Chapter 1
LYRIC
PRESENT DAY…
“Yo, Lyric!”
My best friend’s voice penetrates the music I have blaring in my room as I get ready, and I grab the remote to turn down the sound system. Once it’s quiet, I turn and face Zombie, who’s standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.
“What?” I snap at my VP.
He holds up his cell. “You’ve got a call.”
I stride across the room and snatch the phone from his hand. “This better be good,” I say by way of greeting.
“Is that any way to talk to your soon-to-be old lady?”
Mellie’s sharp tone cuts like a knife, and I love it. Fuck, I love her. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”
She sighs. “I tried to call your cell, but I’m guessing you’ve got your music up too loud to hear it.”
I grab my own device from my dresser, and sure enough, there are three missed calls from her. “Sorry.” Zombie chuckles, and I glare at him. “Is everything okay?” I ask Mellie.
“I’m gonna be marrying you in two hours,” she says sweetly. “Of course, everything is fine. But…”
“But what?”
“My car won’t start.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, mentally biting my tongue so I don’t say the one thing guaranteed to piss her off: Told ya so.
“Okay, no worries. I’ll have Rowdy pick you up.”
My dad, the former president of our club, stepped down shortly after his accident seven years ago.
Unfortunately, the wreck claimed his left leg, and riding a motorcycle became almost impossible.
Of course, he can ride because he has a prosthetic leg, but he’s stubborn as fuck and tends to choose his Jeep over his Harley.
“Thanks,” Mellie says with a sigh of relief.
“So, was staying at the hotel worth it?” I ask, unable to resist teasing her.
“It’s tradition for the bride and groom not to be together the night before the wedding,” she argues.
“It’s also tradition not to fuck before marriage.”
“Oh, shit,” Zombie mutters.
“Heath ‘Lyric’ Jenkins,” she scolds, and I know when she combines my legal and road names, she’s about to lay into me. “I would’ve been content to save myself, but we both know—”
“That you can’t keep that delicious pussy away from me,” I state darkly, my cock hardening behind my fly.
Again, she sighs, and I can’t wait to hear her do that beneath me later tonight.
“Tell Rowdy to text me when he gets here,” Mellie states, and I’m guessing she needs the subject change as much as I do. “I’ll meet him downstairs. No point in him coming inside.”
“Will do, baby.”
“I love you, Lyric.”
“Love you, too.”
I disconnect the call and toss the cell at Zombie. He catches it easily and smirks. “Want me to pass along the message to Rowdy that he’s on pickup duty?”
“Yeah.” I thrust a hand through my hair, mussing it up. “Can you believe she thought staying apart last night would be a good thing?”
“You’re just grumpy because you didn’t get laid.”
I chuckle. “Good point. But fuck, brother… I’m desperate for Mellie every single day. From the first time I sank into her cunt, I can’t get enough.”
I would’ve had her on prom night, but one phone call changed my life forever.
Hell, it changed hers, too, and everyone else in my life.
When I got the call from Copper that my dad had been taken out by a semi, I thought for sure I’d lost him forever.
I guess, in a way, I did because he’s never been the same.
“And on that note,” Zombie begins, turning around. “I’m outta here. I’ll come get ya when it’s time.”
“Thanks, Z.”
Once I’m alone again, I let my mind wander.
When Rowdy stepped down, I’d still been seventeen.
That didn’t seem to matter to the club, though, because he nominated me as his successor, with the approval of Big Daddy, the president of the mother chapter, and my brothers voted me in.
I would’ve started prospecting at eighteen, but life had other plans.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored to be the president of the Washington chapter of the Kings of Anarchy MC, but sometimes I wonder if I missed out on experiences that would make me better. That being said, the only thing I’d give for things to be different would be for my dad to have his leg back.
Through it all, Mellie’s been there. She’s not just my best friend, she’s my rock. Without her, I’d have fallen so far off the cliff of despair that I’d be unrecognizable. When I asked her to be my old lady, she probably should’ve run in the other direction, but she didn’t.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see my dad leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey, old man,” I greet with a grin.
“Who you callin’ old?” he snaps back. “I may be a cripple, but I ain’t fuckin’ old.”
I roll my eyes at his argument. He knows I hate it when he calls himself that, which is why he does it. Rowdy is nothing if not antagonistic, especially with me.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
“Yeah. What hotel is Mel at?”
I snort. “What do you think?”
Dad grins. “The most expensive one in town, no doubt.”
“You got it,” I confirm. “Nothing but the best for my girl.”
I might have thought us staying apart last night was ridiculous, but when it comes to Mellie, I can’t say no. Not only does she make it impossible, I don’t fucking want to. I’d give my life for her, so why not give her the world, too?
Fully expecting Rowdy to turn around and leave, I’m surprised when he pushes off the wall and steps closer to me.
“I’m proud of you, Lyric,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“Fucking hell, you’re just going across town,” I tease.
“I know, but…” He scratches his head.
“But what?”
“It’s your wedding day, Son. Feels like some profound shit should be said.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Since when are either of us profound?”
“You know what I mean.”
Sobering, I nod. “Yeah, I do. And yes, Dad, I know you’re proud of me.”
He nods absently. “Good. That’s good.”
When he turns around to leave, I reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder to stop him. He glances over his shoulder, brows arched.
“What?”
That’s a good fucking question.
Rowdy and I have never been the type of father and son who go all emotional with each other, but when he gave me his back, a cold sense of dread washed over me, like someone was dancing on my grave.
The lyrics of “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by Blue ?yster Cult filter into my mind.
Here one minute, gone the next.
“Love you, old man,” I finally say, shaking off the negativity.
“You, too… Pres.”