Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC Series Book 3) (17 page)

After my dad died, it was hard, but I never once thought I couldn’t go on without him. My revenge and Mack drove me on and I continued to live. It may have not been as full of a life as I would have wanted, or my dad would have wanted for me, but I lived.

This time is different though. Harlow has consumed me, body, mind, heart, and soul. I think I love her. No, I think I’m
in
love with her. So if she dies, if I’m too late to save her, I won’t be able to live. And what’s more, I won’t want to.

“Son, listen to me. We are all here for you and I give you my word we will do whatever it takes to find Harlow. We’ll tear the universe apart if that’s what it takes to find her. But you need to put your faith in your brothers—in yourself. If you don’t, then we might as well stop right now because the outcome won’t be pretty.”

I feel wetness sliding down my cheek and I know exactly what it is. I haven’t cried since my dad died, and even then, I think those were more tears of rage. But the pain I feel for what’s happened to Harlow—what is continuing to happen to Harlow as we speak—just crushes my heart. The girl I love was taken brutally and I wasn’t there to save her. I once again put my wounded pride before someone I care about and once again, they are paying the price. And that truth hurts like a bitch.

“I’m scared, Mack,” I whisper, dropping my head in shame. What he must think of me. I’ve always looked up to Mack and I owe him my life. Without him, I wouldn’t have amounted to nothing after my dad died. Mack is like my second father. He didn’t replace my real dad after he was murdered, but he filled a void that I thought would never be whole again.

“I know you are, son. We all are. But we’ll get through this.
Together
,” he says, then steps forward and wraps his arms around me. I’m man enough to say that it’s exactly what I needed. And if anyone has a problem with it or wants to call me a pussy, I’ll beat their fucking ass. Pussies are men that deny love and companionship; whether it’s from a woman, a brother, or a father. Family—blood or not—is what’s it’s all about.

Pulling away, he slaps my back. “Now let’s find our girl and put some men to ground; where they fucking belong.”

Chapter 16

Harlow

Pain. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind. I feel like I was literally run over by a train. Every part of me hurts; my toes, my legs and arms, my chest, face, and even my hair hurts.
What the fuck happened?

Then it all comes back to me—the guy in the alley, running up the stairs and into my apartment. Locking the bathroom door and listening to the front door being kicked in. Then, there was the guy from the alley with a mask on, breaking into the bathroom and hitting me over and over and over again until I passed out.

The sound of movement to my right has my heart beating faster and my panic rising. Whoever is beside me is probably the man who took me and beat me last night.

I try to open my eyes, but can barely manage to open only one. The other must be swollen so badly or damaged because I can’t see anything out of it.

I’m currently lying down, so I move my head to the right and sitting in a chair on the side of the bed is a man. But he’s not a stranger to me; I’ve seen him before.

“Titus?” I ask, confused why he would be here. He can’t be the man from last night.

“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice is different. There’s an edge to it now and I wonder if it were there the whole time and I just never noticed it before. The man I remember was funny and friendly. But that’s not who’s sitting beside me now, especially if he was the same man from last night.

Titus was the owner of a bar I worked at a few months ago. After my brother died, I couldn’t stay in the house he killed himself in, but couldn’t come back here either. So I became a nomad. I drove until I was out of gas and found small bars or restaurants to work at for cash. I’d sleep in my car or occasionally get a hotel room if the tips were really good that night.

Then, when the memories started creeping up, I’d pack up and leave without a word. I never looked at a map. I just drove down the highway, not looking at signs or thinking about where I was going. When I’d arrive at the next Podunk town, I’d repeat the process; working any job I could get until I had enough money to leave again or until the pain of my past was too much.

“What am I doing here?” I ask, trying to figure all this out but it’s becoming more and more real to me. He’s not the person I once knew, if I even knew him at all.

Thinking back on it now, I realize I don’t know him at all. I was only in Nevada for a month, two at the most, before I decided to come back here. You can’t get to know someone in that amount of time and it’s not like we hung out or really talked. He greeted me a few times and we talked about unimportant things, but that’s it. I never got to know him as a person, just assumed he was a normal guy and left it at that.

I didn’t want to get to know anyone. I wasn’t interested in dating or talking about where I was from or why I was running. I didn’t want anyone to see what was behind my numb exterior. Shit,
I
didn’t even want to see that. I closed myself off for so long, it just became second nature. So I don’t know this man in front of me besides his name and that I worked for him at a bar. But now I can see that under that friendly façade is an evil and sadistic man.

Titus leans back in his chair and looks at me with contempt. “Well, sunshine, you’re here because I want you to be here. And this time, I’m going to get what I want.” He acts like his reply was answer enough and I should be able to fill in the blanks, but I can’t. Or maybe it’s just that I won’t. I have an idea of what is really going on, but I’m scared to fully admit it because that would mean I’m in big trouble.

“Was that you in the mask last night?” I need to know for sure, even though I’m fairly certain it was him. Who else would it be? He’s the only one here, as far as I can tell, and if it wasn’t him, then why is he here now? No, it was most certainly him, but I still want to hear him say it.

“Yes,” he says like he’s answering a simple question like if he’s hungry. How can he be so nonchalant like that? He hit me—
numerous times
—and took me from my home against my will. What he did is not okay! It is far from it.

Getting angry now, I sit up, but it’s a chore. I think I may have a few broken ribs, or they’re at least bruised, and my head pounds to the beat of my heart. But I push through the pain so I’m not lying down. I need to appear stronger and more in charge, otherwise he’ll think me weak, even if I am at this moment.

“How dare you. What gives you the fucking right to kidnap me, you piece of shit?” I shouldn’t goad him but I’m not going to cry and feel sorry for myself. I’m not going to lie down and let him do whatever he wants. If I do, he wins. And that is not going to happen. I don’t care if I wind up with a dozen broken bones, I’m not going to let this happen. I will
fight
for my life. I’ll defy the odds so I can get back to my family. Or die trying.

My words don’t piss him off like I thought they would. Not like I’m complaining though, it’s just messed up. He was so quick to beat the shit out of me last night when he took me, but not when I mouth off?

“I’ll tell you what gives me the right, Harlow. It’s
my
right because you’re
mine
,” he says.

When I try to argue the fact that I’m not his and never
will
be his, he cuts me off. “When you came into my bar looking for work, I knew right then that you would be mine. And I worked hard for it. But did you fuckin’ notice?
No!
And then you
left
me? To come
here
?” Now he’s getting angry. He stands up and starts pacing, shaking his head like he’s having an internal battle inside his mind.
Shit, maybe he is!
He’s fucking bat-shit crazy. He must be considering what he’s done to me.

“I thought that maybe you’d need some time to warm up to the idea of what I am, but I can see that it wasn’t necessary because you’re already associated with the likes of me.”

His words confused me. What does he mean by
the likes of me
?

Titus notices my confusion. A sinister smile overtakes his cruel face. “Oh yeah. I know that you’re with the Sinners,” he sneers. “And I’ve come to learn that you knew them before you came to me. You’re
already
a biker whore.”

I still don’t follow, but I don’t like where this is going. I’m not a whore, but I
am
associated with an MC. Does that mean…?

“I can see you piecing it together, but let me formally introduce myself. I’m Titus; President of The Street Kings—Nevada chapter.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I know enough about bikers that it’s not good. If he’s the President of another MC, that means that chances are they are rivals of the Forsaken Sinners. If he knew I was with Louie or even if he just knew I was working for the club, he wouldn’t have dared take me. He wouldn’t have risked a war. Unless they are enemies.

Wait, though. He said the Nevada chapter. So what the hell is he doing here, so far out of his territory? And how did he find me in another state? Fuck, are we even still in California, or was he able to take me back to Nevada?
Shit!

Then I think of something else.

“But the bar I worked at. It wasn’t a biker bar. And you never wore a cut signifying you are a member.” It doesn’t make sense. If I’ve learned anything from being around the Sinners, it’s pride over your colors. They wear their cut like a second skin and without fear of consequence. So if he is who he says he is, why wasn’t he wearing his?

“And there’s where you are wrong, sunshine. The bar’s name was King’s Bar. And we
did
wear our colors. You were just too caught up in your own head to notice. Probably thinking about your precious
Sinners
.” He says their name with such contempt. I don’t know if they have always been rivals or if it’s new, but the way Titus speaks it’s like they’ve been enemies for hundreds of years.

I try to think back to my time at the bar. I know it was King’s Bar, but that didn’t mean anything. It was just a name. How was I supposed to know it was a biker business? For the life of me, I can’t recall ever seeing even
one
man wear a vest with their name on it.

Thinking harder, I close my eyes and try with everything I have to recall an image from a day I was there, but I come up empty. I can barely remember even talking to Titus or anyone else. I kept to myself and only spoke when I was spoken to directly, and most of the time it was just to take a drink order. How did I fuck this up so badly? How did I not know I was in the presence of another MC? That I was
working
for one?

“The fact that you can’t even remember shows how useless my efforts were! You barely even fucking remember
me
, let alone what club I belong to!” He stops pacing and faces me head on. The look in his eyes can only be described one way; manic.

Moving slowly so my feet are now on the floor to make my escape the first second the moment arises, I try another way out of this. “Titus, please. Just let me go home. We can talk about this. I’m sorry I don’t remember much, but I was in a bad place. My brother had died and I was numb to everything and everyone. But if you let me go right now, we can get to know each other. I promise.” Maybe the combination of my begging and telling him that if he lets me go we might be able to work something out will change his mind. Of course I don’t intend of following through with any of it, but I’d say anything at this point to get me out of this situation. To get me away from him.

My words have no effect on him though—not even a twitch of his eye to let on that my words at least caused him
some
emotion.

“You really expect me to believe that if I let you go, you’ll come to me
willingly
? That if I let you go you won’t go running back to that club or that piece of shit you’ve been fucking?” My eyes go wide. He not only knows about my association with the club, but my relationship with Louie? He’s been watching me. Waiting for the perfect time. He’s probably the one who sent me those flowers and that note. And the strange phone call I got that day, that was him too. It’s all falling into place now.

“No. You’re not going anywhere. And this time, instead of asking, I think I’ll just take.” He lunges toward me, intent on pinning me to the bed.

The adrenaline overshadows the pain in my body and I’m able to dodge him. He must not have expected me to be able to move so quickly, but it’s a mistake on his part I’m thankful for.

I’m able to make it out the door of the room I was in and halfway down the hall before I hear him coming after me.

I have no idea where I’m at. I’m not familiar with this place at all, which means I’m going to have a hard time getting out of here. I don’t know if I should turn right or left at the end of the hall, so I’ll just have to take my chances.

The hallway breaks off into what looks like a living room. I quickly glance to my right and see another hallway, but before I can turn to the left to go that way in hopes it will lead to the front door, something slams into my back.

Titus wraps his arms around me to hold me against him, but I twist and turn, trying to break his grip. I’m able to get one arm free, but the other is clasped in his hand.

“I said you aren’t leaving!” he snarls at me, then yanks me toward him.

My front is to his front, so I raise my knee and try to kick him in the balls. If I can get a good hit on him, maybe he’ll be in enough pain he’ll release his hold on me, long enough that I can run. But he’s able to block me easily as he twists me around to face him, proving that fighting him off isn’t going to work. If I have any hopes of getting away, I need to find a weapon.

Something shiny catches my eye behind him. It looks like a Katana sword hanging on the wall. Looking back at Titus, I spit in his face, which causes one of his hands to let me go so he can wipe his eye. I’m able to break free from the other hand and get around him.

I’m almost to the wall when I’m grabbed from behind. Titus picks me up as if I’m a ragdoll so I’m at least a foot off the ground, then swings his body around.

Next thing I know, I’m flying through the air and falling down fast. My back hits something hard, but it gives to the weight of my body.
A table
. I landed on a table and the force was so hard, it broke underneath me.

The air is knocked out of me from the impact, but seeing Titus rush toward me doesn’t give me any time to catch my breath or think of the pain I feel running up my back and into my head.

Flipping myself over, I scurry on my hands and knees away, but Titus grabs me by my ankle, dragging me back. “Come here, you little bitch,” he yells while he pulls me toward him.

“No,” I say, but I don’t know if he heard me. It was more for myself anyway—to draw more strength to get away from him.

I try kicking my feet to hit him anywhere I can, but it’s no use. He just grabs both feet and continues to drag me back. My arms flail out, trying to grab on to anything to stop myself from being pulled, when my hand lands on a piece of broken wood from the table I went through. Pulling it closer to me, I grab on to it with both hands. Turning my body around so I’m lying on my back, I swing the board across his face at the same time, using all the momentum I can gather from the move.