Chapter 4 Army Past
Army
Past
“Do you love me?” my best friend asks me.
More than life itself.
My heart clenches, and my gut flips at Leeva’s question as I stare at her. She’s almost eighteen and is still as innocent and pure as she’d been at twelve when her grandpa, Livewire, brought her to the MC compound.
Someone like Leeva shouldn’t be around me and the Havoc Guardians, even though her grandpa is the VP.
She was raised as a good girl and lived in a cozy house with law-abiding parents.
Until that house burned, taking her parents with it.
Leeva now lives with her aunt and uncle on her father’s side.
However, Livewire lost his only child when Leeva’s mom died, so he ensured he had as much time as possible with his granddaughter.
Since I saw her that first day when he brought her to the MC compound, she’s been part of my inner circle.
Ash, Bane, Digits, and Pix are my crew, and Leeva hangs out with us, but she’s mine. My best friend. My everything.
Right now, Leeva lies beside me, staring up at the stars.
She’s so goddamn beautiful—with her amber eyes and raven-black hair—it takes my breath away.
As a ballerina, she’s fought the changes her body wants to make and the curves that are trying to emerge.
She restricts what she eats to remain thin; way too thin, in my opinion.
I wish she’d let nature take its course and let the curves that I suspect she’d have bloom to life.
She shifts beside me so our shoulders touch, my hand so close to hers. I want to pull her into my arms. I want to roll over so my body covers hers. I want…
I push the inappropriate thoughts about my best friend away.
But other thoughts push in.
Ones where I’m dominating her, and she’s submitting to me. Ones where I’m fucking her mouth while fucking her with a dildo. Ones where she’s walking around naked in my home, there for me to use whenever and however I want.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the intrusive, deviant thoughts of my little dove. Not only do I want to make love to my best friend, but I want to defile her in sick ways.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“What’s wrong with you?”
Leeva’s question echoes my own, and I inwardly panic.
There’s no way she can know. Right?
“What’s going on with you lately?” She pushes up onto her elbow, looking down at me.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Come on.” She nudges my shoulder. “You always talk to me. What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing.”
A flash of hurt crosses her beautiful face, then she smiles. “Fine, be that way, but let’s go back to my question of whether you love me or not.”
“You know I do.” I stare up at the girl who is the center of my world. My universe.
“Then tell me where Guerilla went.”
“No.” I sit up so suddenly, she falls back so I don’t crash into her.
Fuck I hate my brother Harrison.
He’s four years older than me and has always found a way to fuck me over and try to keep me down with a boot on my neck.
Zeus tells me it’s because he has an inferiority complex when it comes to me—and that was made apparent when he became a patched-in member of the Havoc Guardians.
Usually, when you’re assigned your road name, you don’t get to pick it, but somehow, he convinced Razor, the sergeant-at-arms, to let him be named Guerilla.
I already have my road name, even though I’m not eighteen yet and not old enough to be patched in.
I’ve always wanted to join the military like my maternal grandpa, and once I’m old enough to enlist, I plan to serve two terms before I come back to the MC.
However, years ago, Zeus decided to call me Army.
So, Harrison wanting the name Guerilla… Yeah, that was intentional.
Guerilla. As in guerilla forces: combatants who fight against the more traditional military foe.
Army vs Guerilla.
Like everything in our lives, Harrison pitted us against each other.
And now he’s going after what’s mine. Leeva.
He’s snowballing her into thinking he’s some goddamn gentleman. He has access to the Club Pussy so why is he setting his sights on the purest, best thing in my world?
And why is she excited and happy at the thought?
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you, Hayes?” she asks, her hurt clear. She never calls me Army; never has. I like it because she’s the only one to use my birth name.
“You know I can’t talk MC business with you, and Harrison is gone on MC business.”
I purposefully don’t use his road name right now, because fuck him.
But honestly, am I any better than him? With the sick, depraved thoughts and desires I have about Leeva?
She’s better off without either Cartwright brother. She deserves a good man who will cherish her like the purest treasure she is.
I resist the urge to reach out and brush back the hair that’s escaped her ponytail. “I’m sorry, little dove.”
Her nose crinkles. “You know I hate that name.”
She’s pure and innocent, just like a dove.
Secretly, to me, though, she’s a lotus. Because just like a lotus, she’s purity amidst the darkness of our world; she grows in the dark, muddy water, but remains beautiful.
But to call her ‘lotus’ requires too much soul-revealing explanation, so I keep it to myself, along with the fact that my first tattoo was a lotus flower over my heart.
Her face falls as she pulls her knees to her chest, staring into the night.
I shift my position so we’re sitting face-to-face. “What is it?”
“I just want to see Guerilla.”
I’m swallowing shards of glass. “Why?”
“I… I had a shitty day, okay? And I wanted to talk to him.”
She used to only talk to me.
“You know you can talk to me, Leeva.”
“Pierre…” She finally looks at me. Her bottom lip trembles before she bites it to stop it. Pierre is her head dance instructor, who I severely dislike. “He said if I want the lead part in the upcoming performance, I need to drop some more weight.”
Wrath spirals in me. “You don’t need to lose any more weight. You need to gain some.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” she huffs. “Guerilla does—”
“He encourages you to have an eating disorder?” I snap.
“I didn’t say that,” she bites back.
“You’re meant to be curvy, Leeva, not to have the body of a prepubescent boy.” I immediately regret my words and fist the grass beside me.
“Screw you.”
“I’m not saying you have the body of a prepubescent boy. I’m saying…”
But I can’t say what I want to.
I can’t say that she’s perfection, that she doesn’t need the validation of an asshole like Pierre. She doesn’t need to try to stay so thin; I love her no matter what her body size or shape is.
“You don’t even like ballet,” I say instead, which is the truth. “So why the hell are you pushing this so hard?” And potentially harming yourself.
She looks away, hugging her knees tighter to her chest. “You know why.”
“Your parents enrolled you in ballet for you to try it, not because it was their dream for you to become a famous ballerina.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s what Livewire thinks, too.”
She bites her lip again, then lowers her head. “I miss them.”
“I know.” I shift so I’m sitting beside her again and wrap my arm around her.
She relaxes into me with her head on my shoulder. “Thank you for being my friend, Hayes.”
Friend.
Right.
Friend.
Because I harshly and rapidly, almost brutally, friend-zoned us when we were fourteen.
And I’ve regretted every second since.
However, I know it was the right move because Leeva is too young to make a decision about being involved with someone whose life is wrapped up in a criminal organization.
And yet, she’s now entertaining Guerilla’s attention.
Fuck you, brain.
It feels like shrapnel is piercing my gut. Jagged, sharp pieces piercing my flesh, embedding and ravaging my insides.
Tell her how you feel, my brain urges.
But the thoughts of the filthy things I want to do to her stop me. I need to get a handle on those and squash any deviant thoughts before I come clean about how I love her so goddamn much I can hardly breathe.
“I’ll always have your back,” I say, hiding my feelings. “You’ll always have me.”
“Will I?”
“Of course.”
“But you’re planning to leave for the military soon.”
“Maybe I won’t.”
Her breath sucks in, and her head snaps up off my shoulder, almost jarring my nose because I had my head bent down to inhale her soft vanilla scent. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
“Maybe I’ll delay enlisting.”
Or, if I have a chance with her, maybe I won’t even go. The thought of being away from her, of not being by her side to live life with her and protect her makes me feel dead inside.
“It’s your dream.”
“Dreams change, little dove.”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to prove a point about the ballet thing and my parents’ dream?”
“Or lack thereof?”
She swats my chest, huffing. “Save the warfare—psychological or any other—for when you enlist or when you return to become a brother.”
The way she said the last part is laced with distaste.
“You don’t want me to get patched-in as a brother?”
She pauses momentarily, then admits, “No.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She glances away. “Because there are better things you could do with your life, Hayes.”
“Really? Like what? Be an accountant like your dad?”
“Don’t be obtuse.”
I chuckle. “Don't you mean ‘don’t be an ass’? You can swear around me, Leeva. I promise not to tell your grandpa.”
She snorts.
“So, I shouldn’t be patched-in as a brother, but you’re okay with Guerilla now that he’s a brother?”
She sees the contradiction and scowls. “You’re…”
“I’m what?”
She looks away, then goes to stand up, but I stop her. “Oh no, we’re having this conversation, Leeva Catherine Malone.”
Fire leaps into her eyes, and her mouth thins. “Brothers fuck the Club Pussy.”
That’s the last thing I thought she’d say.
“So…you don’t want me to become a full-fledged member of the Havoc Guardians because then I can sleep with the Club Pussy?”
A thrill jolts through me. Does the thought of that make her jealous?
She sputters trying to answer, then slams her mouth shut.