Ride To The Edge (Lucifer's Saints MC) (Rough Riders MC Series Book 4) (13 page)

Time and time I gave you chances

Can’t forget the stolen glances

How I lifted you up

Still you couldn’t give a fuck

Should have left you where I found you

Covered in shit and vomit residue

You weren’t worth saving

Only my heart was breaking

The chorus swept over me like a tide and I knew I was purging all the hatred, all those putrid memories of my past. This song was a cathartic experience for me. I knew there was a reason I had to sing it tonight.

So this is now the end

Like before it all began

With promises and words that never meant anything

And you think I’m so afraid but I have this song to sing

Can’t bring myself to feel a goddamn thing for you but hate

And I know a lot more people than just me can relate

Deep down inside you didn’t get a thing from me that was real

Even if you choose to believe any different, this is how I feel

Lovin’ you was oh so wrong, and now I wanna be right

This time, babe, I’m gonna win this fight

So leave me alone ‘cause I don’t want a damn thing from you,

Not even your apologizes after all the shit you put me through.

The song was finally over and for the first time in a long time, I took a breath, exhaled, and felt absolutely nothing for either Jaden or Seth. They were just two lousy sons of bitches who were part of my past and would never play a part in my future.

That, to me, was the best revenge of all.

I
made it to the pussy party shortly after one in the morning but the way Hardy looked at me the moment I walked up to him at the bar, I knew the time I arrived meant nothing to him. He was just happy to see me again.

“I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up, love.” He nuzzled my neck as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“As soon as we finished at the studios, isn’t that what I said?” I kissed his whiskey soaked lips and wished we were alone right now.

“I missed you like mad. Hell, lately, I’m always missing you. The softness of your skin, the smell of your pussy, your laugh—the sound of your fuckin’ voice. I been spending too much time here, babe, and I hate it. Sometimes, I wish I could just be a house dad—I could take care of the kids, read them bed time stories, take them to the park—” 

“Change diapers, deal with feeding Eden almost every two hours, get very little rest and probably end up a grouch that would be bored to death and just plain tired after about six months.” We both laughed out loud. “You know that life isn’t for you anymore than I know I couldn’t handle what you do. I’m away from the kids a lot too you know, and I feel like such a fucking failure at times. My only claim to fame is breastfeeding and Eden still gets bottle fed because I can’t be there to do my job in person. It sucks.”

“You could put your career on hold for a while.” He poured a shot of JD and slid it to me. “Does Eden have enough milk for you to get the whiskey out of your system?”

“She’s got a freakin’ weeks’ worth of milk. I’m drinkin’ tonight and then afterwards, I’m fucking you.” I grabbed the shot and swallowed it one go before pushing the glass his way again where he poured another. Layla walked over and opened a bottle of Becks for me and I thanked her with a nod before I slammed my second shot.

The whiskey burned all the way down to my belly but the warming sensation coupled with the cool temperature of the air conditioner made the cold lager go down all the better. I looked toward Layla who still was hovering near us.

“What?” I finally managed to ask after a few more swallows of my beer.

“You’re workin’ on a new album. And you got a birthday coming up soon. I didn’t know what to get you so I got you an acoustic guitar because I was hopin’ one day, you could shut one of these raucous parties down by playin’ a little music.” She reached under the bar and pulled out a huge sparkly white box with a big red bow.

“How the hell did you keep it from gettin’ dirty back there?” Hardy wondered before he swigged from his beer.

“I’ve been tendin’ bar all night, Prez. I brought it in with me before all of
this
started.” Layla said, gesturing with her hands.

It was quite a sight—both the sparkly white box and the party. Open sex, open drug use, men getting their dicks sucked, women going down on each other to an amused crowd of men stroking their hard cocks at the free show. I should have been used to it but the truth of the matter was, regardless of what I did for a living, and although club life was just as much my own as Hardy’s, I was still one that believed some activities were best done in private. Sex was definitely one of them.

“So, where’s Kink? I thought he was coming up to see you.” I asked Layla partly to make conversation and partly to block out the rock music as well as the laughter and moaning in the background that sounded like a bad porno.

“He’s coming up this weekend but he had some shit to do with Cillian and Trey so he used that for the reason he would be . . . delayed.” She rolled her pretty blue eyes and flung back her blonde hair styled in high ponytail. “He is who is he, Tal, you know how that feels—better than anyone.”

My expression changed even though Hardy continued to rub my back. “Yeah but my situation was different, Layla. I wasn’t competing with a ghost. You can’t replace Miranda and sure, I guess you could wait around until he decides he finally wants to be with you but in the end, you have to do what’s best for you. Kink’s always been a bit of an enigma.”

“It’s not like you’ve known him forever or anything.” She grabbed a shot glass, poured herself a straight Absolut and swallowed it down.

“No, I haven’t but I’m good at reading people. Take the Cox family—they’re all pretty much open books compared to my own complicated relatives. Trey is even more like them than us although he can sometimes shut himself off. But people like Mags, Max, Kink, Chantal . . . I can’t get a good read on them. It might just be a family thing though with Mags it’s a defense mechanism. She doesn’t want anyone to see the real her and I doubt anyone has except maybe Max . . . and Kink.” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to mix alcohol but I grabbed a clean shot glass within arm’s reach and poured myself a shot of vodka.

Layla’s facial features changed as she lifted one of her eyebrows in curiosity. “What do you mean Mags knows both Max and Kink? Just because they’re brothers and twins, that doesn’t mean anything. Hell, they’re fraternal for God’s sake. All they did was share a womb.”

I downed my shot of vodka, smiled and twisted my lips. “No one ever told you they had . . . history? I’m not calling Mags a whore because I’m one to talk—I have a baby by my old man’s nephew and a child with him though legally, they are both his kids,” I said, pointing to Hardy. “But it’s blatantly obvious that Kink fucked Mags. Not now—I mean, not since she’s been with Max. They had a thing in the past though while Miranda was alive. I’d bet money on it. I see the way he looks at her sometimes when he doesn’t think Max is watching but the problem is that Max is
always
watching. Didn’t you find it kind of strange they left Northern Nevada and took up roots here after all that shit went down about a year ago?”

“Great.” Layla poured another shot and downed it just as fast before she poured yet another, and downed that one too. “So, it’s not just the ghost of his dead ol’ lady I’m competing with but the fact that he’s also in love with his brother’s wife?”

“Doesn’t matter how he feels about her,” Hardy interrupted. “Max would never let Mags go and she feels the same about him. Imagine her position—in love with two brothers but you can’t have both so you choose one and you stick by your choice. Love ain’t always black and white. It’s shades of gray from the darkest to the lightest.”

“Plus what ever it is he feels for Mags ain’t got shit to do with you. I think he cares about you in his own way but you’re still so young. You’re only in your mid-twenties. Are you ready to take on his boys who are bound to be resentful regardless what woman comes in their father’s life because she won’t be their mother? Can you handle that? Not everyone is Gisela, Trista or my old man for that matter. Kids mean baggage and sometimes as hard as you try, they can still tear two people apart.”

“Yeah, I know all about that, Tal, but it doesn’t change how I feel about him. You think my dream career was to be a Madame at one of the Saint’s brothels? I feel bad every time I have to fuck someone else because it’s not him and ‘cause he won’t move down here, it’s hard seein’ him when I see him. How much time do we spend together. A few days—maybe five or six a month? As long as Cillian stays in Birch Tree, he’s not gonna move down here and uproot his family. They’ve been best friends since they were kids—ain’t no piece of pussy can compete with a brotherly bond like that.”

“You ever thought about moving up north to be closer to him?” Hardy finished off his beer and set the bottle on the bar. “I mean, you are a lot more footloose and fancy free than he is. You only have to worry about yourself. He can’t just leave his position in the Birch Tree charter—there’s no room for him down here. I already have a damn fine Road Captain, and I’m not lookin’ for another.”

“Maybe . . . it’s a thought.” Layla sighed out loud. “But how do I even know he wants me to be there? All the times we’ve spent together not once has he asked me to move up north? Don’t you think he should have mentioned somethin’ by now?”

“Or maybe,” I grabbed her hand closest to mine and held it in my own, “it’s time for you to put your big girl panties on, and make the decision for the both of you. His wife died last summer. He may not be ready for you to shack up with him but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want you around. Plus, it’d make other Saint Slappers a lot less tempting if you were a permanent fixture and you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about fucking men for money.”

“But what would I do up there?”

“I don’t know. You could pole dance—they’ve got some great clubs that pay top dollar in Carson City. Or you could use your head and go back to school, study so that you’re not constantly always thinkin’ about what Kink is doing. Nurture a real relationship between the two of you that doesn’t involve you with your legs spread every time you see him. Get to know his kids, and give him time to grieve because he still needs it. He’ll fall in love with you eventually in his own way, and I won’t lie—it’ll be different than what he felt for Miranda or what he feels for Mags but the point is, you’ll get what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want—that’s the problem.”

“Yes, you
do
.” I let go of her hand. “You want what every woman wants. Someone to love you for you and not because of what you look like or how great your figure happens to be. Someone who will want the real you—warts and all—and will be able to deal. A marriage, perhaps even a couple of your own little mini Kinks. He’s still young enough to give you babies, you know. And you’re plenty young enough to have them. You’ve been in the life long enough to know how it works. But you’re gonna have to fight if you wanna be his old lady. He’s not gonna make it easy for you, darlin’.”

Layla placed her face in her hands and sighed out loud. “Why do you have to make everything so fucking clear? Every time we talk, you make me learn more about myself then I ever thought I knew. You should have been a shrink if you hadn’t made it as a rock star.”

I smiled wryly. “Listen, thanks for the birthday gift. I suggest you tell your employer here that you’re giving your two weeks notice, pack up your shit and get the hell out of this place. Live in a nice town for a change near a man that can be the love of your life if you let him because I can tell you right now, if you continue to travel down this road . . .” I shook my head. “You’ll always remain just a piece of pussy on the road for him when he stops into Vegas. He’ll never get serious about you and in the end, you’ll hate him for all the years you wasted waiting for him to make a move when he didn’t. He can’t make that leap—not after losing his old lady—but you
can
.”

Layla smirked. “Hardy, I’m givin’ my two weeks’ notice. I’ve decided small town living can’t be that bad.”

“Duly noted,” he replied.

“Thanks, Talia.” She smiled at me again, this time a spark of happiness in her bright blue eyes.