Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (8 page)

I offered her a spot in the club; cooking, cleaning, shit like that. Lonnie wasn’t officially ever a club whore. She never even looked at the brothers sideways, and they had enough respect for her situation not to push her. That all changed when Maddox got back from a run and caught sight of her, though. He clocked her within minutes of walking into the clubhouse. Picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, it wasn’t until two days later he came out of his room, telling us she was his now and no one was to fuck with her. A week later, Lonnie wore his property patch on her back and has been the best thing to ever happen to Mad.

Smart, sweet, funny, with the biggest heart of any woman I’ve ever met, Lonnie is a woman who deserves a hell of a lot more respect than the bitch standing in front of me spewing shit because she’s hurt.

“What the fuck did you just say about my woman?” A menacing voice growls from behind me.

I knew this would happen. Mad isn’t known for his tolerance when it comes to anyone trash talking his now wife and mother of his three kids.

“Let me deal with her, brother. I’ll sort her out.”

“Boss, you’ve got my loyalty, you’ve got my respect, but if you don’t get her the fuck out of here after that shit, you’ll have to have my back when I kick her ass to the curb where it belongs,” he warns unnecessarily.

Facing off with, Sweets isn’t something I’d planned on tonight. I’d wanted to kick back with my brothers, take a load off, have my cock sucked, and relax. But seeing as she’s here, I might as well do what I’d been putting off for weeks now.

“You heard the man. Get your shit, and get the fuck out,” I fume.

“This is your last chance, Jackson. I won’t hang around anymore if you’re not going to see what’s been staring you right in the face.”

“What is it that you think I’ve been missing?” I coax, knowing she’ll take the bait and dig herself in deeper.

Hissing like the viper she is, Sweets doesn’t disappoint me.

“I’m more suited to being an old lady than any woman who’s walked through the doors of this clubhouse. I know the life. I know how you men work. As long as I have your patch, I couldn’t care less if you have another woman or five on the side because you’d be coming home to me at the end of the day. I know that, and I accept it. Can the same be said for any of the rest of them?” She asks flinging out a skinny arm. “No, that’s the answer you’re looking for. None of them would get that’s just the way things work. All of them would be all over their men’s asses if they found them with other women, but not me. All I’m asking for is to wear your property patch. That or I’m done with you, Jackson. Done.”

In hindsight, I probably should have considered breaking the news that she’s fucking delusional more gently than I did. Because telling a bitch, whether she’s a bitch or not, that she can keep her loose, junkie snatch to herself was not one of my finer moments. Not to mention, she may have tried to sucker punch me, which saw me unceremoniously dropping her on her ass in front of everyone in the main room of the clubhouse adding fuel to her already raging fire.

“Never,” I whisper harshly, “would I consider putting my ink on your body and patch on your back. Not once. Not fucking ever. You think keeping your mouth shut about where your man puts his cock is grounds for being an old lady, you are dead wrong bitch. An old lady’s got every right to have something to say about her man stepping out on her, and if she didn’t, I’d be worried she wasn’t cut out for this life. We live hard. Live rough. But at the end of the day, we need soft and sweet when we come home. We need women who won’t take our shit, and when we hand it to them, they’ll call us out on it. You think you know this life? You know nothing the fuck about it. All you know is how to use your pussy to try and manipulate your way into getting something you’ll never have. But I’ll let you in on a secret,” I hint edging closer to her. “It isn’t even that good. Loose, dry pussy doesn’t keep men coming back for more, bitch. The only reason you’ve had men in your bed is because you’re easy. Plain and simple. We don’t have to work for it.”

Cursing a blue streak, Sweets rears back her right arm, an arm I catch before she can connect with the side of my jaw. I don’t condone laying hands on a woman, but when one thinks she’s got the balls to take me down in my own clubhouse, I don’t’ have much of a choice but to make an example of her.

Placing a hand on the center of her chest, my other still filled with her clenched fist, I shove her. And not lightly. Sweets went down, tripping over her own feet, and landed in a heap at my feet. Deciding to end this shit once and for all, I crouch down in front of her.

“If you ever think to put your filthy hands on me ever again, you’ll lose your fucking fingers. You’ve got five minutes to get your shit and get the fuck out before I let, Mad escort your ass out. Make your choice. Because I’m telling you now, walking out under your own steam is gonna be a hell of a lot wiser choice than him putting you out.”

Luckily for her, and for the prospects who’d be left with the clean up after Mad finished with her, Sweets made the right choice. She scurried off, packed her shit, and left without any more drama. I didn’t think that was going to be the last we heard from her but for now, we were rid of her. I was rid of her.

              “Fuck me, woman,” Jonas groaned hauling another box into my unfurnished bedroom. “How much shit did you bring with you? And when do you ever get a chance to wear any of it? All I ever see you in is jeans and boots.”

How do I answer that? Let’s just say that while I’m not materialistic, I still like pretty things. Not fancy or expensive, just pretty. Every woman needs a few, or ten, LBD’s with shoes and jewelry to match. It doesn’t help that I’ve got an excellent collection of belts and belt buckles, boots and scarves, and jeans to add to the tally of boxes he’s had to haul, but what can I say? A lady needs choices.

“Stop being such a baby. Two more and you’re done. Then I’ll order us a pizza, and I’ve got beer in the fridge with your name on it. How does that sound for payback?” I ask grappling with the filled clothes hangers I’m shoving into my too small closet.

“You better, because I’m starving,” he replies with a grunt, depositing another box on the floor by my feet.

Absently tearing through the tape to unearth what’s in this one, I address the elephant in the room.

“Are you ever going to tell me what went down between you and Rebecca last time you came to visit? Everything was great up until that last night, but then it’s like something happened. You’ve both been so tight lipped about it I figure whatever it was must have been big.”

“Not something I’m gonna talk about with you, Beth. You know I love you, but that’s between her and me. If she ever finally answers my calls that is,” he grumbles.

Snapping my gaze to is dark head bent and brooding, I push. I shouldn’t, he’s right it’s not my business, but I care about both of them. With Bec coming to town soon, I can’t help but want my two best friends to be in a place that they’re capable of civil conversation. At least.

“Jonas. Jonas,” I prod until he looks up at me.

His dark eyes are clouded with something I’ve never seen in them before. It’s an emotion I’m eerily familiar with. Pain.

“What, babe?”

“I didn’t tell you this before, what with everything going on with the move and all, but Bec’s decided she can’t live without me,” I state going for humor but falling flat. “She’ll be here in a few weeks once she’s finished working out her notice.”

“She’s fucking what?” He rumbles ominously.

Hefting my ass onto the bed beside him, I pat his shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring way.

“You know she’s my best friend. She has been for sixteen years. What did you honestly think her reaction would be to me moving?” I prompt. Not waiting for him to answer, I go on to admit, “When I left home, I had no one. I knew no one. If it wasn’t for Kevin and Rebecca, I don’t know where I would have ended up, Jonas. When you and I met, I was in a better place, and that was thanks to them. It was all them. Their love and support saw me through some of the darkest days of my life. I would do anything, and I mean anything, to make sure Bec is happy and whole. But she hasn’t been. Not since you left. Not since whatever happened between you broke something inside her. Her light has gone out, J, and that scares me. She’s the strongest woman I know, and if she breaks then what hope is there left for the rest of us?”

Squeezing my hand, Jonas shifts uncomfortably beside me. We may be friends, have been for years, but what I’ve just told him is goes deeper than anything we’ve ever touched on before.

“I don’t know what to say other than you know I’m here for you if you ever need an ear, Beth. That’s some pretty heavy shit you just laid out there. Don’t get me wrong, I knew you had skeletons in your closet, babe. You’d have to be blind not to see that, but you’re mistaken about Bec being stronger than you are. She’s got her own shit, shit that’s not mine to tell, but know this. She relies on you just as much as you do on her. She needs your strength just as much as you think you need hers. You both don’t see that there are people here who’re willing to take some of that burden when you’re ready to share it. Me being one of them.”

I wasn’t sure that was true. I’d trusted for years that my parents, if I’d ever needed them would come through for me. It wasn’t realistic, they never had before, but that didn’t mean I didn’t hold on to the fragile belief that there was some compassion for me hidden somewhere inside them. I was wrong.

My last conversation with my parents hadn’t gone over so well. None of them did, but that one was significantly worse than most. It was so long ago, but still so fresh in my mind. The anger, frustration, shame. The pain of knowing that no matter what they would never change. They would never put her first or her well-being. It wasn’t a soul crushing realization, nor did my heart break. I didn’t love them enough for that. But it did destroy the last remanence of obligation I felt toward them. It was also the day I began addressing them as Donald and Philippa. They were no longer my parents. They were virtual strangers.

Through ever protest I made, every refusal I gave, Philippa still thought I would come around and be the dutiful wife she believed I was destined to be. I called them after I was settled with Bec in her apartment and told them what had happened. Their reaction wasn’t what I expected. Far from it.

They hadn’t believed me, not a word. Donald and Philippa went as far as to demand I apologize to the asshole as if I’d done something wrong. I graciously told them that they could go and fuck themselves and that the Markham’s were lucky I hadn’t pressed charges against their son.

Philippa used everything in her arsenal to get me to come home and try again. Try with the Markham’s son again. Guilt, crocodile tears, even bribery to get me to reconsider taking this to the police. I hadn’t made up my mind about whether I would or not, but I wouldn’t be swayed by their need for it to go away to protect themselves. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to deal with reliving every aspect of what Oliver had done to me. I didn’t know if I ever would be. But Philippa could think again if she believed a new diamond tennis bracelet would be enough to buy me off. I couldn’t be bought.

The conversation that ceased all contact with my parents and I went almost, word for word like this:

“You will get married to a man we deem appropriate, Bethany.” Blah, blah, blah. Guilt. Manipulation. Tears. You can fill in the other adjectives.

“No, I don’t think so. Thanks for the generous offer, though.”

“Oh, I think you will. You don’t have a choice young lady because if you don’t do as I say, I will have no recourse but to see that you are cut off financially and essentially disowned.”

“You do that. I’ll make sure not to lose too much sleep over it while I cry rivers over your apparent lack of emotional attachment to your only daughter.” I snapped back sarcastically.

“Bethany,” she gasped in outrage. “I am your mother. You will not speak to me with such disrespect, I have raised you better than that.”

Cue scoffing.

“Sure you have. I believe it was a handful of cooks, cleaners, and nanny’s that raised me, but if it helps you to sleep better at night without the assistance of Valium, then you go ahead and think what you like. Needless to say, I’m not coming home. I’m not marrying a rapist. And I am done feeling beholden to two people who should have been born sterile.”

I can see it now. Philippa would have been beet-red, with harsh, angry lines emanating from the corners of her overly Botox injected mouth, cursing me for the extra frown lines I was giving her.

“How dare you!”

“I could say the same thing about you, but I won’t. I’ve wasted enough oxygen trying to explain your and Donald’s shortcomings. We’re done. Don’t call me again. Don’t try and contact me in any way unless you have a change of heart, which would mean you’d have to find one first, so I won’t hold my breath. Just do us both a favor and leave me the fuck alone.” 

After hanging up on her, I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t heard from either of them in the last twelve and a half years. Nor was I shocked that she followed through, demanding Donald disown me for my perceived disrespect. I mean, sure, I was rude, hurtful even, but as far as I was concerned it was well deserved. What I said that day had been brewing for as many years as I’d been alive. It was time, and I was relieved to have gotten it off my chest.

Bec and I drank a bottle and a bit of vodka post-disowning, having our own celebration of sorts. Her logic was that it was high time I stood up to them, and I couldn’t help but be proud I’d finally summoned the courage to do it. The other aspect of our mid-week drinking binge focused around what the hell I was going to do with my life now. Enter me drunkenly confessing my love of tattooing, and the rest is history.

“Hey, did you hear me, babe?” Jonas asks jostling my arm.

“Yeah, I did,” I nod in response. “Trust doesn’t come easily for me, Jonas,” I reply, opting for honesty. “I’m not saying that I don’t count you in the very few people I do trust, but opening up entirely is another story. There are only two people who know my complete life history, and Bec is one of them. You have to understand that means there’s a bond between us I don’t share with anyone else. An unshakeable one. It also means I’ll do everything I can to ensure she doesn’t hurt unnecessarily. I suppose that’s what I’m asking you to help me with.”

Straightening but not moving away, he grips my hand holding tight.

“I can’t promise you she won’t get hurt, Beth. What we’ve got to talk out will more than likely upset her, but I promise you I won’t do anything to hurt her intentionally,” he vows tersely.

Resting my head on his broad shoulder, I sigh. I know I shouldn’t worry about Bec so much, she’s a grown woman after all, but I can’t help but feel protective of her. Changing the subject, I ask,

“What have you got me down for tomorrow, boss man? I can’t wait to get back to work. I think I’m actually having withdrawals after not having a gun in my hand for so long.”

“Don’t know if you should go around announcing that, babe. People could get the wrong idea,” he chuckles.

Slapping his chest, I laugh,

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help taking the opportunity to fuck with you over it. You’re too easy, babe,” Jonas says ruffling my hair. “Got a few quick pieces booked in for you. They’ll only take a couple of hours each. Should be enough to ease you into the swing of things.” Before I can speak up he adds, “I know you’re a professional, Beth, so don’t go taking what I just said the wrong way. I just want to give you time to settle, meet people, get a feel for how shit runs before throwing you into the deep end. You’ve got to meet the boys too.”

“Who? The MC?” I ask, genuinely curious to meet the men he refers to as his brothers.

“Yeah, Beth. The MC. I know I’ve mentioned them, but there are things you’ve got to know before I can leave you at the shop to deal with them on your own. Not saying they’re bad guys or they’d ever hurt you, they wouldn’t, but they aren’t the regular yuppie clients you’re used to dealing with back home either.”

A small smile creeps across my face at his warning, but I cover it quickly, saying,

“I’m sure they aren’t that bad. And anyway, one of my best clients was the President of Rebel Warriors, SoCal. I think I’ve got this covered.”

“Say fucking what?” He demands, glaring at me. “You never mentioned that. Why not?”

“Didn’t think it was relevant,” I shrug. “Dray’s last appointment with me was before you offered for me to move out here, so I didn’t think it mattered.”

Muscle twitching in his cheek, Jonas apparently disagrees but meters his words carefully.

“Not sure how tight Vengeance and Rebel Warriors are, but I’ll put a call into Boss to ask. On the off chance your buddy comes to pay you a visit, it’s better we know upfront if there’s gonna be a problem there.”

Rolling my eyes, unsure why Dray visiting would be an issue if it’s only for ink, I stand up brushing my hands off on my jeans.

“Sure thing. I highly doubt he will, but if that’s what you think is best, go for it. Do you want that beer now? I think I’m done for tonight. I’ll tackle the rest of it after I’ve had a good night sleep and got myself situated at the shop tomorrow.”

Watching his facial expression transform into something I can’t read, Jonas stands, tugging on my hand.

“Heads up, babe,” he states grinning. “All you need to know is that they’re good men. Solid, loyal. They’d never hurt a woman or child, and if there’s ever a time you need them, they’ll throw down and have your back without giving it a second thought. Boss is the President, Diesel’s is his VP, and they’re two of my closest friends. The rest of them I’m not as close to, but they’re all good guys. Just thought you should know in case they show up and I’m not there.”