Chapter 11
“MOM, I’M CRASHING AT Reagan’s tonight and tomorrow,” I shout as I shove clothes into my duffel, trying to pack for the weekend. I haven’t told them we are going to Vegas with Travis; I’ve chosen to leave that little detail out. It’s probably for the best.
“Okay, sweetheart,” she answers from the hallway. “Have you told your father you won’t be staying with him this weekend?”
“I’ll swing by on my way,” I promise, sweeping a stray lock of hair from my eyes.
God, I hope I’ve packed everything I need.
If I forget something, there’s no coming back for it.
I go over the list in my head, making sure I’ve thought of every last item, including sexy underwear.
I shiver at the thought of Travis and me in a hotel room, blissfully alone after his show, his sweaty, hard body against mine. ..
“Your dad texted me.”
I jerk and snap out of my fantasy to see my mother standing in the doorway, hip leaning against the frame.
Late afternoon light halos her figure, making her look small and beautiful, like a sparrow caught in a storm.
She has this fragile, beautiful energy about her that makes you want to protect her.
I can see why Dad loved her, I really can.
I laugh. “Dad texted you?”
She nods. “Yeah, and he left... some smiley face at the end.”
Another giggle. I can picture her getting that message, and I just know her cheeks would have flushed. “You and Chief, exchanging emojis. Do you think—” My words catch as she fixes me with a distant, sorrowful stare.
Her heart will forever belong to him, but he is also the reason for the pain in her eyes.
“There will never be an ‘us’ again, honey.” Her voice is careful, practiced. “And I don’t want there to be.”
Her face scrunches, as if the words hurt even to say, and that tells me they’re not true, not really.
“What happened? I mean, really happened. Not the story you tell nosy people you want to go away.”
“That’s a story for another day.”
“Mom—”
“Some doors, once closed, should stay that way.” She pushes her chin out. “Another day. Another story.” She steps away, the moment slipping through my fingers, but not before I glimpse the tremble in her hand, the way she blinks too rapidly against tears she refuses to shed.
I force a smile, pulling her in for a hug. “Okay, Mom. I love you. I’ll call this weekend.”
“Be safe, baby.”
I leave, flinging my bag into the backseat and firing up the engine.
The sky is streaked with gold, the neighborhood unnaturally still.
I make my way to the compound to see Chief before leaving this weekend.
I know he enjoys when I come and stay, so the least I can do is drop in and see him for a bit before I leave.
The house is quiet, but I can hear chattering voices outside in the compound, in the shed furthest down the back.
I’m early; I usually wouldn’t arrive until later tonight, so I know he’s not expecting me.
Hoping I’m not going to interrupt club business, I walk down to the shed.
The door groans when I push it open. Inside, a single bare bulb hangs overhead, swinging slightly, casting warped shadows that twist across the walls.
The stench of iron and sweat slams into me.
I know right away I’ve made a mistake.
Ahead, a man dangles from a meat hook driven cruelly through his shoulder blade.
His blood seeps down in thick, dark ribbons, pooling beneath him.
His legs thump and jerk against the concrete floor, desperate.
A steel vice clamps his mouth shut; every muffled rasp and wet gargle reverberates off the walls like a drumbeat.
Every biker in the club surrounds him, as if they’re enjoying the torture.
Torture that is written all over his body in every mark, gash, bruise, and slice.
I choke. My vision blurs. The world tilts. I sob, fists clamped over my mouth, knees shaking. “Oh God...” My voice cracks.
Chief, who is holding a bloody knife, turns when he hears my sob.
“Violet?” His tone is disturbingly gentle. My stomach turns, and I rifle for the door, adrenaline igniting every nerve.
“Mischief!” he calls, voice more frantic now. But I’m already tearing through the house and down the driveway, trying to keep the contents of my stomach in.
I know my father does illegal things. I know he is part of a club that does illegal things.
But what I didn’t know, what they have kept from me for so long, is that level of violence.
The kind of violence that makes my blood run cold because it’s coming from a man I hold so close to my heart.
A man who has only ever touched me with gentle hands.
My hero.
I yank at the car door, my lungs heaving. Each breath is a rasping scream in my chest. He sprints after me, catches my arm, and spins me face-to-face. Tears blur my vision. I shove at his chest, but there is little point; he is too big and too strong.
“What... what is that? How can you—” My voice shatters. “Who the fuck are you?”
He doesn’t release me; instead, he holds me long enough to try and explain. “He had information on Demon. It was necessary. I’m sorry you had to see it, baby.”
Tears burn down my cheeks. I jerk hard enough that he releases me, but I’m trapped between him and my car. “Necessary? You call this necessary?” My chest seizes so tight I can’t pull in air. “Do you enjoy hurting people like that?”
“He’s a fuckin’ piece of shit scumbag who does far worse than I have ever done to him. I don’t hurt innocent people, Violet.”
“Oh, so that makes it okay?”
“Never said it was okay, but it’s part of what we do.”
“He is hanging from a fucking hook,” I whisper. “What is wrong with you?”
He flinches as though struck. I notice his hands covered in streaks of red blood. I shudder.
“Don’t do this,” he pleads, voice raw. “I can’t make you understand, but I have always done my best to keep you away from this, Violet.”
I taste bile. “Is this why Mom left? Because she couldn’t bear it?”
He flinches, and pain washes over his face.
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
His silence is the answer.
My lip quivers. I scrub at my face with the back of my hand. “I should go.”
He reaches out, just a pure impulse, but I duck away and tumble into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life. Tires spin, gravel flies, and I’m gone before he can call my name again.
On the road, the image of the hook protruding out of that man’s flesh haunts me.
My heart pounds so ferociously I’m sure it could shatter my ribs.
I think of Mom and how brave she must’ve been to walk away, and how terrified.
I pull over, needing to breathe, and press my forehead against the steering wheel, eyes closed, racing to leave the nightmare far behind.
I knew my dad was dangerous, but I never knew the club life was so violent.
My mother protected me, I know she did, and now it makes sense why she left. I know it isn’t the only reason, but I do know it was a big part of it.
She didn’t want me to see that side of him.
She didn’t want my heart to break just like hers did.
“OH MY GOD, WOULD YOU look at this plane!” I exclaim, my voice breathy with excitement as I lean into Reagan, my eyes wide with disbelief. The luxurious interior is nothing like I’ve ever seen—all plush leather and polished wood, screaming opulence and comfort.
A good distraction from today’s events.
I didn’t tell Travis what I saw, because I have no doubt that it is something he has probably witnessed and I don’t want to get into it. Not this weekend. Not ever, probably. I just want to forget what I saw. I know my father is part of a world I don’t understand, but it still shook me to see that.
Travis chuckles, a low, throaty sound that snaps me out of my thoughts. His bandmates join in, their laughter filling the cabin. The only one not amused is the receptionist, her nose wrinkled like she’s smelled something sour.
“Why did she have to come again?” I mutter to Travis, casting a glare her way.
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “I have no idea. Think she’s fucking Marcus. I need her for work, too.”
“Of course,” I huff.
Travis slaps my bottom, shooting me a grin that sends shivers up my spine before walking toward his bandmates at the back of the plane while Reagan and I get comfortable.
Reagan leans in, her voice low. “I can’t get enough of him.
You’re going to have to live with the fact that I have wicked sex dreams about your boyfriend. ”
I shove her playfully, a giggle bubbling up from my throat. “I could give you just a touch of an idea what he’s like in bed.”
Reagan’s eyes widen with excitement. “Do tell, I need some actual visuals.”
I lean in and whisper things in her ear that aren’t fit for nearby ears.
She gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth and then bursting into a fit of fanning her face and sighing.
“What are you two gossiping about?” I spin around to see Travis leaning against the seat behind us, a devilish grin on his face.
My cheeks flush with heat, and Reagan sputters her drink.
“Can we have a little word, baby?” he asks, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down my spine.
Reagan squeaks and claps her hands together.
I grin up at him and stand, following him to the back room of the plane. It’s tiny, barely enough room for two people to sit. He shuts the door behind him and then presses me against the wall, his body hard against mine.
“You ought to be careful talking about me like that,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
“Oh, well, you shouldn’t be listening,” I whisper, my breath hitching.
“I like to know what you think...”
“Why?” I breathe, biting my lower lip.
“Because it makes me crazy hard,” he growls, thrusting his hips against my pelvis. I groan, my body responding to his touch.
“There’s no room,” I protest.
“Oh baby, we make room,” he insists, his voice a low rasp.