Scar (Black Hearts MC #8)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELSIE

“The last one made you look less fat. I mean, you still need to lose a couple of pounds, but the last dress is the better one. Your father won’t be too embarrassed to walk you down the aisle in that one,” Mother states. I nod, agreeing. Sad, really. I couldn’t care less as I just want this situation to be over with. “Call James to come collect me and take me to my next appointment,” Mother orders, clicking her fingers at me.

I don’t hesitate. James, the good guy that he is, isn’t far away, knowing that she would want him to get her. “He will be here in five minutes,” I tell her.

She nods as she stands. Anyone else would wobble on their feet after drinking an entire bottle of champagne for breakfast, but nope. Not my mother. It will take a lot more than that to get her drunk.

The sales assistant hesitatingly approaches. “Er miss, if you don’t mind, before you go, we would like to redo your measurements and confirm dates,” she states, her eyes telling me that there is much more than what she is saying.

I give her a brief and curt nod. “Of course, that’s no problem.” I smile.

“Just hope you have a measuring tape big enough,” Mother scoffs, causing the sales assistant to wince. I close my eyes and swallow down the anger her words cause me.

The door chimes open and in walks James. A relieved sigh escapes me. I could kiss that man for his timing. “Ma’am.” He greets my mother before his smile comes to me. “Miss.” He nods.

“Hello James,” I greet warmly. He’s always been so kind to me.

Mother walks towards me and does that irritating air kiss thing, then clicks her fingers. “Come along, James. I am running late,” she orders. He opens the door for her and bows before following her out. The assistant moves forward, pretending to be busy while looking out of the window.

“All clear.” She smiles as she locks the door before turning the sign over to closed. “Back of the store staff room. He’s waiting.” She smiles softly.

I move through the store toward the back. Scar is sat in a small kitchen at a little table with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks up and smiles as he points to the other coffee on the table. I sit, watching as he takes a sip, his eyes flickering up to mine. “Can you last one week?” he asks.

I frown, confused. “What are you asking me?” I breathe.

“It’s set. Well, we’ve brought it forward. One week from today I will come and get you, and then kill your bitch mother, dad, and Layton,” he states bluntly.

“We? Who is we?” I ask.

“The club. It’s been planned for months, then those plans changed thanks to me, then you, but your father needs to pay for what he has done, to me and to my club,” he seethes.

I nod, knowing that he does. For all the pain my father has caused over the years, not to mention the things he has done that I don’t know about. “He is dangerous. He will kill you if he survives,” I point out.

Scar leans in close, leaning his weight on his elbows. “Angel, we are fucking dangerous. I am fucking dangerous. You don’t have to worry about us. I just need you to know how this will play out. We will take your father and Layton to a secure location where they will be tortured and killed for what they have done. It will be slow, and it will be painful. I will take great pleasure in watching them suffer for everything they have done,” he says with such venom in his voice.

“Would killing them not be enough?” I ask.

“Killing them is a mercy, one they do not fucking deserve,” he seethes.

I give him a slight nod, understanding. For all that they have done to him and his family, they want revenge. They want vengeance, and I can’t blame them for that. I’ve often thought about it myself, but the only difference is I don’t think I could go through with it.

“One week from today?” I ask.

Scar nods. “This time next week you will be free,” he confirms.

I bite down on my bottom lip as thoughts rush through my head.

Scar places hand on my chin and my eyes flicker to his. His thumb gently tugs on my bottom lip, freeing it from my teeth. His eyes follow the movement of his thumb as he glides it along my bottom lip.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmurs softly. He slowly removes his hold on my chin and holds up his thumb, showing me the blood. Then he does something that stirs something deep inside me. He places his thumb between my parted lips. “Clean it,” he orders, his voice thick and gravelly. My eyes stay fixated on his as I swipe my tongue over his thumb, sucking the blood clean off it. As his grey eyes darken, my heart begins to thump wildly in my chest as the atmosphere between us changes from tense to electric in an instant. He slowly removes his thumb from my mouth, while his other hand still keeps hold of my chin. I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me. I want to feel those lips on mine, but he looks away, dropping his hand from my face. Disappointment swims around my gut and I look down, clearing my throat before tucking my hair back behind my ear.

“Well, I had better get going,” I state as I move to stand. “I guess I will see you in a week. Just be careful,” I warn before walking out of the staff room and through the store. After I get in my car, I just sit there for a moment, feeling stupid for thinking. Shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. The first man to show me kindness and I practically drool all over him. I completely read it wrong, the whole damn entire situation.

A groan escapes me as I rest my head on the steering wheel, wishing the world would just swallow me up. I suppose the only good thing is, if next week does happen, then I will be free to go my own way, to live my life how I want to live it without anyone controlling me. I will never have to see Scar and feel that kind of humiliation again. My heart lurches at the thought of never seeing him again.

Suddenly, my car door is yanked open. I jump as a little screech escapes my throat before a pair of strong hands reach in and grab me, practically yanking me from the car.

Scar.

His body pins me against the car before he threads his hand through my hair at the back of my head, giving it a gentle yank and tilting my head back before crashing his mouth on mine. My eyes bulge in shock and my lips are stiff at first, until he sweeps his tongue along mine, coaxing me.

I relax into him and kiss him back, grabbing fistfuls of his T-shirt to pull him closer. His other hand is resting at my waist, his thumb stroking under my top, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He suddenly breaks the kiss, and a whimper escapes my lips in protest. As he rests his forehead against mine, both of us panting, I keep my eyes closed, afraid that if I open them, I will find that this isn’t real.

“Look at me Angel,” he rasps.

I slowly open my eyes and look into his grey eyes, but before he can speak, I get in there first. “Look, I don’t think I can handle you telling me it’s a mistake, that this shouldn’t have happened, so if that’s what you are about to say then just keep it to yourself. You can just walk away and not say anything.”

His eyes flicker between mine as he leans back and sighs. “I could never regret kissing you,” he declares, looking down at me. He slowly moves both his hands and cups my face as he inches his mouth closer to mine. “There is only one regret. That I didn’t do it sooner,” he says softly across my lips before kissing me again, only this time he’s slow, like he’s savouring every move of my lips, every stroke of my tongue. “Come back with me now. Don’t go back there,” he softly demands across my lips between kisses.

I close my eyes and take hold of his hands in mine, placing a soft kiss on one of his palms. As I look up at him, tears fill my eyes. “I can’t. He will kill you, he will kill us both. It’s one week. That’s all, right?” I smile softly as a tear escapes and trickles slowly down my cheek.

Scar’s eyes follow it, not saying anything, because deep down he knows I’m right. It’s the only way and while he seemed to be okay with that just moments ago, but now that his mouth has been on mine, now that we both feel something, we both want to explore this something, whatever it is, it’s harder. He lifts my hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before he steps back.

I nod and give him a tight smile before getting back in my car.

He bends down. “Anything happens, anything at all, call me,” he orders.

I nod and he closes my door. I don’t hang around as the need to get away thumps through me. If I don’t go now, I never will, and I will choose to go with him and damn the consequences.

I don’t remember driving back to the house. My mind was too busy whirling with thoughts of Scar, of the feel of his body pressed against mine, the feel of his hands on my face, his lips on mine. A flutter of butterflies swim in my stomach, and I exhale a sigh like some love sick teenager. I pause for a moment in my car to compose myself before getting out. They won’t be home, thankfully. Even if I could do my best to hide how good I feel, my mother would pick up on it. She’s like a bloodhound, trained to sniff out my happiness, ready to destroy it.

I send a quick text to Layton, telling him that I’m home and that I hope he’s okay. He replies instantly that he will be home in 2 days now, which has me smiling to myself. Only then he adds for me to not go anywhere and to make sure I wear the dress he likes for when he returns.

Prick.

I reply sweetly while angrily giving my phone the middle finger. I know it’s pointless, but it makes me feel better.

Walking into the quiet house, I head straight up to my room. Opening my wardrobe, I think for a second about packing a bag ready, but then pause, remembering that Layton has a camera in my room. If I start packing, he will see. Pausing for a second, I stare at my wardrobe when an idea suddenly hits me. I head downstairs to grab some trash bags and begin to take clothes off their hangers and put them in the bag.

My phone rings and I look at the screen, my stomach sinking when I see it’s him. I quickly answer. “Hey,” I greet.

“What are you doing?” Layton snaps down the phone.

I look around my room for the camera. “I’m sorting through my clothes for donation. There was a poster in the town where the bridal shop is stating that they are trying to raise money and help the homeless. I figured I have so many clothes that I could give them some of mine,” I lie.

He exhales an exasperated breath down the phone. “And you think that I will just pay to replace the clothes you give away?” he snaps.

“No, of course not,” I counter.

“Sure, because when we are married, you will be on a set allowance. I won’t have you thinking you can spend my fucking money whenever you feel like it,” he seethes. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, like a warning. He’s getting into one of his moods, one of the moods I’ve learnt to try and avoid. It won’t matter that he isn’t back for a couple of days because he will keep this stored in his mind, ready to deliver whatever punishment he deems fit when he gets back. I need to defuse the situation and quickly.

“I think you’re right,” I agree, keeping my voice timid and submissive.

“Of course I’m right,” he grunts. I refrain from rolling my eyes, ensuring to keep my mouth shut. “Maybe if you lost some weight, then I might consider getting you some new clothes,” he adds. I close my eyes at his comment. I’m not a small girl, never have been. My weight has always been an issue with me, and a jab about my weight will always hit a nerve. “I have to go. Anything else you want to piss me off with?” he growls.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“Good,” he states sharply then disconnects, not bothering to say goodbye or anything. I drop my phone on to the armchair and hang my head, sighing. This week needs to go by quickly and the plan that Scar and his club has needs to work out. It needs to.

I need it too.