Biker Stepbrother (4 page)

I watched Holden throughout the night, asking myself if he really was happy. Holden loved a lot of things, but I wasn’t sure he was truly capable of loving someone the way you should when you want to spend your life with them. He’d always made me feel more like an accessory than anything else. A pretty girl on his arm at parties. A piece of ass to keep him warm at night.

Mom always told me that’s how things were. True love didn’t really exist. It was all a bunch of chemicals and hormones that went away eventually, so women may as well marry for money.

“Only stupid women marry for love,” she’d told me more times than I could count.

By the end of the night when everyone had parted ways, Holden’s charismatic persona began to fade and my face hurt from fake smiling.

“I booked us a room at the Belmonte Hotel,” he said. “Thought we could celebrate all night long...”

The last thing I wanted to do was fuck Holden, but if I said I had a headache or was tired, he’d throw a man tantrum the way he usually did and end up begging for just five minutes inside me. I was a bona fide walking talking blow up doll sometimes, and the pathetic thing was he didn’t even care.

***

We slipped into the chilled air of the hotel room that night and my skin prickled instantly. I stepped away to find the thermostat in the dark room, but Holden grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him. He swept my long hair from the back of my neck and pressed his lips into my flesh.

Again, I felt absolutely nothing. My heart didn’t race. I didn’t have any warmth between my legs or an ounce of desire coursing through my veins.

“I’m really tired, Holden,” I whispered.

He continued to kiss me, working his way down toward my cleavage. Out of boredom, I held my hand up and watched the way the diamond glittered in the tiny bit of light that seeped in from the bathroom behind him. It was a beautiful diamond set in platinum. At least a carat. Flawless. But it paled in comparison to the one I found in his drawer that night.

I pressed myself away from him and unzipped my dress, which had been squeezing my ribcage all night. My lungs happily filled themselves breath after breath of cool air. I let the dress fall to the floor, but before I had a chance to kick my heels off, two warm hands reached from behind me and cupped my breasts.

Holden’s lips traced my back as his hands tugged down on the cups of my strapless bra until I was fully exposed.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

“I can get you in the mood,” he said between kisses. He pressed me forward, towards the bed. I had to think fast. Holden was never good at taking no for an answer, and it was partially my fault. I’d set the precedence years ago when I thought I was doing what all women did. When Tammy-Dawn Conners is your main role model for what a woman was supposed to be, a girl could end up all sorts of fucked up in the head.

“Who was the Cartier ring for?” I blurted. A fight was always a good stall tactic.

Holden’s hands froze and the warmth of his breath on my back burned as he released a long, slow breath. I turned to face him.

“What ring?”  His lips twisted into the kind of clueless grin I could smack right off his face if I wanted. I almost did. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” My jaw clenched.

Holden’s mouth danced but no sound came out as he attempted to buy time.

“I’m waiting.” I tapped my foot on the ground.

“I got it for you and then changed my mind and got you one from Tiffany instead,” he insisted. “The other one just didn’t seem like you.”

I laughed. He really expected me to believe him, and I wasn’t in the mood to sit around and listen to his pathetic lies any longer than I had to. The truth didn’t matter anymore. Maybe a year ago I’d have been hurt, but I didn’t need to be that girl anymore. Being a doormat did me no favors and got me nowhere fast. I refused to be her anymore.

Gray’s face entered my mind, and suddenly my heart longed to seek refuge with the only person who ever really loved me unconditionally.

“I’m leaving. And I’m not marrying you, Holden.” I reached for my dress on the floor and stepped into it, zipping it up in haste. I couldn’t get to the door fast enough, and I knew exactly where I was going.

“Everly,” I said, pulling the door open. A curvy blonde in a pink dress knocking on my door at damn near midnight would’ve meant something else entirely had she not been my sister in a former life. “Thought you had plans tonight.”

She brushed past me as I reached for a t-shirt, pulling it over my head in an attempt to make myself decent.

“I called it off,” she said, her face equal parts exhilarated and frightened.

“Called what off?”

Everly’s breath rushed and blonde wisps fell into her eyes. I leaned over and brushed them out of her face before my arm fell on hers, pulling her into me.

“You need to calm down,” I said, cupping her face as she stared up. “Have a seat.”

I led her to the foot of my disheveled bed.

“I called off my engagement,” she said. “I was engaged for all of two or three hours, and then I called it off. You were right, Gray. My future is mine. No one else’s.”

Her phone went off in her bag, startling her for a second before she fished around and whipped it out. Her eyes rolled as she silenced it. I caught a glimpse of it just long enough to catch the caller ID that read “Holden Banks”.

I scratched my head. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Didn’t mention it the other night.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems,” she said. “You’re already dealing with your own.”

I rested my hand on her thigh. “I’m always here for you. Don’t ever question that. You can talk to me about anything. Just like you used to.”

She smiled and leaned her head against my solid shoulder. Our scents mixed together: cheap hotel soap, leather, gardenia, and new car scent. It was funny how our lives had taken completely different turns and yet we were still able to find each other again.

I slipped my arm behind her as we sat in silence. She’d talk when she was good and ready, that much I knew. As a young girl, she’d rattle my ear off all night long, telling me all about her troubles. Well, the kinds of troubles a twelve-year-old girl could have. Most of the time she’d cry about how mean the girls were to her at school, saying she smelled or that her hair was greasy. Since I was a little bit older than her, I’d gone through it already. My skin was thicker than hers, and as I got bigger, I was able to clock anyone who dare tried to make fun of me. I’d have clocked those girls who hurt Everly too if I wasn’t against hitting members of the opposite sex. Unlike my father, I never allowed myself to cross that line.

“You look pretty tonight,” I said, trying to break the silence. I didn’t know much about women, but I knew they liked to be told when they looked nice.

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders as she nudged me. “All the better to please you.”

Her fingers searched her thick, blonde hair until they retrieved a few bobby pins, letting the rest of her hair down. It spilled like a silky gold river down her shoulders and framed her pretty face. If I squinted hard enough, I could still see the sweet-faced little Everly I’d once protected like a shepherd and his lamb. But looking at her straight on, she was all woman. And damn if she wasn’t sexy as fuck.

My dick hardened in my pants, and I forced my mind to think of anything but the beautiful lady sitting next to me with her breasts damn near spilling out of her dress and her long hair that would be perfect for grabbing if she were riding my cock.

She’s like your fucking sister. She’s not some biker bitch. Don’t think like that.

I never did meet a girl worth settling down for. My whole life Big Nash had driven ideas into our heads that women were only good for fucking and keeping you warm at night and maybe cooking a hot meal if we were lucky. He’d warn us never to fall in love. It was just the same as placing our most powerful weapon into the hands of someone who could turn on you in an instant if they wanted. That or they’d die on you when you least expected. That was Big Nash’s experience anyway, and due to his obsession with the matter, it’d been handed down to us through stories and anecdotes.

So I did what I knew how to do. I kept a careful, emotional distance from women, never allowing myself to get too close like they were some kind of hot stove or something. I’d make it perfectly clear that I wasn’t the settling type. They could take me or leave me. I wasn’t changing. Most of the time, for whatever reason, they took me anyway. I supposed they always hoped they could be the one to change me.

All I knew about love and feelings and shit was that the only thing I’d ever loved had been taken away from me when I was fifteen. It was funny how life brought her back to me though just when I probably needed her most.

“Gray?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“How long are you staying in Malibu?”

“Not sure.” I’d been waiting to hear from my brother. He’d promised to keep me posted, saying he’d do his best to call off the dogs until he could find out who really killed Big Nash. All his life, I’d been the one to have his back, and it didn’t feel right that I’d been run out of town like some coward. It made my blood boil just thinking about it. Gray Daughtry wasn’t a runner. He didn’t run away from anything or anyone. Ever. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged a single shoulder and peered up at me with a hint of adventure in her brown eyes. “Take me with you when you leave.”

“Everly…” I sighed. I couldn’t get her involved in my mess. As far as I knew fifty men wanted my head on a platter. She didn’t need to be caught up in any of that.

“I’m not asking.”

I smiled. The years had turned her into a persistent little thing.

“You better not leave town without me. I’m serious, Gray. I’m coming with you.”

“Something tells me you won’t take no for an answer.”

She shook her head. “Promise you’ll take me with you?”

I crossed my chest, making an ‘X’. “I promise.”

I threw everything I could fit into duffel bag small enough to fit in Gray’s saddle bag. He said we were leaving town that night. He’d heard from Nash about how a couple guys were heading west in search of him, and given their extensive network, a few other clubs were keeping their eyes peeled for a man fitting Gray’s description.

Maybe it was stupid to go with him, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than sitting around and living a life that made me feel dead inside.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder and tiptoed down the hall, passing Mom and Sterling’s master bedroom where they were cozied up in bed. Sterling was passed out, snoring, and Mom’s glazed over expression was glued to the T.V.

I thought about saying goodbye to her, but I knew she’d try to talk me out of leaving. She still hadn’t heard about the engagement being called off, though judging by the massive texts Holden had been firing off to me since the night before, he didn’t think we were over. Holden always got what he wanted. I was certain, in his monkey brain, that he figured we’d had a fight and we’d be back to normal eventually.

I’d left a note on my pillow for my mom with a simple explanation:

Mom,

I’m leaving town for a while. I’m fine. I need some time to think. I’ll be back soon.

Eve

Mom would probably assume it had to do with the engagement, but my mind was made up. I wanted to leave town, make a new life for myself, and get to know Gray all over again.

I journeyed across town, pulling my car next to his bike in his hotel parking lot. I trekked inside and rode the elevator to his floor. My stomach whirred with anticipation and the imagined sensation of the wind blowing through my hair and the vibration of the road beneath me as we traveled cross-country together.

I rapped on his door, but it was already slightly ajar thanks to the position of the security lock lever, so I let myself in.

“Gray?” I called out. His room was a hot mess, though it’d pretty much been that way since the day he stayed there. Sheets were twisted and lying on the floor. Takeout containers spilled out of the overflowing trash cans.

And then I saw them. His boots. They lay resting against the mirrored closet door. As far as I knew they were the only shoes he had. I ran through his hotel room, checking the bathroom and under the bed and behind closer doors.

Knots twisted my stomach. His bike was outside. His boots were in his room. His hotel door was propped open. He swore not to leave without me.

But Gray was gone.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Rossi St. James is a twenty-something young woman with a passion for Oreos, crazy, twisted stories, and hiking trails with her two yellow labs, Sunny and Cloudy. When she’s not writing, you can probably find her scouring Pinterest for inspiration for her next book. (That’s pretty much all she uses Pinterest for anyway, as Rossi St. James cannot cook, sew, or craft).

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