Chapter 13
“WASTE” KXLLSWXTCH
A fter cleaning up and changing my clothes, I meet up with my friends at Susana’s. The restaurant closed hours ago, leaving the parking lot empty aside from the two familiar motorcycles. Hawk and Aiden—who are still sporting their helmets—turn as I slow to a stop.
I switch off the engine and knock the kickstand down.
It barely touches the ground before Hawk storms toward me.
He shoves his tinted visor up, exposing his narrowed eyes.
“I should kick your ass for making us wait hours to learn what the hell you meant by keeping our eyes peeled . The fuck is going on, bro?”
I dismount my Suzuki and flip my visor so I don’t have to yell for him to hear me. “Someone’s been watching us.”
Hawk freezes.
“Who?” Aiden says. He stalks to Hawk’s side and folds his arms over his chest.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Otherwise, I would have given you a name.”
“Tell us everything,” Hawk says.
“Jerry got word about Mickey’s death. There’s no way information can travel that fast in just a few hours. Someone was watching.” I purposely leave out the details about Jerry’s plan to punish me for Mickey’s death. It’s not a burden I want to put on them. Besides, I can handle it on my own.
Hawk’s shoulders stiffen.
“The fuck?” Aiden snarls. “I didn’t see anyone at Jaxon’s place while waiting for you and Hawk.”
“There weren’t any fucking cars,” Hawk says. “They would have to be stupid to walk into our neighborhood.”
“What about the cameras?” I ask.
“I’ll check.” Hawk fishes his phone out of his riding jacket and taps the screen with his gloved finger.
Aiden winces.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that look for, Aiden?”
He chuckles and rubs the back of his helmet. “I may have forgotten to set up the cameras by Jaxon’s house.”
Hawk sighs and lowers his phone as he looks past me with blank eyes. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Aiden throws his hands in the air and drops them to his sides. “I got distracted, and it slipped my mind. Shit happens.”
Hawk turns to Aiden and shoves a finger in his direction. “Forgetting to bring beer to a bonfire is a shit-happens moment. This is different, bro.”
“No one’s dead,” Aiden says. “Don’t put that shit on me.”
“Dahlia and Jax almost died this morning!” Hawk invades Aiden’s personal space, his stiff shoulders raised enough to brush against the underside of his helmet.
I step toward them and reach out to yank Hawk away from Aiden. Hawk shrugs off my hand and pushes closer to Aiden. The switch in his mood is concerning. He’s good at holding it together, so I’m not sure what’s going on, but whatever it is, Aiden doesn’t deserve to be the punching bag.
“I want to bitch-smack you so fucking bad, I swear to god.” Hawk raises his gloved hand and curls his fingers into a tight fist.
“Do it!” Aiden closes the tiny gap between them, and their helmets clash. “If it makes you feel better, then do it.”
Hawk steps back and swings at the same time. His fist crashes against the side of Aiden’s helmet. Aiden stumbles to the side, and laughter spills out of him.
“This isn’t funny, man!” Hawk roars.
Aiden shakes his head and straightens, his laughter softening. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
“Then quit fucking laughing!” Hawk shoves Aiden. “They could have died!”
“I know!” Aiden yells, his voice catching. Pain flares in his eyes.
I shove myself between them and hold Hawk back from attacking Aiden again. Hawk’s chest and shoulders rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths as he scowls at me.
“Check the other camera angles,” I say. “See if you can find anyone sneaking around, but don’t take this out on Aiden.”
The look in his eyes raises warning flags.
He wants to punch me next. At the very least, he’s considering it.
We all deal with anger issues, thanks to our fucked-up pasts, but Hawk keeps his bottled up.
He’s a loaded gun with a hairpin trigger.
I’ve seen him explode once, and the unfortunate asshole he let loose on almost didn’t make it out alive.
A motorcycle’s scream from down the road breaks through the tense silence. Hawk shakes me off and stalks away to put a generous amount of space between us. While he paces near the restaurant’s front doors, he taps at his phone’s screen, probably investigating the other camera angles.
“I’m sorry,” Aiden mumbles.
I turn to him and cup the sides of his helmet, forcing him to look at me, but he keeps his eyes downcast and refuses to meet my stare. His happy-go-lucky attitude is gone, replaced by defeat.
“It’s not your fault, okay?” I say.
Aiden nods.
I jerk him closer by the helmet, forcing him to look at me. “Mickey was going to attack them no matter what. We’ll catch the person who ran to the Kings. We’ll take care of them.”
Aiden grabs my wrists and clings to me. His vulnerability twists the organ inside my chest as he swallows hard and nods. “Yeah.”
The motorcycle’s screams get louder until Jaxon pulls into the parking lot and stops three feet from us. Hawk peeks over his shoulder, then turns back to his phone. Jaxon parks and dismounts from the seat.
I cock my head. He didn’t bring Dahlia with him.
Jaxon shoves his visor up as he strides toward us, sparing a glance at Hawk. Aiden releases me and steps back. I let my arms drop to my sides, and I watch Aiden carefully as he waves at Jaxon.
“Hey, man.” In a blink, the despair in Aiden’s gaze disappears. He forces cheer into his voice, and life returns to his eyes.
Jaxon nods in greeting. “We riding?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But did you, by chance, see anyone else hanging around your house when Mickey was there?”
“No.” He looks between Aiden and me. “Someone else was there?”
I give Jaxon the same quick rundown. Anger leaches into his gaze, but his posture remains loose, as if he’s not upset at hearing this news.
“I’ll look at the video feed,” he says.
“Hawk is looking at all the cameras placed around the neighborhood. There aren’t any by your house,” I say.
Aiden’s cheery mask slips.
Jaxon shakes his head. “I set up cameras a while ago as a precaution.” He glances at Aiden in understanding, then turns to me again. “Give me a day, and I’ll see what I can find.”
I nod. “Until then, we should be on the lookout for any shadows.”
“Thank fuck for your obsession with Dahlia,” Aiden breathes. He slaps his gloved palm on his chest over his heart. “I thought I fucked up.”
Jaxon shrugs. “You didn’t fuck up.”
Aiden sucks in a calming breath and releases it in a heavy sigh.
I nod and pat his shoulder. The pure relief in his gaze is enough to make my insides relax.
I wasn’t mad at him because I know firsthand that shit can happen, but Aiden took it hard.
If Mickey had hurt or killed Jaxon and Dahlia, Aiden would have carried the burden to his grave.
We part ways and head toward our bikes. I’ve been dying to ride with them so I can clear my head. After the shit that’s been happening the last few days—not just physically, but mentally—it’s needed.
Hawk strides toward his bike, then changes direction at the last second.
He stops beside Aiden and says something I can’t hear over the engines.
Whatever he says is brief, but it’s enough to make the latter’s posture more relaxed.
They playfully swat each other before Hawk rushes to his bike and mounts it.
I take the lead and ride out of the parking lot with the others following close behind. Once on the main street, I gain speed and fly down the empty road. Wind lashes me, and the familiar stomach-drop feeling is enough to chase away the numbness I’ve been dealing with since I was a kid.
The only time I feel alive is when I ride. The adrenaline pumps through my veins until it’s almost unbearable. I feel so much. If someone were to examine my head, they’d find how much I love chasing a high that drugs can’t touch.
Despite knowing the rope can snap or the parachute might not deploy, people still bungee jump and skydive.
They’re all chasing the exhilarating feeling of death on the horizon.
The same can be said for riding a sports motorcycle.
A car could hit me, or my tires might blow out and toss me from the bike.
I could lose control while going well over one hundred miles per hour.
Shit, I could accidentally hit a pothole, go flying, and become a goddamn pancake.
That’s why I do it. The constant threat of death gives me the adrenaline rush I crave. It makes me feel so fucking alive.
Madison . . . She does the same thing for me .
The realization hits me, and I nearly lose my balance as I turn onto another street.
What happened earlier tonight is perplexing.
No woman has ever given me the same thrill.
Spanking her and briefly touching her brought the same adrenaline and endorphins, not just because she’s my sister, but because she’s off-limits.
Madison is engaged to another man. Her father would kill her, then me, faster than I can blink if he found out I touched his daughter.
She’s your sister.
And that’s part of the reason why I loved touching her, and for years jacking off to the thought of fucking her. I’m fucked in the head because of it. It’s like placing candy in front of a toddler and demanding they not touch it.
I mentally shake away the thoughts and focus on riding.
It’s three in the morning by the time I return to Jerry’s house.
As I sit outside after cutting the engine, I tip back my head and aim my tinted visor toward the night sky.
I close my eyes and focus on breathing. The high from riding is already fading, allowing room for the numbness to spread through my body until I can’t feel anything anymore.
I prefer staying right where I am for the time being. As much as I want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, I don’t enjoy being anywhere near Jerry. His presence is a toxic gas that clings to every corner of the home.
It doesn’t help that Madison lives here as well.
The ghost of her soft skin and the burn in my palm from spanking her choose this moment to return. Her screams and pathetic whimpers echo in my mind. It’s a direct shot of lust straight to my veins.
I mutter a curse. I have more important shit to focus on, like who the hell was watching Jaxon kill Mickey and how I can take care of them without the Exiled society coming for my head.
But no. I’m stuck on my stepsister and the burning need to feel more of her.
To hear more of the needy sounds she makes when she’s turned on.
I barely register getting off my motorcycle and walking into the house. All the main lights are off, except for a small lamp in the living room. The place is quiet while everyone sleeps, so my heavy footsteps are louder in my ears.
I blink and I’m standing at Madison’s bedside.
She’s fast asleep, curled on her side beneath the duvet.
One long leg pokes outside of the blanket, with the comforter tucked between her thick thighs.
It’s fucked up how jealous I am of that damn blanket, wishing it was my head locked within her warmth.
My cock jerks as I gaze at her curves. Her silk shorts barely cover the bottom of her ass—a temptation that’s almost too hard for me to resist.
How did a girl like her worm past all my defenses?
How was she able to get under my skin and stay there this whole time?
I’ve worked so hard to shut people out. I did everything I could to close off my emotions, and yet this little bitch gets a rise out of me every single time, especially when she shows me she cares about me.
Why does she have to be Jerry’s daughter? Why did she have to be friends with those assholes in high school? To this day, I still don’t know if she told me the truth about hating Mickey when I was twelve and developed the crush on her.
Why, despite all of that, do I still want her?
I reach out and ghost my gloved fingers along her thigh, toward the bottom of her ass cheek. I pause as Madison shifts and her full lips part with a tiny sigh.
My hand balls into a tight fist.
I cock my head as my fingertips creep beneath the hem of her shorts. My riding gloves prevent me from feeling her smooth skin and warmth, but also from determining if she’s wearing underwear.
A tiny whimper spills out of Madison as I slide my fingers between her ass cheeks.
It’s been driving me wild, knowing she had a butt plug in her earlier.
I’m dying to know if she still has it in.
I don’t think she’d sleep with a toy inside her, but I also don’t know what my sister does behind closed doors.
I pause and draw my hand out of her shorts.
She’s my sister.
What the fuck am I doing? It’s one thing to fantasize. It’s another to delve into those fantasies.
My fingers curl into tight fists by my sides as I glare at Madison. Once again, she makes me act on my desires when I know I’ll only end up hurting her.
I rush out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Once I’m outside in the backyard, I hurry to my room, throw my helmet on the floor, and change into something more comfortable. The only way I can work through these feelings and fight back the urge to return to her room is to lift weights.
These desires for Madison will pass. It’ll become manageable once I’m out from under Jerry’s thumb. I don’t even know why he wants me here. There’s something up his sleeve, and he needs me here for it, but I don’t know if I can wait until the next Hellfire Night to kill Jerry.
Not if I have to be under the same roof as Madison. She’s the thrill I’ve been dying for, and I’m about to jump without a parachute.