Wed to the Bad Boy (23 page)

Cullen

I pulled up the bike and glanced over at her, noticing her, really observing her body for the first time.  My mistake.

She was wearing a black pantsuit.  It wasn’t exactly jeans, but at least she had the sense not to wear a dress in the cold April weather.  Even so, she looked fucking hot.

Shit.  She’d just lost her brother.

I tried not to let her body invade my thoughts, but it was hard.  Memories of her—of us—they filled my head just when they should’ve been the last thing on my damn mind.

She was a curse.

No, I was the curse.  Damned to live this life, the life she rejected.

The one she didn’t want.

Anger filled my veins as I looked around me—at my bike, at my damn clubhouse.

She was right to be angry.  To be furious.  To want to get away from all of this.  It killed everyone I’d ever loved.

It threatened everyone I loved.

And it kept us safe.  Safe from extreme poverty.  From all those horrors that other people had to suffer.  The truth was complicated.  Too much for me to deal with at that moment. 

Fuck it.  It doesn’t matter.

I climbed over my bike and sat down, looking at her.  Waiting.

She hesitated.

“You comin’, or what?” I feigned annoyance.  It was the only thing I could do to keep all those fucking things hidden down deep inside.  The grief, the depression, and everything she made me feel on top of that.

Damn, this girl was infuriating.  I watched as she fumbled with the straps of the helmet and put it on.

How long had it been since she rode?

I turned on my bike and revved it up while she hopped on and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Her touch sent sparks of feelings I thought long dead up my spine.  Just her warmth through all those layers of clothing was enough to flood my brain with thoughts of her.  The past, the dreams.  The fantasies.

Fuck.

She shouldn’t have been able to do this to me.  Not after all these years.

I shifted into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, hitting the pavement with her holding on tight.  Riding in Pittsburgh isn’t the same as anywhere else.  The roads are unpredictable.  The constant rain pits them and poverty keeps them that way, letting the small cracks turn into potholes and the potholes turn into craters.

It was something I’d learned to go with, not fight against, or I’d end up with my bike on its side and my ass filled with gravel.

Every one of us learned that lesson the hard way a time or two.  I’d made that mistake more than once.

I rounded Comrie and flew down 2
nd
.  That steep-ass hill was enough to make any wet behind the ears prospect flounder.  But that was Braddock.  That was Pittsburgh.

I shifted gears and hopped right on Main, cutting off a coal truck in my haste.  Fuck them.  I wanted the hell out of there.  I flew down past the steel mill where my old man used to work, and out of the city.  My place was out of the way, hidden in the brambles and down a series of potted roads just between Braddock and East McKeesport. 

I turned down the side road that would lead me to my house, and when I got there, pulled into the drive.  It wasn’t much, but it was nice.  We restored an old vacant into a bachelor pad that Sean and I crashed in.  Brought women home to.  A place that wasn’t the dingy, smoke- stained walls of the club. 

I hadn’t been there since Beast and I went out on patrol.  The night he died.

“Wow.  You finally got it, huh?”

“Got what?”

“You don’t remember telling me, do you?”

“No.” It was a lie. 

I remembered all the dreams we’d whispered to each other at night, the dreams we’d both shared out on her family’s apartment balcony, looking up at the stars, the three of us snuggled in their sleeping bags.  It was a thousand years ago, but to me, it was yesterday.

It was all there in my mind.

“Well, it looks nice.  Almost exactly like you told me.  Does it have the garden in the back?”

I shrugged and fiddled with my keys until I found the exact one, slipping it into the lock and turning.  Better to just ignore her than let her know that I had one all set up and ready.  Sean had helped me build the raised beds.  We even planted in it each year, hoping that if we started something, maybe she’d like it.

In case she ever came back.

When I opened my door, we were both greeted with a howling kitty.  Sean’s idea.  A little, gray, striped thing he’d brought in out of the rain a few months ago. 

I checked the feeder.  It was still half-f and the gallon waterer still had clean water dispensing from it.

“You’re fine, Killer.”

Sean named him, doted on him, really.  He didn’t keep women around longer than a night, didn’t keep plants besides the garden, but this cat was like family to him.  A poor substitute for what he really wanted: his sister back.

“You have a kitten?” she asked me.

“He keeps the mice away.” I shrugged and walked through the living room, pulling off my leather jacket and throwing it on the chair.

“You need something to eat?” I asked as I opened the fridge for a beer.  I needed a drink.

“No, I got food at the wake.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right.” I used the counter to pop the top off the beer.  Anger still boiled just below the surface, and even looking at her brought back too many painful memories.

Hell.  She had the same eyes as her brother.

I examined her as she bent down and picked Killer up, snuggling him right into her arms.  That damn kitten rubbed its cheeks against her face, and I swore I could hear it purr from all the way across the room.

Part of me was pissed.  But the other part of me couldn’t help but watch her.

“Room’s upstairs.  You can sleep in Sean’s.” Shit, the look on her face.  “Look, it’s the only other one I got.  It’s that, or the club, but I promise you he slept there too.  We all have.”

“No, it’s fine.  I would rather have my own room than be in the clubhouse.” I detected a shudder.

“You really fucking hate my club, don’t you?” All she’d showed since coming here was disdain.  The club took care of Sean, they took us in when we needed them—hell, they were taking her in now—and all she was doing was shitting all over it.

“The club killed everyone I ever loved.” There was no emotion in her voice.  To her, it was just a fact.  A fact that rang true for both of us.

“The club was the only thing that gave them a decent life.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at me, blinking.  Those eyes that used to look at me with so much emotion were now vacant.

From somewhere deep down inside, rage overwhelmed me, bubbling to the top.  I wanted to take her in my arms, I wanted to rip all her clothing off her body and show her just how much I missed her.  How much I thought about her.

Instead I swore and downed the rest of my brew, slamming the bottle on the table and walking away.

“I’m out of here.” I needed to catch the breath she kept stealing.

“But what about me? I thought you were supposed to be protecting me.”

“You’re safe here.  Use your cellphone to call the clubhouse if you need anyone.” I slammed the door and hopped on my bike.

Too many ghosts and demons for me to bear.

Layla

What the hell was I doing here? I ran my fingers through my hair.  This was insane.  Seriously, staying here because I might be in some kind of danger?

I doubted whoever killed my brother even knew who I was.

Still, the look in Uncle Mick’s eyes when he asked me to stay, like I was the last shred of his entire world.  Like I was all that was left of him.  How the hell could I say no to that?

Because I was all that was left of the legacy.

I looked around the house and sighed.  It was clean enough, but it was definitely a bachelor pad.  The lack of décor and the Spartan nature of the place punctuated with a fridge full of pizza boxes and beer made it obvious.  Two dudes lived here with little attention paid to how they lived.  But it was clean, and it wasn’t cluttered.

At least it had a warm bed, as soon as I could figure out which room was mine.  That asshole left without telling me where I was supposed to sleep.  The way he looked at me.  The anger in his eyes, the hurt.

It was almost too much to bear.

It was why I never came home, and if I had to, I stayed as far away from the club as I could.

I knew what was waiting for me.  Cullen.  And he looked on me like I was the last person in the world who should be standing in front of him.   I deserved it for walking out like that.  For taking off without so much as a goodbye.

And I felt like a piece of shit.

I stood up and walked up the stairs, looking down the hall and opening the first door on the left.

I was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of him.  It was like he was there, in the room with me.

Sean.

His body spray, leather, motor oil, and sweat. 

I stumbled into the room and made my way to the bed, sinking into the cool sheets.  As I closed my eyes, I struggled to stay in the present.

“Lala!” It didn’t matter if we were both in our mid-twenties.  As soon as he saw me, we were like kids again.  A rare smile plastered on the tattooed up biker’s face, and he came running toward me.  I met him the same way, hugging him, pulling him in and taking a great big whiff of that smell.  Motor oil, too much body spray, leather, and sweat.  Pure comfort.

It was him.

“Sean, how are you?” I asked, walking back to the table of the restaurant with him, leaning into his outstretched arm.  He was comfortable and soft, and it was like my protector was there again, soothing me.

“Doing pretty good, actually.  How’s school?”

“I just have finals and then I graduate.  And then I just need to find a job.” I tried not to let the worry seep into my voice.  The economy was bad, and showed no sign of getting any better.  Everyone I talked to had the same concern.  Too many accountants, not enough jobs.

“A college grad in the family, huh? Never thought that would happen.  I’m proud of you.” He blushed and ran a hand through his scarlet red hair, then grinned at me.  We both shared those deep red locks.  “You going to move back after this?”

“I, uh, I dunno, Sean.  I mean, I’ve been in Chicago for so long, and I have friends here.” It was a lie.  I had two friends, and they were both leaving after graduation.  I would be alone.

But at least I wouldn’t be anywhere near the club.

“I see.  A nice life, huh? All planned out and away from your brother.”

There it was.  That telltale little bit of resentment.  Sean wouldn’t be Sean without it.

“You could move here.  We could live together, share an apartment.” It was a halfhearted attempt at a conversation we’d had over and over again.  He had the cut.  It was never going to happen.

So he just smiled and ignored it.

“Got a new patch,” he said finally, after a short, awkward silence had passed.

I nodded and pretended to look interested, “Oh yeah? Get a promotion?”

“Sergeant-at-Arms.”

I blinked and tried not to let the tears well up.  That was what Dad was, before he got promoted to Prez and then died.  I knew it was an honor for him to be promoted so high so quickly.  And that it had everything to do with who he was.  What he was.

The son of the last steel-working original.  The hero who took a bullet for his club.

And I knew it was signing his death warrant.  They were the muscle of the club, the ones who put themselves in harm’s way.  The ones who died first.

Yeah.  A great honor, all right. 

“That’s wonderful, Sean.” I tried to fake smile.  “Really rising up in the club.”

“That’s the plan.  I want to be President someday.” Ambition.  It was the coroner’s signature on the death certificate.

“Anyways, Lala, I have something for you.  You know I wanted to be there.  To watch you graduate.  But I have… club business.  So I thought I’d come now.  Give you your presents.”

“Presents?” I perked up.  When we were little, he loved to give me presents.  Anything I wanted.  Especially after our mom died.  And it dulled the pain, even just for a moment.

“Just two little things,” he said, as he pushed across a couple of small jewelry boxes.

“Nothing expensive?” I asked.  I made him promise me when he patched in that he would never buy me anything expensive.  I didn’t want anything with stolen or dirty money.

“Nothing expensive, I promise you.  All my own, too.”

I smiled, and opened the first box presented to me.  Inside was a beautiful cameo necklace.  The kind with a woman’s silhouette in a beautiful white stone.

“Open it.”

“What?”

“It’s a locket.  Open it.”

I did.  One side had a picture of my mother in it, and the other had one of all of us.  A family.  Tears flooded my eyes.  We weren’t always happy, but we were a family.  At least for a little while.

I looked up to see him smiling.

It had the desired effect.

“I’m not much, but I’m still your family, Lala.  And the one gift, it’s for when you finally come to visit me.  I got a new place.  A little house, and I got something there.  Waiting for you.”

Sean.  Always trying to get me home.

“Oh, yeah?”

He slid across the second little present.

And I opened it, the case snapping up.  It was a key, the kind that belonged to an old car or truck.

“What is this?”

“I figure, you graduated, that’s the customary present, right? You need to come get it, though.  I ain’t bringing it up to this damn windy city.  Come get it yourself, and maybe stay a while?”

That was his play.  He wanted me to come home.  This was his way to do it.

“Sure, I’ll come visit, Sean.  Just as soon as I land that job and get enough to come away for the weekend.” It was the best stall I could come up with.  I wanted to come back on my terms.  That way I could escape at the end.

“I could always fly you out, sis.”

“I want to do it on my own, Sean.” I knew if I came on his money, I was never going to leave.

“You always were the stubborn one.”

I laughed and put on the locket.  And I squeezed it when he left.

I don’t know what made me walk through the house.  Maybe a desire to be out of his bedroom? I wasn’t sure, but I wound back up in the kitchen, looking out the back door.

What I saw there took my breath away.  A little garden, seeds planted, small sticks coming out of the ground.  Just like I’d always dreamed about.  Just like he’d always talked about planting for me.

I opened the door and walked out onto the back porch, sinking to my knees as I looked over it, the tears flowing as I clutched my cameo.

Squeezing the last thing he gave me, the metal cutting into my flesh, I didn’t move, just sat on the cold concrete, remembering him.

And that I was alone.  Utterly alone.