Chapter 10
TEN
DECLAN
The blinking cursor on my phone’s screen seems to mock me as I stare at the text I drafted over twenty minutes ago. It's as if the phone itself is questioning whether I should really be doing this—asking for help from the one man who represents everything fucked up from my past. The irony of this situation, where I’m all but forced to ask for help from the very person who denied me aid all those years ago, is not lost on me.
I don’t know if there is a God, but if there is, I decided a long time ago that He was a dick with a warped sense of humor. Only a sick son of a bitch would put me in a situation where I’m all but forced to rely on those who once betrayed me to save a woman who should have nothing to do with me.
Yes, a cruel God indeed would make me ask the darkness from my past to save the girl I can’t have. The girl who still lingers within the fibers of my vest, making me salivate for just one more taste. The essence of her is so overwhelming that I couldn’t even bring myself to wear it after finding it this morning; instead, I placed it on the chair across the table from me.
I stare at it now, the slick worn leather I couldn’t bear to part with even after the sleeve was burned beyond repair. As if my subconscious needed a reminder of that day, I decided to simply cut the sleeves off so I could still keep and wear the garment. The logo embroidered on the back returns my stare as if peering into my very soul, the depicted hellfire consuming my being.
For a long time, The Insidious Seven patch was a symbol woven with great importance for me. That flaming skull with razor-sharp teeth was more than the mark of The Seven. It served as a reminder of my freedom - freedom from my family, my forced obligations, freedom from every blood-soaked memory of the past. But now I can hardly look at it. I feel as though I’ve sullied that freedom with my lack of self-discipline.
It was hanging on my doorknob when I finally came out of my room earlier. Discarded there by a woman who’s probably completely disgusted by how I acted only a few hours ago. Repulsed by the depraved things I did to her, the things I called her.
Except, even as I contemplate her being revolted by what I’d done, I struggle to fully convince myself of the fact. The way she responded to my touch and my demands was not done by someone who detested the things being done to her. Even if her lips never uttered the words, her body told me everything I needed to know. The silent language only bodies speak begged me to keep going, to never stop.
Even now, I’m baffled by the fact that I was able to tear myself away from her. All I wanted to do was bury myself so deeply within her soft body that I’d forget everything. Who I am, who she is, the imminent danger that lurks behind every corner. I wanted to forget it all.
But because of Alana’s memory, I was able to pull myself away from her before I tarnished everything good within her, before I ruined my friendship with her brother, and caused a rift between my brothers and myself. Because that’s ultimately where this would lead.
If I let all my primal urges flood to the surface, if I fucked Sofee like I wanted to, Liam would never forgive me for sullying his sister. And because he would never forgive my actions, I would no longer have a place within the MC’s fold.
Liam is the club's VP and has been a member of The Insidious longer than me. He’s a man who never needs to demand respect from any of us; he simply receives it. Partially because he’s a great leader, but mostly because he is a damn good brother. And if it ever came to a choice between him and me, I know who would be the one left in the dark. It’s no less than I deserve, after all.
My place in this world has been tremulous at best since the day I was born. I’m not the firstborn, so I found no future among the Morelli dynasty. I hated everything we fought for, so I never would’ve found my place as an Underboss. I thought I’d found my place beside Alana, but she was just the first visual representation of what being with me looks like.
When I found The Seven, I thought I was done searching for my place. I’d discovered this brotherhood that not only accepted my past, but embraced me despite it, because of it. We all have our reasons for joining the MC; all of us have dark shit we’re running from. We’re a unified group of misfits. But if I were to take advantage of the VP’s little sister, well, let’s just say I would no longer be welcome in this family either.
And that’s why I have to send this text. This is why I have to work with the monsters of my past so I don’t ruin her fucking future. The faster we catch Matteo, the faster I can get Sofee away from me. As long as he’s around, she will need to be watched. And now that I’ve defiled her, I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to look after her again.
The glaringly obvious fact is that we need to work with Romeo. He has the info we need, and I have to shove all this bad blood down to get the job done.
I slowly inhale and glance over the one word on my screen once again. I couldn’t bear to type anymore as I swallowed my pride while pecking out each letter. Nothing more is needed anyway; I know Rome will understand my demand without question.
Talk.
I hover my thumb over the little green button that could either save me or damn me forever this time. Both of which are viable outcomes. Releasing my breath in a harsh exhale, I push the button with false determination and wait. Almost immediately, my phone buzzes in my hand with his response.
On my way.
I toss my phone onto the table in front of me and grab the bottle of Jack. An empty glass sits before me, but I ignore it as I bring the bottle straight to my lips. Tossing it back, I gulp down a mouthful of the spiced whiskey and relish the burn before taking another. Warmth coats my throat all the way down to my stomach as I place the bottle back on the table.
I had taken the full bottle from the shelf when I snuck out of my room and came down to the bar a couple of hours ago. The craving for the smoky liquor was the sole reason I had risked seeing her again so soon. The need to find the bottom of this fucking bottle was more powerful than my desire to hide in shame for the rest of the day.
It was pathetic, the way I slowly opened my door and listened for any signs of movement behind the door across from mine. I scoff at myself and flick the phone around in a circle on the tabletop. I’m a grown-ass man, capable and willing to commit truly heinous crimes against humanity. And she’s just one small female out of many who I’ve seen in such an intimate setting. Although, something was extremely different about it being her instead of some random woman. Witnessing her melt under my ministrations felt like returning home after wandering the streets for centuries. It felt like she belonged exactly where she was, under my harsh demands and roughened grasp.
But the thought of facing her again has me wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole. I hate to even admit it, but I’m afraid of the way she’ll look at me now. The repercussions of my actions can only end in one of two ways.
One, she could come looking for more. The way she responded to my touch early this morning makes me think that she liked what I was doing to her and how I was demeaning her. And now that she’s had a little taste of the dark desperation I evoke within her, she could assume I want more and come seek me out for more perverted delights.
Or two, she could decide she wants nothing more to do with me. After all, what woman would want to share something so intimate with someone just to be abandoned right after? She could take my running away as a sign that I never really wanted her in the first place. The possibility of her thinking I did this just to be cruel, is a huge player in this outcome. And honestly, it would be best if that’s what she thought.
If she saw me as nothing more than a sleazeball who assaulted and humiliated her in a moment of vulnerability, I should be patting myself on the back. She shouldn’t ever want to be around me again, so I won. Won the battle that I fight daily to ensure that she hates my fucking guts.
So if I won, then why do I feel like such a goddamn loser?
I can’t even convince myself anymore that the second outcome is something I want. Somewhere down the line, I lost track of why I wanted her to hate me. I forgot why I needed her to stay away. And now the thought of her hating me forever makes me feel like I’m being stabbed in the chest. There’s a gaping hole inside my soul that weeps at the possibility of Sofee actually despising me.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” I groan and slouch back in my seat. Tossing my arm over my eyes, I don’t see anyone coming down the stairs until I hear a deep chuckle.
“Little early to be brooding, don’t you think?” Coop's baritone voice has me sitting a little taller as I remove my arm from my eyes. Blinking rapidly, I hide my weariness as he walks closer to me. I watch him as he steps up to the table and grabs the bottle of Jack before pulling a chair out for himself.
He smoothly slides into the seat next to me, his gray eyes shifting between the bottle in his hand and my vest hanging on the seat in front of me. He quirks a dark eyebrow but says nothing as he pours a couple of fingers of whiskey into the glass that sits unused in front of me.
“Next, you’re going to tell me it’s too early for a drink?” I grumble toward him. His lips twitch with a grin before he pulls the glass of Jack to his lips and downs the drink with a single gulp.
“It’s never too early for a drink, brother.” He licks his lips before placing the empty glass back in front of me. Without uttering a word, he turns to face me, but I can hear his unspoken questions as if he were shouting them.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, avoiding his inquisitive stare as I grab the bottle again. He laughs as I take a deep pull before looking back at him. He’s full-on smiling now as he responds.
“Okay, we can talk about me if you want. I’m getting ready to start some grub for lunch. Maxine asked me to teach her how to cook, so I was gonna get some shit prepped before she gets down here,” he says, then glances me up and down. His quiet assessment has a growl building at the back of my throat that I dare not express.
Cooper is the biggest fucker I’ve ever met. He’s as stacked as any bodybuilder but still has a slight softness around his midsection. Some may say the softness in his belly gives him a “dad bod” but God help the man that calls him chubby. He’s a gentle giant, but I've witnessed him take down many men who underestimated his strength. They were gravely mistaken, just as I would be if I tried to pick a fight with him.
So instead, I reach for the bottle again, wondering if I’ll find the bottom before Rome gets here. But before I can even lift it from the table, Coop swipes it from my hand. I blink rapidly as I watch him pour another glass before placing the half-empty bottle on the table beside him, out of my reach.
I sigh and let my hand fall to the table with an audible smack . He eyes me as he brings the glass to his lips. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks into the glass before sipping the rich whiskey.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to talk about,”
Coop’s shoulders bounce as he chuckles, as if I told some great joke, when in reality, the only joke here is me. He places his glass on the table before his gray eyes bore into mine.
“Really? Not even about what happened with Sofee this morning?”
I suck in a sharp breath and sit up straight. The low roaring in my ears becomes impossibly loud as I stumble over my words, searching for the right ones to say. “I don’t— How did— What?—”
“You remember when Liam and Tatum got back together?” he asks, and I feel all the blood rush from my face. He’s referring to the night after Ace caught Tatum sneaking around a receiving port Antonio Pelosi was using for his nefarious activities. Ace knocked her out and brought her back here for questioning. Questioning that ended with Liam fucking her all night, ensuring that all of us heard through the walls.
Garbled gibberish spills from my mouth as a way of defending myself before Cooper waves his hand at me, silencing my denials.
“I’m the only one who heard anything. I was up and heading back to my apartment. I walked just past her door when I heard both of you. Though, I didn’t need to catch you two to know that was inevitably going to happen,” he relays with a softness in his eyes I have never seen.
Without bothering to defend myself against his accusations, I relent. What’s the point of fighting? I’ve been caught red-handed.
“It was a mistake,” I say quickly, studying him. He doesn’t move, simply holds his gaze steady with mine and purses his lips ever so slightly. He spins the glass against the table, swirling the liquid inside. “It’ll never happen again,” I promise even as my soul thrashes in opposition. My heart is racing in my chest so hard I can hear it in my ears. His sitting there saying nothing at all has me panicking in a way I haven’t felt since the day of the fire. “Are you going to tell Li?” I finally ask the only question that matters.
His brows furrow in the center as he stops spinning his glass. “Would that be a bad thing if I did?” he asks.
I nod my head furiously. “Yes, it would be a very bad thing,” I rush to say.
He releases his mostly untouched glass and leans forward, placing his forearms against his thighs as he faces me completely. “Why?”
Why? Isn’t it obvious?
I huff a laugh, but it holds no humor as I lean back in my seat. A weariness I’ve never felt before falls over my eyes, making the lids extremely heavy. I drag my hand over them before threading my fingers into my hair, brushing it back away from my face. “Somehow I don’t think Liam will like the idea of his so-called best friend defiling his perfect little sister,” I growl at no one and return my gaze to Coop. “He has spent most of his life keeping her away from truly horrendous realities; there’s no way he would be okay with me introducing her to them. Liam knows I’m not good for her,” I admit.
Coop stares at me for long moments, saying nothing. The crease between his brows only seems to deepen as he studies me. And just when I think he’ll never speak again, he moves much quicker than a guy his size should be able to and punches me in my bicep with a quick jab. Pain flares and radiates up to my shoulder like a million zaps of electricity, causing me to wince and flinch away from him.
“Fuck,” I groan under my breath and grab my now dead arm, cradling it to my side. Even when Coop isn’t angry, his punches feel like his fist is made of solid concrete.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls.
“I know!” I shout. “I know, I fucked up. I lost control.”
His scowl deepens, and I lean as far away from him as I can before he can hit me again. “No, not that, you dumbass,” he growls. When I frown, he continues. “Why do you think going after Sofee is a bad idea?”
His words make me balk. Out of all the things he could have said, I didn’t expect those words to pass his lips. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off at the pass.
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her when you think nobody is watching? You look at her the same way she looks at you. And I, for one, am tired of you sulking around like a miserable cow, thinking you’re not good enough for anything,” he says, shocking me further.
“You don’t get it, my past is?—”
“You’re past is what?” he cuts me off again. “Dark? Full of skeletons? So fucking what? We all have shit in our pasts that we don’t want others to see, but at the end of the day, none of that shit matters.” His jaw clenches tightly as he finishes speaking.
I try to pull my gaze away from him, but he follows my line of sight, forcing me to look at him without words. “What are you so afraid of?” he asks.
Emotion clogs my throat as I stare at my friend. I’ve only ever told Liam about Alana, and only after I was drooling drunk. I don’t know if I have the stomach to confess my mistakes all over again. “I’m not… good,” I manage with a raspy voice and swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m not good, but she is. She is so fucking good and I will destroy that. Everything good I’ve ever had has been taken from me, so why should she be any different?”
My chest heaves as I stare at him, trying to make him see reason. “There was a woman,” I blink rapidly to dispel the visions of blood trickling to the ground from my mind. “And she—she got hurt. I watched my father hurt her in front of me just because she had the wild notion to love me. He killed her in front of me to prove that nothing good would ever come from being with me.” My voice wobbles as I hesitate to speak my truth. “She died because of me.”
Coop says nothing for a long moment while I meet his searing gaze with one of my own. I don’t understand why I feel such a strong compulsion to make him agree with me. It's as if convincing him that I’m damaged goods would solidify what I’ve always known to be true.
When he finally leans back and crosses his arms in front of his giant chest, I think I’ve gotten my point across. Until he opens his mouth. “Sounds like you're trying to answer for the sins of your father and not your own.”
I recoil from his accusation. “She only died because she was with me,” I blurt quickly. Coop rolls his eyes in a way that tells me I’m not going to like what he says next.
“So, are you supposed to roll over and die with her?” His words are spoken without malice or sympathy. He poses the question as if it were simple. "You can get pissy with me for saying this, but the world kept moving. After your girl died, you survived. What do you think she would say if she could see you now? If she could see that you're allowing your dead, sociopathic father to win. You would rather let him steal all your joy and control your life, even from beyond the grave, than grasp onto something real? Something that is right in front of you, but you’re too goddamn stupid to take it before she wises up and leaves. Because believe me, brother, she’ll eventually give up on you. She’s the kind of woman who knows her worth and won’t put up with your shit for long. And then where will you be? Sitting here in this fucking bar, drinking alone. A shell of a man with nothing to cling to except his shitty past and regrets.”
I fight to catch my breath as if his words have stolen all the air in the room. I’m stunned into complete silence as I reel with what to say next. But before I can think of anything to defend myself against the truth bomb he just dropped, the front entrance to the bar dings open.
My wide-eyed stare shifts from Coop to the front door as Romeo steps inside, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Cooper redirects his attention to the outsider before rising from the table. He picks up my discarded vest from the seat across from me before thrusting it my way. I numbly wrap my hand around the thick leather that smells of rose petals. As he lets go, he speaks once more.
“Are you always going to let your past define the man you are today?” he asks softly, making it clear that his words are intended for my ears only. Without saying anything else, he turns and heads toward the kitchen. I can do nothing more than stare at the symbol on my vest until I hear the sound of him pushing through the kitchen door.
Sliding away from the table, I stand as if on autopilot. Without thinking, I pull the sweet-smelling leather up my arms and settle the heavy garment over my shoulders. I resist the urge to close my eyes as her scent surrounds me. I’ll only see memories of her begging for more of my sweet torture if I do.
Walking on numb feet, I stalk toward my twin. “Let’s go,” I murmur and don’t slow my gait as I push out the door into the bright daylight, my past hot on my heels.