Chapter 8
Eight
Hella
Melissa shoves my helmet into my chest before jogging up the stairs and disappearing through her front door.
Beast whistles when he passes her, shaking his head. “What'd you do to piss her off this time?”
I spread my legs out wide and hook the helmet over my handlebars, leaning back against the seat of my Harley. “Fuck knows. Breathe? Exist? Look at her sideways?”
I run a hand through my hair, still feeling the ghost pressure of where her thighs suffocated me from behind. “Girl's got more mood swings than a theme park. I'm starting to think she's pissed off just to keep in practice.”
“You mean foreplay,” I correct, swinging my leg off the bike and finding my cigarettes in my pocket. Beast stares off at the ocean opposite.
I light my cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing smoke toward the sea. “We should head back to Tāwaha. Shit's done here and Viktor didn't know shit about your old man.”
Beast crosses his arms, stance wide. “You gonna be able to leave?”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“You know why.” I tap ash onto the concrete. “Not our problem anymore. Zane can handle it.”
“You sure about that?” Beast's voice drops lower, more private between us. “You give a real fuck about this woman?”
The question hits like a sucker punch. I take another drag, letting the burn fill my lungs while I consider my answer.
“Nah, nothing serious,” I finally say, flicking my cigarette butt away. “But we can take her with us anyway.”
His features relax. “Why's that?”
I roll my shoulders, working out a kink. “Girl's stubborn as fuck. She'll be out running that bakery before the dust settles if we leave her. Think of it as doing a favour for Zane. One less person he has to look after.”
Beast nods slowly. “About that. Got word this morning, the explosion wasn't club business. Personal hit on Zane from someone in his past.”
“Shit, so what? Phoebe is hiding away from the Paps because of her crazy new rockstar boyfriend?” I say, shaking my head.
Silence.
“You think she'll come?” Beast asks, eyebrow raised. I know we ain’t talking about Phoebe anymore.
“Fuck no. She's gonna kick and scream the whole way.” I lean against my bike again. “She's all wrapped up in Mr. three-hundred k.”
Beast gives me a look I don't want to explore. “It's good money. Can change a lot of lives with that kind of stack.”
“Yeah, well, staying alive to spend it is better.” I stare at the house, seeing Melissa's silhouette pass by a window.
“How you gonna get her on your bike?” Beast laughs now as we both watch her shadow.
I shrug. “Tell her the truth.” My eyes land on him. “That it's for her safety.”
Moments pass between us. A silent conversation neither of us want to say out loud.
He nods. “We roll out tomorrow morning. Early.”
I'm already mapping out how this conversation with Melissa is gonna go. She'll call me an asshole, probably throw something. Then she'll refuse, dig her heels in about that investor meeting.
Then I'll throw her ass on the bed and fuck her until she's too weak to fight back.
Beast's mouth twitches. “She isn't going to be a fan, brother.”
I crack my neck. “Got enough of those already. Don’t need her for that.”
He laughs, slapping my shoulder as we make our way inside.
One way or another, Melissa's coming with us to Tāwaha, even if I have to cable tie her to my bike.
I push through the door, Beast right behind me, and walk into the living room where Melissa stands with her phone pressed to her ear, talking to someone in that tone she uses when she's trying to sound professional. She glances over, sees me, and her whole body stiffens.
“I need to call you back,” she says into the phone. “Something just came up.” She hangs up and crosses her arms. “Don't you knock?”
“Not when I'm staying here.” I drop onto the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me. The worn leather creaks under my weight. “Who was that? Your sugar daddy investor?”
Her jaw clenches. “Mr. Donovan is a respectable businessman who sees potential in my work. Something you wouldn't understand.”
Beast moves past us toward the kitchen without a word. Smart man.
“Let me guess, he wants another meeting?” I watch her closely, the way her fingers fidget with the edge of her shirt. “Too bad you'll miss it.”
“What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrow.
“We're heading home tomorrow. Early.” I say it casual, like I'm commenting on the weather. “And you’re coming.”
colour drains from her face before flooding back with twice the intensity. “Absolutely fucking not!”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Wasn't asking.”
“I have a business to run. I have meetings. I have a life that doesn't revolve around whatever the hell you think you're doing.” She's breathing hard, chest rising and falling. It triggers flashbacks of her tits against me, her mouth parting as I sunk myself inside of her.
“Your meeting can wait.” My tongue flicks over my lip. “Your life can't if you're dead.”
That stops her. “What?”
“The explosion wasn't random,” I explain, keeping my voice even. “And it wasn't club business. It was personal, aimed at Zane.”
Fight ignites further behind her green eyes. “So what does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing. And that's the problem. You're going to get caught in the crosshairs of their drama.” I stand, closing the distance between us. “You think Zane and Blake will drop everything to protect you when shit gets worse? You think your little baker boy will?”
She steps back. “Peter would...”
“Peter would get himself killed trying,” I cut her off. “And you know it.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Recognition, maybe. Fear. She knows I'm right but she's too stubborn to admit it.
“Two weeks,” I say. “By then, whatever bullshit is going on here won't land back on you and it releases the stress from Zane to have another body to watch. Then you can come back to your fancy investor and your killer cupcakes.”
She glares at me, her jaw working. “I hate you.”
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. “I know.”
Auckland is a shitshow this time of morning. It's all traffic and chaos. None of that matters though. It's what sits behind the bright lights.
Melissa’s car sits between me and Beast. If the little death glares weren’t enough to give away the level of hatred she’s throwing at me right now, then the fact that she’s been engine braking and sometimes all the way braking on purpose the whole way here would.
Crazy bitch.
Breaking off from the motorway, we leave the chaos behind.
The roads stretch wider, buildings falling away until there's nothing but green mountains.
I fucking love it. Love everything about this town as we fly through the small strips of Dairies and local butchers.
The main event is the Lake though, dropped right in the center of town.
They built the whole fucking thing around it.
Fuck yeah. We're home.
Miles of empty mountains that belong to us, marked by the occasional cattle skull or rusted car frame. Warning signs for those who know how to read them.
The compound comes into view, an old farmhouse sitting proud against the backdrop of mountains. A chain-link fence topped with razor wire circles the property, more about keeping people out than keeping us in.
Melissa’s car slows as it approaches the gate. I pull up beside them, catching Melissa's profile through the window.
She's mid-fixing her lipstick or whatever shit that's on them in the mirror. When she notices me, she slaps the mirror back into place and flips me off.
Fuck me. The girl knows how to hold a grudge.
Beast punches in the gate code, and the heavy metal barrier groans open. The girls park their car near the front steps while we circle around to the garage. Gravel kicks up under our tires, coating everything.
Arching over us, the farmhouse is all weathered wood and peeling paint that tell stories of decades in the sun.
But it's home. More home than anywhere else I've been.
Equipped with seven bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a basement that's seen more shit than it hasn't, the farmhouse isn't even what people should be worried about.
It's the industrial warehouse behind it.
Melissa steps out, one tanned leg and Chuck Taylor.
I take a step forward, my thumb hovering over the screen mid-text to Jada, updating her on the ride back from the coast. But then Melissa swings her other leg out of the car, fully revealing those tiny ripped denim shorts that hug her curves, and that flirty yellow top with its flowery pattern dips low enough to tease way too much cleavage for a place like this.
Fuck, it's like she's dressed to start a war.
Or maybe just to piss me off specifically.
I kill my phone after sending it, shoving it into my pocket as irritation gnaws at my brain.
Yana glances between us. My gaze locks onto Melissa instead. She sure as fuck wasn’t wearing that when we left, which means she dressed in the car.
She's bent over, ass up as she rummages through the passenger side. Wind kicks up her bright blonde hair, dragging the scent of her shampoo right to my dick. I can already feel my temper flaring and no amount of imagining her silk strands through my fingers is gonna calm it.
“What the fuck are you up to, Melissa?” I use my body to block any view of hers and fight with myself not to shove her further into the car and fuck her until she submits.
She straightens up slowly, like she's got all the time in the world, and slings her handbag over one shoulder with a flick that screams attitude. Her green eyes meet mine and fuck, up this close in the natural light, she’s even hotter than I remember.
Her hand moves between us. “You and I don't know each other while I'm here.”
I lean in a fraction, jaw tightening as I hold her stare, the air between us crackling with that familiar electricity.
“You sure about that?” I need to fuck her. Now.
“Round 10... Fight,” Yana mimics from beside me.
Beast laughs, pulling me back. “Come on, I'll show you girls around. Hella! I'll meet you back at the bar.”
My eyes remain locked with Melissa, before she turns and walks with Beast and Yana.
As soon as my boots hit the clubhouse, my phone chimes and I open the message to find a photo of Layla kneeling on her bed, long brunette hair framing her petite, curvy body, one hand resting on her inner thigh and the other sucking her thumb in her mouth.
I toss it back into my pocket. I'll reply to her later. Or not.
I claim a stool at the bar, nodding to Old Fella as he slides a beer toward me. Taking my drink, I join Frost and Ripper at their table, dropping into a chair. Their questioning looks piss me off instantly. “What? Spit it out, fuckers.”
Frost slams his beer down, those bright blue eyes narrowing at me over the rim. “Guess who brought fresh meat home.”
Ripper snickers, rolling his eyes and Nyx leans in from the next stool, twisting toward the door where the girls vanished through.
My boot connects with his chair leg before I even think it. Wood cracks sharp against the floor as the whole thing tips, dumping Nyx onto his ass in a sprawl of limbs and spilled whiskey. He scrambles up, face twisting red with laughter, but I plant my foot on the seat, holding it down.
Ripper snorts into his drink. Frost just watches, amusement curling his tanned features.
Nyx straightens, brushing dust off his cut, but he backs off with hands raised. “Easy, VP. Didn't know she was claimed.”
Doors swing back open and Melissa steps through. Her shoulders turn rigid for a moment. You’d miss it if you weren’t looking as close as I was.
I cross the scarred wooden floor in three strides. She spots me coming, chin lifting in defiance, but I crowd her space anyway, backing her against the wall and out through the way she came from.
I grip her by her chin. “I’m only gonna say this once.”
She doesn’t fight back, and fuck I don’t know what it is about having a girl who rarely allows any man handling her, let you handle her.
Her green eyes stay on mine, her lips slightly pouted from my grip.
My lip twitches. “Unless you’re prepared to get railed by all six of my brothers out there, I’d suggest you be real careful with how you throw yourself around going forward.
This isn’t a place you grew up in, and those men aren’t the same ones you grew up with.
” My voice drops low, breath ghosting her ear.
“To them? You’re nothing but a piece of ass they haven’t had, and before you consider riding the pretty boy express, make sure you think long and hard about their road names, or read the badges on their cut. ”
I lean back enough to catch hesitation flash over her eyes.
Then it’s gone, and she’s trying to force herself out of my grip. “That's very cute. Now move, please?”
Fuck that.
My other hand lands hard beside her head, caging her in further. “Women like you act tough. You throw a big game. Probably got a bit trauma in there that you use as paint for that mask. But you see men like me? We break girls like you. Open them up just to see how they work. What they're made of.”
“Break me?” She shoves at my chest, hard enough to create an inch of space, and slips past. “You couldn't even handle me in pieces.”
She stalks to the bar, hips swaying. Old Fella slides her a water without asking, but every eye in the place tracks her, brothers leaning in, muttering low.
I turn slow, sweeping the room with a glare that could strip paint. I whistle loud, breaking the murmurs. Heads drop to drinks, conversations picking up elsewhere.
Frost raises his glass in mock salute, but nobody tests it. That subtle statement that Melissa most likely missed.
Smirking, I shove through the side door, boots crunching gravel as I head for Hellraiser. I swing a leg over, firing it up with a throaty rumble that shakes the dust loose.
But as I grip the bars, memory crashes in. Fifteen years back, that sterile Vanguard interrogation room smelling of bleach and fear. Commander Kurr circles the metal table, his tactical gear creaking, while I sit chained, blood still drying on my hands.
“Tell me about your first kill, Agent 112.” Kurr's voice slices clean, no emotion. “Genna Garcia. Sixteen. You made it art. Throat slit ear to ear, staged like a sacrifice. Creative touch, leaving her eyes open, staring at the door like she waited for rescue.”
I remember her face, pale and surprised, blood pooling warm under my knees. “She talked too much. Deserved it.”
Kurr stops, leaning in close. “Brutal, yes. But the artistry... that's what sets you apart. We can use that.”
The engine's growl pulls me back. Beast wanted nothing more than to leave the place that turned him into a monster. Me? I was pretty sure I was one before they took me.