Anchor (The Huntsmen MC #4)

Prologue

Anchor – Eighteen Years Old

“No fucking lie, Bull had his dick inside a prospect's ass,” James says, and Colt’s head whips away from Nicolette, the head cheerleader, toward James, his eyes wide in shock, mouth open a little.

I chuckle as I lean against the lockers, lifting my left leg and placing my foot flat against the metal surface.

Colt, James, and I all grew up together, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen James so tormented.

It’s funny as shit.

“I was minding my own fucking business, looking for a snack before school, and the prospect was bent over the shelves while the fucker was ramming into him!” He shudders, his face pale, while Colt looks at him, mouth hanging open, not able to utter a word.

“Told you I didn’t dream that nasty shit,” I mumble.

I walked in on the fucker two weeks ago in the same fucking place, and without making myself known, I slowly backed outta the fucking room wide-eyed, not able to look away.

It’s like someone telling you unicorns aren’t real, and you walk in on one. That was what that moment was.

I didn’t want to look, but I kind of had to realize that shit wasn’t imaginary.

My dad thought I dreamed the shit up because Bull is well known for liking pussy, but why would I dream of that shit?

Shaking my head at a shocked Colt, I eye the students in the halls, some rushing past us to get to class while the girls all eye us like we’re their next conquest, not giving a damn if they get a tardy.

Two months and this shithole will be behind us. All three of us will be signing up as a prospect with the Huntsmen MC, doing all the shitty chores from cleaning the clubhouse to cleaning up blood to being on gate duty—basically showing the brothers we’re all in by being their bitch while taking up a few college courses at NYC Business school to help with the club businesses.

James and I will also be taking art classes before joining Bulldozer at the Huntsmen Arts, the pair of us going half on the business with Bulldozer and the club.

Growing up, I knew I would join the club. My dad, a brother himself, instilled it in me, but I was always hesitant, and I still am, if I’m being honest.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the club. Hammer, Colt’s dad, is the president and has been like an uncle to me, but my dad—twice he’s cheated on my mom while on a club run, and both times she took him back, even though he knocked up one of the girls.

My sister Callie is ten years old, with sandy blonde hair and light green eyes, and has been raised with me. Mom took her in when her mother wanted nothing to do with her after finding out she wouldn’t get my father’s patch.

He wanted my mother, despite being unfaithful, and to this day, I still don’t understand how she trusted him again or how she managed to take him back.

My worst fear is ending up like my father; a fucking cheat, hurting the woman you claim to love.

“I-I just…. What the fuck!” Colt stutters, and I grin, looking his way, his gray eyes still wide.

“Seriously, I know. My eyes need fucking bleaching,” James replies, and I mutter, “Or maybe you should just have listened to me when I told you about it last week.”

Colt snorts. “Yeah, I think that’s something I need to remember, especially with you being my VP when I take over.”

Ah yes, that's the other reason why I don’t have a say in whether I join the club or not. Colt wants me by his side when he takes over from his dad.

I sigh, causing him to narrow his eyes, and James quickly interjects, “You know it’s the right route, Travis. That job has been yours since we were in diapers,” before Colt starts another rant about how much I am not like my dad.

I grunt in acknowledgment, also not willing to hear the fucking rant for the hundredth time this month. I love my dad, I do, but the hurt and pain he put Mom through was out of fucking order. And while, yes, I love my sister; Mom has brought her up as her own—Dad has forgotten the hurt he caused but I haven’t.

I had to hold Mom up when she packed her bags and mine, determined to leave him, only for the prospects to refuse to let us out of the compound.

It took the whole of the bitch’s pregnancy with my sister for Dad to worm his way back into Mom’s heart and bed, and I went along with it because Mom being happy is all I want, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten, or that I want to go down the same way.

Infidelity is rare within our club; fuck, Hammer’s father, who started it, set rules that if you made a woman your old lady—a woman you see as your forever, that you’d die for—then she is to wear you cut for five years minimum .

When the club first started, the brothers used to hand the leather out like candy and then snatch them back again when the women pissed them off, so now, they have to really think whether that is the route they want to go down.

The fact Dad cheated was a shock to everyone, but Mom forgiving him was jaw-dropping.

“You’re not your dad, Trav,” James says. “If you do want an old lady at some point in life, you won’t do what he did….”

I nod but don’t answer him back.

It doesn’t matter what he says. In my mind, becoming a brother brings out an ego in you, like you’re invincible, that hurting the one you claim is perfectly fine. I don’t want it going to my head as it has with every other brother, but a part of me, a big part, knows it will because of how they make you feel when you patch in.

“Hey Travvy,” a whiny voice whispers to my left, and I roll my eyes as James and Colt cough to hide their laughter. I narrow my eyes at them before looking at Harley, a cheerleader a year below me that I mistakenly fucked two months ago behind the bleachers.

I was horny and she was there and, fuck me, have I regretted it since.

She gives a sultry smile before biting her lip and twisting her ginger hair on her finger, her green eyes looking up and down my body, and instantly, I feel fucking dirty.

Why did I have to go there?

“You, uh, want to skip first period and come to the bleachers with me?” she asks, and I curl my lip at the thought despite my cock perking up at the invitation.

Shaking my head, I open my mouth to decline, but Colt opens his and asks, “Who the hell is that?”

I frown and look at him to see his head turned to the entrance. I look and suck in a breath at the beauty walking our way.

Fuck me….

I faintly hear Harley sneer, “What’s with the hoodie?” but I ignore her as I take the new girl in. Her head is down, and she’s hugging her books to her chest. Despite her wearing a hoodie, it doesn’t hide her beauty.

White-blonde hair cascades around her shoulders, slightly curled, and she’s wearing baggy jeans, but a sliver of skin shows where her hoodie stops.

“Trav?” Colt questions, but I don’t answer him as I quickly push off the lockers, stepping in the way of the new girl before she walks past me.

I hear Harley’s, “What the fuck,” but that isn’t what gets my attention; instead, it’s the girl's gasp as she halts just shy of bumping into me, and her head shoots up in shock, her ice-blue eyes wide.

Holy shit….

Our eyes connect, my whole body buzzes, and I know that this girl is supposed to be mine. I feel it deep in my bones that she’s my forever. The electricity between us is strong and sizzling through me hard, and the need to grab her is so strong that I have to fist my hands.

I swallow hard, focusing only on this beautiful creature, and rasp, “Hi there…. I’m Travis.”

I wince. For fuck’s sake I did not just say “hi there.”

She blinks, her cheeks rosy, making me want to smirk, but I hold it in. Just as she opens her mouth to allow me to hear her voice, she quickly shuts it as a body slides up against mine, and I tense.

“Hi, I’m Harley. Don’t you know hoodies are so out,” she sneers.

The girl blinks again as we make eye contact before she slides her gaze to the bitch beside me, and before I can push Harley away, the beauty puts her head back down and walks around us.

Mother….

I growl with frustration as I shove Harley away, making her stumble and gasp.

You fuck a girl once, fucking once , and she thinks she owns me, and it’s not like she hasn’t fucked three of the football players since I fucked her in the same place.

Colt and James flank me, but I ignore them and point at Harley, “Next time you try and fucking claim me, I’ll ensure the whole school gets the videos of you screwing two of the professors while one of their wives eats you out!”

Her eyes widen in shock, and I storm away before she can protest. My eyes scan the nearly empty hallway, and I growl again, not seeing the girl anywhere.

“We’ll find her at lunch,” Colt promises, already knowing who I’m trying to find, and I grunt, hoping he’s fucking right, because I’m pretty sure I just met my future wife.

I’ve never wanted to claim someone before, never getting that connection with another person, and I know Colt and James sensed it instantly.

I just hope I don’t turn out like my father and hurt her the way he broke my mother, because I can guarantee this girl will always be mine.

And I don’t even know her name….

Heaven – Seventeen Years Old

“Alright, class, that is it for today,” Mr. Sanders, my math teacher, says as he looks around the room. Everyone starts to put their stuff away. “I want you to complete chapters nine to twelve before next Friday. There will be a quiz on them,” he continues, and everyone groans.

I swallow hard and shove my notebook in my bag along with my new math book, which I’ve already completed last year, not that the man knows, but I guess that is what happens when you’ve attended eight different schools in New York and its surrounding areas in five years.

“Ms. Daniels, can I have a word before you leave, please?” Mr. Sanders asks as I stand from my desk. I sigh internally but nod as I head toward the front of the room.

He doesn’t look up as I approach his desk, and I don’t say anything.

The man looks to be in his early thirties, and I’ve noticed him smirking at three of the girls in my class more than once while they batted their eyes at him.

He likes girls young, and it’s obvious he’s screwing them, maybe not all together, but he definitely has something with them, and I should know; I recognize the signs, and considering my mother has had more boyfriends than I’ve had underwear, it’s something I’ve had to live with.

Every boyfriend Mom has had cheated on her, including my father, who ran out when I was six.

Her taste in men went downhill the moment he left, unable to hack it alone, yet she didn’t care as long as they took care of her, something she could not do herself. I mean, I’m shocked I haven’t ended up in foster care over the years with the type of men she allowed into our homes, and yes, I mean homes. Plural.

Mom has moved me all over New York; the Hamptons, Brooklyn, and the surrounding areas. Each time one of her “boyfriends” cheated or left her, she moved us without a thought for me or a consideration for my education, and because of that, I’ve repeated several subjects over the years.

“I understand we’re at the end of the school year,” Mr. Sanders starts, still not looking up as he shuffles through some papers. “And I understand you’re most likely behind with all the moving about, unfortunately, if that is the case, then you’ll have to redo the year.”

I raise a brow at him. He clearly hasn’t read my transcripts.

“We’re AP math, and it can be hard to catch up, so we need to make a plan; we need to see where you are in the materials, and whether or not you need to go to a lower class and retake the school year,” he continues before he finally looks up.

His dark blue eyes take me in not so subtly. They start at my feet, past my baggy jeans and hoodie, until we make eye contact, and instantly, he reminds me of my mom’s boyfriend from when I was eight.

Alejandro.

They were together for nine months, and in those nine months, he was screwing the babysitter, her mother, and the fifty-year-old that lived below us, and I only know that because Mom goes on and on about each boyfriend she had and how horrible men are.

In her words, they’re disgusting, cheating scumbags that can’t find a woman’s G-spot, yet she can’t go a week without a man in her life.

Mr. Sander's eyes go back to my hoodie, right where my breasts are fully covered, and I narrow my eyes.

Yeah, he’s exactly like Alejandro, though that man had tried to touch me inappropriately, managing to put his hands down my pants, making me scream at him and jump back. He lied to my mother, saying I freaked out when I saw a spider.

When I told her what he did, she slapped me and called me a liar, and it was a week later that she caught him screwing my babysitter. I remember waking to Mom screaming and shouting before she stormed into my bare room demanding I pack because her home was tainted.

“Now, if you don’t want to restart the year and stay in my class, I may be able to do something about that,” he continues as he stares at my breasts before making eye contact with me, and I raise my brow.

“Are you trying to proposition a student, Mr. Sanders?” I ask, making his eyes widen, and I continue, “I mean, I’m seventeen years old, new to the school, and a virgin.”

He winces at my words, and I smirk. I guess bedding a virgin isn’t his thing.

Jackass.

“The work you have assigned, I’ve already completed. If you check my transcripts, you’ll see I’m currently working a year ahead for my level where AP math is concerned. Next year, I shouldn’t have to take math, and I should be doing study hall instead.”

His eyes widen as his throat bobs, and I give him a sweet smile as I hike my backpack on my shoulder and state, “I’m not into sleeping with teachers to get good grades. I already have them, and it’s kind of gross that you can’t get a woman your own age, so you have to blackmail kids .” I tilt my head and remark, “If you could contact my guidance counselor, I would really appreciate it. She can confirm my grades, and by the next class, I would be grateful to have the correct work.”

Shocked, Mr. Sanders slumps back in his seat, but I shrug and turn, leaving him stunned.

Shaking my head, I walk into the corridor, instantly lower my head, and start my trek to the cafeteria, my stomach grumbling.

I missed breakfast, no thanks to Mom flirting with the neighbor opposite our apartment on 5th Street. I don’t need to witness her next conquest, and honestly, I’m looking forward to turning eighteen; at least then I won’t have to be dragged all over the place just because she keeps finding duds.

I feel some people looking my way, but I don’t look up. I get it—I’m the new girl right near the end of a school year—but making friends isn’t a part of my plans while I’m attending Brooklyn Heart High School.

I want to get my grades and move on with my life, where I’m actually living for myself and not for my mother. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, I do, but her infatuation with having a man to depend on is a crappy look, especially when she then unloads on her daughter when they hurt her.

Ignoring everyone, I walk into the cafeteria, my main focus the lunch line, my stomach grumbling for a large slice of pizza, but before I can get there, I crash into a hard body, making me gasp.

Dammit, I really should have looked up instead of focusing on my feet.

I squeeze my eyes tight, feeling my body falling off-kilter, and just when I think I’m going to fall on my ass in front of the whole student body, strong hands grip my arms, causing me to spring my eyes open in shock.

Standing at least several inches taller than me is the boy from this morning, or more like a man, even though he’s only eighteen.

Travis….

I’ve heard nothing but gossip from the girls in my classes about him and his friends, Colt and James.

Apparently, they’re part of the Huntsmen MC, a motorcycle club that most of New York loves.

You can’t grow up in New York and not know about them and the work they do regarding hospitals, women's shelters, food shelters—you name it.

The three “men” also love sex and have screwed half the school, but apparently, Travis prefers cheerleaders, or that’s what one of the girls got giddy over because she’s applied to be on the team.

I clear my throat and step back, causing him to drop his arms. I whisper, “Sorry….”

He nods, his dark eyes spearing into my soul, making it really difficult to keep eye contact.

I don’t know what it is about this guy, but being in his orbit makes my legs feel like jelly, and my stomach tightens as my heart rate spikes.

Is this how Mom felt every time she met a guy she was attracted to?

And that is like an ice-cold bucket of water.

I clear my throat and whisper, “Uh, um, thank you for not letting me fall," then I move to walk around him, but before I can pass, he gently takes my hand, sending tingles all up my arm and over my body, making me gasp as we make eye contact.

His dark eyes race between mine, and he asks, “What’s your name, angel?”

I blink, then blink again and reply, “Heaven.”

He nods, a small smile forming on his plump, kissable lips, the scar on his cheek stretching, making him look even hotter….

Crap, no, Heaven, no!

I take a step to move again, but he pulls me back, shocking me. His eyes race between mine before he asks, “Have dinner with me?”

My eyes widen in shock, and he smirks, clearly happy he got that reaction.

I’ve never had a date, never even been kissed. Growing up with a mother who relies on men puts you off, and this guy is the first one to ever get a reaction out of me. He also has player and heartbreaker written all over him.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stutter.

His grip tightens on my hand. “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for, and if you don’t like it, then we can be friends, because everyone needs a friend.”

I swallow hard. “I, uh, thought you only dated cheerleaders.”

I wince, hating that I’ve just said that, but he grins and says, “Well, let me prove you wrong, then.” My pulse races as he keeps eye contact, and my mind swirls.

Can I do it? Can I go on my first date and not become my mother?