11. Vani
11
VANI
I ’m anxious about coming across any of my father’s men, the Jackal Riders MC.
It’s not that I don’t want to see them—or my dad—but the huge, silent man positioned behind me brings a whole heap of complications. Perhaps it would have been better for me to come alone, but I know Zane and Saint would never have agreed to it.
Besides, it’s not as though I’m a child. I’m a grown woman now, and my dad needs to accept that. He still sees me as a little girl, a projection of himself, rather than an independent person with her own thoughts and desires. It’s about time he understands I’m not prepared to spend the rest of my life alone just to keep his image of me as his perfect princess alive.
None of the four of us can escape the fact that our families are all hugely powerful, and filled with influential people, but we still need to be given the breathing space to learn who we are on our own.
My stomach churns with a combination of nerves and anticipation. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again, but I’m anxious about what the reaction is going to be when I inform them about the reason for my visit. I’m also worried about what their reaction is going to be to Zane.
I’m also horribly turned on and hyperaware of the damn plug in my ass. It’s not just the fact that the vibrations of the engine make it a never-ending torture riding the bike with it in me. It’s the fact that whenever I become aware of it, I think about Saint, and then get all hot and bothered again. I think of his drawing of me and wonder if he’ll spend his time alone filling it in with paint. I think about how he slapped my clit and made me shatter. I think about the things he said to me, and him losing it, saying endless streams of French words to me as he filled me up.
Jesus, I shift on the bike and wish I could get myself off.
My ears pick up the familiar roar of motorcycle engines in the distance, distracting me from the torture. Gradually, it overwhelms the sound of my own bike. That means there are a lot of them, and I tense. Zane must have heard it, too, as his muscles lock around mine. However difficult I’m going to find this, it’ll be one hundred times worse for him. There are going to be a lot of questions, and he’s not going to find it easy to answer them. I pray none of the Jackal Riders will try to mock Zane for his lack of a voice. These men tend to act before thinking, and I don’t want Zane to have to defend himself against them.
They come into view, a trail of them down the road like a snake. I ease up on the accelerator, aware I’m going to need to stop shortly.
I remind myself these men are my friends. They were my family for most of my time growing up. I want to believe if I ask them for help—and to respect Zane—they will, but they’re also unpredictable.
They recognize my bike before anything else, and I draw to a halt. Behind me, Zane plants both feet on the road, stabilizing us.
The MC’s bikes surround us, like wolves surrounding a deer. That’s how they work best, in a pack.
Unlike us, they’re not wearing helmets, and I recognize the leader immediately. He’s one of the guys who rescued me from outside of the club the night my little plan to get my dad to get me to go to Verona Falls got out of hand.
Smokie Saul, named because he always has an unlit cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth, just like now.
He stops his bike right in front of mine then stares at me, his face unreadable.
“Ivani?”
I take off my helmet. “Hey, Saul.”
“What the hell are you doing here? Your dad thinks you’re at college, hundreds of miles away.”
“Yeah, I know. You could call this a surprise visit.”
His gaze slips past me. “And who do you have with you?”
I jab an elbow into Zane’s ribs, and he gets the hint and removes his helmet too.
“This is Zane. He’s a student, like me. He wanted to come with me, to keep me safe.”
Smokie Saul stares at Zane. “Can’t he speak for himself?”
“Not vocally, no.”
Saul is still staring. “Right,” he says, his voice tinged with curiosity.
I remember who I am—who my father is. “Are you going to escort us to the club? Or should we just sit around here all day?”
“Yeah, we’ll escort you, Vani, but I don’t know how your dad is going to react to a…non-member…coming in.”
“I’ll deal with my dad,” I reply, sounding more confident than I feel.
I’m grateful Zane hasn’t tried to throw his weight around. Of course he’s perfected the silent, scowling man by now, and the guys of the MC seem to have respected that, for the moment, at least.
Smokie Saul jerks his chin at the others. “Let’s show the lady home.”
The bikes all rev together, the vibrations settling inside me. I’ve always loved this sound, the joined growl of motorbikes. There’s just something so raw and gritty about it. I imagine I was lulled to sleep by the sound as a babe in arms, which probably isn’t far from the truth. No wonder it feels like home.
I squeeze Zane’s thigh in reassurance as we set off again, only this time we have company. I can’t decide if it makes me feel better or worse.
We’re still a good thirty minutes away from the club, but the roads are smooth and empty. I wonder if my dad will notice all the damage to my bike. It’s superficial, but I think he’ll notice that before anything else…well, maybe apart from Zane.
The time passes quickly, and before I know it, I recognize the roads to the clubhouse, and then the parking lot for the bar and clubhouse appear on our left. I find myself smiling and my heart lifts. After everything that has happened at Verona Falls, I’ve barely had time to be homesick, but now I see the old place again, I realize how much I’ve missed it.
It comes with a pang, too. It’s not been any time, really, since I lost Mom, and truthfully, I think my quest to find Reagan, and then to find what happened to her, has kind of delayed my grief a little bit. Back home, though, I can’t escape the fact that Mom isn’t here anymore.
It feels good to be back at the club despite the pain, though I’m sure the place has shrunk in the time I’ve been gone. It must be an illusion after being around the grandiosity of Verona Falls. I haven’t been gone that long, but the girl I was the day I arrived at Verona Falls has morphed into someone else entirely. I’ve definitely been forced to grow up, and I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing.
Rows of Harley Davison motorbikes are parked up outside, and I notice the ‘l’ in the bar name ‘Wolski’s’ is no longer lit up. No one actually knows who Wolski is, or why the bar has been named after him, but there’s never been any mention of changing the name either.
A couple of bikers are hanging out front, and I recognize one of them as my father’s Sergeant at Arms, Big Mike. He’s named for obvious reasons. His size means he’d give Zane a run for his money. I sense Zane’s muscles tighten behind me.
I remember when I first arrived at the school, my father had warned Zane off and Zane, being Zane, had simply winked at him, so my father had sent Big Mike into the college side entrance. I knew then that Big Mike would do my father’s bidding. Clearly, it didn’t work. I wonder if there will be trouble now.
We both climb off the bike and remove our helmets.
Big Mike narrows his eyes in our direction. I thought he might welcome me home, but he focuses straight on Zane.
“I recognize you. You’re the big bastard I warned off Vani on her first day at the university.”
Mike has gone into protective mode. His jaw ticks, and a muscle beneath his eye flickers.
Zane lifts his chin and nods.
Not long ago, I’d have agreed with him that maybe I need protecting against Zane, but ever since that moment on the roof, where he pulled me to safety in his arms, things have shifted.
Zane held me, and I felt the emotion in him, and despite the games we all play, I truly think Zane would put his life on the line for me. I’m not sure what the hell it is we’re all feeling for one another, but the silent giant would risk his own safety to protect me.
Maybe even his own life.
Plus, we now all have a common enemy, it seems. Or even two. Whoever really harmed Reagan, and Olsen because he’s lying about my mom. I know it bone deep. I’ve let my head get all twisted around due to the absolute crazy mess I’ve endured these past few weeks.
I feel guilty because I let Jarl plant tiny doubts in my mind about Mom, but the minute I stepped foot back here on our land, I could feel her all around, and I recall her words. He did things to me.. .
Maybe some of what Jarl said is true and Mom drank too much back then, but I know one thing. She’s not a liar. If she says Jarl hurt her, then he hurt her, and that means he’s my enemy as much as he is the Vipers’.
I silently swear to her spirit that I’ll make sure to always remember that. No matter what I find out about her, Mom was hurt by that man, and he deserves to pay for it.
It means that even beyond my growing feelings for Zane, we have something in common.
Nothing binds people more than a mutual enemy.
“Good to see you too, Big Mike,” I sing out, trying to keep my voice calm.
He frowns. “What are you doing back here, Ivani? Your dad’s not going to be happy to see you here with an outsider.”
I find myself standing protectively in front of Zane, even though he’s a good foot taller than me and has ten times the muscle.
“This is Zane, and he’s not an outsider. He’s a friend.”
“He’s the asshole who thought it was okay to wink at your dad.”
I bite back my smile. Yeah, Zane had definitely gotten my attention that day. Seems he’d gotten the attention of my dad and the club, too, beyond what I had realized at the time, which isn’t a good thing. They still remember him and seem like they haven’t forgiven him for being cheeky to my dad.
I glance over my shoulder at him. His expression is completely unreadable, and he stands, motionless like stone.
“Zane can’t speak, Mike. He has damage to his vocal cords, so he can only communicate by writing things down, or using sign language or gestures. I’m sure he thought he was being welcoming by winking. It wouldn’t have been meant as an insult.”
I’m lying through my back teeth because I’m quite sure an insult is exactly how Zane meant it
“Remember what I told you that day?” Big Mike addresses Zane.
Zane uses his phone. He doesn’t seem in the slightest bit concerned about being surrounded by tough guys in cuts. I glance at the phone, just able to see the message before he holds it up for Mike.
Touch her and die, he writes.
Well, crap. I hope being with me hasn’t signed his death warrant.
“Did any part of you think I was messing around, boy?”
Boy ? Oh, Zane is going to lose his shit. He writes again, and I peer up at his phone, trying to read.
No, sir, but Vani is in danger, and I am on her side. I’d like it if we could at least talk with her father.
Sir? I was not expecting that kind of respect out of Zane to Big Mike. Maybe he’s figured the same things I have. We have a common enemy.
Big Mike sighs. He texts a message, probably to Dad, and then gestures for us to follow him into the clubhouse. There’s a steady buzz of noise—people talking and rock music playing in the background. A couple of guys are playing pool, and the balls clack together and someone hoots as the balls hit their mark. The familiar odor of stale booze and cigarettes and gasoline hits my nose, but it doesn’t repulse me. In many ways, it smells like home. A few members stare up at us as we walk through. I spot a friendly face, one of the guys, Phoenix, who is about ten years older than me, but who I developed a completely platonic friendship with growing up. He always used to tease me about being ‘one of the boys’ and would challenge me to arm wrestling matches he’d then fake me winning. I notice he’s filled out a bit, the front of his band t-shirt straining, and his beard seems even thicker than normal, but it suits him. He jerks his chin at me, and I grin, despite myself, and then my heart falters as Big Mike opens the door to the office and ushers us in, following right behind.
My dad sits behind his desk, and flanking him on either side are two of his close friends and unofficial bodyguards. They have their arms crossed in front of them, their size enhanced by the posture.
My father stands, both hands planted on his desk as he glowers at us. He kicks his chair out of the way and stalks around it. He hasn’t seen me for ages, but instead of looking at me and welcoming me home, his gaze is fixed on Zane.
My father walks up to us, pulls his arm back, and punches Zane right in the face.