Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (8 page)

I for one wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of one of Priest’s talks that’s for sure. He might be getting older, just over sixty now, but he’s no less deadly than he was twenty years ago, and I can only imagine the tone that conversation took.

“This is the part where both of you come in. Collins’ daughter, Stacey,” at the sound of her name my head snaps up. My eyes connect with his instantly seeking clarification, which I get with a subtle head tilt.

“What the fuck?” I fume.

Priest crosses his arms over his chest pinning me with a glacial glare.

“Stacey had a thing for you for years, Saint. She didn’t make a secret of it, and given the first opportunity she acted on what she saw as her chance to have some kind of relationship with you. And she did that using whatever she had to obviously.”

Turning his head toward Dagger he addresses him now.

“You just got caught in the crossfire,” he says shaking his head sadly. “Way she tells it, she’d been in Dagger’s bed off and on for weeks before she got knocked up. One night after a run, Saint was fucking wasted. Apparently she thought it’d be a good idea help him into bed, strip him off, and climb in with him. Stacey’s a club whore, jumping beds is her specialty, so it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. It’s what she does and it serves its purpose, but taking advantage of a guy when he’s married and drunk isn’t something we condone. Hence why she got her ass kicked out, and told not to come back when I spoke to her recently.”

I can’t remember that night clearly, I never have been able to. I mean, I can recall bits and pieces, like having a few beers at the bar with Glock and playing a game of pool with Tank, but everything starts to get hazy after my forth beer. I might not drink often, but when I do I can drink with the best of them. Four beers shouldn’t have got me drunk. They shouldn’t have really touched the sides. That’s when my whole body locks up. Realization sets in and all of my muscles tense in anticipation of what he’s going to say next.

“During our conversation Stacey was pretty open about the fact she slipped two Rohypnol in your last beer. It took some creative convincing, because no matter how much of a cunt she is I wasn’t laying hands on a woman, I don’t do that shit, but I eventually got it out of her. The way she tells it, she helped you to bed and you passed the fuck out. Nothing happened, Saint. You weren’t even fucking conscious by the time she crawled into bed with you.”

Slamming my palms down on the surface of the table, I use every ounce of self-control I have not to flip the fucking thing on its side. What Priest just told me changes everything. Every-fucking-thing. If I didn’t fuck her and Dagger had been, regularly, that can only mean one thing. Tucker isn’t mine.

Needing confirmation I go to demand answers, because one way or the other I’m going to get them. The only thing that’s in question is whether I get them from him, or whether I go straight to the source.

But before I can get a word in edgewise, Dagger jumps up from his seat and leans across the table in a stance every bit as angry as I feel.

“Are you fucking telling me the kid is mine, not his?” he says gesturing to me.

Nodding his head in the affirmative Priest snaps,

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Now, you wanna take a fucking seat so I can tell you the rest, or do you want me to knock you on your ass so you can have a timeout? Up to you.” Taking a seat without saying another word, Dagger starts anxiously running his hands through his hair. “The bitch wanted a claim on, Saint, so when she turned up pregnant she figured that was her way to force that connection. You’d woken up the morning after with her naked and wrapped around you, and you never thought to question what you’d done. She knew you wouldn’t have any recollection of the night before seeing as she was the person responsible for that, so what better way to get her piece of you than claim Tucker is yours. She’d seen you with your kids, Saint. Hell, we all know how devoted to them you are. Stacey knew you’d never deny the baby, and she was lucky enough, in her eyes, that you and Dagger share some of the same basic features thinking you wouldn’t look into it too closely.”

Glancing in Dagger’s direction, I look him up and down. His hair’s a couple of shades lighter than my own, but overall close enough in color it isn’t too notable of a difference. We both share the same green eyes, but where his are more hazel, mine are a deeper green. But again, at a glance they’re close enough not to see the difference straight away. We’re built differently though, substantially. He’s leaner with compact muscle to my bulkier frame. I might be only two inches taller, but the amount of muscle you can fit over that distance is noticeable. That shit wouldn’t matter when you’re looking at a baby though. Maybe later on in its life, but not when they’re first born.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t she tell me? If I’m that boys’ father she had no right, no fucking right, to keep that from me,” Dagger seethes. I don’t blame him for being furious. Fuck, I know I would be if I were in his position, but right now I’m not worried about how he feels. My mind’s going a thousand miles an hour trying to work out what this means for me and for my family, which until now I believed included Tucker.

I love that boy like my own, and for all intents and purposes he has been. My own that is. If the look of determination on Dagger’s face, and the set of his jaw is anything to go by that’s going to change in the immediate future though. I haven’t had enough time to process the ramifications of what’s been said here before Priest breaks into my thoughts asking Dagger to hold off doing anything for the next hour. Dismissing him and Pipe, Priest sits quietly gathering his thoughts.

Turning to me, I notice immediately that his expression is blank. As in, nothing. He’s not giving anything away.

“I’m going to have to ask you to keep what I say next to yourself, brother. You’re not going to want to, but until I know how we’re going to handle it I’m going to need your promise it’ll stay between us.” Waiting a beat for my agreement, Priest only continues when he gets it. “Good, good. This shit isn’t pretty, and I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. I don’t know how much of it you already know, and I’m aware you’ve already got a lot to deal with after me telling you about Stacey, but you’re going to want to listen closely and control your shit.”

“Just spit it the fuck out. We’re not a bunch of girls who need to talk about our feeling. I’m not going to sit here talking round in circles, discussing maybe’s when I’ve got shit to do either.” I sneer at him. I love the guy, he’s my brother and President, but my head’s pounding and all I want to do right now is grab a beer and work out what the fuck I’m going to do next.

“Fine,” he barks just as angrily. “You weren’t around when Demon left Blackwater, it was well before you’re time, but I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor mill churning as to why he left.” Nodding he goes on to say, “Well it’s all bullshit. Every last theory as to why he hightailed out of here is pure fiction. I had no clue why he left, no one did, hence the gossip, and until I got a call from Grimm a while back I would’ve stayed in the dark too.” Taking a deep breath he looks pained trying to decide what to say next. I keep quiet but it takes everything in me not to snap at him to hurry the fuck up. “Demon’s a drinker, always has been, always will be. When he gets three sheets to the wind he’s a different person. He’s not the laid back brother we know him to be, he turns into something altogether fucking different. Couple of months ago he got wasted and took one of the club whores, Alex, back to his room. From what I’ve been told, she’d been with him a few times before and had never had a problem with him, so when he took her back she went willingly.”

I’m not liking where this is head, but again I say nothing.

“The next day one of the other girls found her laying in a pool of her own blood, barely conscious, incoherent, and mumbling something about being cut up.”

A shudder wracks my body at his description. It’s a noticeable one. One that Priest doesn’t miss. His face contorts with a look of sadness, but he doesn’t let that stop him from continuing.

“Grimm spoke to Alex in the hospital the following day and got the whole story out of her. I shouldn’t need to explain that it wasn’t fucking pretty. Downright sickening actually. She said Demon was all over the place. He was going on about some girl he missed so much he couldn’t take it anymore. That no one compared to her. Sick shit that made no sense to her. Apparently Alex looks like the girl Demon had a thing for, not as young, but physically similar enough. The only thing Alex couldn’t tell Grimm was why Demon lost his shit on her that night. Like I said, he’d been fine up until then, or at least as fine as Demon can be.”

I’ve heard those rumors too. Demon’s not a gentle man when it comes to women. He’s not violent per say, but the kind of fucking he likes to do is far from gentle to say the least. I’m not one to judge what other’s proclivities are generally, but let’s just say, the man likes it hard and rough, almost to the point of being brutal.

“So I take it he raped her then too?” I hesitate to ask.

Maintaining eye contact with me, Priest offers me a curt nod in way of reply.

“Yeah, he did. He started getting too rough with her and wouldn’t stop when she told him to. She apparently tried to scream, but he covered her mouth with his hand. It wasn’t until he pulled out his K-bar that she really lost her shit, and started begging him to let her go. She knew whatever he had planned was about to go from bad to fucked up pretty fast.”

Shaking his head sadly he says,

“Demon mightn’t ever have been a sensitive guy, but I didn’t think he was a fucking monster either. The man gets off on inflicting pain, but I’m not sure if that’s just reserved for when he’s fucking or if it extends outside that too. The girl’s been laid up in hospital for over a week now, she contracted some sort of infection from the slices up the inside of her thighs. They’ve got her on IV antibiotics and anti-inflammatory’s, and they’re saying another week and she should be released pending the infection clears up.”

That’s when everything clicks into place. The reason he called me in here is glaringly obvious now, and I’m seconds away from tearing this whole fucking room apart.

“What do these slices fucking look like?” I ask hoarsely, barely keeping my anger in check.

I already know what he’s going to say, it’s written all over him. The way his body’s slumped forwards, and the desolate expression he’s wearing tells me all I need to know.

“Like a patchwork of crisscrossed lines running from about mid-thigh to groin. I’m sorry, brother, so fucking sorry.”

“I respect how honest you appear to be when you’re lying.”

-
                    
Rotten eCard

The first time I got Tilly naked wasn’t until six months after we started dating. I didn’t mind waiting, I’d known from the second I let myself accept it she was the one, so taking the time to get to know her properly before taking our relationship further didn’t bother me in the slightest. If anything, I respected her more for it.

Initially I thought Tilly had some strange body image issue or that she was worried about how I’d think she looked, which was fucking stunning in my opinion. My assumptions were based on the fact that she wouldn’t let me see her unclothed, she didn’t want the lights on, and whatever we did had to be under the covers. It didn’t take long for me to work out the reason for her anxiety was a bunch of scars on the inside of her thighs though. When I saw them for the first time and I about lost my fucking mind, I understood why she’d wanted to hide them from me.

Like anyone faced with a situation like that, my mind went straight to self-harm. Thinking that she’d been cutting herself or at least had when she was younger, but when I looked at her I could see her outrage at my question and knew that wasn’t the case. It didn’t matter how much I asked, demanded, and ordered she tell me what the fuck had happened to her back then she never said a word about it. She never tried to explain once how she got them, and those ended up being some of our biggest fights. One of which nearly ended our relationship before it really began.

We’d been together around eight months, and sleeping together two when I’d had enough of Tilly shutting down on me every time I asked her how she got the scars. It was obvious they weren’t recent. The skin wasn’t pink it was white and barely raised. I didn’t give a shit if she’d been hurting herself years before her and I got together. As long as it was in the past that’s where it could stay, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to know how they happened.

What I worried about most was that there might be something that could trigger her into doing it again. As many times as I asked, she promised me just as many that she didn’t do it to herself. I wanted to believe her, I really did, but I just couldn’t bring myself to completely trust her unless she started answering my questions.

Lying in bed one afternoon after fucking her six ways from Sunday, I broached the subject again. I knew she’d brush me off or try to change the subject again, but I refused to back down this time. Pulling her tightly against me, her shoulder tucked under my arm and her head pillowed on my chest, I started stroking her long blonde hair with my free hand.

“You’re gonna have to tell me some day where you got them, babe. I don’t give a shit how they happened, but I’ve gotta know or I’m not going to be able to rest easy.” I prodded.

Squirming against me Tilly tries to break free of my grip, but instead I only pull her closer. Batting my chest she snaps,

“Let me go. We’re not talking about this now or ever.”

“We are, because if you don’t talk I’m out of here, Tilly. I’m done fucking around. You’re either going to trust me with this, or we’re done. It’s your choice.” It didn’t feel right saying it and I knew I was going to regret it, but I just couldn’t get passed her hiding this shit from me. It was important, and as her man I believed I had the right to know.

Working her way free of my arms she sat up in bed with the sheet that was covering her falling down exposing her gorgeous tits to my view. I’ll openly admit I’m a breast man. I don’t care if they aren’t huge as long as they’re perfectly rounded, firm, and topped with delicious, tight nipples I could care less what size they come in. And Tilly has the best tits I’d ever seen.

Just more than a handful, her tits have a slight hang making them shaped like perfect teardrops. She has small cherry red nipples that harden beautifully under my tongue and at the touch of my calloused hands. And right now they’re staring me in the face, which has my brain all but short circuiting.

Although I know I said I’d come to regret telling her we were done if she didn’t fess up, I also didn’t think it’d be this quickly that regret set in. Glaring at me, her eyes promise to inflict all sorts of pain for the ultimatum I gave her.  

“Then we’re done,” she states jumping out of bed, not caring she’s still completely naked. “This isn’t something I’m going to change my mind about, Tobias. I’m never going to tell you how I got them or why, so if that’s a deal breaker for you then so be it.”

Stomping over to the side of the room where I’d discarded her clothes earlier, she angrily starts pulling them on. Pissed at her for being so determined to keep it a secret, and upset she’d throw what we’ve got away over it, I follow her lead. Rising from the bed I’d just made love to her in twenty minutes ago, I dress quicker than I ever have, and make my way to the door. Before I walk away from her for good I need her to know how important this is to me. How important she is to me.

Taking her face gently in my hands, imploring her to look at me with those beautiful, deep brown eyes of hers, I kiss the tip of her nose.

“I love you, Tallulah Annaliese Walker, and I always fucking will. I’m not going to say I understand why you won’t tell me because I don’t, but what I will say is, I hope it’s worth losing me over, babe. I hope your secret’s worth throwing what we could’ve had away, because that’s what you’re doing.”

Releasing her, I lean down and place one last soft kiss on her mouth before moving away from her completely. I don’t even make it the entire distance down the hall before I hear her break down in great, soul shattering sobs. Every part of me wants to turn around, go back into her room and gather her into my arms. I want to be the man to soothe her, dry her tears, and tell her everything will be okay, that we’ll be okay, but I can’t do it. Her not trusting me enough will eat away at me, I know it. I might not be able to tell the future, but I know myself well enough to know that. I’d never be able to trust she wasn’t lying to me or hiding things, and that’s the basis of what a relationship’s built on, trust.

Tilly and I didn’t talk or see each other aside from around town for just over a month after that. When she did see me she turned tail and took off the other way. I didn’t go after her. I didn’t approach her once. What I did do was drown myself in what amounted to be almost a vat of Jack Daniels every night, and sit around feeling sorry for myself. It didn’t matter one single bit that I’d done this to myself, my heart, the one I’d broken when I told her we we’re through, couldn’t differentiate between the agony caused through losing her, and the agony of never being with her again. Nothing made sense without her. The days were longer and darker, and the nights were even worse. They were fucking endless. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I barely got out of bed. When I did it was only because my most recent bottle was empty.

My brothers were worried about me, they’d said as much, Glock more than the others. Another certainty was that they weren’t going to leave me alone much longer to drown at the bottom of a bottle, or shirk my responsibilities. I’d been slacking on my club duties for a while now, about as long as it’d been since I’d seen Tilly in truth.

They knew the reason why I had and up until now they’d been mindful of that, but that wouldn’t be the case when it came time for the run we had the following week. If I missed that one they’d have my ass in the cage in five seconds flat, and I was pretty sure they’d put me in it with Reaper just to teach me a lesson. Him or Tank, I hadn’t decided who’d be worse to come up against, but neither would go easy on me.

Everything changed four days later, or should I say I made a decision four days later that changed everything. It was a regular Friday night party at the clubhouse, shit got wild, men got loaded, and women got loose. I’d been one of those men who hadn’t minded the easy pussy, flowing alcohol, and thumping beat of the heavy metal playing throughout the room before getting together with Tilly. That all stopped the second I met her though. Sure, I still liked to have a few beers with the guys, and heavy metal would always be my music of choice, but the women, they evaporated the second I claimed my girl as mine and became a distant memory the second after.

The difference between tonight and any of the others over the past month was that Tilly was in the clubhouse too, and she looked fucking furious. Marching through the doors in painted on jeans so faded I thought they deteriorate at any second, her trademark tank top, and her Chucks, Tilly’s eyes scanned the crowd locking on me immediately. Pushing off on her right foot, Tilly started running at me and all I could do was widen my feet to shoulder width apart and brace myself for impact. Which did in fact happen seconds later, but just not how you’d think. No, not my Tilly.

Where I thought she’d throw herself into my arms, beg me to take her back, and promise to tell me every last detail about her life, in particular the secret that’d torn us apart, Tilly did none of that. Instead she reared her leg back and kicked me square in the shin. Bending down clutching my poor abused leg, I bellowed.

“Why in the fuck did you do that? What is fucking wrong with you?”

Spitting fire, not literally but I’m sure if she could’ve she would have, Tilly pushes at my shoulder jarring back an inch saying,

“What is wrong with me? Don’t you mean what is wrong with you?” Struck dumb by her line of questioning, I stand there gapping at her. Tilly might have torn strips off me verbally before, we fought it was expected in a new relationship, but she’d never so much as raised her voice in front of other people previously. I have to admit, I was proud and more than a little turned on by this feistier side of her.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I reply sullenly. Yeah, I sound like a whining bitch but whatever. I didn’t have the energy to get in a knock-down, drag out fight with her, or anyone else for that matter. Sullen and moody was going to have to do.

“I don’t remember you drinking your weight in bourbon, hiding out in your room, ignoring your brothers, and cutting out of work before, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you did, and I just never knew it, huh?” The last word she said on a huff.

“You tell him, girl.” Was yelled across the room by Vic followed by grunted agreements, and the odd thumbs up from a few of the assholes sporting shit eating grins. By my estimation Tilly had just garnered even more respect than she already had before her little outburst, and if I didn’t do anything soon I’d lose some of mine. Fucking traitors.

“You could be right. Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. But that’s the thing about secrets though, Tilly, you never know what to believe.” It was a low blow and she flinched when it hit its target, but I was angry and hurt. I was willing to lash out with everything I had to protect myself until she said what she did next. Then that plan was shot to hell.

“Do you know the first time you told me you loved me was also the same day you told me we were done? I’d waited for months for you to tell me. Months. I didn’t tell you first because I didn’t want you to think I was pushing you for more when you weren’t ready. I didn’t say it even though I think I fell in love with you the second I saw you.” Her eyes are wet with tears threatening to spill over, but she takes a depth breath, composes herself, and continues anyway. “And now I know I was right not to. I’m glad I didn’t tell you I love you, every part of you, with all my heart, because relationships are about give and take. Compromise and respect. You didn’t respect my right to keep something important to myself. You told me. No, you demanded I tell you, and if I wouldn’t you put our relationship on the chopping block. I get it is important to you, but did you even once consider that if I was willing to let you walk out the door, it was just as important, if not more, to me?”

Shaking her head sadly, Tilly takes a step away from me, and when I go to follow she throws her hand up to stop me.

“No, stay back,” she says on a screech. “I want you to think about everything I said, and this too. If I could have picked a man that was perfect for me I wouldn’t have chosen you. I wouldn’t have chosen you because I didn’t know men as good as you existed. I would have picked someone safe and easy. But that’s only because I had no idea there were men out there that could be loyal, strong, protective, and fierce at the same time as kind, sweet and compassionate. There isn’t one thing about you I don’t like, and that’s not something many people can say. That’s special. That’s what we had, Tobias, something special. That’s also what you threw away. All because you couldn’t handle me having one thing that was mine.” Turning on her heel, Tilly marched out the way she came, but not without me and the rest of the curious onlookers in the room staring after her.

That night I lay in bed and decided I was going after her. It wasn’t much of a decision, more like a realization. Something I’d intended on doing even before she came in here and blew my world apart. I promised myself I would do whatever it took to win her back.