Wed to the Bad Boy (22 page)

Numb.  That was all I was.  Anything to be anything else took too much.

How much had I lost already?

How many more people had to die?

And for what?

Cullen

Vengeance.  Justice.

These two words coursed through my blood, one after the other, like consecutive beats of my heart.

Vengeance.  Justice.

I’d know them, feel them, deep in my blood, even if Sean hadn’t been murdered.   Now I intended to embody them, even if it meant my own death.

Vengeance.  Justice. 

Blood, sweat, and broken bones. 

Whoever had killed my brother was going to die.

I gripped the smooth metal handle of the casket and squeezed until my knuckles turned completely white.  I wanted the pain.  Wanted to feel something.

Something other than anger.

Eyes to the ground, I concentrated on my steps.   A fake grass mat marked the path to the grave, preventing us from sinking into the soggy ground.  It was fitting: the grim gray sky, the cloying drizzle, and the dirt like quicksand beneath my feet.  Without the mat, I’d have sunk into the wet earth.  Where I belonged.

Sean deserved that and more.

Father Brennan stood under the canopy meant to keep from getting him wet.  How many of us had he buried over the years?

Layla appeared in the corner of my vision, stiff as she watched us carry her brother’s body to the burial site.  We placed him onto the crank that would lower him into the ground.  She had done this too many times in her life.  We all had.  But there was something about seeing her again that really drilled it home.  She had left, had gotten out.  She shouldn’t have had to come back.  Not for this.

Why the hell did she have to walk back into the club?

She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just sealed her own fate.  Bones would never let her back out again.  Hell, he hadn’t let her run away the first time.  Mick had put his reputation on the line for that, and it almost cost him big.

“We take care of our own,” he’d told me as soon as he saw her, but I saw more than duty in his eyes.  More than ‘family duty.’

He’d looked at Layla and I’d seen his lust. 

Fuck.

Seeing him look at her like that had made me want to rip the old man’s eyes out in a blind rage.   

Rage. 
That was what the other guys in the Club called me. 

I couldn’t fix this for her, but I wanted to.  And that made me even angrier.  I looked down and saw that I was shaking.   I was so close to exploding.  Not only because Sean was gone..  Not because we had an impending war brewing.  No, right then, it had nothing to do with the club.

It was because Layla was mine.

At least, she was supposed to be.

But that was years ago, even if I never could shake the memories.   There had been promises made.  The feel of her behind me on the bike.  Beside me while Sean laughed.  In my arms as she let me kiss her neck. 

I’d known what I wanted, even then.  Her.  All of her.  But I’d get shy whenever I had gotten near her.  She’d been a wild girl and a lady.  The girl I didn’t dare just kiss. 

She let me kiss her, her hair and her throat, then turned and kissed me back.  Ever since, I’d never shaken the feeling that she belonged to me.

And then she had turned around and walked away.

She didn’t just leave me, she left Sean too.  He took it with a brave face like he did everything, but I could see the pain behind the mask.  Her leaving had been worse than anything their old man had ever inflicted on either of them.

Sean had been was my best friend.  And now he was dead.

Shot down.  Murdered by assholes who were going to get theirs.  Bones promised me revenge.

It was the only thing that kept me going.  Well, that and my M.C.  brothers.  They needed me.  Now more than ever, especially as we were already starting to fracture. 

There were two factions, pulling us apart at the seams.

But Sean’s death had woken us up.  We were under attack, and Bones was right.  We needed to band together, at least for now and we had to do one thing.

We had to give them hell.

Just a few more steps, then my job was done.  It was one of the last things I’d ever do for Sean.  One of the last things.  I keep my promises.  Even if that meant I did the one thing that I thought I’d never have to do.  The one thing that could ruin the entire club.

I’d protect her.

I looked over at Bones, who, despite carrying her dead brother’s casket, was staring right at Layla.  He had to be at least twenty years older than her, the same age as her father.

I’d defend her from anyone.  Even if that meant I had to go against my own “brothers.” I’d break apart the club to keep my word to Sean.

I set down the casket on the stand and said goodbye to my brother-in-arms.  Layla was there, standing so close to me.  I could feel her.  I wanted to reach out and touch her, bury my face in her dark red hair.  Remind her of exactly who I was.

A
promise is a promise, after all.

Chapter 2

Layla

When I was a teen, I used to wish I could be a fly on the wall of the club meetings, just to know what they were talking about.

But now that I was here, right outside the door, watching them talk through glass and hearing just the tail ends of their words, I wished I was anywhere else.

I didn’t want to know what they were saying.  It was probably illegal.  And dangerous.  I just wanted to say my goodbyes and be on my way.

Back to Chicago where I didn’t have a job, a life, or any place to stay, other than my aunt’s crowded apartment.

Yeah, my future sucked.  But it was better than not having one.

I chewed the inside of my lip and waited.  They were yelling, and a part of me wanted to slink out and take off, but that would be stupid.

That would put a target on my back and make life harder for Uncle Mick.

Suddenly the doors opened, and the President in all of his glory stood there, leering at me like I was a piece of meat.

I knew that look.  It made my entire body feel like I was covered in worms.

“It’s been decided.  You’re staying.”

“Excuse me?” The pit of my stomach clenched.

“You heard me, little girl.  You’re in danger.  Here, or in Chicago.  Here we can watch you.  There’s a war going on, honey, and whether you like it or not, you’re involved.”

“I don’t understand.  Why would it reach into Chicago? Wouldn’t I be safer there?”

They handed me a bloodstained note.

“This was found on your brother.”

Everyone you’ve ever loved is going to die, until there are no more of you left.  Wives, daughters, children.  All dead so that we can take over your turf.  We’re coming for you.

It wasn’t the most eloquent note I’d ever seen.  But whoever had killed my brother had made their point.

“Between that, and the fact that these assholes could be anywhere, it’s enough to make us think you’d be safer.  Here.”

Bones tugged on his cut, the leather straightening, reminding me that he wore the President’s patch.  He was in charge.  I watched as he swayed a little, his eyes bloodshot, his nose red, and I wondered how much he had to drink.

I couldn’t accept this.  It wasn’t right.

“I have an entire life in Chicago.  You can’t expect me just to abandon it to live here.  And you can’t stop me.”

I shouldn’t have said that.  Shit.  I might as well of stomped my foot and cried.  I was acting like a spoiled little teenager, and I knew it.  I didn’t care because I was too mad.  Red-hot.

“You aren’t going anywhere.  Your father wouldn’t have it.”

As soon as Eric said it, the men moved.  They were covering the exits just like that.

“What? You have to be shitting me.  You’re going to fucking keep me captive?”

“You know that wouldn’t happen, Layla.  We wouldn’t make you stay, but we want you to.  We think it’s what’s best,” Uncle Mick said, his shoulders slumped, his eyes vacant.  Totally defeated.  Something told me he’d voted for this measure.

“Your aunt and I worry about you since… well, since your brother was gunned down.  We need you here.  And we need you working with us.  You don’t want to stress her out any more than she already is, do you?”

It was a bullshit excuse.  Donna lived to take care of people in times of crisis.  It was her calling.

“Working with you?”

“You’re smart.  You do books, right? That was your last job.” Like he didn’t know.  He’d been calling me for weeks, trying to get all kinds of help.  I’d been double-checking the club’s accounting for almost a year now.  This must’ve been some kind of tactic.  He didn’t want anyone else to know I was as experienced as I was.

“Just a part-time gig at a Jujitsu place, Uncle Mick.  I’m not, like, great, or anything.” Okay, I was pretty good.  But there was no way I was about to admit that.  I didn’t want this job. 

“Look, you have to stay.  You know it’s the most reasonable thing to do.  So, what else are you doing to do for a job?”

Maybe Uncle Mick was right.  Chicago held nothing for me, and if I wasn’t safe, I needed to lay low.  With the MC to protect me, I at least stood a chance.  Okay, so I wasn’t captive, but I was damn pissed that I didn’t really have a choice.

I resented it.

“Are you suggesting I take a job with you? Working for the club?”

“Yeah, why not do our books?” Bones asked.  I already had experience with them, but it had consequences.

If I was wrong, if something went bad, I could lose my life.

I knew that was the way things went.  I wasn’t stupid.

“You are more than good enough, kid.  Look, we need one.  Curly, well, the COPD finally got him.  We’ve been making do these past few months here at the club, but we really do need you.” He paused, and then gave me his most pathetic stare, the one that had guilted me into accepting college money from him four years ago.  “Please, kid.  Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

I sighed.  I was trapped.  If not actually, then by my sense of responsibility.  But really, I had nothing but more problems.

“Fine, but nothing illegal.” None of that shit I already knew they were involved in.

“All legit.” Uncle Mick held up his hands like he was surrendering to me.  I wouldn’t do it otherwise.

“It’s settled.  She stays.  And she stays with me.” Cullen leaned against the doorframe of the conference room.

“No.  I stay with my Uncle.” There was no way in hell I was going to stay under the same roof as Cullen.  It would be too hard.

“Our house isn’t really fit for guests, Lala.  Aunt Donna’s having it remodeled.” Uncle Mick said.

“And there’s no where else I can go?”

Cullen spoke.  “No, you stay with me.  Where it’s safe.  Here.  There are only two truly secure places for you, Lala.  In the clubhouse, and in my house.”

I highly doubted this piece of shit shack could keep me safe.

“Look, no one would dare attack it.  No one would so much as come near you if I was in your presence.  You understand?”

“Why you? Why not Eric?” I wanted to know his motivations.

“Prez has way too much shit to deal with to hang around you, but me? I’ve got just enough business in-house that it makes sense.  Besides, when I need to go, the Sergeant-at-Arms can handle you.” He smirked at me.

My uncle had taken back the position of Sergeant-at-Arms now that Sean was gone.

“You bring a bag?” Cullen asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my car.”

“Tommy, bring her car over to my place.  I ain’t drivin’ that cage around.”

“It’s actually a rental from Jimmy’s at the airport.”

“Shit.  All right.  Tommy, go take care of it.” I didn’t know if he could even do that, but I shrugged.

Damn, it had to have been fifty degrees out.  Early spring was no time to be riding on the back of a bike.  I shivered just thinking about it.  Only a few days away from a break in the weather, but we weren't there quite yet.

Cullen must have noticed my hesitance.  “Don’t worry, you can wear a winter riding coat and a face mask under your helmet.  It’ll keep you warm, that’s for sure.”

Before I knew it, he was behind the bar, rifling through until he pulled out a full balaclava and threw it my way.  “Put it on.  It goes under this.”

Ugh, a big, hefty leather jacket.  The kind that women wore in winter and early spring.

And just a smidge too tight.  I could tell as soon as I got the arms on.

“Shit, she looks good in that, huh?” The putz to my left waggled his damn eyebrows at Cullen.

“Shut the fuck up, Troy, or I’ll send you to ride in the cage with Tommy.” The patchless recruit glared at him but kept his mouth shut.

Smart move.

I remembered when he and Sean had patched in.  It seemed like each week one of them had a new black eye or busted face.  They never could keep their damn mouths shut.  Thought they were special because they were legacy.

“Get the fuck out of here, Troy.  I don’t want to see your face, or you’ll regret it.” That snarl was real.  Cullen was capable of true violence.  If I wasn’t aware of that already, I could see it now in his expression.

“What, no nickname?” I asked ’Rage,’ rolling my eyes.

“Hasn’t earned one yet.”

Troy ducked out and ran around the back.

“You don’t change,” I muttered.

“You’d be surprised.”

No, I really wouldn’t.  I didn’t intend on staying here long enough to learn any more than I already knew.

Cullen pulled a half mask over his head, the skull printed on it covering his chin, mouth, and neck.  He glared at me.

“Get your shit and let’s go.”

Ever so charming.