Fury: Book 2 in the Vengeance MC series (14 page)

*****

Like I said, it wasn’t a significant action or a grand gesture, but it was beautiful. It was also terribly, horribly painful. Excruciatingly so.

Our age difference aside – because, honestly, eleven years is just a number to me – there were so many reasons why it was wrong for me to fall in love with Fury. The least of which being my Dad. He would never accept or condone a relationship between us, that I knew.

It isn’t that Dad doesn’t like Fury, he does. In fact, Dad considers him one of his closest friends outside of his MC. The age gap would bother him, but even that wasn’t why he’d object to Fury and I becoming involved romantically. Dad’s issue would be that Fury is a biker, period.

From when I was old enough to understand – say, seven or so – my Dad has told me he wanted more for me than becoming a bikers’ old lady. He said he wants me to go out and see the world and have experiences I couldn’t if I was married into an MC.

Obviously, Dad, being a biker himself, wasn’t concerned with how brash, rough and crass men like him are. He is what he is, and he makes no apologies for it. But that being said, he doesn’t want his daughters living the same dangerous lifestyle my Mom has by marrying him.

Dad couldn’t have been happier when Dakota fell in love with, and eventually married Cody. Cody has ties to Devil’s Spawn MC, yes, but he isn’t a member and never will be. My younger sister, Neveah, until recently, hasn’t shown much interest in having a serious relationship, but when she did, my Dad all but lost his ever-loving mind. And I don’t blame him because God knows, I love my sister but even I have had a few moments where I’ve thought, ‘what the hell was she thinking.’

Nick Forbes, Emmaline and Cody’s brother, didn’t initially intend to prospect for Devil’s Spawn when he moved to Blackwater twenty years ago. All he wanted was to get his younger brother and sister away from their junkie Mom and somewhere safe. However, after floating around, picking up odd jobs here and there for seven years, Nick sat down and had a conversation with Cage, Tank, and Dad that changed his life.

A month later, Nick was sporting a prospect cut and had a new outlook on life. He had a purpose now, direction and somewhere that finally felt like home. Nick completed his eighteen months as a prospect, patching in as a full member eleven years ago, just before he turned twenty-seven. Now, at thirty-six, Nick is funny, handsome, devoted to the club, hardworking, and completely and utterly in love with, Neveah.

Sixteen years separate Neveah and Nick, but that wasn’t why Dad had a shit hemorrhage. No, Dad had kittens because Nick is a disgusting and prolific manwhore. As in, the phrase ‘one and done’ was coined for him specifically.

On any given day, you’ll see one, two, possibly even three women walking – gingerly, I might add – out of Nick’s room at the clubhouse. Now, I’m not judging him, because hey, he’s single, he’s hot and that’s his business, but when it comes to my sister, she will not be just another notch on his bedpost.

I’m not saying people can’t change, they can, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. And with the way Nick loves Neveah, I honestly believe that’s possible. I think given half the chance, he would give up his in-depth study of the female body and devote himself to her, and her alone. The problem is, Nick hasn’t given up his willing pussy buffet. Not even when Dakota and I threatened to unman him in uniquely creative ways.

But all of that is beside the point, or maybe it’s not. What it confirms is my Dad’s likelihood of having a stroke if another one of his daughters came home and told him she was in love with a biker. Hence, me making the decision to remain friends and only friends with Fury, and sticking to it.

That brings us to now, and why looking at him, still to this day, hurts. I may have made the choice nearly a decade ago to stay best friends with the man I’m in love with, but that doesn’t mean my feelings evaporated when I did. If anything, it’s only gotten worse.

In my case, the old saying, “It only hurts as much as you care,” is absolutely correct. I wouldn’t be this hurt over Fury’s desertion if my feelings didn’t run so deep, which brings me full-circle to why I’m here tonight.

“I’m not reconsidering the week, Fury. I’m here because I want you to answer something for me. Honestly. No bullshit, no lies, no trying to spare my feelings. Just the truth,” I state, attempting to keep my voice as devoid of emotion as my expression.

Fury’s eyes are dark and assessing when he replies,

“What do you need answers to, darlin’? You know if it’s in my power, I’ll give you whatever you need.”

There are so many responses I can come up with to that statement, I muse sardonically.

“Do you think you can move out of the way so I can get passed?”

“Is that your question, Ave because I’ve got to say, if it is, I’m disappointed,” Fury smirks.

Dickhead!

“You wish,” I snap, pushing past him and taking a seat on top of his dresser. Not the most comfortable place to sit, but there’s no way in hell I’m sitting on his bed unless I can be assured he’s changed his sheets recently. As in, five seconds before I walked in.

Resuming his spot on the bed, Fury rakes his hot gaze over my body, making me involuntarily shiver at his perusal. There are some days I wish I didn’t react to him this way because it would be so much easier if he didn’t have the same magnetic pull over my body as he does my heart.

Shifting restlessly, my head snaps up when he groans,

“Ask away, darlin’.”

The intensity of his stare has my hands breaking out in a cold sweat and my nipples hardening against the lace of my bra. See, confusing. Not wanting to waste any more time, I blurt,

“Why do you want my forgiveness?” I give him a minute, but when he doesn’t reply and I can almost feel his confusion, I clarify further. “I spoke to my therapist today, Fury. He helped me to understand why you want to explain why you did what you did. But, what I still don’t get is why you need me to forgive you? We’re friends, we were best friends, but you don’t have to answer to me. Nothing in the friend code says you need to be accountable to me for your whereabouts. So, in essence, I suppose what I mean is; you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, it wasn’t nice and you hurt me, but I’m not your keeper. You’re a grown man and you’re entitled to do what you want. Other than being my friend and because you said you would, there wasn’t any good reason for me to expect that of you. So, why? Why do you need my forgiveness when you haven’t done anything wrong?”

“Bullshit,” Fury doesn’t hesitate to snarl. “Fucking bullshit, Avery. I abso-fucking-lutely did do the wrong thing. When I make a promise, I keep it. And do not doubt it was a promise I made when I said I’d stay in contact with you.”

Launching himself off the bed, Fury buries his hands in his hair and begins to pace. He doesn’t look at me, he keeps his eyes trained on the floor, but I don’t need to see his face to know he’s angry. The irritation is pouring off him in waves.

“You might not be my wife, girlfriend or old lady, Avery, but that doesn’t mean I’m not accountable to you. And even if I’m not, I want to be,” he mutters. “I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things while I was gone, and what I thought about most was you. We may have been friends for years, but you and I both know there’s something more between us than just simple friendship, babe. We’ve been dancing around that shit for years, hurting us both in the process. Back when I realized what I felt for you went deeper than caring about you, my head was all sorts of fucked up. I lost my wife, my parents, my sister, my grandparents, pretty much everyone I’ve ever loved. In my mind, me loving someone meant losing them. Stupid, I know, but that’s how it felt,” he admits with a self-depreciating laugh.

I hadn’t thought of it like that.

“But that’s not true, Fury,” I return, my voice beginning to waver. “You have your brothers, their families, and mine for that matter. I know they aren’t related to you by blood, but family is family in whatever form it takes.”

“Like I said, I know that, babe. Never said it was rational, it was what it was. Suppose you can say, I had an epiphany after I left New Mexico. I couldn’t stop thinking about making that trip with you, or how it would feel to have you on the back of my bike, showing you everything God’s country has to offer. That’s when I knew I’d fucked up. I realized I didn’t want you on the back of my bike as my friend, Avery. I wanted you there as my woman, my old lady. Shit doesn’t look as bright if I’m not seeing it through your eyes. I missed everything about being with you. Your laugh, hearing you bitch about your day, watching your face light up when you talk to your sisters or your Dad, I missed every-fucking-thing. That’s why I want, no, need you to forgive me. Because I want it all back, but this time, I want it with you in my bed and in my life in all the ways you can be.”

I’m shocked. Truly shocked. The sincerity in his voice isn’t something I’ve heard from him before. Not that Fury can’t have serious conversations because he can, but like this? Never.

I need time to process this, meaning, I have to get the hell out of here. I can’t think straight when I’m around Fury, and I definitely need to be functioning on all cylinders when I sort out what this means. To me and for us.

Sliding off his dresser, I walk on unsteady legs close enough to grasp his huge hand in mine and say,

“Thank you,” turning and hurrying out the door immediately.

- Text from Fury to Avery

“You see Avery since she ran out of here like she’d seen a ghost the other night,” Gage asks, taking a long drink of his beer.

“No,” I reply shortly.

“You going to?” Shrugging, I don’t bother answering him because we both know I am.

Nothing and no one can keep me from showing up at her place tomorrow night. Avery wanted time – which I’ve given her – but after her late night visit, it only got harder for me to stop myself seeking her out earlier. If it takes me begging for her to forgive me, then I’ll do it. I’d do anything for that woman. Fucking anything.

“Are you going keep acting like someone killed your dog until you do?” He chuckles.

“Fuck off,” I growl, downing the last of the glass of whiskey one of the prospects set in front of me.

Gage pats me on the shoulder condescendingly, grinning at Sierra, one of the clubs’ newest whores.

“She can suck the chrome off a tailpipe if you’re looking to release some of that pent-up frustration you’ve got building, brother.”

“Not interested,” I grunt.

“No, I wouldn’t suspect you would be,” he returns cryptically. “You sure about her, Fury? I can’t say I blame you for wanting to claim her. Avery’s fucking perfect. But you’ve gotta be sure because you’re going to have a hell of a battle convincing her Dad you’re good enough for her, and this isn’t just a fling for you.”

Twisting, I face Gage head on, narrowing my eyes at him heatedly.

“You’re my brother, and I’ve got all the love in the world for you, but I don’t need you questioning how serious I am about Avery. You know, you fucking know, there’s no one but her for me. Spent years fucking around and wasting time when it comes to her, but that shit stops now. I don’t deserve her, never will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not selfish enough to claim her anyway. I’ll deal with, Saint. He’s never going to like any man in Avery’s life, but I guarantee you that when I’m finished explaining what she means to me, he’ll get it. He won’t like it, but he’ll get it.”

“Good,” he mutters. Gesturing for another beer, Gage then asks, “You still heading out to see Jonas in a few?”

“Planned to. Why, you coming with?”

“Thought about it. Been wanting to finish the piece on my back for a while now,” he rumbles. “Promised Blaine I’d check on the big man for her too. Jay’s been avoiding her for a couple of weeks now and she’s worried about him, so I said I’d stop in and make sure he’s still breathing.”

Blaine has been trying to help Jonas recover after losing Bec, but unfortunately, he isn’t cooperating with her efforts. In the beginning, we thought she was making headway. Jonas talked to her, stilted, short conversations, but he was talking. However, for the last month and a half, things have taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Almost as if he’s going backward in the grieving process, not forward.

“How’s Blaine handling that?” I ask, genuinely interested in her reaction to Jay shutting her out. Blaine isn’t a firecracker like, Avery, but in her own way, she’s got a will of iron. A steely determination that’s as quiet as it is deadly.

“Not well. She’s pissed off, but there’s not a lot she can do if he won’t open the door when she goes round there or pick up the fucking phone when she calls,” he replies, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “That’s another woman who needs her fucking head read. For now, Jay’s a lost cause because until he wants to move on, he’s going to keep wallowing in his own misery. Blaine’s too good to put up with that shit, she deserves better, but you can’t tell her anything. She’s bound and determined to pull him out of it.”

“You think there’s any chance she’ll succeed?”

“Not likely,” he grumbles. “The fucker is neck deep in grief, so until he has something to fight for, he isn’t changing anytime soon.”

I can’t say I disagree with him. I know from experience it takes a modern-day miracle to jar a man from the despair that runs that deep. My miracle was Avery; Jay’s is anyone’s guess. I just hope Blaine doesn’t get too caught up in helping him that she thinks they can have anything more. The last thing she needs is to hook her star to a man a broken as, Jonas. Because Gage is right, Jay can’t be helped until he wants it.

Pushing myself off my stool, I announce,

“I’m heading out now, so if you’re coming with, you better decide now.”

Gage gulps down the last of his second beer, standing, he flicks hand out signaling goodbye to Cash, who’s sprawled on one of the couches watching Sienna move around the room.

“Let’s ride.”

*****

Walking through the doors of Jay’s tattoo shop, Skin Fusion, Gage and I glance at each other briefly, shaking our heads. It’s clear just by looking at him, Jay isn’t getting better. If anything, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen him, that includes the time he returned from a tour overseas when he was in the Army filled with bullet holes.

His usually clean shaved head is covered in, at least, five-six inches of dark hair, and he’s bigger than I’ve ever seen him. Bulkier, Jay, has to have put on twenty pounds of muscle at a bare minimum. That, however, is where the improvement ends.

Jonas’s naturally tan skin is pale beneath the multitude of tattoo’s snaking up and down his arms, his face is drawn, extra lines around his mouth seem to have appeared overnight. All in all, he looks fucking terrible.

All of a sudden a wave of guilt washes over me, almost stealing the breath from my lungs. Seeing him looking like this only serves to remind me I didn’t come close to grieving as hard for Rosalie when she died. Bec and Jonas weren’t even together, no relationship, nothing when she was killed, but Rosalie was my wife. And still, I didn’t feel remotely close to the depth of emotion churning in Jonas’s eyes.

“Take a seat. I’ll be with you guys in a minute,” Jay’s gruff voice sounds from behind the partition separating the waiting area and his station.

Tipping my head toward him, I look to Gage saying,

“You weren’t wrong. He looks like shit, brother.”

Gage doesn’t reply, nor does he need to. It’s obvious if something doesn’t change soon the man we’ve all known and loved will be lost forever.

Ten minutes later, I’m removing my cut – placing it over the headrest of the adjustable tattoo chair – stripping off my shirt, lying down so that Jay can get to work on the design I dropped off months ago before I left town.

It won’t take long. This tattoo isn’t overly big, nor is it complicated. It’s only one word, stretching from hip to hip across the bottom of my abs. I don’t want fancy fucking script, and I don’t want any tribal or images around it. Simple black ink and bold lettering is all I’m after.

“You sure you want to do this, Fury?” Jay asks, eyeing me warily. “I don’t have to tell you this shit is permanent. There’s no going back after I get started either because this piece is too fucking big for a cover up if you change your mind.”

This isn’t a spur of the moment decision. I’ve been thinking about getting this done for years, but it wasn’t until a few days before Avery was taken that I made up my mind and approached Jay about it. Maybe it was fate telling me something, or maybe it was just coincidence, but there’s no doubt in my mind I want Jay inking my skin tonight.

“Yeah, brother, I’m sure. Do your worst,” I offer, grinning at him over my shoulder.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch, man. Better you than me,” he grunts getting to work.

The second the needle makes it first pass through the sensitive skin of my lower stomach, I feel my abs tighten along with the muscles in my legs. Jesus Christ. I forgot how much I hate this shit. It’s not a phobia or anything, but I hate needles with a vengeance.

Ever since I was a little kid just the thought of getting shots or boosters made my gut churn with anxiety, and had me breaking out in a cold sweat. And now is no different. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, nothing bad happened to make me dislike them, I just don’t particularly enjoy the feeling of cold steel penetrating my skin over and over again.

Gage is aware of my hatred of them, so when we’re an hour in, he asks,

“How you holding up, brother? You haven’t passed the fuck out yet, have you?”

I closed my eyes after the first five minutes, preferring to zone out and think about something a hell of a lot more pleasant than the burn the tattoo gun is creating.

“Fuck you, Gage. I can’t wait till Jay gets to work on your back because we’ll see who’s laughing then. Karma, brother. Karma.”

Letting out a deep belly laugh, Gage replies,

“I’m not the one who’s got a problem with needles, that’s all you.”

Cracking one eye open, I look at Jay only to see him one hundred percent concentrated on what he’s doing, paying no attention to our back and forth.

“How you been, Jay?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

“Working, dealing with my sisters’ bullshit, you know how it is,” he returns monotonously.

“Yeah. So, what’s the latest with Miss Bella? Gotten herself in any trouble recently?”

My friendship with Bella since I came home can be described with one word; strained. Where before we were tight, as in, almost as close as Avery and me, lately that couldn’t be further from the truth.

When I joined Vengeance MC as a prospect, one of the first people I met outside the club was Bella. Sassy, funny and outgoing, Bella wasn’t one to shy away from calling a spade a spade. I admired that about her. It wasn’t often I met a woman who was willing to let it all hang out there, regardless of the consequences.

Two years older than Avery, Bella was fourteen when I moved to Furnace. We had an instant connection that hasn’t faltered throughout all the year we’ve known each other. Not until now, that is.

I have every intention of apologizing to her for cutting her out of my life while I was gone, but not until I’ve got shit sorted with Avery. Any more than one woman wanting to rip my balls off at a time is just too many, so Bella’s going to have to take a backseat for now,

“When isn’t she causing trouble I’ve gotta clean up?” Jay grumbles.

As much as he likes to complain about his little sister, he loves the hell out of her. Their relationship isn’t only one of brother and sister. Honestly, she’s also his best friend. Or, she had been until Jay decided to shut everyone out.

“True,” I grin in response. “She’s been calling me non-stop for days. I know she wants to tear me a new one, but I’ve got shit to sort out before I let her have at it.”

“I know, she told me. If I were you, I wouldn’t answer. Ever. My sisters’ like a Bobcat on steroids when she wants a piece of someone, so I’d watch out. She’ll pounce when you’re least expecting it,” Jay says with a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

Forty minutes and an indescribable number of hissed curses later, and Jay’s done. The lower half of my stomach feels like it’s on fire, making me want to soak in an ice bath just to get rid of the sting for a few minutes. But all bitching about the pain aside, he’s done a fucking fantastic job, as always.

Avery’s name is now permanently etched into my skin the same way she is etched into my heart. Each letter the size of both my thumbs put together, the solid black Old English script stands out starkly against the much whiter skin of my groin. Because let’s be honest, that is actually where it’s positioned.

If you’d asked me in the beginning why I chose to tattoo her name in a place that would probably be a turn off to other women, I would have said I didn’t have the first clue. But now? I know the truth. As ridiculous as it sounds, I want her to know she owns me. Not only my heart and soul but my body too.

“That what you were after?” Jay questions, busying himself by cleaning up his station.

“Yeah, it’s perfect. Thanks, man,” I reply, pulling my shirt and cut back on. “You up for heading to Hounds for a drink after you finish with, Gage?”