Slay (Storm MC #4) (3 page)

She knew I was angry now, but she wasn’t the type of woman who was easily affected by that.  Having grown up surrounded by bikers would have taught her how to handle herself.  She fixed a dirty glare on me and said, “Well, perhaps if you shared more about yourself with me, I would be able to show you that nothing you tell me would make me see you any differently.  I love you and accept you for who you are; all of it, the good and the bad.”

I was done with fucking deep and meaningful for the day.  Pointing at her pancakes, I said, “Eat up, I’ve got shit to do today, and discussing my feelings is not on that list.”

She huffed at me but did as I said. 

We sat in silence until Scott joined us a few moments later.  Eyeing me, he asked, “You heard from Marcus recently?”

“No,” I replied, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and exhausted features. 

“Me either,” he murmured, deep in thought.  “We should have a sit-down soon, go over where we’re all at with this.”

“Yeah.  Work out a time with the boys and let me know.”

“You free tomorrow morning?  My house.” 

“Yeah, eight good for you?”

He nodded, then looked at Madison, and asked, “You okay?”

“Yes, apart from having brothers who don’t tell me shit,” she answered with a glare.

Frustration crossed Scott’s face.  “Right, I’m out of here.  See you tomorrow.”

As she watched him go, Madison blew out a long breath.  They frustrated each other, and yet I could easily see the love and concern they shared.  Madison’s was more obvious, but Scott’s was just as deep; he just showed it in his own way.  Growing up, I would have done anything to have that kind of love in my life.  Funny how the universe conspires endlessly against some people . . . but I’d fought back and took what I could when I had the opportunity.  Having Madison’s love now was something I was grateful for, and I’d always do everything necessary to keep it.  Showing her my true self would almost guarantee the loss of that love, though, and I wasn’t willing to take that gamble.

***

The rest of my day went fairly smoothly.  That was, until Merrick broke news to me that pissed me off.  We’d been going through my appointments for today and tomorrow when he paused for a moment before continuing in a slightly pained voice, “I’ve heard rumblings that Phil Deacon wants a shot at the Hurley construction job.  Apparently, he’ll be bidding for it, and has made threats that he’ll do whatever it takes to win it over you.” 

Our construction company was a huge part of our organisation these days. It was one of the areas we’d branched into after we walked away from drugs and prostitution years ago.  The Hurley job was massive, and I didn’t intend for us to lose it. 

I began pacing the room.  Phil was a loose cannon; one never knew entirely what his next move would be.  We’d have to tread carefully where he was concerned, because the fucker wasn’t afraid of using dirty tricks or violence to get what he wanted.  “Keep an eye on him.  I refuse to lose the job to him so I imagine it’ll get dirty for awhile.”

Merrick nodded.  “Yeah, I figured.  I’ll put Ben on him.”

Ben was a good choice: brilliant at what he did and not afraid to take whatever action was needed to ensure our end goals were met.  “Good.”

I stopped pacing, my mood shifting as control eased back into me.  “Has my mother called?”

A frown creased his forehead.  “No.  Doesn’t she usually call your direct number?”

“Yes, but I just realised I didn’t hear from her yesterday.  Figured she may have called you instead.”

Understanding flickered in his eyes.  “I’m sure she’s alright.”

“I’ll phone her, make sure.”  My mother phoned me every day, checking in and letting me know she was okay.  She’d started doing it when Marcus stopped seeing her late last year.  I’d been surprised as fuck when he’d made that move, and I had to admit I’d been waiting for the day he changed his mind.  She’d been distraught when he’d stopped seeing her, and I knew she’d fall at his feet whenever he said the word.  For her to miss a call made me consider the possibility he’d taken her back.

As he left, Merrick added, “You’re a good man.”

I scoffed.  “Hardly.” 
What the fuck was up with people telling me this shit today?

“Sure, we’ve been through some shit over the years, but this work we’re doing now is good.”

“Don’t let it fool you, Merrick.  The good doesn’t negate the bad.  And it certainly doesn’t make me a good person.”

He raised his eyebrows, the look on his face one of irritation.  “I see things a little differently from you, Blade.”

He walked out of the room, and I sat back at my desk.  Surveying my office, I thought back to when we started doing this work.  The day Merrick and I took matters into our own hands was burned into my memory.  Ashley had been the catalyst of that, had shown me the truth of the lie I’d been living up until that point.  It had been a bloody battle that day; a battle I hadn’t hesitated to take charge of and do whatever was necessary to ensure victory.  Justice had been served to the one who had wronged so many.  The fact Ashley wasn’t here to witness the results of everything we’d put in motion that day broke my fucking heart.  But it just reminded me life had a way of taking the good and fucking with it when you least expected it.  All you could do was savour what you had, while you had it, and hope like hell you kept it for a long time.

***

My childhood memories weren’t happy ones.  As I watched my mother lie to me the next morning, I recalled similar situations from when I was younger.  I’d lost count of the number of times I begged her to stop seeing my father, and I’d lost count of the number of lies she’d told me when she agreed she would tell him to go.  I knew she didn’t lie to me intentionally.  She lied to herself as well.  There were a few times she
did
follow through and kick him out, but within a couple of months, he was always back.

Theirs was such a dysfunctional love.  I could never work out why they clung to each other like they did.  The moments where I glimpsed tenderness between them gave me hope, but it was always short-lived, until the day when I was a teen and I decided enough was enough.  I decided there had to be more to love than false hope and bullshit promises.  If the person you loved couldn’t be there for you always, they weren’t worthy of your time or your affection.

It had been over a year since Marcus stopped seeing my mother.  She’d grieved the loss of him, and I hoped she’d grown stronger through that experience; strong enough to say no to him the day he showed up again, back at her door.  He’d stayed away longer than I thought he would, but I was sure he was back now.  However, mum was denying it.

“Why aren’t you telling me the truth?” I demanded, a lifetime of anger flaring up.

“I
am
telling you the truth!  Yes, he came around, but no, I won’t take him back,” she pleaded with me to believe her.  She’d cried wolf one too many times, though.

“What promises did he make you this time?”

She didn’t answer me. She just began folding the laundry sitting on the kitchen table in front of her.  A dead fucking giveaway she was avoiding the truth.

I slammed my hand down on the table so hard it moved.  She jumped, and the fear I saw in her eyes hurt like hell.  I would never fucking hurt her but Marcus had, over and over, to the point where any little threat scared the fuck out of her.  “Fuck!” I roared, “I fucking hate what he has done to us.”  I rubbed the back of my neck and began pacing the small kitchen.

“Donovan, I know you think I’m weak and that I’ll go back to Marcus at the drop of a hat, but this time I won’t.  Yes, I’m weak.  I always have been.”  Her voice caught at that admission and my heart broke a little more for her.  She turned her distraught gaze to me and bared her heart.  “He promised me he would leave her; finally, after all these years.  And that he would stop being so violent.  I’m not taking him back, but it feels like I’m walking away from something I put my whole life into, and just when I can have what I’ve always wished for, I’m saying no.  Do you know how hard that is?”

She was so fucking close to freedom; if he screwed with that, I would fucking move the plan up and take the bastard out myself.  It was, after all, what I’d always planned to do.  And to watch my father suffer at my hands would fill me with the deepest fucking satisfaction I’d ever felt.

My voice was low and controlled when I spoke.  If I didn’t control it, I would explode at her.  “I want so much more for you, Mum.  I understand that back when you had me, you had no family to support you, so you thought sticking with Marcus was the right thing, but now you have me.  I can give you anything you need or want.”

“You can’t give me the one thing I need: the love of a man,” she whispered.

The roar between my ears was deafening, and I lost my fight to control myself.  “Marcus wouldn’t fucking
know
love if it smacked him in the face!” I yelled, wild at him, at her, and at the fucking injustice of a world full of hateful people.  “Can you not fucking see that?”  I hated swearing at my mother but I couldn’t help it today.  I needed to get out of here before I lost my shit completely.

She began crying, and I wanted to smash my fists into the wall.  All the anger and frustration inside me threatened to spill over, and I clenched and unclenched my fists over and over in an effort to stop myself.

“I know I should see that, but I can’t bring myself to move past the feelings I’ve had for him for so long.”  She was sobbing now.  My mother had been fucked up by her father, and those sins had set her on this fucked-up path she couldn’t find a way out from. 

I pulled her to me and held her.  My hand smoothed her hair over and over as she clung to me.  When her sobbing had subsided, I murmured, “If you need me, any time of the day, you call me.  If he keeps harassing you and won’t leave if you ask him to, you call me.  I don’t care what I’m doing; I
will
come to you if you need me.  Yeah?”

The defeat I saw on her face killed me. It tore another fucking piece of my heart out.  There should have been hope. After all this fucking time, she should be seeing the light and feeling real hope, but all he’d left her with was sadness and despair.  “Yes,” she agreed softly.

“Thank Christ,” I said before hugging her again.

Relief flooded me, but the dark feelings of hatred and revenge stuck close like they always did.

Soon
. 

He’d be dealt with soon, and then, maybe she and I could finally find a way to move out of the darkness.

Chapter Three

Layla

I stood in the alleyway behind my bar and stared up at the inky sky.  Full moon tonight.  Fuck, I hoped the bar wasn’t about to be invaded by the crazies.  Diverting my gaze down the alleyway, I took in the two drunks passed out, completely oblivious to the thief raiding their pockets.

“Hey!” I yelled out, stalking towards him.

His head snapped up, hard eyes meeting mine.  “Fuck off, cunt,” he snarled, his voice full of venom.

Yeah, like fucking hell, asshole.

I ignored his directive, and when I got to where he now stood staring at me, I punched him hard in the face.  The element of surprise never did me wrong.  He staggered back, holding his face, surprised as fuck. 

“What the fuck, bitch?”

“That was for trying to steal.”

He advanced towards me, hatred blazing from his eyes.  His intent was clear, and as his arm came up to punch me, I kicked my leg out so my foot connected with his balls.  At the same time, I ducked to avoid his punch and spun out to the side, away from him.  The agony my kick induced, coupled with the momentum he had going with his punch, caused him to fall forward.  He landed on his hands and knees, at which point I kicked him hard in the gut. 

“Fuck!”  He collapsed into a ball, arms around his stomach, his breathing choppy.

“
That
was for calling me a cunt.”

I walked to the drunks and prodded one of them with my boot.  His eye cracked open and he gave me a what-the-hell look.

“Get up,” I snapped.  “This asshole just tried to steal from you.  It’s time to go home.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the thief.  Squatting, I said, “You think that hurt? If I see you here again, you’ll know what pain is.  Your balls got off lightly this time.”

He grunted something unintelligible at me before attempting to stand.

I straightened and watched as he stood.  My body tensed, waiting to see if he would try anything.

He glared at me.  “Fucking bitch,” he grumbled, still clutching his stomach.

I raised my eyebrows.  “Really, dude?  You want to go there with me again?”

He muttered more shit I couldn’t understand before stumbling out of the alleyway.  When he rounded the corner, and I could no longer see him, I allowed myself to relax.

Why did the world have to be full of scum like that?

I looked at the drunks.  The one I’d woken up had passed out again.  I gave him another prod.  “Time to go home,” I ordered.  Fat lot of good it did because he didn’t stir this time.  Fuck it, his grave to dig, not mine to try and spare.

I headed back inside. I had better things to do than worry about people who didn’t worry about themselves.

***

I checked the time on my watch: eleven pm.  The bar was busy for a Thursday night.  Thank god, because our bills were coming out of our ass at the moment.  It didn’t help that my business partner had disappeared two days ago.  Also didn’t fucking help he’d been stealing from the business for god knows how long.  It had taken great strength not to do serious damage to his body when I’d discovered that shit.  One almighty screaming match later, and it looked like he’d skipped town.  God knew how I’d pay the bills now.

“Boss!”

I spun around to find Jess staring expectantly at me.  “What?” I asked as I wiped my hands on my jeans.  The wetness of the alcohol came off but the stickiness remained.  Didn’t bother me, though.  I was used to working with sticky hands after nearly ten years of bar work.