Chapter Sixteen
H e couldn’t believe how easy it was to convince Liz to move in with him. Logically, he knew it was only temporary, a place for her to crash until the Raiders dealt pain and vengeance to Oblek and his goons, but his heart wasn’t thinking logically. The woman he loved and the child they’d created, were going to be under his roof. With him. Where they should have been ten years ago. If he hadn’t fucked everything up.
Now was his shot, though, to right the wrongs of his past, and make up for all he’d missed since then.
That is, if Liz gave him a chance.
After asking Liz what she and Erika would need from her house, and then arguing about not letting her back there to pack for herself because she was basically crippled, and they didn’t know if the Russians were staking the place out, Trouble headed out, leaving Tessa to calm down the fuming Liz.
He snickered, unable to stop the grin the spread across his face. Mounting his bike, he pulled his cell from his back pocket.
“Yo,” Hawk answered. Hawk, as the club’s sergeant-at-arms, was in charge of keeping the brothers in line, watching out for club interests, and being muscle when necessary. “How’s the doc?”
Trouble chuckled, remembering the murder in Liz’s eyes when he asked her how she expected to pack her clothes when she couldn’t even pull up her own pants. “She’s pissed, as you’d expected, but she agreed for her and Erika to stay with me.”
“Bet you’re grinning like a fool right now,” Hawk remarked, humor in his voice.
Snorting, Trouble replied, “Whatever, fucker. I’m callin’ ‘cause I need you and Fae to head over to Liz’s place and grab whatever she and Erika might need for a few weeks.” With Erika in school, Hawk and Fae didn’t have to worry about bringing the little girl along to the place where her mother was attacked. Thankfully, they’d called in help with the cleaning the morning after the attack, so the place was spotless—no blood congealed on the kitchen floor. But the stank of Russian violence would forever taint the walls.
Hawk hummed thoughtfully. “Weeks? You really think it’ll take that long to deal with the Russians?”
Trouble closed his eyes and sighed. He hated that he even needed to think about the Russians, when all he wanted to think about and deal with was getting his woman back. Though, twisted as it was, he had the Russians to thank for bringing Liz back to where she belonged, and for introducing him, as it were, to his daughter.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I’m aiming for longer than a few weeks, if I’m honest. I want her and Erika in my place, settled, rooted.”
“I get it, brother, but I know you know it’s going to take more than a change of residence to get the doc to stop wanting to rip out your spine through your asshole.”
For a brother with an Ivy League education, Hawk could talk shit with the best of ‘em.
Trouble snorted again. “You’re right, I do know that, but this is the first step of many. I have a lot more to do before she even stops looking at me like she wants to murder me. But I think it might be easier with Erika around.”
“Yeah, she can’t kill you in front of the kid,” Hawk offered unhelpfully.
They talked for a few more minutes, Trouble unnecessarily reminding Hawk to be watchful, then they hung up, and Trouble started his bike.
Slipping the hair tie from around his wrist where he kept it for moments like this, he pulled his hair back into a man bun, something he knew the ladies appreciated—Amelia was always going on about his “luscious locks” and how sexy he looked with his hair pulled back. When he and Liz had been together, his hair was just growing past his ears. He hadn’t been out of the service long, and since he’d spent years buzzing his blond hair close to his head, he’d wanted to grow it out. Liz had loved running her fingers through his hair, and she especially loved pulling it when they were fucking. And for him, that bite of pain only heightened the ecstasy of the pleasure, a depth of pleasure he never experienced with any other woman.
Now, he couldn’t help how his chest puffed out a little at the memory of all the times he caught her looking at him when she came through the club. She couldn’t hide her interest in him, nor how she hated that she was still attracted to him. Sadly, in his ignorance and stupidity, he’d used that against her, pulling Amelia into his lap as a slap in the face. He told himself he was keeping Liz away, that he was making sure there were clear boundaries between them, so that the pain of the past couldn’t slither into their present. But that was fucking bullshit. He shoved Amelia in Liz’s face, not as a way to force boundaries, but because he was a fucking coward. He knew that if he let himself appreciate Liz’s attraction to him, if he let himself approach her, talk to her, be around her, that hunger for her that had gone unfed for ten years would erupt, and he’d never be able to contain it again.
He wanted Liz with every molecule of his being, but he’d hurt her, betrayed her, and he knew that if he allowed himself that sliver of hope that they could be together again, he’d have to explain to her just how fucked up he really was. All those months they’d been together, all those nights lying in bed next to one another, sharing about their lives…not once had he spoken a single word about his family. His life in Skimmer, Texas. Or his piece of shit father, and how he’d blown a motherfucking hole through the bastard’s chest. Liz knew their names, but that was it, and that’s how it would stay.
Fuck, he really was a coward. Put him in the desert with a hundred militant jihadists and he’d grin and probably get a woody. Put a gang of asshole thugs up against his club, and he’d mow down the motherfuckers with a smile on his face. No gun, no threat, no promise of death or violence ever made him hesitate. He was built to do damage—just like his pa—so he was violence, he was the threat, he was the promise of death. He lived and breathed calamity. But…put him in a bed beside the woman he loved, her begging him to open up, to share with her, her beautiful blue eyes yearning for true intimacy, and he devolved into a pool of boneless primordial goo. Spineless, brainless, and about as deep as the tip of a pinky finger.
Damn. His chest ached, a burning, throbbing low grade agony. It had been that way since that night. Booze dulled it, sex numbed it—for an hour or two—and sometimes fighting would ease it. But it was never gone. And now that Liz was in his life, in his keeping, the pain was still there, but it was manageable. He didn’t want to dull it, numb it, or ease it. He wanted to rid himself of the symptoms altogether, to heal the parts of his heart that were still jagged.
And he could only do that by making things right with Liz.
But first, he needed to deal with the motherfucking Russians.
Shaking off his thoughts, he kicked his bike into gear and headed out of the parking lot.
He needed to spend a few hours dealing with club business, but after that he’d head back to the hospital. Liz was healing well, and she was getting around better, and he wanted to see if she was feeling up to listening to him. He had a lot he wanted to—needed to—say to her, and she would have to listen, eventually. They could not live together for the next however long with the cloud of his past mistakes hanging over them.
He just hoped she was willing to give him a shot at being her man again.
And if everything failed, and she refused him that shot, he hoped she’d give him a chance to be a father to Erika. He refused to lose either of them, but he would be damned if he couldn’t be Erika’s father. Yeah, he realized what a hypocritical asshole that made him, after all the bullshit he spewed that night in the bar ten years ago, but he’d been lying out his ass. He hadn’t meant a word of that; he’d only said it because he knew Liz was listening, he knew those words would hit her where it would do the most damage—though he had no fucking idea she was actually pregnant, that she was already carrying his child. She’d taken those words at face value, disappeared, and raised his daughter with the mistaken idea that he wouldn’t want anything to do with his daughter.
His stomach rolling and bile rising, Trouble could barely keep himself from pulling over and puking into the scrub on the side of the road.
It took him longer than usual to get to the custom bike shop he managed for the club. They had a shipment of custom parts arriving that he wanted to inspect and sign off on so they could finish the two bikes some billionaire in Florida ordered for himself and his new wife.
Coming to a stop outside of Savage Custom Rides, he dismounted and headed inside, stopping on a dime to see Amelia sitting behind the reception desk, her gaze pinned to the door. Obviously, she was waiting for him to arrive, and since he’d ignored all her calls and didn’t read any of her texts, this was the only way she’d get his attention.
Fuck. He didn’t need this shit, not today, not now that Liz had agreed to move in with him. He wasn’t a goddamn idiot; he knew Amelia would pull the usual club girl shit and cause trouble between him and Liz because she saw him as hers—even though that was complete bullshit. But he thought he made shit clear that night in the club booth. He was done with her, and there was no going back.
Her perfectly made-up face complete with pouty lips lit up when she saw him.
Ah, fuck.
“Trouble!” Amelia called out, her voice that baby girl whine that never failed to make him wince. In her hurry to get to him, she hopped off the stool she was sitting on so clumsily, the top she was barely wearing barely kept her tits from popping out. Good thing the reception area was empty, ‘cause it only took one set of eyes to see, then one mouth to tell, and that telling would get to the club, and he just knew Liz would hear about Amelia showing up, wearing skimpy shit, at his place of work. No, he was nowhere near reconciling with Liz, but that was the end game, and that last fucking thing he needed were more obstacles in his way—and Amelia staking her claim, as she was doing by showing up at the club-owned garage—would only push Liz further away.
For not the first time in the last week, he wondered if the Stonecutters MC were looking for a new clubwhore. He’d send Amelia to Arizona, get her out of Vegas and away from him, and he’d not have that added anxiety, worrying what Amelia would do to fuck shit up with Liz, hanging over his head.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” Amelia cooed, coming around the desk to press herself against his stiff as a fucking board body. Slowly, he lifted his hands, gripped her arms, and pushed her away from him, putting two feet of space between them. “Trouble?” Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes glinting with anger and disbelief.
“What are you doing here, Amelia? I thought I made shit clear; you and I are done. Our arrangement, as loose as it was, it over. You can’t be comin’ ‘round my place of work uninvited.” He dropped his hands from her body, like his palms were on fire, then took a big step backward.
“Come on,” she purred, her lips in a curling smirk. “I know you were just putting on a show for Fang; I know you’re just saying we’re over because that bitch is threatening to keep the brat from you if you don’t make happy families with her.”
Twice.
Her words struck him twice .
That bitch ….
The brat ….
In a blink, he had Amelia’s throat in his grip, and he was leaning over her, nose to nose, growling into her shocked face.
“What did I say about you even speaking Liz’s name? And then you call my daughter— my fucking daughter —a brat?” he snarled, and her eyes widened, fear finally filling her muddy gaze. “If you were a man, I’d rip out your goddamn throat, but since you’re just a bitch, I’m going to give you one last chance to save yourself from having your ass kicked from the club.”
He could feel her swallow against his grip.
“T-Trouble…I…I did-didn’t mean…” she stuttered, choking on air. He wasn’t holding her hard enough, but just enough to get his point across.
“You did mean that shit, and that’s why you are banned from here.” He shoved her, and watched as she toppled against the reception desk, her hand flying to her throat. “I see you ‘round here again, I’ll simply forget you’re female and take care of you like I would any man who disrespects what belongs to me .”
At those last three words, he watched in utter disbelief, as Amelia’s expression morphed from fear to jealousy to downright belligerence.
What the fuck was the deal with this woman?
Shaking his head, he crossed his arms over his chest, and pinned her with a “don’t fuck with me” glare. “Get the fuck out of here, Amelia. And stay away from me, Liz, and Erika. We are off-limits to you—do you fucking understand me?” He was barely holding himself back from choking the fuck out of her, but the red marks already appearing on her neck, made something in his twist.
Red marks on her neck….
Mama…after his father got rough with her because she was two minutes late getting his dinner on the table. That had been one of the first times young Erik had noticed something was wrong in the Skaarsen household. He’d been just around six years old then—he grown up real quick after that, though.
Too quick.
Suddenly, breakfast revisited his throat, but he pushed it back down with a thick swallow. Fuck no, he was nothing like his fucking pa, but it was moments like this when his history of violence filled him with so much guilt, he was drowning in it.
Amelia was standing there, staring at him like he was a stranger, and he probably looked like one.
“Go on, get the fuck out. Don’t come here again,” he commanded, then turned and walked behind the reception desk to the door that led to his office. He could hear Amelia’s heels click-clacking away in a hurry, and once the door to the parking lot slammed closed, he heaved a sigh.
Shit.
What the fuck was that?
It took an hour longer than he’d planned to inspect and approve the parts shipment, and then finish payroll for the pay period, but once he was headed out of the office, his phone was to his ear, and he was calling Hawk.
“Yo,” the fucker answered, a tinge of humor in that one word. “We just the left the condo—I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling.”
“Yeah. You get everything my girls will need for a while?” he asked, throwing his leg over his bike and settling onto the seat. And fuck if saying “my girls” didn’t make his heart clench and a smile spread over his face. They were his girls , his loves, his everything. And he’d be damned if anyone got in the way of that.
He couldn’t wait to meet Erika officially. What would it be like to spend time with her? He bet she was smart—probably too smart, with a mama like Liz. Did she like to read? Did she draw? Did she like dolls? Shit, he had no idea what little girls liked, but he’d make it his mission in life to make sure his little girl had everything she needed to be happy.
He’d make sure his woman did, too. If she let him.
Immediately, his mind flew to thoughts of the fucking Russians. AFK was doing some not-so-legal digging on them and their operations in Vegas, and Grimm was using Savage Protection’s many resources and connections to find someone within the Bratva willing to work with the Raiders from the inside. A CI, who liked money and was willing to turn on Oblek. Finding a brother willing to turn on him shouldn’t be difficult; from what Trouble had heard of the man, Danil Oblek was a fucking psychotic bastard, who got his dick hard with blood and knife play on unwilling women.
Like fuck I’ll let that sick asshole anywhere near my girls.
“We packed two duffel bags, one box of toys and stuffies, and another box of the snack foods from the cupboard,” another voice answered, and Trouble smiled at Fae’s exuberant reply. Hawk must have had them on speakerphone.
“That doesn’t sound like a lot,” Trouble remarked, immediately wondering if his girls would need a trip the mall to grab what they were missing. He hated malls—the people, the noise, the lack of clear visibility, but what he hated now was the fact that they’d be out in the open where any Russian fuck could spot them and target them. Fuck no, the mall was out. They’d shop for whatever shit they needed online like Skathi did; Skathi hated malls more than he did.
“Then you try getting this shit in Fae’s baby car,” Hawk grumbled, and Trouble could hear Fae gasp.
“It’s not a baby car, it’s a Mini Cooper,” Fae fussed, making Trouble chuckle. Fae’s car was big enough for her since she was no larger than a pixie, but Hawk always complained when he had to ride in it because he was a massive fucker.
Trouble snickered, picturing Hawk, the fuck, squeezing his big ass into the tiny car.
“I can hear you laughing, asshole. That’s the last time I do you a favor,” Hawk grumbled, and Fae giggled. Trouble’s smile faltered. Hawk and Fae didn’t have such a great beginning, not with the way Hawk fucked it up by basically dry humping Fae’s stepsister, favoring the pretty but bitchy blonde over Fae. Eventually, though, Hawk pulled his head out of his ass—after Fae was kidnapped by a stalker—and got his girl. There was some groveling involved, and some ass kissing, but Hawk triumphed, won Fae, and now they were the perfect fucking couple.
Fuck, he wanted that with Liz.
You had that, motherfucker, then you shit all over it.
Gritting his teeth, he told Hawk to take the girl’s stuff to his place, then hung up. He needed to get back to the hospital.
Starting his bike, Trouble didn’t fail to notice the black sedan idling across the street, two men inside.
Shit.
Those Russians sure were bold fuckers. Broad daylight, out in the open, not even trying to hide the fact that they were watching him, following him.
Dammit, he couldn’t go to the hospital yet, not if those goons were going to follow him there. Chances were, though, Oblek already knew Liz was there, and he had eyes on the place. Probably even someone inside feeding them information. Which meant that Oblek had to know that Liz was under Savage Raiders’ protection, and she was going into lockdown once she was discharged.
Trouble heaved a sigh, lifting his chin to the bastards in the sedan, before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street. He would lose the Russians on side roads, then head to the hospital to put eyes on Liz. He couldn’t wait until she was out of that room, where any fuck could get to her. Sure, there was always a brother on the floor, watching for trouble, but if Oblek had a nurse or doctor in his pocket, a brother wouldn’t know to stop them from going into the room to hurt the supremely vulnerable Liz. Thank fucking Christ he’d gone all out with security on his place, and he’d have brothers taking shifts when he was gone, making sure his girls were safe at all times.
Things were complicated as hell, but he’d do whatever it took to keep his woman and their daughter safe, and once the Russians were dealt with, he’d lay siege to Liz’s heart, going all out to win back the woman he loved—because he was a Savage Raider, a savage man with a savage heart, and it belonged to Skizzy.