Make It Right

Make It Right

Nightshade MC: One

By:

Shannon Flagg

The Freak Circle Press

Make it Right @Shannon Flagg

All rights reserved

Shannon Flagg has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Cover design by: Lina Andersson

DEDICATION:

For Susan.

For Everything.

Special thanks to Lina Andersson for all of her help with this

story and the lovely cover.

Make it Right

Nightshade MC: Book One

Chapter One

Amelia Mason clutched the steering wheel hard as she passed the familiar 'Welcome to Detroit' sign; the stark white background and plain blue letters fit the city as it was now. Sure, there were neighborhoods that had managed to stay whole or were being painstakingly rebuilt, but huge chunks of the city remained dead or dying.

Crime was rampant and for the most part uncontrolled. The Mayor had recently made statements that homeowners should be armed since they were essentially on their own. There wasn't a day that passed when she didn't worry about Fiona and Taylor. The past four days had been more than worry; they'd been filled with terror, as no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't reach her sister or niece. The final straw had been when she called Fiona's job only to be told that she was fired because she'd missed two shifts.

That just wasn't like Fiona; she was always responsible. Amelia had been in her car and on her way, running on pure adrenaline for the first hour or so with just her purse and cellphone. It was on her first stop for gas that she realized she needed someone who could get to Fiona faster. After several scrolls through her contact list, she'd finally called James. He'd grown up down the street from her and surprised everyone when he'd applied to the police academy. He'd risen through the ranks and was now a hotshot detective.

He'd been surprised to hear from her, a little hesitant at first, but once she said why she'd called he'd said he was on it. They'd talked half a dozen times since then. There was no trace of Fiona or Taylor. Fiona's minivan was parked in the driveway, the lights and television had been on. There were dirty dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, and the alarm wasn't on. Chopper, Fiona and Taylor's dog, was nowhere to be found.

Amelia began to drive faster the closer that she got to the house. She'd prepared herself for some sort of home invasion situation, but the two of them simply vanishing was something that she couldn't get her mind around. Fiona was the sweetest person in the world. She never lost her temper or said things that she later regretted. There was no one who would want to grab her.

Hundreds of things rushed through her mind; articles that she'd read, movies she'd seen, true crime books about brutal, awful crimes gave her lots of material to worry over. Were they being tortured? Were they dead already?

She took the turn onto her street and immediately slammed her foot down on the brakes. Her tires screeched, and she stared with a combination of anger and shock at the row of motorcycles at the curb in front of the modest home she'd grown up in. “Son of a bitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Amelia punctuated each word with a punch to the steering wheel. They were not supposed to be here. She couldn't deal with them being here.

A car came up behind her, laid down on the horn, so she drove forward, pulled into a spot one house down, and just sat there staring at the soft glow of the lights on in the house. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision, but she blinked them back. There was no time for them. No time for her to sit in the car freaking out, either.

Fiona was missing. Taylor was missing. Everything else needed to take a back seat, even the fact that her ex-husband and his brothers were there, waiting right inside for her. After several deep, supposedly calming, breaths Amelia grabbed her purse. She reached her hand inside until it settled on the heavy weight of her gun. Regardless of what happened when she walked through the door, one thing was clear. This was going to be an interesting welcome home.

She used her keys to open the front door, stepped inside and listened as the four men standing there went silent. Amelia slammed the door. “I don't recall inviting any of you here.”

“I invited them.” James stepped into view, obviously coming from the kitchen with a mug in his hand.

“You invited them?” Amelia focused on James. “You did the one thing that I asked you not to.” She'd begged. She'd pleaded. He'd promised. Before she fully registered what she was doing, her hand was in her purse and her gun was out and pointed at James. “You asshole.”

“Honey, put the gun down.” Royal, the president of Nightshade MC, spoke with a slight chuckle to his voice. “Not a good idea to point a gun at an officer of the law, even if it is just Monroe. Why don't we all sit down? Have a nice talk?”

“Talk? I don't want to talk to any of you. All of you can get the fuck out. Now.” Amelia's voice was shrill. Adrenaline coursed through her.

“Put it down.” Amelia's head snapped to the side at the sound of Danny's voice. A tremor went up her spine and her stomach clenched tightly. Apparently he was still one ballsy fuck, because he grinned as she turned the gun on him. He was as handsome as she remembered, maybe even more so because he was growing his beard longer like he always did when winter was approaching. His blonde hair was long, tied back so she couldn't see just how long. His eyes were exactly the same, a perfect, peaceful blue.  “No one is here to hurt you. We're here to help you.”

“I called the Detroit PD for help, not the biker brigade.” It took effort for her hand not to shake. Her whole body wanted to shake. It had been seven years and a divorce since she'd seen him last, but there was still a part of her that wanted to run to him. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“We can't help,” James spoke up. “We're understaffed and overwhelmed. There's no way I get the green light to work a case like this. There's nothing to say that Fiona didn't just leave; until there's proof otherwise, my hands are tied. Their hands aren't.”

No, Nightshade rarely had their hands tied. More often than not, they were dirty, and she didn't say that in judgment; it was simply the truth. Amelia considered what James was saying, she realized the truth of it and lowered the gun. “Why would you want to help me? You divorced me, remember, asshole?”

She remembered, and it was a sharp stab to her heart. All of this was. Seeing the faces of men that she'd known and trusted gathered in her house because her family had vanished was actually making it hard for her to breathe. They had been her family, her friends. Well, not Train, Train had never been her friend, in fact he'd hated her on first sight, but she'd still trusted him. Ace caught her eye and winked. It was all she could do not to smile back at him, because she knew he was seriously close to bursting out laughing.

“You are family, Amelia.” Royal held up his hand to stave off any argument that she might have. His age showed more now, but Amelia was sure that didn't mean he was any less fierce. He certainly wasn't any less handsome. “Fiona and Taylor are family as well. We'll find out what happened. I give you my word on that. Now, put the gun away before I have to take it from you.”

It never occurred to her to refuse. Royal wasn't known for his patience or for being warm and cuddly. One word from him and any man in the room would disarm her without hesitation and that included her damn ex-husband. When the President of Nightshade gave an order, it was followed. She shoved the gun back into her bag and turned away from Danny. The reality of the situation was starting to kick in. Like it or not, she needed Nightshade. And she sure didn't like it. All eyes were on her, and she knew that she needed to do or say something. Amelia cleared her throat. “I know that you are a man of your word, Royal. Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for family. You've had a long drive here. I imagine that you'd like to get some rest.” He motioned, and she saw Ace and Train start to
head for the door. “Danny will stay, make sure you get settled in.” The announcement drew a loud laugh from Ace, which earned him a smack from Train, who was next to him.

Danny stay and settle her in? No and no. “No.” Amelia shook her head. She might have to accept help from Nightshade, but she didn't have to accept being alone with Danny. She glanced at him, saw that he looked much more pleased about Royal's announcement than she did. Amelia looked away just as quickly, focused on Royal. “I don't need anyone to stay with me.”

“I have to disagree with you. We don't know what happened with Fiona and Taylor. If they were taken, you could be taken.” There was a logic to his reasoning. Being on her own could be dangerous, but so could being with Danny.

“I'm not Fiona. I have a gun and I know how to use it.” Amelia protested. “I can take care of myself.”

“Be that as it may, it will ease my mind.” Royal came close to her, reached out and took her hand. “Your old man stays with you.”

“He's not my old man. He divorced me.” Amelia felt Royal turning her wrist over, and she tried to yank away from him, but he was strong. He pushed back the stacked leather bracelet she wore and ran his thumb over the letter branded there.

“That's a piece of paper. Doesn't mean shit to me. This means something to me.” Again he ran his finger over the D. “Obviously it means something to you or you'd have covered it up. He stays, Amelia.” Royal clearly wasn't open for further discussion. “Now, go and get some rest or find some food. I'll come over around lunch tomorrow. We'll talk more.”

It wasn't so long since she'd been involved in the Nightshade world that she'd forgotten what it was like. Essentially, Royal chose not to recognize the divorce, so she was still Danny's old lady to him. Anything that she said or did would be a reflection on Danny, and if she got out of line, he'd be the one to pay the price. It shouldn't have bothered her. She shouldn't have cared what happened to him. He hadn't cared what happened to her. “Fine. Whatever. Take him with you.” Amelia motioned to James who had been silent since she'd pulled her gun. “I'm going up to bed.”

Falling face first onto the mattress sounded like a great idea and was probably all that she was capable of, to be honest. Her body was starting to feel the effects of the drive; her wild mood swings during the ride and once she arrived hadn't helped. Amelia moved up the steps on autopilot, up to the third floor and the bedroom with sloping walls which had been hers since she was a teenager.

She wasn't prepared for the memories which overwhelmed her when she stepped through the door, and she certainly wasn't prepared for the fact that Fiona had kept everything exactly the same as the last time she'd been there. It had been two years since she'd come home. Once she'd found out that Danny finally had a release date, she'd refused to come back. Fiona and Taylor had come to see her instead, the three of them crammed in her shitty one bedroom.

“I do not need this shit.” Amelia tossed her purse on the bed, made sure the door was locked and then stripped down to her panties and tee shirt. She turned on the lamp next to the bed and turned off the ceiling light. The house was quiet but she could hear the sounds of Danny moving around downstairs.

It was a familiar sound, one that brought her a sense of comfort that she hadn't expected. What the fuck was wrong with her? It had been seven years since she'd been served with divorce papers while he was serving a five year sentence for manslaughter. She'd tried to visit him several times after and sent letters, but he'd refused all contact. Finally, after about three weeks and numerous bottles of tequila, she'd signed and mailed the papers, packed up the Jeep and left. Just the memory of it brought tears to her eyes; she blinked them back.

Danny's footsteps were now coming up the stairs. Seconds later she heard the knob turn. “Amelia, open the door.”

“What do you want?” Amelia kept her voice steady even though it took effort. She grabbed the pants that she'd taken off only moments before and slipped them back on as she considered going for her gun.

“I want to talk, and I'm not doing it through a door. Come on. I can break it down, but that's just going to piss Fiona off when she comes back, but it's up to you.”

Amelia knew damn well that he'd break the door down; it wouldn't even take much effort on his part. She moved forward, unlocked the door and yanked it open. “What?” In that instant she knew that opening the door had been a mistake. His hand closed around her wrist; his fingers were less than gentle as they shoved her bracelet to the side. “Don't!” She yanked as hard as she could to free her hand as he went to bring her wrist to his lips. “Damn it, Danny. Don't.” He did it anyway. The feeling of his lips against her skin was too much; with a burst of strength she hadn't expected she was able to pull away. “Get out.”

“No. We need to talk.”

“That wasn't talking. That was touching. Don't touch me. You lost all right to touch me.” Amelia could still feel the press of his lips against her skin. Her body apparently remembered it, too, because there was a warmth spreading through her that she normally only achieved after a bottle of wine and some quality time with a battery operated toy.

“I get that you're pissed.” Danny walked over and sat on the bed. “So go on, let me have it. Hell, you can hit me if you think that will help.”

Pissed? Let him have it? Hit him? Did he really think that it would be that easy? Of course he did. It was typical Danny. Really, it shouldn't have even surprised her. “You really think me hitting you and throwing a fit is going to make anything better between us? One day I'm visiting you and the next I'm getting served papers? Fuck you, Danny.”

“It was a mistake. I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” Amelia replied. There was no keeping the emotion out of her voice. “Can you just go, please? I'm tired.”

“I can see that,” he rose from the bed, crossed over to where she stood. “Don't flinch away from me. I'm not going to hit you. I'm not going to hurt you.”