Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (36 page)

The funny thing about closure was that once you felt as though you had it, once you were finally healing, the last thing you wanted to do was rip the scab off the wound. That’s what I felt like we were doing. Our problems didn’t go away just because we wanted them to, and underneath it all, we were the same people we’d been just a few months ago. He was determined to keep secrets from me, to shut me out of God knows what, and that was something I wouldn’t tolerate if we had any hope of a future. And as much as I tried not to be, I was bitter; I was still pissed that, without any explanation, he had been ready to let me go and expected me to run back to the man who had hurt me, the very man Matty had sworn he’d kill if said man ever touched me again. Every time we tried to talk about that day, we picked at the scab a little more. It was painful and would only leave us scarred if we couldn’t figure it out.

I knew that Matty didn’t really want me with Will and that neither of us meant a quarter of what we’d said that day. But he refused to talk about it, and he changed the subject whenever I brought it up. I didn’t understand how he could be amazing and possessive one day then weak and pathetic the next. I was positive there was some underlying reason, but no matter what I said, he refused to let me in. Without realizing it, I’d fallen back into my nasty passive-aggressive pattern; I knew I needed to break the mold and just tell him how I felt, but instead I found myself getting angry for no real reason and feeling annoyed with him for little things that normally wouldn’t bother me.

Now it was excruciatingly clear we weren’t sure how to move on. When we talked, we avoided any serious topics as if we’d come to an unspoken mutual understanding that we didn’t get much time and we’d be damned if it was going to be ruined by an argument. Leaving things unsaid seemed to breed mistrust though. He’d been distant, almost cold, over the past week, and it hurt me that he wouldn’t tell me why. Plus, I’d worked myself into a tizzy trying to figure out how to tell him about everything that was going on in my life and was overly snappy.

The last time we’d talked, really talked, I took offense to his cold shoulder routine and suggested that we should quit while we were ahead. I told him I thought we would always work better as just friends and that the friendship was what we both missed the most after all. He argued that I was worth the struggle, that we’d get to the point where we could forgive each other, and eventually everything would fall into place. I yelled back, telling him I hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t need his forgiveness. I couldn’t remember much more of what was said, but I knew it had gone south quickly. I would probably never forget the relief in his voice when I told him we were done and he agreed.

“Maybe this time it really is over.”

“Jesus, you two are way more dramatic than any teenagers I know—and believe me, that’s saying something!”

I opened my eyes to find her glaring at me.

“Maybe you are. I seriously doubt it, but maybe you are. You have some major crap to work through, but so does every other couple I know. Divorced people come with crazy amounts of baggage.” She twirled her hand over her head. “Most men can’t handle all this, let alone the two monsters that come with me. But I’d go through all the crazy drama all over again just to find Tom.” She smiled. “If you’re over, you are. Stressing over it and getting depressed won’t make him come back, and it will only make you feel like shit. So you’re gonna get up, get dressed, put on my stripper shoes, and go dance your ass off.” I laughed as she shoved me off the bed. “Tomorrow’s a big day!”

Teagan was right. I’d done everything I could do, and now the ball was in Matty’s court. I needed to let it go, at least for tonight, and have a great night with my friends.
 

Chapter 2

Rocker

The bar was full, the music loud, and the dance floor crammed with people grinding and laughing, drunk off their asses. Thankfully, we were the only ones filling the stools at the bar. I sat, listening to Hawk and Fred shoot the shit, grumbling responses when they were required. The two of them kept trying to drag me into the conversation, but all I cared about was finishing the beer in front of me and downing the next. It had been a long-ass day full of nothing but shit I didn’t want to deal with. If I hadn’t promised the guys we’d stop at Hooligan’s to see Fred, we’d be halfway back to Boston by now.

Thinking of my buddies, I scanned the room for Dean; he'd taken off with a tasty little piece a while ago and I hadn't seen him since. A loud group came up to the other end of the bar, and I turned toward them out of boredom. One of them, a tall blonde in a barely-there outfit and a “come fuck me” mouth, offered me a knowing smile. I ignored her, not even close to being interested, and moved my eyes over the rest of her group, settling on the short one who had her back to me. There was something familiar about her, and I searched my mind, struggling to place her.

She wasn't my type, so there was no reason I should stare, but an uneasy feeling settled in my gut and I couldn't pull my eyes away. Her hair was short, barely touching her shoulders, and I knew I’d remember those colors. It was all three—brown, red, and yellow—in alternating chunks—and unless it was the lights from the strobes, there were also streaks of blue and purple. She was dancing in place, shaking her ass to the beat. Her tight shirt and jeans left very little to my imagination and showed the world just how curvy she was.

Nothing about her interested me, except that fucking nagging feeling that I knew her. A couple of guys joined her group, one draping his arm around her shoulders in a gesture that showed everyone he was staking his claim. I lifted my bottle, turning back to Fred, when I heard the laugh. I froze, hand in the air, bottle almost at my lips, staring. The douche with her had leaned in, but she’d stepped away from him, leaning her head back and giggling.

No fucking way in hell. I felt my whole body tense and took a swig, squinting to see if it could really be her. This chick was similar in height, but that was about it. She was different—from the way she dressed to the undeniable curves to the crazy hair. But no one else in the world had that laugh. I’d know it anywhere.

My fist squeezed the bottle as the douche ignored her signal and slid his hand down her back and grabbed her ass. She was free now; the divorce was final. He’d screwed up and let her walk away, but that didn't mean she should be there and letting some pansy-ass wimp fondle her. She didn’t move into the ass wipe, which was his intention, but instead stepped forward, moving her arms wildly and forcing him to remove his hand as she talked. The entire group laughed, apparently finding whatever she’d said hilarious.

And I knew. It was her. I started to stand, but Fred’s voice kept me back.

“Leave her be, brothah.” It was a low, threatening tone.

I turned to him, jaw clenched, eyebrows raised, trying to determine if he knew how he sounded. He stood directly across from me, on the other side of the bar, towel slung over his shoulder, thick arms folded over an equally thick chest, watching her.

I lifted my chin in her direction. “She come here often?”

The jackoff raised his hand in the air, trying to get the attention of one of the barkeepers. Fred shook his head and snorted, as if my question was absurd, and walked to them before one of his employees could.

Seconds later, all my doubts were gone when I heard Jo screech Fred’s name and practically jump over the counter to give him a hug. He laughed, wrapping himself around her, and I felt an instant pang of annoyance. Obviously the two of them had gotten close. I didn’t jump as a familiar hand smoothed my back in comfort and a soft warm body curled against mine.

“You promised no trouble,” Darcey purred in my ear.

I looked down, smiling. “Me?” I shrugged. “Hawk’s the one you gotta watch.”

Darcey just laughed, giving me a hug. Fred’s wife wore a tight T-shirt—the word Hooligan’s spread across her perfect tits—and an apron around her tiny waist. Setting the empty tray she carried on top of the bar, she turned to me, giving me a pointed look.

I shifted, uncomfortable under the gaze. “What?”

One eyebrow arched at my tone, but she shook her head, looking down the bar toward Joey. “She’s a regular now.” She sighed, turning back to me. “In here whenever she doesn’t have her kids. She trusts him.”

Watching Fred joke with her, I knew Darcey meant her husband, not the prick still trying to touch Jo.

“She’s been through hell and is just starting to come out. She doesn't need more,” Darcey said.

My jaw clenched at the assumption that I'd cause trouble. I didn't want to cause Joey any more problems; I knew she'd been through the fucking wringer. Cris told me she’d been worried, that I should check in and let Jo know I was there if she needed me. I hadn't seen the point; she had friends and I wasn't one of them.

She wasn’t the only one who had been left a fucking mess. I’d had my hands pretty fucking full trying to deal with the fallout she’d left behind. Now I was sitting here with Hawk on a Friday night, staring at the back of the woman I hadn’t stopped hearing about. Fucking perfect.

As Joey and her entire group headed out to the dance floor, I realized that I needed to leave before she saw me. I turned back to the bar, ready to tell Hawk we had to go. Instead, he handed me a shot of whiskey and slid another over as soon as the first was gone.

“Don’t you evah get sicka cleanin’ up his messes?”

I shook my head at my friend’s question. This wasn’t the place or the time. I stood, knowing I had to go—but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dancing. I turned out of habit, and the image of her, obviously pretty tipsy and surrounded by sleazeballs, made me freeze. Fuck! I couldn’t leave without saying something.

Darcey stepped in my way, giving me that mom look she enjoyed pulling on me, but I moved around her, ignoring the warning Fred hollered at my back. Nothing he could say would stop me from yanking her ass off that dance floor and shaking some sense into that pretty little head of hers. I was the last person he should be protecting her from.

I could feel my rage roll off of me, and most people, sensing danger, moved out of my way. I was behind her in just a few steps. The pussy that had started to move toward her slid away fast when I narrowed my eyes at him. Joey still hadn’t seen me, but her tall blond friend stopped the hideous jerking she considered dancing, mouth falling open at my presence. The target of my annoyance was oblivious though, moving to the beat.

I didn’t think; my hands reached out, flat against her soft stomach as they circled around her, and pulled her back into me. I could feel the change immediately. She tensed, looking up at her friend. The blonde nodded—as if since she approved of my face, I was worthy to dance with her friend—and Jo relaxed a little, her body moving backward into mine. The action infuriated me to the core. I could be anyone, any sick bastard, but because her friend thought I was hot, she was gonna grind with me? Fuck, no.

I’d forgotten how short she was—the top of her head barely reached my chest. She’d gained weight in the few months since I’d seen her, giving her body a softness I hadn’t realized had been missing. I leaned over to put my head on her shoulder, and the scent of vanilla hit me. I tipped my head toward her ear and felt her stiffen as if she sensed I was after more than a quick dance. She attempted to pull away, but my hands held her close.

As her breath quickened in panic, I couldn't stop the smirk. She should be scared. She was a grown-ass woman who should know when she dressed the way she was tonight, she’d attract attention. Maybe she thought Freddy would save her; I had no doubt that the giant softie would break his fists on anyone who tried to touch her without her permission. But he wouldn’t be able to save her this time—not from me.

Using every ounce of patience I had, I didn’t drag her off the floor. I didn’t knock out the teeth of the douche who was still eyeing her like she was dessert.

Instead, I yanked her hard against me and growled in her ear, "Hello, Lil' Kangaroo."

Chapter 3

Jo

“Rocker?” I turned around so quickly, I made myself dizzy, almost falling.

Thankfully his arms were still behind me, and he held me upright. I braced my hands on his chest, surprised to feel the taut muscle underneath, just to be sure I stayed on my feet in the stupid high heels I was wearing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I yelled, just to be sure he heard me over the music.

Instead of answering, he let go of me, stepped back, and tipped his head toward the side of the bar. I nodded, knowing he wanted me to follow him and happy that he did. Walking behind him brought on serious deja vu. It hadn’t been that long ago when Fred led me off this dance floor and walked me over to the tables Rocker was headed to now. Yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

I sat across from him, his large frame making the small square table seem almost miniscule. I’d only spent a few days with this man, but I genuinely liked Rocker, and I knew my feelings were reflected in my smile. I waited a few minutes for him to say something, but he just stayed silent, his dark eyes surveying me. I grinned, barely containing my laughter. I’d once imagined the Hulk every time I thought of Rob; now the image of a green monster was the last thing on my mind whenever Rocker entered it. Rob may be huge, and by huge I meant monstrous—he towered over me by at least a foot and couldn’t weigh an ounce less than two hundred sixty pounds—but he was hilarious and a loyal friend. I was happy to see him but surprised he was here alone.