Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) (7 page)

Just as I curve up to sit on my elbow and remove the garment, Frisco flips to his back, carrying me with him. Straddling him, with his cock at my pussy, I am open to him as the bra slides down.

“Please, baby, one more. I only need one more.” He slides his hands up and down the smooth skin of my sides with his thumbs, teasing the underside of my large breasts every time he reaches them. Then he traces the edge of my panties as he rocks up.

I am embarrassed by the saturation he must feel of my own need, of my desire for him. Regardless, I continue with the stages running through my mind.

“Molding is the next one. This is when you work to change your partner to fit each other into the other’s world.”

Two hands grip my hips, and he slides me up and down his length. My legs tremble, and I want to cry out for more.

“Pretty sure my world is your world, sexy. Pretty sure we got that covered. So, tell me, what’s next?” he asks as I feel him grow harder. Then he rolls me over and covers me as his mouth crashes down on mine.

His weight comforts me as my desire heightens. Wildly, I grab his ass cheeks and pull him to me, needing him against me as I buck up, seeking the lost friction.

I bite on his bottom lip as he slides his hand to my right side and rips my panties before separating the torn fabric out of his way.

I need him. I want him. We need this.

“Happy!” I cry out on a moan as he runs his fingers between my pussy lips, saturating my skin and his digits.

“Think we got that covered.” He laughs as he slowly circles my opening.

“Frisco …” I thrash like a woman in heat. “You win. The next stage to come is sexual exploration.” I reach up and grip his face on either side to make him look me in the eye. “Give it to me. I need this. I need you.”

Eye to eye, connected in mind, he slowly lines up and slides inside. I feel my body tense at the invasion and will myself to relax as we join as one.

Closing my eyes, I feel him brush small kisses across my nose, my cheeks, my jaw, and I feel myself working him with my inner muscles without him moving.

“The final stage,” I whisper as I keep my eyes closed, memorizing the feel of him inside of me, “is complete trust.”

Those words cause him to slide back and thrust in deep. My body trembles. I feel alive for the first time in far too long.

“You have my complete trust, Frisco.”

“And you mine, Amy,” he whispers before he picks up the pace, sending us both quickly into oblivion.

Shutting the door behind my father, I want to shut out the world. Reality is a cruel bitch, and she’s slapping me around right now.

My mother is dead. She’s not coming back. Until this moment, I could live on the river of denial.

They say Africa is nice this time of year. I could just float on down and pretend this is all a bad dream.

Only … it’s not.

The Hellions rode into town. Fury came for them, not my mom, not me, but because they had eyes and knew Frisco arrived. Right? Vic certainly wouldn’t put a hit on my mom. He wouldn’t send them to the house without making sure I wasn’t there, right? It was because of the Hellions.

The memories invade.

“Vic, don’t,” my mother cries out.

My father, Paul “Victory” Watson, has her pinned against the wall of our living room with his hands around her throat.

I’m peeking in from a window between the open blinds. I just got off the school bus, but I paused when I saw his bike and didn’t rush right inside. Good thing since what I am seeing is going to give me nightmares.

“Lost a woman once to the Hellions. Won’t lose you, too. She’s mine, you’re mine, and don’t fucking forget it!” Vic roars before spitting in her face. “My name, my daughter, MINE. You get me, bitch? She’s mine! They can’t take that away.”

My mother weakly nods her head, and he releases her.

I don’t know why they always fight about the Hellions and me, but I hate it.

“Good. Now suck my cock before Shannon comes home. If you do it really well, I’ll fuck you tonight before I leave.”

When my mother doesn’t move fast enough, he shoves her down.

“Come on now, Jayne; we don’t have time to fool around. The bus is coming. You better make sure I’m coming, too.” He snickers. “Oh, it’s Tilly; that’s right. If that’s what you need to get your mouth around my dick, then Tilly it is.”

The dynamic between my parents was always fire and ice, oil and water, vinegar and baking soda. No one ever blended into the other. Just a battle, an eruption, and in the end, a mess of emotions.

Vic was always angry. I was always a pawn in some game to make my mother do what he wanted. He never put his hands on me, though. I now wonder why.

The things he did to my mother over the years were vile, disgusting, and at times, horrifying. Yet, he never touched me.

Was it fear of retaliation from Frisco or the Hellions?

I think of the years my mother suffered at the hands of Vic. The years Frisco could have come to save her, save us, yet didn’t. I think of the man in the other room, the man who I’m trying to get to know, trying to understand.

Anger fills me in a way it hasn’t before. He lived his life knowing my mother loved him. He let her walk away. He came to our house and caused her death.

I don’t push down my emotions like I have my whole life. I have no reason to. Fury controlled my mother in fear. The Hellions won’t have that power over me. I have nothing left to lose. I will make them see. I will make him see. He turned his back on her. He caused her demise. He caused my mother’s death.

Well, Richard “Frisco” Billings, you have met your match in me. If it’s the last thing I do, I will be his downfall. He cost me my mother. I will cost him the Hellions. Just wait and see.

I may not be Fury MC, but I am fury, inside and out. I am controlled, contained pain. I am the last piece of a dying legacy. It ends and begins again with me.

Strength

I wake to the feel of her soft fingertips tracing the tattoos on my ribs.

“Got something on your mind this morning?” I ask, to which she simply exhales deeply.

How many times have I awoken with her in my arms? More than I can count. How many times can I have this moment with her in my arms after a long ride followed by a night deep inside her? Hopefully every morning until my last. Will I have the first morning, though? Never again. I plan to have every morning with her, but never again will I have this first time.

I learned young in life to be in the moment. This moment is one I value. However, I feel tension from her. How can we have something that has built so slowly, yet wake up with anything but relief to be together?

Years I have given to this woman with zero expectation. Years we have formed a bond, a real relationship. And having spent years with the woman in my arms, I know when something isn’t right. In this moment, right here, right now, something isn’t right.

She sighs. “I know stuff happens with the club. Next time, don’t go so long without responding. You’ve never done that before.”

I laugh. It’s an asshole move. Really, though, our first morning after laying it all out there between us last night and this is what she wants to talk about? Just because I was balls deep inside a broad doesn’t mean I will ever be led around by my dick.

It’s not a leash, contrary to what many women have thought over the years. Tilly tried that shit and look where it got us both. The woman fucked me for the long-term, and I won’t ever be in that situation again. Pussy is pussy, after all, and I can make do. Loneliness isn’t so lonely when the flipside of being with someone is betrayal.

This was a bad idea—finally giving in to my desires, giving in to the want, the feelings, and going after something more. It was a very bad idea. This is going to leave us both in a world of hurt.

Been there, done that, and I made the motherfucking T-shirt.

She jerks away from me and out of the bed.

“Amy,” I warn. “I ever left you hangin’ like that before?”

She looks at me with hurt evident in her hazel eyes.

Well, buck up, woman
. I am going to keep it real, even if she doesn’t want to hear it. I never closed her out like this before, so she has no reason to think I would do it again.

One thing Amy needs to learn and learn quick is that, in this life, you gotta have faith in your man. No matter the road before you, behind you, or beside you, when it comes to the club, she needs to ride with me or get left behind.

She doesn’t speak, just shakes her head before she gathers up her clothing.

This is not how this morning is supposed to go.

Frustration builds deep inside me. I’m not a man of hearts, flowers, chocolates, and sweet accolades. I am a man who lays it out and means what the fuck I say. I told Amy she is mine. She’s been around long enough to know what that means. Why question me now?

“Didn’t mean to shut you out. I didn’t know how to deal with things. Tilly wasn’t Tilly, but a lady named Jayne Wheatley who was married to Paul ‘Victory’ Watson. She had a little girl. Only we thought her daughter was Vic’s. She was”—I shake my head—“
is
mine,” I correct, still trying to come to terms with everything.

Half of me wants to climb out of this bed, get on my bike, and ride off. I don’t need entanglements. I had enough years on my own, and I could spend the rest of my days without some broad to answer to.

Only, Amy isn’t just some broad. She hasn’t been since the beginning. She’s the one pass the club has ever given. She’s the only person I have extended myself to since Tilly.

As much as I want to follow my instincts to run, there is something about Amy that has grounded me for years. More than sex, more than friendship, there is something about her that calls to the core of the man I am. Everything about me wants to comfort, console, protect, and provide for her. However, my past is rearing back into my present, and I don’t know if I have the strength to battle a woman against my lifestyle again.

“Sass always said women and children were off limits to the Hellions. It’s not the code Roundman leads by,” she challenges, and I find that I like it. I relish the pride she has in defending my club. She knows what we stand for, and she backs us.

This is Amy. She’s timid until she knows she can back up what she says. When she’s comfortable, the confidence oozes from her. If only she could be so self-assured all the time.

Blowing out a breath, I try to explain the change.

“Just because we don’t target women and children, you know firsthand other people do. This time called for drastic measures.”

Tears fall from her eyes. “So it’s on the Hellions that the young lady in our house doesn’t have her mother?”

Guilt hits me in a way it never has before.

Jumping out of the bed, I pick up my jeans and yank them on.

Fury rode up on us at Jayne’s house.
They
fired the shots.
They
put the bullets in the woman I once loved.
They
are the ones who brought down the woman who betrayed my club. She didn’t deserve to die by their hands, but she got what she most certainly had coming after all she cost my brothers. It may not be fair to feel this way, but it’s my life, my reality, and my loyalty has always and will always be brotherhood first.

“Her mother played both sides of the fence. She made decisions that caused the war to reign down on her home. Not the Hellions. Don’t you fuckin’ play me and my brothers, Amy. That’s a battle you’ll lose, regardless of the fuckin’ stage we’re in.”

I don’t look at her as I yank my cut off the dresser and head out of our bedroom. It feels so foreign and so right all at the same time to call this
our
bedroom.

Tilly’s betrayal hits me all over again. She sent Roundman and Danza to prison. She set things into motion that can never be undone. She kept my daughter from me and let another man give her his name. She waged a war that has scarred my soul. I won’t dare let another female have that kind of power ever again. No matter what it costs me.

In this moment, the walls are closing in. I can’t have another woman come into my life and try to tear me from my club. I won’t.

I don’t give a shit who they are, or who they think they are to me.

Waking up after a night full of tossing and turning, I can’t help the dread washing over me as I face another day without my mom. The numbness is gone.

She’s never coming back. No one comes back from death. She wanted me here, with them. She told me to go with Frisco. She trusts the people Vic hated.

She sent me to the enemy.

Am I a pawn in another game my mother was playing? She certainly wouldn’t use me, would she?

Everything is a tangle of emotions. I don’t know right from wrong. I can’t wrap my brain around who is the good and the bad guys here. At the same time, I want to know my real father.

Lying in bed, I look up at the popcorn ceiling, tracing a picture in my mind out of the texture. I know my dad—wait, not my dad—Paul Watson. No matter who he was or wasn’t, he was not a good man.

As a little girl, I spent hours staring at my bedroom ceiling, daydreaming about a father who worked a regular nine to five job. The kind of father who would be home for dinners with my mother and me. A dad who would teach me how to ride a bicycle without training wheels and pretend to eat mud pies while waiting for the next cup of tea to be served in a pink plastic tea pot. Paul “Victory” Watson was not that kind of man. He never could be.

Did the Hellions kill him? Fury killed my mother. How do I feel about that? Should I consider the Hellions killing Vic retribution for his club killing my mom?

Hot tears stream down my temples. It’s all hitting me now. My mother is gone at the hands of the man who raised me. My father is in a rival club, and I am somehow supposed to trust him and move on because my mother told me to go with him.

Was she the best judge of character?

Think, Shannon, think
. What options do I have?

The weight on my chest feels like a thousand elephants are sitting on me. I blink, trying to clear my cloudy vision, which only brings on more tears.

I hate crying. I always have. Tears are weakness. Paul always stood by the phrase.

Am I weak to my mother’s loss? Am I weak to the devastation that has become my life?

I smack myself in the forehead. How did I leave so easily with Frisco? How did I spend days holed up with him and not fight?

Fight for my mother.

Fight for my club that’s not my club.

Fight for the bastard who raised me, whether he was good or not.

Fight for the life I could have had if my mother hadn’t loved the bad boys.

Fight for me! Who is going to fight for me if I can’t do it for myself?

Jumping out of the bed, I look around the small room. There are no pictures, no mirrors, no personal effects to be seen.

Moving to the single dresser, I pull the top drawer to find a woman’s belongings. I move to the closet. The doorknob twists easily and opens to a small rack of T-shirts. There is not a single shirt in here to flatter someone’s frame. Everything is black, gray, orange, or red.

How did Frisco go from my mother, who loved to dress up and be the perfect arm piece, to someone with a love of T-shirts? If this is a woman’s room, then who is she to Frisco? What’s her role in all this?

I know someone was already here last night. He called her Amy. I heard them talking, but I was too exhausted to think clearly. I was so tired after the long ride that I didn’t care to know about anyone or anything, other than where I would crash for a few hours.

With the light of a new day comes a new thought: Get out of Dodge!

I don’t belong here. Contrary to my mom’s belief that the Hellions will keep me safe, this is the last place I want to be.

There is a soft knock on the door, which startles me.

Moving back to the bed, I climb in before I yell out, “Come in.”

The first thing I see is brown hair peeking around the door, followed by a perfectly round face with hazel eyes and a flush to her cheeks, almost giving a cherub-like appeal.

“Hi, Shannon.” She waves, stepping into the room. “I’m Amy.”