Breaking Hammer (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Inferno Motorcycle Club Book 3) (5 page)

I leaned over, my lips close to the Congressman’s ear.
 “Why don’t I go slip into something more comfortable?”

“Oh, now, darlin’,” he said.
 “You look plenty good to me.”  He slipped his fingers under the fabric of my dress and between my legs.

I caught his hand, covered his fingers with mine.
 “Don’t you want to see what I brought with me?  I have something especially naughty for you.”  

“Do you?” he asked.
 He raised his glass to his lips, his hand still between my legs.

“I do,” I said.
 My hand over his, I moved his fingers against my skin, to touch my bare pussy.  “Feel that?"  I asked.  "I'm wet for you already."

He would be too drunk to notice that I wasn't.

He groaned.  "Meia, you are making me crazy.”

"Now, why don't you go
get nice and comfortable in bed," I purred, taking his glass from his hand.  "I'll refill you and you can relax while I go do myself up for you."

As arrogant and domineering as he was, he was also easily manipulated and highly suggestible.
 I stood, and he followed my lead, letting me cater to him, refill his drink.  It was part of the fantasy.  He liked the idea of a Thai woman catering to him, had no real interest in the fact that I wasn't Thai.  Asians were Asians to men like him.

I played into his fantasy.

Each night like this got me closer to my goals.

Saving
him.
 The person all of this was for.

And killing Aston, the man responsible for Lily’s suicide.
 
My captor.

I took my time in the bathroom, lotioning and perfuming and slapping on enough makeup that I resembled the whore he thought I was.
 Piling my long dark hair up on top of my head, I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror and looked at my watch, making sure I was giving him enough time to pass out.  

I was terrified the first time Aston told me what else he required of me.
 As if being subjected to his torture wasn’t enough, I would be pimped out to select men he’d chosen, friends he owed special favors, or politicians he wanted to ensure were under his thumb.

Now, though?
 It no longer struck fear into my heart.  I had accepted my fate.  All of this was what I had to do.

I wasn’t kept chained up or restrained in any way, although I was sure Aston was having me watched.
 Occasionally I’d see men behind me, tailing me when I went to the store.  Or I’d see a SUV with tinted windows sitting outside my apartment.  The apartment Aston had purchased.

I was at his beck and call.
 When he summoned me, had me picked up by one of his men, I came.

When he ordered me to sleep with one of his clients, I did.

I did whatever he asked, the man who had struck fear into my heart when I was at the finishing school in Bangkok.  He was eighteen back then, an adult, and I was a child.  Not so much older than me, though, not an old man like many of the others.

But more dangerous.
 He was the son of the man in charge of everything, the man who owned us.  His father trafficked us, sold us to men who wanted child brides.

But before that
was everything else, all of the horror that happened at the finishing school.  And Aston had been there for all of it, had grown up steeped in it.  

It made him worse.
 It made him a monster, even back then.  

He had only grown more so with time, determined to outdo his father in every respect.

Back then, he had been obsessed with my sister and I.  

I thought I had escaped his grasp, when I was sold and sent to Las Vegas, given to an old man who made me his bride.
 But when the old man died, Aston came calling.

I thought I could hide, thought I could get away, that the money the old man had left me would be enough.
 I’d held out hope.  Until Aston took away everything, crushed the small bit of hope I had left, and made me his own.

It was a cruel twist of fate, that the only thing I had to live for anymore was the one thing that kept me tied to Aston.
 It was the thing that ensured I would do whatever Aston asked, for as long as he asked.

You see, my son’s life was in Aston’s hands.

“I’m okay, daddy,” MacKenzie said, yanking away from me.  “Stop!”  She wiped her cheek, as if she could brush off my kiss, and looked around.  “I’m a big girl.”

Shit, she knew how to get me right in the heart.

“Ok, remember that grandma is going to be there when you get off the plane,” I said.  “The flight attendant will take you to meet her.  You have to stay with her, okay?”

“Dad, I
know
,” she said, her voice already like that of a teenager, exasperated.  It was like she’d aged ten years overnight.  Christ, I was going to stand here, getting choked up if I wasn’t careful.

When she gave me a hug and walked off to board the plane like she wasn’t even the least bit scared, like she wasn't the least bit sorry to leave me, I felt gutted inside.

I wondered if I would ever not feel broken.

I hoped this would save her.
 I hoped that this act of desperation, sending my child back to Puerto Rico to stay with her grandmother, would be enough to bring the light back to her eyes.

I hoped it wouldn't destroy me.

I inhaled deeply as I drove up to the Inferno Motorcycle clubhouse.  The prospect at the guardhouse eyed me skeptically.

“Blaze is expecting me,” I said.

The prospect nodded, his eyes never leaving me.  “Stay put.  Don’t move.”

I put my head back against the headrest, and waited while he called Blaze to ver
ify my claim.

Then he waved me forward.
 “Go ahead, sir.”

Fucking prospects.

I was irritated by having my identity verified, although I don't know what the hell else I expected.  Did I think the prospect would recognize me or something?  I was an outsider now.

I looked at the building, bikes lined up in the parking lot outside, the same as they always had been, back when I belonged here.
 Two brothers stood out front, bearded and scruffy, wearing jeans and leathers, smoking and shooting the shit.  I had a pang of...jealousy?  No, not jealousy.  I didn’t want to be a part of this place anymore.  Nostalgia, maybe.  For what had been before.

Back when my wife was alive.

Back when everything was the way it should be.

I opened the car door and stepped out, feeling awkward in jeans and a t-shirt, suddenly reminded of what I used to wear.
 The emblem of brotherhood.

Some fucking brotherhood, after what had happened with Mad Dog.
 After what he had done to April.

Blaze walked outside, a grin on his face.
 “Good to see you, man,” he said, clapping my shoulder.  “It’s been way too fucking long.”

Whatever my misgivings were about being back here, I couldn’t help but be glad to see him.
 Blaze used to be a friend.  He still would be if I were around here any more.  If I were part of the club.  “You too, Blaze.  How are things going?”

Blaze nodded.
 “Smooth.  Come in.  Have a beer or something.”

I nodded.
 “Yeah, sure."

"You just drop MacKenzie off at the airport?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Shit man," Blaze said.
 "That's fucking rough."

I nodded.
 "At least we got her on a direct flight out of LAX.  Couldn't get her anything direct out of Vegas.  Didn't want her trying to navigate airports by herself, even with a flight attendant or whatever the hell."  I answered him like he was just talking about the travel itself being rough.  That wasn't what he was fucking talking about, and I knew it.  But I didn't want to talk about how rough it was that my kid was going to be far away because I wasn't a good enough dad.

"April's mom
seemed like a good lady," Blaze said.  He was trying to make me feel better.

It wasn't going to work.

I followed Blaze inside the mostly empty clubhouse, a handful of brothers watching a game on the TV.  I stared at the concrete floor still stained this ugly rust brown color, where the residue from Mad Dog still remained.

Blaze saw me looking at the floor.
 “Yeah, I kept it like that,” he said.

“The cops never…”

He shook his head.  “No real investigation.  They came by asking a few questions, but that was it.  We made the bodies disappear.  With Benicio's help.”

“What about Kate?”
 Mad Dog's wife had been just as involved in his shit as he had been.

“
I took care of her,” Blaze said.  His features tightened and his gaze became intense.

"You did?" I asked.

Blaze nodded.  "Personally."

Blaze was pretty easy-going, tolerant of a lot of bullshit.
 People sometimes made the mistake of interpreting his laid-back attitude as indicative of weakness.  But you only crossed Blaze once.  He took shit like that real personal.  I had no doubt that Kate's treachery was met with an appropriate degree of vengeance from Blaze.

“Crunch,”
Knuckles yelled.  “How the hell are ya, you rotten old bastard?”  He walked up, hand extended. I took it to give it a firm shake and found myself wrapped up in a bear hug.  I couldn't help but smile, knowing that some things really did always stay the same.  Knuckles was one of those guys who would never change, gregarious to the point of obnoxious, perpetually in need of a shower, and the first to throw a punch if shit was going down.