Page 7

7

T he fuck was I thinking bringing her here? Not that I have anywhere else to take her, but maybe I could have reached out to some contacts to take her. The Angel sisters would help. I know that for a fact, but my instructions were clear. Take her and keep her safe. Don’t let anyone else near her.

Fuck.

FUCK!

The moment I saw her painted in her own blood, I knew she’d been through something, and I kinda thought it was all related to her parents and their religious bullshit, but her visceral reaction to seeing Brody and Darla made it clear.

Someone has hurt her sexually. Raped her maybe. Whatever it was, I now feel like a cunt for teasing her and being suggestive with her.

Fuck .

Dragging my hand through my hair, I glance at the old digital clock on the bedside table. It’s just ticked past five in the morning. Abbey has been in the bathroom for over thirty minutes. I’ve tried to be patient and give her the space she needs, but what if… What if she’s trying to hurt herself?

Remembering the way she was willing to stab herself with a shard of glass earlier, I storm to the bathroom and shove the door open, knowing there’s no lock on it. And then I still.

Shit.

Slowly, quietly stepping into the room, I see the blonde of her hair in the bathtub and my heart sinks as I prepare to find her laying in a pool of her own blood.

Only, I don’t.

I blink a few times to make sure my fucking exhausted eyes aren’t fucking with me.

Nope. They aren’t. Abbey has made a bed from the towels in the bottom of the bath, and she’s asleep.

Shit. She obviously didn’t feel safe coming out into the bedroom. Probably thinks I was going to force her to fuck me.

Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not the right guy for this job. I should have said no.

Should I leave her there? It can’t be comfy.

Turning, I storm back into the main room, going to the bed on the side closest to the wall, and pull the covers back. I fluff the pillow a bit and momentarily realise that I’ve never shared this bed with anyone. I usually sleep in the middle, but this side doesn’t normally get used.

Well, it does now .

Moving back into the bathroom, I gently remove the towel she has draped over her as a blanket, and reach down, scooping my hands under her, and lift her in my arms.

A small whimpery moan falls from her lips, even as she curls into my chest, and fuck, for a moment I just stand there in my shitty bathroom staring down at her.

She’s still wearing my hoodie. It’s fucking huge on her, thoroughly engulfing her, and I have to wonder if its size helps her feel safer somehow.

Without the fear etched across her face, she looks so sweet and innocent. How could anyone want to hurt her?

Fuck.

My head is all messed up right now. I need to get this situation with her sorted as quickly as possible and get my head back in the game.

Moving out into the main room, I lower Abbey to my bed, and as soon as she’s on the mattress, she curls on her side, some mumbled incoherent words slipping past her lips before she snores faintly.

I grin.

I might have to give her shit about snoring tomorrow.

Maybe.

Moving through my room, I make sure the door is locked and slide the couch against it to stop any fuckers trying to get in, and then I peel off my jeans, leaving my boxers and tee on, and slip into my bed.

I should probably sleep on the shitty couch, or even the floor, but for some reason, I need to be close in case she needs me. And hopefully, if she wakes, she’ll realise I’m not trying to do anything untoward to her .

As the rising sun filters in past the cheap thin curtains, I stare at this little blonde angel in my bed. She’s only eighteen. Barely an adult, yet the things she’s experienced make her seem so much older.

My sisters would like her. Alana would likely set out to corrupt any religious beliefs left in her, but I don’t think that would be a bad thing.

My ma would adore her.

Shifting closer to her, I settle onto my pillow, fucking happy to finally be in bed after a long arse day. I thought it would be weird having Abbey in my bed, but her faint snores are comforting, and before I know it, my lids are falling shut.

When I wake later, I find myself pretty much in the same position, but this time, Abbey’s big doe eyes are staring at me.

“You’re being creepy,” I rasp, my voice husky from sleep.

“I think it’s creepy that I fell asleep in the bath and woke up in your bed.”

I smirk at her comment.

“I think it’s funny how you snore.”

Her brows hitch. “I do not.”

“Sorry to tell you this, Charity. But you do.”

She narrows her eyes.

“How did I end up in this bed?”

I shrug one shoulder. “No idea. Weren’t you sleeping in the bath?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re kinda annoying.”

“And you kinda like me. Admit it. I’m not so bad. I didn’t hurt you. Did I?”

Her playful expression falls, and her soft pink lips part. “Not yet. ”

Her words are barely a whisper, but they pack a punch.

I try not to take it personally. She’s speaking from her experiences, and clearly, she hasn’t been able to trust anyone. Or men, at least.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened to you. I have a fair idea, but I want you to know I’m sorry it happened. You don’t deserve the bad things people have done to you.”

Her eyes well with tears, and she tugs the blankets up higher, nearly covering her head, but she leaves her eyes free so she can keep a watch on me.

“Have you killed people before?”

Her question is a surprise and I consider lying, but she needs honesty. She deserves that, at least.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Charity, I don’t keep a head count.” I admit, annoyed, and she shrugs under the blankets.

“More than ten?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“More than twenty?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She studies me for a long moment before she speaks again. “Do you enjoy it?”

“This is a weird morning conversation. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

“I feel like I would enjoy killing Daniel.”

Her admission would sit me on my arse if I were standing. There’s no way I ever expected those words to fall past her lips .

“You might, for a second,” I agree quietly. “But then you’d realise what you did, and that you can never take it back. Living with it is the hard part.”

She shakes her head. “The hard part is knowing he’s still walking around, free to…” She trails off.

“Free to do what, Charity?”

This time, when she shakes her head, she covers it with the blanket and mumbles, “I’m tired.”

“Then sleep.”

“Okay,” she whispers, like it’s that easy to just fall asleep, so I’m shocked when I hear her breathing deepen a few minutes later.

Kidnapping Abbey was my job. Getting personally involved wasn’t part of it, yet I want to get involved so fucking much. I want to hunt down this Daniel fucker and make him suffer through everything that he’s done to her, and then I want to torture him some more until he’s begging for death. And even then, I won’t kill him. I’ll keep him alive for years if I have to just to make sure he experiences everything one hundred times worse than what he’s done to Abbey. Maybe then I’ll finally kill him.

My MC isn’t in the business of conducting hits. Mostly we are middlemen, and when there is a death involved, it’s usually because someone tried to cross us, or another club is trying to encroach on our area, which typically turns into an all-out MC turf war. What I did by taking Abbey wasn’t part of the MC, yet I involved some of our members and brought her here, risking getting caught with her .

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to it, but I’m glad I did now. I’d hate to think what would have happened to her if we hadn’t swooped in to save her from her crazy fucking parents.

When I can hear that Abbey is sleeping deeply again, I pull back the blankets so I can see her face. I feel like a fucking creep laying here watching her sleep. She’s so young and innocent and I’m an old fucker that lost any hint of innocence when I was a few years younger than she is now.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I jerk up in bed at the banging on my door, the move jolting Abbey awake to sit up in a gasp, and I lurch toward her, slapping my hand over her mouth.

Her chocolate eyes are wide, terror already trembling through her body, so I release her mouth and press my finger to her lips.

“Shhh, Angel. Stay quiet for me.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Wake up, Ringo. Let me the fuck in.”

“Fuck,” I hiss.

“Who’s that?” Abbey whispers, clutching the blanket to her chest.

“My Prez,” I whisper as I tug the blankets from her grip. “The President of the Southern Sadists MC. Smitty.”

“Oh.” She mouths as I stand from the bed and point towards the back corner.

“I need you to go into the bathroom and don’t come out until I say you can.”

Thank fuck, she nods, not feeling bratty enough to protest, and she hurries from the bed and into the bathroom.

“Get the fuck up!” Smitty yells, so I yell back.

“Hang the fuck on, you grumpy fuck!”

I hear him chuckle as I look around the space to see if there’s anything out of place, and once I’m satisfied it looks just as boring as it did yesterday, I move the couch and throw open the door.

“The fuck, man. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Smitty chuckles, shoving past me as he strolls in and flops back to sit on my couch.

“No amount of sleep is going to help your ugly mug.”

“Whatever.” I chuckle as I move to the kitchenette and switch on my jug. “What was so fucking urgent you had to wake me?”

“I just wanted an update on your meeting with Griffin Marx.”

As the electric jug does its thing, I get a clean mug and dump in a heaped teaspoon of coffee followed by two sugars.

“It wasn’t a meeting, remember?” I turn to Smitty, leaning back against the counter. “Just a chat.”

“Whatever. Tell me what he said.”

“He’s on board,” I explain, crossing my arms over my chest. From this position, I can keep an eye on the bathroom door. “Says there’s a property we can get cheap enough on the outer fringe of Fox Pines. The old Hill estate. Vixen’s Lodge.”

“Ain’t that the place that burnt down after a girl was assaulted?” Smitty asks, looking lazy as fuck with his foot propped up on his opposite knee and one arm stretched out along the back of the couch.

“Yeah, it is. After the shit that happened there, they’re finding it hard to sell. Should be big enough for what we need. We’d have to build everything ourselves. I think there’s still a barn.”

“Sounds fucking perfect. Did Griffin mention what Ewan’s thoughts on it might be? ”

“Griffin doesn’t think his old man will be on board about sharing the trade in that area, but seems to think what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Fucking Griffin. Cheeky fucker.” Smitty chuckles. “Let me handle Ewan Marx. What about Barrett Marx? Had any contact with him?”

As the jug starts to boil, I turn and flick it off before pouring the scalding water into my mug and then stir the coffee.

“I spoke with him last week. He’s still overseas. Not planning on touching Aussie soil again for a while. I get the feeling there’s some sort of family drama there,” I admit, moving to my fridge and getting out the milk.

“He got some connections for us?” Smitty asks and I nod, pouring a dash of milk into my coffee.

“Yeah.” I turn back, holding my steaming mug of coffee. “He’s got some decent contacts in Peru that could help get some candy past our borders once they open up again.”

“Fucking COVID,” Smitty mutters and I nod.

“Yeah, fucking COVID.”

Standing from the couch, Smitty checks himself out in my mirror over the counter, combing his fingers through the sides of his still damp hair. “Get me more info on the Fox Pines property.”

“Already on it.”

He grins at me, and I can tell by his expression that the business side of our chat is over.

“What the fuck happened over here last night when you got back?”

I cringe. “You heard that?”

“Everyone fucking heard it. What did Brody do?”

“Aside from breaking into my room? Caught him getting a puke blowy from Darla in my fucking bath.” I shake my head as Smitty chuckles. “I swear that fucker has no boundaries or sense of personal space.”

“Want me to bounce him?”

I’m tempted to say yes. If he were anyone else, he’d probably already be gone, but he’s JD’s little brother, and he’s trying to get him under control. I know from experience how fucking hard that can be. I still wonder if Muz would be alive now if he’d joined the MC instead of the street gang he was in.

“Nah.” I sigh. “Not yet. But one more strike and the fucker is out. We can’t carry wayward fuckers that don’t know how to respect orders.”

“Deal,” Smitty says, stepping forward and gripping my shoulder. “It’s Spud’s birthday. I’m sending some guys to the warehouse to get some grog and the Doxies are gonna cook up a storm. Try and show your face later.”

I roll my eyes. He knows I always show my face, but it’s with reluctance. I’m not a drinker or a substance user, so being around fuckers off their face is nothing short of annoying.

“You know I’ll be there. I’m gonna take the day, though. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Smitty frowns. “You crook?”

“Maybe. Dunno.”

“Want me to send in some Doxy girls to clean up a bit in here?”

“Fuck no.” I hiss. “After Darla’s attitude last night, I want them to stay the fuck away from me and my room until further notice.”

“Yeah. Okay. No problem.” Smitty nods, moving to the door. “Would you get back in bed already? Your ugly face is offending me.” He chuckles, throwing the door open again before slamming it shut behind him.

“Prick.” I chuckle quietly to myself, finally taking a sip of my coffee.

Mmm. Fucking good shit.

I take a moment to sip more of it before putting the mug down and shifting the couch back to the door to create the barrier, and then locking the door for extra measure.

My eyes dart to the bathroom where Abbey is hiding. She probably heard all of that. Not that it matters, but if Smitty found out, I’d be in deep shit.

Fuck, what am I doing taking these risks?

Fuck it. Deciding to find out, I beeline for the bathroom to where Abbey is hiding.