Page 30 of Sinful Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #9)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Daisy

B rody kisses me awake. “I’m heading out. I left the keys to the truck on the counter if you want to go somewhere.”

I sit up, still half asleep. “I feel ba …” His tongue thrusts against mine and shuts me up.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll sneak a nap in sometime today.” He shrugs after he pushes himself from the bed. “I usually do.”

It makes me laugh. I love the silly side of Brody.

“I might head over and take Jesse up on the use of her studio. I’ll have more room to paint over there.”

“I’m going to build you your own art studio in the backyard someday. That is, if you want to stay here. We could always look for someplace new.”

“I like it here.”

He attacks me with kisses, and I have to physically shove him from the bed to get him out the door.

When he’s gone, I lie back and stare at the ceiling, happy and content.

I jump from the bed, ready to get the day started. I’m anxious to get to the warehouse and paint.

As I’m loading my stuff in the back of Brody’s truck, the postman pulls in the driveway.

“You must be Miss Daisy!” he hollers as he gets out of his vehicle with Brody’s mail in his hands.

“I am.”

He gives me a kind smile, and it instantly puts me at ease. He hands me a small bundle of letters.

“I have a package for you. It’s in the back.”

I walk with him. “Oh good. I’ve been expecting something from a friend of mine.”

He moves a few things around and then pulls it out. “Here ya go.”

My hand reaches for it without much thought, and then it hits me.

The mailman gives me a strange look. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you. This just wasn’t what I was expecting.” I take the package from him and rush over to Brody’s truck, shoving it in the back.

I give him a little wave as I get in to let him know everything is fine. My hands are shaking as I back out of the driveway.

I look behind me every few seconds, worrying that someone might be following me. I don’t see anyone.

Maybe it’s from my parents. We called them the night Brody and I got engaged.

It was a little awkward, but they were relieved I was talking to them and that I was happy.

They seemed to like Brody. He even managed to make them laugh a few times.

Anyway, that’s probably what’s in the box.

They’ve sent me a piece of my artwork to hang in my new home.

Brody and I are planning to visit them, but not for at least a month, so I’m sure that’s why they mailed it.

Every time I think I have a handle on what happened in Paris, something triggers me.

I thought I would feel better today after talking to Brody last night. I guess I did until that package arrived. It’s in a perfect portrait sized box. There’s no mistaking what is inside.

Of course it’s from my parents. Henry doesn’t even know where I am.

I take a deep breath and pull into the warehouse parking lot. Jesse told me to go on in. She’s at her sister-in-law’s house today. I grab my art supplies, and then lug the big box out of the back of the truck when Jesse’s husband, Dirk, approaches me.

He takes the package from my hands. “Let me help.”

Reluctantly, I let go of it. “Thank you. I was just heading down to Jesse’s art studio. She’s letting me use it.”

“I know.” He leads the way into the warehouse and down the stairs.

He’s a hard man but a gentleman at the same time.

Dirk is definitely someone I would like to paint.

Both he and his wife. The stories they must have living here in this big warehouse, living the club lifestyle twenty-four-seven.

Can you imagine the sheer potential their dark beauty would portray on canvas?

He catches me staring at the art on his arms as he leans the box against the wall.

“The way you look at people reminds me of my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, drawing my eyes away from him. “It’s definitely the artist in me.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll leave you to it. If you get hungry, help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen. Jesse always has it fully stocked. If you need anything, someone from the club is usually hanging around somewhere.”

“Thank you.”

The second he leaves, I drop to my knees in front of the box. My stomach plummets when I spot the customs form on the front of it. It was shipped internationally.

Tears instantly spring to my eyes as I hug my bag to my chest. I slowly open it and pull out the portrait I’ve had hidden in the bottom since I left Paris.

I run my thumb over the frame. Maybe I should text Anthony, the guy who said he might be able to help me find my birth mother. She might be the only person who will understand what I’m feeling right now.

“I wish you would show me your face,” I whisper to the blood-stained image of her.

I’m not going to open the box. I can’t. It’s the portrait of me. I just know it, but I never want to look at it again.

My thoughts are dark, but I manage to push them aside as I paint as many small landscape paintings as I can to sell in Lily’s store. Then, I set to work on what is really calling to me.

It’s a self-portrait. It’s exactly like my mother’s but instead of a heart, I’m holding an apple. It’s different shades of black and white. But the apple … I think I’ll paint it red. My gaze wanders to the unopened box, sitting a few feet from me. My mother’s portrait is leaning against it.

A few minutes later, I find myself staring at the palm of my hand. I could use my own blood.

Stop!

What the fuck are you thinking?!

My stomach turns at the intrusive and unwanted thought. I’m not like them. I’m not. I’m not.

I squeeze a generous amount of paint onto my palate, and then I brush the bold red over the apple in my hand.

Anger begins to bubble beneath the surface of my skin as I think about my mother and how scared she must have been while my father painted her. I stand up and begin to splatter red over my painting. “Why are you evil? I hate you!” I yell.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Um, just a minute.” I panic, hoping whoever it is didn’t hear me.

I turn the easel close to the wall and shove my mom’s portrait behind the box. No one will pay any attention to it over there.

When I open the door, I find Dirk sitting on the bottom step.

“Hey, sorry. I was just finishing up. I need to clean my brushes, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

He rubs his hand over his head lazily. “You ain’t in my hair, darlin’.”

His tone makes me uneasy. I back up and head over to the sink to clean out my brushes. He follows me into the studio, his eyes scanning the paintings I’m taking over to Lily’s shop tomorrow.

“That’s what you’ve been doing down here all day?”

“Yep.”

His eyes pause on the easel in the corner.

“I’m not finished with that one yet.”

When he returns his attention to me, I know he heard me yelling.

“Sometimes I get a little emotional when I paint.”

His eyes narrow as he ushers me out of the room, closing the door behind us. I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not going to push it.

But when we get to the top of the steps, he drops his arm across my shoulders and turns us the opposite direction of the front door. “Step into my office,” he says smoothly.

“Um, I have to get going.” I pull my phone out of my pocket seeing several missed calls from Brody. “Oh, geez, I didn’t realize how late in the day it was getting.”

“Brody is on his way over. He wants to ride with you over to JD’s,” Dirk informs me as he pours two glasses of whiskey. He slides one over to me.

“Oh shoot. I completely forgot we had plans.”

Dirk shrugs and takes the seat at the bar beside me. “You’re not late. No worries. Brody has everything handled.”

“But I wanted to make a dessert or something to take over there.”

He laughs at my distress. “Have you met Elizabeth? She’s not going to have a shortage of food. Trust me.”

I take a drink, sighing after the smooth liquid runs down my throat. “Oh, that’s nice.”

Dirk smiles wide. “Finally, someone who appreciates a good whiskey.” He taps his glass on the bar. “Brody had me keeping an eye out for you today.”

My brows pull together, and I take another drink without responding.

“That’s how this club works. My brothers and I love our bikes and the open road, but we love our women more. We protect what’s ours. So, when I hear worry in my brother’s voice, I gotta wonder what’s going on.”

I finish off my drink in one gulp, and he pours me another.

“I kept him up last night. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.”

He clinks his glass against mine. “I’m also a proud member of the insomnia club.”

His understanding makes me relax. “I hope you didn’t put off your plans for today just to babysit me.”

“The only plans I ever have is taking care of my family. I wake up each day and go wherever I’m needed. Today that was here with you.”

My gaze roams over his ink again. “Are people scared of you?”

He chuckles. “Are you?”

“No,” I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’ll admit Brody did throw me off for a few minutes when I met him on the beach. I was a little unsure of him.”

Dirk leans back in his chair, studying me for a long minute. “The general public gives me a wide berth, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why are we like that?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

“We’re taught to label shit from the time we’re born, and it all boils down to two things … good or bad. People see my tattoos and automatically label me bad.”

“What do you see when you look at me? Am I good or bad?”

The lines around his eyes soften, and he shakes his head. “Man, I haven’t gotten a question like that in a long time.”

I seem to lose him to his thoughts, so I continue to nurse my drink.

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” he asks in return, startling me.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Sure you do.”

He sighs when I don’t answer. “Try this. Throw the fucking labels away. Accept that there is bad and good in all of us. When you come to that realization, life becomes a lot easier.”

Will it, though?

“Is this because of that little tiff you got into with that whore the other night?”

My eyes widen at the harsh name he just called her.

He laughs. “You were protecting what was yours. That doesn’t make you bad. You knew you had to come out swinging, or those little bitches would make your life a living hell. Job well done, I say.” Again, he clinks his glass to mine.

By the end of the third drink, I’m feeling much better.

“You know, I wouldn’t have really hurt her. I mean, yes, I would have if she would have kissed him or something. Like maybe a little shove to the ground or a kick to the ribs.” I giggle.

He chuckles too. “My wife likes to light shit on fire.”

“I noticed a lot of her darker paintings have fire in them.”

“Fire or rainbows. I’m telling you, every fucking one of us has two sides. Some people just don’t entertain them both, but they’re there.”

I think about his statement. It’s true. The parents who raised me lived entirely in the light. My biological dad’s family seemed to have lived entirely in the dark. I try to lean into the light, but the darkness always whispers to me.

“The key is to straddle that fucking bitch,” Dirk says, seemingly reading my mind.

“Sometimes you hit a lot of traffic and have to cross into the other lane to pass, sometimes you get a dead road and can ride that center line on cruise control. You just have to remember you always have the fucking handlebars.”

My head falls. “I like the bike analogy, but what if you drive right into the ditch?”

He chuckles. “That’s why it’s important to have at least one person to ride with. They’ll give you a heads up when you start to veer off the road.”

I sigh, closing my eyes. “Something happened to me in Paris, and I want to tell Brody, but I don’t know how. I thought I could forget about it, but …”

The front door opens, and Brody walks in. He smiles when he spots me. I glance at Dirk, begging him to keep our conversation to himself.

“You’re not getting my old lady drunk, are you?” Brody asks Dirk, wrapping his arms around me.

Dirk lifts his drink, pointing at me with one finger. “I finally found someone in this club who appreciates a good whiskey.”

Brody aggressively kisses my neck. It makes me laugh. “Stop.”

“Never.” He helps me off the stool. “You must have gotten lost in your painting today.”

“I did. I’m sorry I missed your calls.”

Dirk stands with us. “Jesse will be happy someone is using her studio. She hasn’t had much time to paint lately.”

“I’ll be back to pick up the ones I did for Lily’s shop. I’m excited to test the market here,” I say as he walks us to the door.

“Same time tomorrow for whiskey?” Dirk asks before we step outside.

I look back at him. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

His eyebrow rises, letting me know that when I return, he expects me to finish our conversation.