3. Havoc
Havoc
Aimee’s honey-brown eyes ignite when they land on me. Beautifully fueled by rage but entirely alive. The fireworks that spark in her eyes are unlike anything I’ve seen.
A sheen of sweat coats her forehead, and I suspect the discarded yoga mat by her lounger is the source of it.
Aimee wasn’t the type to practice yoga fourteen years ago, so it’s one more thing that’s changed about a girl I used to have memorized.
She’s a stranger in the body of someone I once knew better than my club.
A girl I was willing to leave this life for.
Until life had other plans.
I lift off the wall under the weight of her attention and hope my face doesn’t show how easily she mixes me up. My expression is passive, but inside, I’m floundering.
It’s so damn easy for this girl to fuck my life up.
At least I’m not the only one of the two of us who’s irritated by the other’s presence. The same annoyance that filled her face three weeks ago stares back at me now. Which is why I agreed to go to LA with Soul instead of sticking around to feed into this sick joke the universe is playing on us.
Except now I’m back, and there’s no escape. The safe house is my responsibility, and Aimee is in my domain.
“I see someone is as stubborn as ever,” I say, if for no other reason than to piss her off.
At least then I can make out a little emotion in her ice-cold glare.
“You’re one to talk.” She narrows her eyes. “Don’t pretend you still know me. It’s been fourteen years. Plenty’s changed.”
That, I don’t doubt.
Aimee was always a firecracker, which is how she earned her nickname. But what was once a spark has bloomed, and if I’m not careful, she’s going to blow up my life.
I don’t have the faintest clue where Aimee has been for fourteen years, why she disappeared, or how she recently ended up with my enemy, but the sum of it all changed the person I used to know.
It’s too bad it didn’t also change my feelings for her.
Aimee spins around in her lounger to face Reagan, putting her back to me like that will get her out of this conversation.
I’m about to remind her that it won’t when Chaos and Legacy step outside, interrupting the thought.
“Fucking hell, I need a drink.” Chaos glances down at his phone, shooting off a quick text .
“Problems with your brother?” I guess.
After Chaos’s father passed away last year, he’s been battling with his brother for ownership of the family ranch. Lately, tension has reached an all-time high. But he refuses to say much about it.
After witnessing how Chaos was unaffected by his stint in prison, I didn’t think much could rattle him. I was wrong.
“Yeah.” Chaos nods, responding to another text the second it comes through.
“The appraiser decided on a value for the land and presented it to the probate court last week. And this asshole is already petitioning the court to speed up the process. Like he thinks I don’t know what the fuck he’s up to. ”
“What’s he up to?” And better yet, why does Chaos care when he detached from his family’s ranch the second he moved to Vegas?
“He’s trying to cut me out so he can portion it out to investors or bargain mineral rights.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Thought you wanted out.”
After all, he’s never gone back home, not even for his father’s funeral. His brother is the one who stuck behind when he moved to Vegas, and until his father died, I thought he had no plans on looking back at the life he left.
“It’s complicated.” It’s all Chaos says as a way of explanation, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I’m heading to Sapphire Rise to check on shit. Nothing a few strippers can’t fix.”
I raise an eyebrow .
Chaos has two weaknesses: whiskey and women. Which is why he’s happily managed operations at the Twisted Kings-owned strip club all these years. But he also uses it as an escape when he doesn’t feel like facing his problems. Like I sense he’s doing now.
“You coming?” His dark gaze slides to Aimee. “Looks like I’m not the only one who could use a distraction.”
“I was just in LA. I’ve had enough distractions.”
Chaos chuckles. “At the bottom of the whiskey bottle, maybe. But rumor has it your bed’s been empty for a few weeks now, Havoc. Any reason for that?”
His eyes home in on Aimee again, and I refuse to meet his gaze.
“You and Soul are such fucking gossips. Stick to your own shit and leave me alone.”
Chaos hums with amusement, slapping me on the shoulder. “Already losing another one.”
He’s starting to sound like Soul, who wouldn’t let this go the entire time we were in LA. Soul spent the full trip throwing patch bunnies at me, picking out anyone remotely my type to see what I would do about it. And every time I brushed another one off, he’d bring up Aimee.
He’d ask what I’m running from.
What I’m avoiding talking about.
He’d stir shit up until I downed enough whiskey to forget my own name and pass the fuck out.
For two guys intent on never settling down, Soul and Chaos have a lot of opinions about how other members of the club handle relationships, and I don’t like being on the receiving end of their interrogations.
“You really are a goner.” Chaos shakes his head, reading something on my face. “Fuck her or let her go, man. But do something about it.”
Damn, I wish it were that simple.
And not because I can’t stop fisting my cock without thinking about Aimee’s long legs wrapped around my shoulders, but because her being here reminds me that I can hate her all I want, but I’ll never actually be over her.
We’ve never so much as kissed, much less fucked, and yet, all it takes is one glance for her to burn my life to ashes.
Chaos turns to leave, and it’s just me and Legacy left on the porch. Thankfully, he lets the topic of Aimee die in Chaos’s absence because he’s too lost in thought while he stares at Reagan.
He watches her, and I watch Aimee. I can’t fucking help it.
The rumble of Chaos’s motorcycle starting echoes around the outside of the house, and Aimee’s head whips around at the sound. Her back stiffens, and her teeth clench. She never got the nerve to climb on the back of my bike when we were younger, but that was defiance, not fear.
This look is something else.
Wide eyes. Pale cheeks.
Aimee is rattled, and I don’t need to ask to know who is to blame: the Iron Sinners. When I get my hands on them, they’re going to pay for every little thing they did to her. Whether I’m pissed at this girl for disappearing on me or not.
Reagan hops up, rubbing her belly. “Just consider it, okay? For me.”
“I will.” Aimee stands, but her gaze darts off with her words, telling me she’s lying.
Legacy’s phone pings, and he reads the text before crossing the backyard to wrap his arms around Reagan.
“Steel needs me back at the clubhouse to help Ghost with something.” Legacy kisses Reagan on the top of the head. “Ready to go?”
Reagan’s gaze moves from Aimee to me, but she doesn’t immediately answer him. If I had to guess, she’s worried about leaving the two of us alone together.
“Go. We’ll be fine,” I say.
Reagan looks at Aimee, who rolls her eyes.
“I can handle myself.”
Those must be the magic words. Because although Reagan frowns, she doesn’t argue.
Legacy isn’t as easily convinced, his gaze landing on me.
“I’ll take good care of her.” I grin.
My comment earns me the middle finger from Legacy and a glare from Aimee. The latter of which makes me smirk.
“Tell Steel I’ll be back in a little bit,” I say to Legacy. “Aimee and I need to catch up.”
Legacy nods, but the silent warning in his eyes is clear. Reagan’s grown attached to Aimee, so he wants me to behave and not piss off his girl .
Reagan gives Aimee’s hand a final squeeze as she and Legacy leave. And then it’s just me and Aimee with our arms crossed over our chests, watching each other.
“Have fun in LA?” She smiles, but her tone makes it clear she doesn’t actually care if I did or not.
There’s no sweetness. Only violence.
Which is why I don’t bother answering her question, throwing her attitude back at her instead. “Have fun torturing my brothers in my absence?”
“I was perfectly pleasant.” She shrugs. “I don’t have any problems with them. You, on the other hand…” Aimee scans me from head to toe.
I lift off the wall, standing up taller so she has to crane her neck back to look up at me.
A bead of sweat trickles down the center of her throat, and I really wish I didn’t want to lick it off.
If I didn’t hate this girl so much for putting my heart through the wringer, I’d be tempted to bend her over and live out my teenage fantasies.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Sorry to ruin your fun, but my brothers are busy, so you get me now.”
“Wonderful.” Aimee rolls her eyes, pushing past me.
I follow her into the house until we stop in the kitchen so she can get a glass of water. She takes a long drink, then grips the bottom of her T-shirt and uses it to wipe the sweat off her face, revealing her toned stomach.
She’s still painfully thin from being with the Iron Sinners, but for once, that’s not what has my attention. Her abs tense, and I notice a large scar sitting horizontally on her abdomen .
“What’s—”
“None of your business,” she cuts me off, taking another drink.
“That’s a big fucking scar, Aimee.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen worse being a big, bad biker.” Sarcasm drips from her tone.
She’s right. I have seen worse. I’ve watched Ghost slowly pull out a man’s intestines inch by inch. I’ve gutted, maimed, and killed so many men I stopped counting. But the thought of anything happening to Aimee that would cause a scar like that makes me sick to my stomach.
“Oh my god, stop doing that.” She huffs.
“Stop doing what?”
“Worrying about me. I don’t need you playing the knight in shining armor like you used to, Levi. I’m not the fragile rich girl you remember.”
“I never said you were just some fragile rich girl.” I run the pad of my thumb over the scar on my jaw. The one she gave me when I was teaching her basic self-defense back in the day. “From what I recall, you were always more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
“I can’t believe it scarred. I didn’t hit you that hard.”
“There was a good amount of blood.”
“Guess so.” Her irritation slips for just a second, and the amusement that paints her smile is beautiful.
“You have a way of leaving a mark.”
At that, she wipes her face clean and turns away. Shutting down like she’s good at.
“Aimee—”
“We were kids back then. What did we know?” She shakes her head, rinsing her glass in the sink .
“Nothing apparently.”
Aimee stands with her back to me, and I consider the scars we now bear. The marks that are too deep for the eyes to see. Just how far we’ve both fallen.
“So why are you here?” Aimee straightens, still not facing me. “If you’re just here to check on me, then as you can see, I’m fine.”
“I can see that.” I clear my throat, looking at anything but her. “But the safe house is my territory, so Steel wants me checking in.”
“Wouldn’t want to disappoint your president, right, Havoc ?” I’m not surprised she laces my road name with venom when she must have some sense as to why I chose it.
“The club’s not what it used to be.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s not.”
“I don’t care.” She glances over her shoulder, meeting my gaze. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. The past is the past.”
“Except it’s not if you’re still pissed about it.”
“And you aren’t?”
My jaw tenses.
She breathes out an unamused laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
“What do you expect, Aimee? I shipped out and you disappeared—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She spins, finally facing me again.
Except she’s somehow now more closed off than ever .
“Then explain it to me.”
“Why? So we can bury the hatchet? So we can make amends and absolve ourselves of our sins? You wouldn’t understand.” She drops her chin. “Too much has changed, and I don’t have the energy to get into this right now. I need to shower, but you can see yourself out?”
I nod, swallowing down everything I want to say.
There’s no point arguing with her when her walls are a mile high and her eyes are distant.
Her lips purse as she lifts off the counter. “Bye, Havoc.”
I’ve never hated my road name as much as I do from her lips. I’ve never hated the back of her head as much as I do when she turns away from me again. Just like she did three weeks ago.
Just like she’s good at.