Blood Secrets: Fallen Motorcycle Club Read online

  “I don’t think it’s just the meth,” I said. “Honestly, the lost revenue isn’t enough for him to kill them even, unless he has something against them personally.”

  “I just figured it was another way for us to prove that we’re still loyal.”

  “Same here. I mean, the money figured into it, but you were trying to get them out of LA years ago.” That must have been when Emily was a young teen, before they’d moved into the house in Malibu and disappeared off our radar. Picturing her as a young girl sitting at a table and bagging piles of meth was enough to send heat flaring through me again. I wished I could go back and kill Dale again.

  “It didn’t matter that much to me that they were taking our business,” Piston said candidly. “Just didn’t like that they were selling to kids.” It was a hot button issue with him. Before my grandfather had died, the rule had been set, but rarely enforced. Once Piston took over, it became the kind of thing that could get a brother removed from the club—permanently.

  “Emily says she wasn’t.”

  “Maybe Dale lied to her. But their product was definitely going out to younger people, at least until this year.”

  “They really cleaned it up since I got back from Mexico.”

  “Why did they move out of Malibu?” Piston’s rapid-fire changes of topic were something we’d all learned to cope with.

  “Still don’t know,” I admitted. “Best I can figure, she overheard us in Mexico.”

  “Probably.”

  “It explains why she shut down on me so hard.”

  “I assume we’re not sending her hand down to Manuel.”

  I flinched, then shook my head. “Not an option.”

  “Then we need to get the guys together and figure out what to do next. Meeting tomorrow at 7pm. Mandatory. Tell Havoc to post a bulletin.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “What should we do with the boy until then?” Part of me wanted to tell Piston to interrogate him, but the truth I’d seen in his face was that he was a junkie. A dumb ass junkie who was in love with the woman I’d claimed and then lost.

  “Leave him. Don’t do anything, but don’t let him go either,” I suggested.

  “Good call. And Emily?”

  “I’ll deal with her.” Piston nodded and headed into the club.

  Instead of following, I went back to my bike, started the engine and flew out onto the empty road. A ride would tamp down some of the rage so that I could deal with Emily again without scaring her. Then I remembered who she really was, and realized that I was probably the least terrifying threat to face her.

  Leaning forward, I sped up and let the wind pull away all the churning doubts in my gut. Emily was a mystery and I needed to dig deep and figure her out. I’d been gentle with the girl I thought would leap from her own shadow, but this woman was someone different. Someone I knew wouldn’t break at a hard touch.

  This time, she wasn’t getting away.

  Emily

  “Do you want me to cuff you to the bed?” Flash’s mom asked, smiling at me as if the question wasn’t ridiculous. Her short, straight hair moved as her head canted to the side.

  “Not particularly,” I said, “but my guess is that I don’t have many choices, do I?” The binds around my wrists were cutting into my skin, and I was losing feeling in my arms. All I wanted was to reach up and wipe away blood from my mouth, maybe gather my hair back.

  “You can stay with your arms behind your back if you like,” she said with a shrug. It was so strange to have a housewife in a leather jacket telling me that she’d handcuff me for her son that I actually felt dizzy. Anxiety sucks. “I thought you’d be more comfortable sitting.”

  I’d be more comfortable punching you in the face and high-tailing it out of here.

  Shooting her a glare, I lowered myself on the bed and scooted closer to the post so she could clip one handcuff around my wrist and then attach the other side to the wooden bed. Once I was secure, she cut the binds Flash placed on me in Dana Point. I stretched out, letting my abused muscles flex and relax for the first time in hours.

  “Are you enjoying this?” I asked. Instead of making her angry, it made her smile.

  “Are you the Emily that made my son miserable for the last six months?”

  He’d been miserable because of me? “Probably,” I admitted.

  “Then I don’t hate it,” she said. “Even better, it gives me a chance to get to know the girl he fell for.”

  “I don’t think he really fell for me. It was less than a week.”

  “That’s how my son is. He can go for years without finding something he wants, but when he does, he settles on it fast. What I don’t know is how you feel.”

  Unwilling to discuss my feelings with her, I shrugged. Conversation with an adult woman was a novel thing, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to participate. She looked nice enough, but good looks were easy, and often hid a monster. Being fooled by her guileless eyes and soft hands would be my second mistake of the day.

  “I’ll be back,” she said, withdrawing into the hallway. I looked around the room while she was gone, studying the small space. It was mostly bare, but for the bed, a desk and a chair. There were a few framed photos of groups of men on the walls, but I couldn’t get close enough to see their faces. Idly, I tugged at my cuff, wondering if I could get out somehow. Even if I could, though, I wouldn’t leave. Tommy was still here somewhere.

  I could save him. We’d leave together.

  Maybe now that I was in charge, I could take the money Dale had kept from us and put Tommy in rehab, then we could both go to college. Maybe I’d meet someone new. Maybe I’d start a real business. If I could just get out of this alive, I could have the life I always wanted.

  Even if it meant I couldn’t have Flash.

  Even if I would lose the rush of selling drugs.

  Tangling with meth had brought out a part of myself that I didn’t want to acknowledge, but had to. I liked doing something illicit, as much as I’d wanted to get out of Dale’s grasp. I’d never start my own drug empire, because the cost was just too high.

  But I would miss it.

  Sighing, I sat back on the sheets and raised an eyebrow at Flash’s mom when she walked back in with a first aid kit in her hands. “Let’s get your face cleaned up,” she said.

  While she washed my face with gentle hands, she stared into my eyes, searching mine.

  “I remember you,” she said. “You’re Jeremy’s little girl.”

  “You knew my father?” I didn’t think anything else could shock me that night, but I was wrong. Finding out that my father was affiliated with a motorcycle club was a real shock.

  “He and my husband used to be friends. They stopped speaking years ago, though.”

  “Why?”

  “It was prudent.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “How are your parents? I’ve missed seeing Jessica.”

  “They died years ago.” Saying it still hurt, even after all this time.

  “Oh.” Her face paled and her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Car accident. Drunk driver…”

  “God, Emily, I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I wish we’d known.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, though remembering the accident shot a bolt of pain right into my heart. “You met me before they died?”

  “You and Flash played together once,” she said. “Just once. It was when you were three and you’d just come to live with them.”

  “Excuse me?” My skin chilled and I pulled away from her. “What do you mean came to live with them?”

  “Nothing,” she said, trying to cover her mistake. “I didn’t mean anything.”

  “I lived with them from birth,” I said. I shook my head and said it again, but all I saw in her eyes was pity.

  “Emily, I’m sorry.”

  “Was I adopted?” Her mouth opened and closed. Her hand twisted her necklace, always moving, while she refused to meet
my eyes. I felt sick. “Was I adopted?” I asked again.

  “Yes, but Emily, they wanted you so much. They were so happy to have you. Your mother lit up when you were placed in her arms the first time.”

  “Why? Why didn’t they tell me?”

  “You were so young when they died…”

  “Dale wasn’t my real uncle?”

  “No.”

  “Did he know?”

  “I think he would have had to,” she said. “Emily, I can’t talk about this. I’m sorry.”

  “Can you leave me alone?” I wanted quiet time by myself to think, but her face made it clear that it wasn’t something I could get.

  “No,” she said, gentle but firm. “I’m going to make sure your face is okay and then sit with you until my son gets here. Tell me about what you want to do with your life.”

  I wanted to ask more questions, but she wasn’t going to answer them and I was already frustrated and scared, so I let her minister to me. As much as I wanted to hate the woman, I couldn’t do it. She smelled like roses and her hands were gentle on my skin. They reminded me of Rosaline, comforting me in Mexico, so I didn’t bade her go again. Instead, I let her gently touch my face. Her hands were soothing and her soft voice asked me questions that lulled me into complacency.

  I almost forgot Flash was returning.

  Then I heard the door open.

  “How are you two doing?” He walked into the room and put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Sorry I made you stay here for so long.”

  “It’s fine, honey.” She rose and kissed his forehead.

  “Dad should be back soon. Piston sent him on a supply run.”

  “Oh, god,” she moaned. “I hope he gets the good maple syrup and not the fake sugar crap.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get everything, Mom. Emily and I need to talk.” He shot me a poisonous look over her shoulder and I cringed. Flash wasn’t offering me any of the kindness he gave to her.

  “I’ll go. I’m sorry about your uncle,” Flash’s mom said, looking at me before shooting a quelling look at her son.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “He wasn’t a good man.”

  She left. We were alone.

  “Why did you leave me at the hotel?”

  I tried to bury the happiness I felt at seeing him up close without an immediate threat to my life. He slid into the chair his mom vacated, crossed his arms and stared at me, waiting for an answer I wasn’t ready to give.

  “Where’s Tommy?”

  “He’s fine. He’s currently puking up his guts.”

  “Why? What did you do to him?”

  “You and your uncle fed him meth until he was an addict, then got him to mule for you.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I insisted. “His father was an addict.”

  “You love him?”

  “Does that make you angry?”

  “Fuck, yes, it makes me angry, Emily. You fucked me in Mexico and held me like you’d never let go and then you ran home to him.”

  “I didn’t go home to him. He just happened to be there.”

  “Have you two fucked?”

  “Would it matter?”

  “No,” he said, but his eyes told a different story. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Why?” Why do I want it to matter?

  “Because no matter what you say, Emily, no matter what shit you pull or who you’re with, you’re mine. I tried being gentle with you and you ran away in the dead of the night to push more drugs with a man who beat you.”

  “You were going to kill him.”

  “I did kill him,” Flash said, satisfaction spilling over his face. “I’ll kill every man who leaves a mark on you.”

  “That’s not why you were going to kill him in Mexico. You didn’t like that we sold meth in your city.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about where you sold meth. Piston was after him for selling that shit to kids, but he wasn’t going to kill him until Dale kept it going after warnings, then fucking disappeared.”

  “We didn’t sell to kids.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I told him—.”

  “What makes you think he gave a single fuck about what you said, Emily?” Flash was pure violence now, like I’d never seen before. He wasn’t my uncle with his weak hands and mealy mouth. No, Flash was black rage funneled into the shape of man.

  “Because I was the one who kept us going,” I snapped.

  “Good job running a fucking meth line.”

  “Good job running coke for a psychopath,” I quipped, flipping him off. His eyes widened and he reached out and wrapped a hand around my finger. His big palm slid down my skin to my wrist, grasping it firmly. Reaching into the nightstand, he pulled out another set of cuffs. They made an audible click when he hooked one around my free wrist and then put the other one around the bedpost.

  “You’re not going to flip me off again, Emily,” he said, his eyes like a pure gold storm. His hand lingered on mine.

  “What are you going to do, Flash?” His hand slid down my finger until it was draped loose over my fist. “Hit me? You won’t be the first man to hit me today.” I stuck out my chin, willing him to punch me once so that I could walk out and never think of him again.

  “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, disgust in his eyes. “I won’t ever hit you.” He moved closer until I had to crane my neck to look at him.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Why did you help Dale?”

  “It was better than being a punching bag for all the junkies who showed up at the house.”

  “How old were you when you started?”

  “Twelve, but I had no control until I was 13.”

  “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “No money. No family. No paperwork. What was I going to do?”

  “You could have stayed with me.”

  “And everyone in Malibu would have died. The people who worked for Dale weren’t evil, Flash. They were just like the people here—they did some illegal shit and they didn’t deserve the death sentence for it.”

  “We wouldn’t have killed everyone.”

  “That’s not how it sounded to me.” His hand was stroking my skin, lighting fires that hadn’t burned since I’d left him behind. The more he touched me, the more fury fell away from his face, replaced with purpose.

  “I would have protected you and anyone you wanted.” The truth in his words made me regret leaving him, even if just for a moment.

  “I didn’t know that. I couldn’t risk my life on the chance that a man who’d known me for a week would betray the club he claimed to love so much for me.”

  More of the anger dropped away and his taut body relaxed imperceptibly. Flash sat down next to me on the bed, letting go of my hand. I must be two times the idiot I thought I was, because all I want is for him to touch my hand again.

  “You didn’t leave because of me?”

  “God, no,” I said, forgetting how angry I was at him for—what exactly? He’d done the job given to him by the club, the same way I did for my uncle. He hadn’t mistreated me, other than leaving me chained to the bed, yet rage still bubbled inside me, hot and acrid. I didn’t know why. But I owed him the truth. “That better future you talked about? I wanted that—with you. But I wouldn’t let the price of my happiness be someone else’s death.”

  His face softened more and he leaned into me. “I missed you,” he said, so quiet it was almost beyond hearing.

  “I missed you, too,” I told him. “Every single day. And I wanted you. Every single day.” His body was so close and the hunger was overwhelming. “I want you now.”

  “You’re going to take what I give you,” he growled, his big body rising over mine, so freaking beautiful that I lost my breath. The cool metal of the cuffs against my wrists was a light pressure that kept them above my head and left my body splayed out under his. He ran his rough hands up my arms to my wrists, then smiled at me, predatory.

  O
h fuck.

  His fingers went to the ties at the shoulders of my sundress and pulled, untying them so that the thin material went loose over my breasts. Flash raked his heated gaze over my body, then yanked on the dress hard so that my swollen mounds were revealed. With a dark look, he lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, then pulled off and blew on the heated tip. “You still taste fucking amazing,” he said.

  All I could do was shiver when his head returned to my breasts.

  I’d wanted him for the past year, dreamed about him at night. When I’d slide my hand down my torso in the darkest hours, it was his face I’d remember, tensed with pleasure as I took him into my mouth or bold and possessive when he slipped inside me. I’d wrangle each drop of pleasure from my body and bite my lip to keep from moaning his name, scared of how the sound might carry in the shadows. I’d wished for him. For this.

  But his harsh face was stark above me and a tingle of fear broke through the arousal when he took hold of my dress and yanked it down farther. His seeking fingers pushed under the fabric, sliding down my stomach and running along the edge of my panties. I was so soaked, but not ashamed that he’d find me wet with wanting him. When they slipped down and stroked my swollen folds, I moaned and he lowered his head to take my mouth, his fingers still moving relentlessly against my clit.

  Wanting to touch him, unable to touch him, I rocked my hips against his fingers, desperate for what only he could give me. But as soon as I moved, he lightened the pressure and his white teeth flashed.

  “You don’t get to come yet.”

  “What?” I said, outraged. I felt my skin flush with fury and desire, all rolling into one hot tidal wave of emotion. Flash just smiled and looked me in the eye while his hand skated too lightly over my skin and then pulled away when I jerked up. He moved off the bed and bent over me, removing my dress and my soaked panties before bending to lick the flat of his tongue up my slit.

  “Oh god,” I shouted, shaking against the binds. “Again. Please.”

  “You left me for a year,” he said, pinching my nipple lightly with his wet fingers. “I’m not in a hurry to make you come.”