Raw: Devil's Fighters MC (16 page)

It was about her mind, too. Her beautiful, sharp mind. It was about the fierceness that sparkled in her blue eyes. It was about the killer confidence she had in herself and—God only knew why—in him. Xavier could tell that Alyssa really believed he could be saved. But he knew better.

Of all the things he may have expected to hear about her returning to Pinebrook even after her parents had been put to rest, never in a million years would he have imagined her to be there to be a hero. He wasn’t going to let her put her plan into action, of course—whatever her plan was. Because he was pretty sure that, despite her determination, Alyssa still had no idea how to go about her intentions. There was no way she had a clue on how to go around Bennie Lenday and the Devil’s Fighters.

Xavier knew one thing that Alyssa didn’t: It couldn’t be done. He had learned that much over the years. He had seen what happened to those who tried to defy the club or ignored their warnings. It wasn’t pretty. In fact, there had been a couple of “punishments” that still kept him awake at night. He wasn’t going to let that happen to Alyssa.

He took a deep breath. His mind was spinning. It had been eight years, and even though their connection was still obviously very strong, he had to admit that he didn’t know her. They had both grown into very different persons than what they used to be, and he didn’t know this Alyssa any better than she knew this him. She may not have a clue about how to go around the motorcycle gang that ruled their hometown, but in turn, Xavier didn’t have a clue about how to convince her to let it go. He didn’t know how to get into her head and persuade her to follow his advice and just leave.

Because although he didn’t know her that well anymore, he still knew her enough to know that his little outburst from tonight would not be enough to push her in the direction of safety. Alyssa would not give up that easily, and he both loved and hated her a little for it. She was always his number one cheerleader, and it looked like that—at least—had not changed.

But it would have to. Xavier knew he didn’t deserve to be thought of as someone who had any quality in him. He had tried very hard to stay the same person he was when he first started fighting, but it just wasn’t realistic to think that it could be done. This life changed him. It brought on the kind of darkness that stuck to him like the Louisiana heat and got under his skin—and it would stay there.

The darkness that had gotten a hold of Xavier over the past eight years never left him. It was with him every day. It was his constant and most faithful companion. Over time, he had learned to accept it. He had learned that resisting the darkness only brought it on stronger and meaner. He had learned that he simply could not be the same person. He couldn’t be the boy he had been when he had first started out.

Over the years, Xavier had learned that if he was to have any chance at survival he would have to shed himself. And so he did. He left pieces behind little by little, taking them off and then forgetting about them—or trying to. They would come back—sometimes. They would try to find him again, but they never stuck; they would slip away, overthrown by the darkness.

Xavier had tried to find light in this life, too. There
had
to be light, somewhere. He had found it in Rick, who was a good man, and in a few others whose souls weren’t as black as those of the actual members of the Devil’s Fighters. But that light was never enough to keep the darkness at bay. The more time passed, the more Xavier found himself turn to stone. He was incapable of some of the emotions that had been his everyday companions once, so long ago that he had almost forgotten.

He had thought he would also be incapable of love, but Alyssa had proven him wrong on that one. He hated that. He had hoped he would not be able to love, because love was simply not an option for a Devil’s Fighter—actual member or otherwise. Benedict “Bennie” Lenday demanded full focus, especially from his actual fighters, the men who stepped into the rings. He didn’t tolerate any distractions.

And Alyssa was the mother of all distractions. She had only been back two weeks and already Xavier couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. It was all about her. He knew he couldn’t have that, but he couldn’t help it. He had wanted her for eight years. He had longed for her. He had dreamed about her coming back someday.

Now that she was back, Xavier didn’t know how to deal. He had seen it all in eight years. He had seen so much that he had become arrogant enough to believe that he would now be able to deal with anything that life threw at him. But he had not been prepared for Alyssa. She was a blessing, and she was a curse. She was everything that Xavier wanted and that he couldn’t have. She was his dream and, in a way, his nightmare. She was his friend, and she was his nemesis.

She was everything. She had always been everything.

But things were different now—horribly different. Xavier couldn’t allow her to be the center of his world like she used to be. He couldn’t allow her to have any role in his life.

He would find a way. Just as it had happened before, he didn’t have a choice—it was either push away the woman he loved or watch people get hurt. Story of his life.

Alyssa had debated with herself for quite some time before she decided to do what she was doing now. She had tossed and turned for most of the night, thinking about Xavier’s words and his story. No matter how hard he tried to push her away or intimidate her, there was no way she was going to let him rot in Pinebrook any longer.

The idea had come to her during the night. She didn’t particularly like it, but in the end she decided it may truly be a good place to start after all. Besides, she suspected she wouldn’t like pretty much anything about going behind the back of the most ruthless motorcycle gang in the area.

Xavier’s father lived in a rundown house on the outskirts of town. Alyssa’s heart was beating like a war drum in her chest as she drew up to it, and it didn’t stop when she got out of the car and walked up to the decrepit front porch. She had not seen the man in eight years, and even back then she had hated it every time she would get to see him, whether in this house or because she just ran into him somewhere. He had a reputation for being violent and unpredictable, and even the adults steered as clear from him as much as possible.

Alyssa had hated that man for a very long time for all that he had ever done to Xavier. She hated him even more now. What kind of man let his son throw away his life and enter an illegal fighting ring to pay off his own gambling debts?

She took a deep, calming breath. She knew she had to play this just right. She couldn’t screw it up. And that meant that she would have to suppress her hatred and disgust and keep her temper in check. It would not be easy.

She knocked on the door and waited. And when nothing happened she knocked again. And again.

When the door finally opened, Alyssa had to do a double take. The man that stood—or rather, hunched—in front of her had little to do with the man she remembered. Philip Wheeler had been a drunk on the path to destruction, but still he carried himself with some dignity. His back was straight and his shoulders were squared.
This
man was something different. His brown hair had gone completely gray. He stood hunched in over himself, as if he couldn’t carry his own weight anymore. His muscular figure had become floppy. His gray eyes used to be unfocused with the anger that was eating him up inside—now they were just dark with sadness. His features were etched with lines that used to barely be there.

It looked like a lifetime of alcohol abuse had finally caught up on him and his body. Alyssa felt almost sorry for him.
Almost
.

“Hello, Mr. Wheeler.”

He peered at her from under grayed eyebrows. “Who are you?”

Alyssa blinked. She had not expected that, but she supposed it was only fair; it
had
been eight years after all. “It’s Alyssa. Alyssa Kelley.”

He stared at her like he didn’t believe her, and then recognition finally struck. “Alyssa!” he said. “Wow. You’ve grown up.”

Oh, you have no idea,
Alyssa thought fiercely. She bit her lip and forced out a smile that she could only hope didn’t look as strained as it felt.

“I came by to thank you,” she said. “For the flowers and everything.”

It made for the perfect excuse to come and see the man. The day of her parents’ funeral, Philip had sent flowers and a note of condolences her way, along with a tuna casserole, because nothing said “I’m sorry” like a casserole.

He looked at her in confusion. “I didn’t send anything,” he said. “Which I regret,” he added as an afterthought. “Your folks were good people.”

It was Alyssa’s turn to be confused. “But…if you didn’t send those, then who did?”

Philip shrugged. “It must’ve been Xavier.”

“The note bore your signature only.”

“He must’ve thought he didn’t want his old man to look like a prick after all,” the man guessed. “I guess it was nice of him to include me.”

“But
he
didn’t send anything.”

“He didn’t?” Philip laughed roughly. “What an asshole.”

Alyssa’s jaw clenched. She gritted her teeth so hard she could almost hear them clashing against one another.

“Well, thank you anyway,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and casual. “I’m sure you would’ve sent something yourself if you could.”

“That makes one of us.”

Old age had apparently brought an abrasive quality to the man. He spoke the truth now, and it was caustic. Alyssa wasn’t sure whether she liked this version Philip better than the old one.

There were a few moments of awkward silence. Then, against all of her expectations, Philip said, “Would you like to come in? I’ve got coffee.”

“I’d like that,” Alyssa said readily. “Thank you.”

She had not been counting on this. In fact, she had still been trying to think of an excuse to invite herself into the man’s home so that she could talk to him. Against all odds, Philip was actually making things a little easier for her.

She followed him inside. The house was less messy than she had expected and a lot cleaner than she would have thought considering that Mrs. Wheeler was no longer around. The furniture was scarce and plain, but all in all the house was tidy. Even the kitchen was clean and devoid of the empty cans of beer that used to litter it back in the day.

Philip must have noticed her surprise, because he gave her a tight smile. “I know,” he said. “Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“No, I…I mean, I wasn’t…” Alyssa trailed off. There was no point in lying to the man; they both knew what he was—or, as Alyssa was starting to realize, what he used to be. “Yes,” she admitted. “Who would’ve thought?”

“It’s not all my doing,” he said. “The State doesn’t give me much, but I still managed to hire a maid. Mrs. Hudson comes by twice a week to help me keep the place somewhat presentable.”

“It looks like you’ve been doing a good job so far,” Alyssa offered.

“I can’t complain,” Philip said. “Please, have a seat.”

Alyssa complied. She sat at the kitchen’s table and waited for Philip Wheeler to brew her a cup of coffee. The whole thing felt surreal to say the least.

And then something he said hit her.
“The State doesn’t give me much.”
What did he mean, the State? Then again, Alyssa figured after a moment’s thinking, it wasn’t like he would freely admit that he was also receiving money from his son’s fighting as a competitor in an illegal ring.

“So,” Philip said as he busied himself with preparing the coffee, “how’s Canada?”

“It’s very beautiful,” Alyssa said.

“Your dad mentioned you work in a veterinary clinic up there?”

For a moment, Alyssa wondered where her dad got off to, talking about her personal life with Philip Wheeler of all people, but she quickly decided she didn’t want to investigate.

“Yes,” she said instead.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

Philip turned around to face her. He watched her curiously. “Speaking of, I get the sense you don’t like
me
very much.”

“Can you blame me?” Alyssa retorted before she could stop herself. However, if he could be dishing out caustic truths, then so could she.

“I guess not,” he said after a moment. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. And I mean,
a lot
.”

It still sounded like some of an understatement to her, but this time Alyssa didn’t say anything.

Once the coffee was ready, Philip placed two steaming mugs, milk, and sugar on the table. He sat down across from her, and the intense scrutiny of his gray eyes was disturbingly similar to that of Xavier’s green ones.

“Why are you really here, Alyssa?”

Apparently, even the questions were similar.

“I need to take care of some of my parents’ affairs,” she said, as truthfully as she could.

“That’s not what I meant.”

She looked at him over the rim of the mug that she was now cradling between her hands.

“I mean,” he elaborated, “why are you here, in my house? I’m pretty sure it’s not to thank me for the flowers I didn’t send.”

Alyssa had never seen a sobered-up version of Philip Wheeler before. It was plain to see that he had not touched any alcohol for a while, and as disconcerting as that was, it was nothing compared to the sharp wit he was exhibiting. She wasn’t sure whether his newly found sharpness could be an ally for her purposes or if it only complicated things further.

“I’m here to talk to you,” she finally admitted.

“About what?”

“About Xavier.”

To her surprise, the man went rigid. His body suddenly emanated stellar levels of tension so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife if you only cared to try.

“What about Xavier?” Philip asked, his voice cold and hard as steel.

Alyssa had not expected such hatred. To be frank, she couldn’t even understand where it came from.

“This Devil’s Fighters business—”

“It’s rotten,” Philip cut her out forcefully, all but spitting the words. “
He
’s rotten.”

Alyssa stared at the man in shock. She could not believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, or the utter disgust that he seemed to harbor for his own son. A son who, by the way, had thrown away his life in order to save his.

Ungrateful bastard,
Alyssa thought furiously.

“How firm of a hold do they have on him?” she enquired instead, doing her best not to let her own anger show. “How long is the leash?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “And I don’t care.”

Alyssa frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t care? How can you not care?”

“The boy is a disgrace,” Philip spat, visibly almost choking on the words. “I may have made many mistakes in my life, but I never consorted with the Devil’s Fighters. He was dead to me the day he joined their ranks.”

Alyssa was too appalled to keep her cool any longer. “You never consorted with the Devil’s Fighters?” she repeated, incredulous. She was so furious she even ignored the melodramatic quality of his statement. “Are you shitting me? You gambled with them! Your gambling contributed to finance their godawful fighting rigs!”

Philip looked quite surprised that she would know that. “I did,” he eventually admitted. “But I was never actually one of them.”

“He did it for you!” Alyssa blurted out. She was horrified by this man, and she felt incredibly stupid for even ever considering the possibility that he might have changed. He may not be drinking anymore, but he confirmed himself as one of the most horrible persons she ever had the misfortune to meet in her life.

After the red-hot wave of rage subsided a bit, Alyssa noticed that Philip suddenly looked as if he had been slapped.

“What do you mean, he did it for me?” he asked. His voice had lost its cold note and had gone very rough and very quiet.

That’s when Alyssa was finally hit with realization. “You don’t know?”

Oh God.
This was worse than she had imagined. Xavier was going to kill her when he found out—and he
would
find out, there was no doubt about that.

“Know what?” Philip asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Alyssa said, and it sounded incredibly lame even to her own ears. “Thank you for the coffee.”