Page 46

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Rachel said. Her arms dropped from my waist as she folded them, scowling at her dad. I almost grabbed hold of her and put her right the fuck back where she was .

Almost.

“What do you want me to say? The first time I’ve seen my little girl in years, and she’s got more bruises on her than when I left. Look at the state of your arms.”

“My arms,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Are because I rescued my five-year-old stepdaughter from an accidental house fire. My neck is because I like it when Dante chokes the fuck out of me when screwing my brains out. Is that explanation enough for you, or do I need to make things even more awkward?”

There was a long pause as Chris digested what his only child had just said to him, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“You couldn’t perhaps wear a scarf next time? Maybe you wouldn’t bruise so easily, and you could always kill two birds with one stone and use it as makeshift handcuffs, too.”

Rachel burst out laughing. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said, sitting back down on the sofa.

“Sit,” Chris grinned at me, pointing at the space next to Rachel. “If she says you’re a good man, then you’re a good man. I spent far too long not listening to my daughter. I’m not about to make the same mistakes twice.”

“Oh, I’m not a good man,” I muttered, sitting next to her. “But I care for your daughter and won’t let anyone else harm her.”

Rachel stiffened next to me, her thighs clenching together.

Good. She understood what I meant then.

Iris chose that exact moment to come in with the drinks, and thrust the beer at me so forcefully, it spilled over the edge and onto my trousers.

“He wasn’t a good man when he was burning your wife’s home to the ground. But I guess we’re ignoring that because Rachel likes him.”

“Was that necessary?” Rachel asked, scowling in Iris’s direction.

“Yes. And if Rebecca was here, she would no doubt agree with me. The man is a brute.”

“A brute?” Rachel said, nodding her head slowly, her eyes narrowing.

“That’s what I said. ”

Rachel’s response was to smack the beer out of my hand, sending it flying onto the carpet without ever taking her eyes off Iris.

“Oops.”

“And that was necessary, was it?” Iris spat.

“Yes. And if Rebecca was here, no doubt she would be frothing at the mouth just as much as you are.”

“I see you haven’t grown up. Shame. I hear you have a young girl to look after. What sort of example are you setting?”

“She’s not here. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak of her, as it happens.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Chris said, getting to his feet. “Let’s just calm this down. There’s no need for the hostilities.”

“I didn’t start it, but I’ll certainly rise to it when confronted,” Rachel responded, moving her feet away from the still spilling beer.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Chris offered, hurrying into the kitchen.

“And speaking of the lovely Rebecca, where is she?” I asked.

“She’s speaking to the insurance company. I don’t know what you’ve done, or who you’ve spoken to, but she’s having a hell of a time getting them to pay out.”

I just shrugged. “I don’t know if you’re insinuating that I’ve deliberately made it difficult, but it has fuck all to do with me that she’s struggling.

I offered to pay for her house rebuilding.

If she chooses to jump through all the hoops those fools want her to jump through and send her premium through the non-existent roof, then that’s on her. I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

“As if you could afford it,” she scoffed at me, raking her eyes up and down my clothing. “Maybe she didn’t want to take you up on your offer, because she knew it was an empty one. Much like your bank account.”

“And there it is,” Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes. “You assume he’s poor, and therefore you’re better than him?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“You didn’t need to say it. It’s written all over your face. Tell me, Iris, how did you and my mother grow up? Because as I remember it, you both married extremely well, did you not? Didn’t you spend most of your childhood in a one-bedroom bedsit? ”

“For a while,” she sniffed.

“Yeah, I remember the stories well. When you were lecturing me about being grateful for all we had, you liked nothing more than to remind me that sometimes all you got to eat was bread and water. And then you forced me to eat nothing but that exact meal for a week straight, just to show me how good I had it.”

“It worked, didn’t it? I never saw you refuse food again.”

“Sure, Iris. That’s exactly how it went down.

And not that Dante has anything to prove, but you are aware that his family own two houses?

One of which has eight bedrooms, all of them being en-suite.

The second is a three-storey, six-bedroom, open plan, detached house.

His family owns a pub and a very successful motor repair shop.

There are no less than twenty motorbikes in his possession, all of which cost more than your car.

And that’s not to mention his other business ventures.

Just because he doesn’t come dressed sporting a Rolex and diamonds everywhere, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have money.

And even if he didn’t, that certainly doesn’t mean that he’s less than or beneath those that do. ”

“We’ve heard all about his business ventures, thank you very much,” Iris replied.

“I guess you mean drugs,” I said, standing up as Chris came back in with the towel to clean up Rachel’s mess.

Rachel snatched it out of his hand and threw it on the floor, stomping her foot over it to sop up the liquid.

“I make no secret of the fact that we sell drugs. Never have, never will. It’s not an ideal business, and I don’t touch that shit personally, but the reason my family is so powerful is because we got in ahead of the game.

Drugs are an unfortunate reality, and it was either sell them ourselves, and know that the shit we’re selling is clean, or let someone else come onto our patch and sell shit that could be laced with all sorts.

You might not understand it, but I’m not asking you to understand.

It doesn’t affect you, so why are you bothered? ”

“And you’re okay with this, are you?” She snapped, directing her question at Chris.

“I’m not over the moon, no. But if prison taught me one thing, it was not to judge. I saw too many of those men on all sorts. Dante’s right when he says cleaner drugs are the better of two evils. They were mixing their gear with all sorts and were no better than zombies half the time.”

“Gear,” Iris sneered. “Do you have to speak like them?”

“That’s what it’s called. How do you think I survived that place? It wasn’t by keeping my head down and ignoring what was going on. I spoke to people. I got to know them. I learned the lingo. In fact, it was a biker who took me under his wing and taught me the inner workings of prison life.”

“Is that so?” I said, my interest peaked. “Who was it?”

“Brett. Brett Carmichael. He told me he goes by the name Waltzer.”

I grinned. Waltzer was an old Devil’s Disciple who used to belong to the Welsh charter. He was still a member. He just chose to do his own thing, travelling up and down the country with the local fair – hence the name Waltzer.

He would still have the Devil’s patch on his cut, but instead of saying the specific charter on the front, like mine said Vice President - Leeds, his would simply identify him as a Nomad.

He used to do a lot of work for my dad back in the day but got arrested when he killed a man who tried to rape a young woman at one of the fairs. He was sentenced to life in prison for severing the man’s head and installing it in the whack-a-mole machine.

“I know Waltzer, he’s a good man,” I smiled at Chris.

“He is,” Chris smiled. “He’s as deranged as they come, but he never did me wrong.

The old boy really took care of me. I know my stay there would have a been a lot worse without his protection.

I also know that he took more than a few beatings off the others when I first arrived in order to keep me safe. ”

“Sounds like he’s getting soft in his old age.”

“Prison will do that to a man.”

“I’m sure he would know,” Iris hissed.

“Interestingly enough, I’ve never been to prison. I don’t even have so much as a parking fine against my name, but feel free to make assumptions,” I smirked at her.

“Neither does Rachel, but we all know her list of crimes is as long as her arm.”

“Both arms now, actually. Dante has kept me busy,” she nudged me with her shoulder, and I laughed, bending down to kiss her cheek .

“Ignore them, Iris,” Chris said, smiling at my display of affection before waving her away as she bristled on her side of the sofa. “They’re deliberately trying to get a rise out of you, and it’s working. Leave the kids be. They seem happy enough.”

I was thirty-five years old, and it had been a long time since anyone had called me a kid, but I let it slide since he appeared to be on our side.

“She’ll strike again, you mark my words. And who is going to take the fall for her this time?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Rachel said, bringing the cup of tea to her lips. “I’ve already done it. And I got away with it this time. No need for a fall guy.”

“I’m back!” came a voice from the hallway as the front door opened.

Rebecca came hurrying in, her hair perfectly styled despite the wind outside.

She rushed over to her husband, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw him.

She bent down to place a kiss on his lips before straightening and looking back and forth at us three.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. What did I miss?”

We didn’t stay much longer once Rebecca came home.

Fending off verbal attacks from one was fun.

Having the two of them was nothing but a headache.

It wasn’t long before I went from mild amusement to gritted teeth and a short temper.

When Rachel’s replies became clipped and snappy, I called it a day and told her we were leaving.

Chris had walked us to the door and given me another handshake, and handed Rachel his number, making her promise to keep in touch.

She said she would. With the provision he wouldn’t allow Rebecca to have her number, and that he didn’t show her the text exchange between them.

He had tried to convince her, and whilst I admired the loyalty he had towards his wife, it also pissed me off because there was a lot of bad blood there, and even he must see that his wife and sister-in-law were toxic women.

Both of whom were responsible for what Rachel went through as a teenager.

He was himself, but at least he was trying to make amends. He had finally agreed to her demands, realising it was the only way to be a part of his daughter’s life, and we said a friendly goodbye, promising to be in touch soon.

“There,” I said to Rachel as we climbed back on my bike. “That wasn’t as bad as you were thinking, was it?”

She expelled a loud breath. “No. But it wasn’t exactly a picnic in the park. Just take me home, Dante. Get me the fuck away from this suburban hell.”

I reached behind and squeezed her leg, ignoring the way my stomach lurched as she referred to the club as her home.

She wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling her front flush against my back, and sighed heavily. “I want a vodka, a hot bath, and the nastiest, dirtiest sex on the menu. Not necessarily in that order.”

Well. I was no longer thinking about my stomach lurching. All the blood rushed straight to my dick, and visions of Rachel in a variety of positions, all of them including her being naked, flashed behind my eyes.

“I’ll have us home in twenty.”

“It’s a half an hour drive,” she laughed.

“Oh. Then I’ll have us home in fifteen.”

She laughed again, before tapping my shoulder, indicating she wanted me to wait before setting off. “Er… Dante. I think we need to take a rain check.”

I twisted in my seat, pushing the helmet off my head as I heard the slight tremor in her voice.

“What is it…” I began, before noticing the phone she was extending towards me.

Church. Now. The Riders have responded.

“Is this bad?” Rachel asked, her eyes scanning my face.

“No. If it was bad, there would be more than one text. A response could be anything. More than likely, they’ve made some vague gesture of peace, just like the last time.

Don’t look so worried. Look,” I said, pulling up the live stream of the garage security cameras.

Vienna was there, shouting at Sunshine, who was brandishing a wrench in his direction.

Shark was trying to get them both to listen, gesturing in the direction of church.

Tools was still under the car he had been working on, and Imogen was studying some of the papers in the office.

“See? If it was bad, they wouldn’t be sitting there without a care in the world. You know we use church to keep everyone informed and up to date, as well as to make our plans. Everything is fine.”

“Okay,” she said, relief evident in her tone.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Okay,” she nodded, her voice much firmer this time.

“Alright then,” I grinned, pushing the helmet back over my head and spinning in my seat. “Hold on tight, Darlin’. If I can’t get you home and give you the seeing to you deserve, I’m damn sure going to give you the ride of your life.”

By the time we arrived back at the club, my dick was hard as rock, and Rachel’s legs were jelly.

I may or may not have taken the bumpiest route home.

I may or may not have revved the engine one times too many.

And I may, or may not, have thrown the odd dirty comment at her whenever I heard her gasp of shock or the soft moans she tried to hide.

What was sex without a bit of build-up and foreplay?