in the face.
“I hate you!” she yelled, her chest heaving. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I watched her, dumbfounded, as she stomped toward the small break in the trees, moving so quickly she was almost running.
Reaching up to wipe a drop of blood off the side of my mouth, I grimaced. “You’re seventeen years old!” I yelled at her back.
She stopped, spinning around to glare at me. “I’m eighteen in three weeks, dick!”
“I’m still way too fuckin’ old for you! Where are you going?” I took a step forward, then stopped. She was on club property and half a mile from her house—I wasn’t following her ass through the forest.
“Fuck off!” she yelled, flipping me the bird as she stomped away until she disappeared in the trees.
“Eighteen,” I grumbled, slapping myself on the side of the head as I turned and headed toward my bike. “You fuckin’ asshole.”
Chapter 1
Cameron
Four years later
“Got a problem,” Slider said to the open room, glancing around to the brothers gathered. There were at least twenty of us, young and old, new and seasoned. Some of us had dealt with “problems” before, some looked like they were going to shit their pants, some looked bored.
I felt… ready. I knew I could handle it, whatever it was. I’d gone through too much for anything to surprise me.
“Got some assholes down from Salem, makin’ noise,” Dragon cut in, leaning against the bar top. “Tryin’ to take over territory that’s belonged to us for over thirty years.”
&nb
sp; “We can handle it—” Poet said confidently.
“Can handle it, but we need to be keepin’ an eye out,” Slider finished.
“Are we lockin’ down?” one of the younger brothers asked. His name was Mack and I knew he had a girl and a brand new baby at home. He was sweating.
Christ.
“Not lockin’ down,” Slider said with a small shake of his head. “No reason to think we need to—not yet. Been quiet so far.”
“So, what do we do?” another guy called out.
God, they sounded like a bunch of pussies. I rubbed the back of my neck in annoyance.
“You tell your women to stay alert.” Grease finally spoke up. His jaw was locked as he glared. “You keep your kids home.”
Grease’s woman, Callie, had gone through some shit when they were young, dealing with a gang out of Southern California. It was clear by the way he stood that he didn’t like whatever we were dealing with, but he was calm. Far more calm than my adopted dad, Casper.
Casper looked like he was ready to explode.
“Go on home and keep an eye on things. Quickest way for shit to go south is fuckin’ loose women, so from here on out, no bitches inside the gates except old ladies,” Dragon ordered, making the crowd groan and grumble.
“And no callin’ some gash yer old lady to get her in here. I’ll toss her out on her arse,” Poet warned, pissed at the complaining going on.
As people filtered out of the club, I moved to a stool and took a seat. I didn’t have an old lady, and at the moment, I didn’t even have a house. I slept at the clubhouse most nights, or at my parents’ house. The shit hole I’d been renting got fucking condemned and they’d booted my ass out.
“Hey, boy,” Casper said quietly, thumping me on the back as he sidled up to the bar.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Hate when shit like this happens, but it happens. Just have to deal.” He reached over the bar top and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Jack, pouring us each a couple of fingers.
“You already talk to Ma?”
“Yep. Her and Rose got things covered, keepin’ an eye on the girls and a hand on their guns. Farrah’s a crazy bitch when she’s protectin’ her own, not worried about that.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I joked, remembering back to a time when Farrah had stepped between me and armed policemen, screaming about how she’d have their jobs.
Grease and Dragon moved in behind us, so I turned to face them, leaning back against the bar. Poet and Slider had moved to some chairs across the room and were talking quietly, their faces and bodies tense.
“Got a bad feelin’ about this,” Grease said softly, running his hand down his beard.
“Callie and the kids?”
“Sent Will home to his mama. Pissed him off, kid wanted to stay here, but I feel better if he’s there.” Grease shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Pissed that I’m thinkin’ about the panic room I built in the house.”
“You think we should be callin’ everyone in?” Casper asked, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m thinkin’ we don’t know enough. Makin’ the hair on my neck stand up.”
“I’m not feelin’ good about shit, either,” Dragon finally admitted, reaching up to tear the rubber-band out of his hair before scraping it back up into a knot. “Got Leo and Brenna inside the gates, but Trix is still at school.”
My stomach rolled.
Shit between Trix and I was so complicated, it was a joke.
After she’d caught that chick giving me a lap dance when she was a teenager, things had never been the same between us. At first I’d been pissed, but eventually, it had just become our new normal.
She didn’t want to be around me, and as long as I knew she was okay, I let her do her thing.
I still didn’t understand why she’d cut me off like she had. We’d gone from talking a few times a week to complete radio silence in the matter of a few hours. It was bullshit. But fuck, I wasn’t going to beg her.
“You gonna bring her home?” I asked, trying to act as if I wasn’t crawling out of my skin.
I couldn’t imagine anything happening to Trix. I didn’t want to imagine it.
“She’s got graduation comin’ up. Can ask her to stay nights at our place, but since we’re not goin’ on lockdown, she’s gonna bitch.”
“So, let her bitch,” I said darkly.
“Unless I fuckin’ kidnap my own kid, not a lot I can do if she says she ain’t comin’ home,” Dragon shot back. “I throw my weight around, she’s gonna do the opposite of whatever I tell her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I blurted without thinking.
“What’s that?” Grease asked in amusement.
I glanced at Casper to find his lips twitching. “Fuck off,” I growled, making him laugh.
“You don’t have a place—” Dragon mumbled.
“I’ll stay at hers.”
“Want your throat slit in your sleep?” Dragon asked incredulously.
“Fuck, she wouldn’t wait ’til he was sleepin’,” Grease chimed in.
“Yeah, it’s real funny,” I growled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket so I could flip one over my fingers.
“We’re not laughin’ at you—” Casper said, trying to stem his chuckles.
“Nah, man. We are,” Grease cut him off, nodding his head.
“I hate every single one of ya,” I said, accidentally snapping my cigarette between my fingers.
“If ya think ya can handle her, have at it,” Dragon mumbled through his smile. “Been a while since that happened.”
“I get to do it my way,” I warned, meeting his eyes.
Years ago, when she was younger, I’d been careful. Out of respect for Dragon and Brenna, I’d played by the rules and kept my hands off what had belonged to me since we were kids. But Trix was no longer a child. Our age difference no longer mattered.
And if I was taking responsibility for her, I’d be doing that across the board. Dragon would have to hand over the fucking reins—because she wasn’t going to be crying to her papa when shit went sideways, which I knew would happen at some point.
I was surprised by the fist that slammed into my face.
What was it about that family that made them fucking punch me without warning?
“The fuck?” I asked, turning my face back toward Dragon.
“Had to get at least one in,” Dragon said calmly, watching to see if I’d hit him back.
“It is tradition,” Grease agreed.
“Nobody hit me when I got with Far—” Casper started to argue before taking a shot to the face.
“Yeah, ’cause Slider didn’t wanna piss her off,” Grease said, shaking out his hand before pointing at Casper. “You had that comin’.”
Casper punched Grease back, splitting his lip, then followed it with a hard blow to his stomach. “You fucked my sister—think you had it comin,’ too.”
I stepped down from my stool as Grease tried to catch his breath. While I knew they had each other’s backs, Grease was a fuck of a lot bigger than my dad, and any fight between the two would not go well.
“Jesus Christ,” Slider called out, walking toward us with a scowl on his face. “Knock it off, you idiots. We got enough on our plates.”
“You get a hold of Eastwood?” Poet asked as he made his way to the bar. Mark Eastwood, or Woody, was the son of one of the original members. Doc hadn’t had a medical degree, but he’d patched up Aces until the day he died of old age. Most of us hadn’t even known Woody existed until after Doc died and the boys had stepped in to support him. He’d grown up in Salem with his mother, and he’d rarely been around the club until he was already half grown—but he’d sure as hell fit in.
We were hoping that he’d heard something around his hometown, but the little fucker wasn’t answering his phone.
“Nah. Hasn’t called back yet,” Grease said, wiping the blood off his lips with a dirty rag from his pocket. “I’ll call
Sherry in a couple hours—see if she’s seen him.”
“Make sure he’s not been an asshole to his mum,” Poet ordered. “Last time I checked, boy was in trouble again at school.”
“Leo’s doin’ the same shit,” Dragon said, shaking his head.
“Not the same. Leo’s got a pop and a gramps to knock sense into him. Sherry’s got no man to keep the kid in line,” Poet reminded him.
“I gotta run for some parts,” I finally said, bored with the conversation.
I didn’t give a shit what Woody was doing. The kid was cool, but he was still young and he acted like it. Eventually, he’d get his shit together or he wouldn’t. I didn’t give a fuck either way, though I knew that Poet and Slider felt a responsibility to their old friend’s kid.
“I’ll head to Trix’s place,” Dragon told me with a chin lift. “Give her a bit of warnin’ before ya show up.”
“Tell her I’ll be there around—nah, just let her know I’ll be by.”
“Will do.”
I smacked Casper on the shoulder and nodded to the boys before spinning toward the door.
“Good luck!” Grease sang out.
I flipped him off, but didn’t pause. I had shit to do.
* * *
“Hell, no,” Trix snapped, glancing down at the duffle in my hand.
I’d finally stopped working on an older Ford Taurus when it started getting dark, packed my shit, and headed straight for her apartment. She’d moved into the sweet two bedroom place the year before. It was in the same complex my adoptive parents had lived in when I’d met them, but in the past five years, the owner had given the place a hell of a facelift. New windows, wood floors, appliances that weren’t purchased during the Reagan administration, and countertops that weren’t scratched to shit meant that the place always looked clean and inviting.
Like a home.
Not that I’d been there enough to get a good look at it. When Trix’s stepdad died before Brenna had divorced him, all his money had gone to her. It wasn’t something anyone talked about, but I knew that Dragon hadn’t wanted to touch it—so they hadn’t. Instead, they’d put it into a college fund for Trix, so she wouldn’t have to work during the school year. Trix didn’t seem to have any problems with using the dead fucker’s money. I guess she figured they deserved it after what he’d put her mom through. I’d helped when she’d moved in and I’d only been let in twice since then. Once when she bought a new couch, and the second time when she’d bought a new bed.