Chapter 13
Thirteen
Melissa
Alcohol sterilizes open wounds, searing away infection when poured directly onto damaged flesh. It does the same from the inside when you drink it. Burns out the poison, at least temporarily. Yet despite the whiskey scorching my throat, I'm not nearly drunk enough. Need more sterilization.
My phone vibrates against my thigh. I slide off the barstool and head outside, away from rowdy bikers and pounding rock music. The gravel crunches beneath my boots as I unlock the screen.
I can't stop replaying the scene between Hella and Jada.
Their familiarity, their easy connection over a child.
Not that I've earned any right to an opinion.
Hella and I hate each other. That's the beginning and end of it.
If a man has a kid, it doesn't matter to me.
I've slept with fathers before, two children maximum, different mothers preferable because I never wanted someone who can commit.
Christ, now I sound like a hooker with a checklist.
It was a shock. I've only witnessed one version of Hella. Arrogant, cruel, intense. Seeing him through Jada's eyes doesn't fit. And it's not my business anyway.
“Hello?” I press the phone to my ear, finger blocking the opposite one.
“Melissa?”
My stomach drops. “Millie?” I drift toward the Pohutukawa tree standing near the edge of the parking lot. “Everything okay?” Silence stretches between us. “Millie?”
She clears her throat. “Yes, sorry. I'm good. How are you?”
Five years. It’s been five years.
“I'm fine.” I sink onto the grass beside a tree stump. “You okay?”
“I, I, I shouldn't have called. I'm sorry, Melissa. I'm sorry for everything.”
The line goes dead. I stare at my screen. Phoebe and me captured in a drunken selfie at a Twisted Transistor concert, front row at Madison Square Garden, watching her man perform.
“The fuck was that about?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
“Unexpected phone call?”
I look up to find Nyx approaching, hands stuffed in his pockets. My shoulders drop their tension. It's not Hella. Not that I expected him to seek me out. My first night here is ending astronomically epic.
Nyx clears his throat.
“Sorry, what?” I shove my phone into my jeans.
He laughs, settling beside me, knees drawn up. “I said, unexpected phone call?”
I shrug. “You could say that.”
He’s objectively gorgeous. Dark hair naturally spiked, gentle brown eyes framed by lashes thick enough to make mascara companies bankrupt themselves.
He's exactly who I should want. Unfortunately, Little Lis prefers psychopaths.
Yes, I named my vagina after the incident. If men do it, why can't women?
His gaze lingers, waiting for me to continue. I roll my eyes. “My idiot sister.”
He chuckles, leaning back on one elbow. “Ah, I see. Older or younger?”
“Younger, if you can believe it. Complete nutcase, literally a nun. The eternal 'good girl.' Haven't heard from her in five years.” I catch myself rambling. “Sorry. Boring the big bad biker with my tragic backstory.”
His smile softens his face. “I'm not that bad, and your life story doesn't sound boring at all.”
My laugh dies in my throat. “You have no idea.”
Nyx and I lie on our backs, watching stars pierce through the darkening sky as I feel alcohol slowly recede from my system.
His head tilts, connecting softly with mine. “So your dad died when you were little, your mum survived cancer, and your sister is a nun? Your life story is far from boring. How'd you like Uni? Wish I went. Instead, I ended up on the other side of the law.”
My cheeks ache from smiling, the first genuine one since arriving here. Nyx is the first person to spend time with me, including Yana, who's been consumed by Beast. I'm starting to get it now. She's all about him.
But his question about Uni snatches my smile as memories claw their way to the surface.
“Um.” I sit up, drawing my legs in, sweeping my hair to one side. “I guess I would have enjoyed it more if I'd chosen a better Uni.”
He pushes up, turning toward me. “What'd you mean?”
“I mean...”
“Melissa!” Yana approaches, glancing over her shoulder with nervous energy. “What are you doing? Oh, hey, Nyx?” Her eyes flick between us. What is her deal...
“Just talking,” I reassure her, rising to my feet and brushing dirt from my bare legs.
Nyx stands, pulling me into a hug. “I'll catch you another time, babe.”
“Yeah, thanks for the chat,” I answer, and I really do mean thank you. He took my mind away from rage and sex.
His smile fades as he heads back through the clubhouse doors.
“Ahem!” Yana clears her throat. I ignore her, leading the way to the clubhouse. “Did you... do anything?”
I stop, turning to face her. “You mean did I fuck him? Because I can't keep my claws off any man, right?”
Her face falls, and I instantly feel like shit.
Sighing, I close the distance between us and rest my hands on her arms. “I'm sorry. But no, I didn't sleep with him, or kiss him, or even touch him. We just talked, and it was nice.”
She blows out a long, steady breath. “Okay. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. It's just that Beast said Hella has...”
“Fuck Hella,” I cut off her words.
“You're right, fuck Hella,” Yana parrots, crossing her arms.
We both burst out laughing.
“—fuck Hella?” Our laughter stops.
My smile evaporates, and Yana looks over my shoulder, wincing.
Hella continues, each footstep over gravel vibrating through my bones. “Oh baby, all you had to do was ask.”
My eyes close, fingers tightening on Yana's arms. His lips brush my ear, warmth sending an electric current down my spine. Yana, on the other hand, weakens. I don’t know what’s up with her and Beast, but whenever any of the Woodsmen are around, she short-circuits.
I wonder if it has to do with her father.
Yana was a spoiled brat from Wellington, who travelled all the way up north when her mother was murdered, to live with her father.
She stopped in Westbeach to break the trip, and that’s how we met.
Her father was a founding member, but died not long after she arrived. She pretty much stayed since.
Could it be about that? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just Beast. Or maybe I’m drunk and overthinking.
Hella presses a kiss to my ear. “But, I don't double dip, so thanks, but no thanks.” His hand lands on my ass before he continues toward his red Harley with “Hellraiser” emblazoned alongside a shaded skull.
Heels clink from behind, before a girl with long red hair and barely any clothing stops beside him.
Hella’s eyes connect with mine before a dark smirk crawls over his mouth, and he hands the girl a helmet.
I don’t bother staying to watch her climb onto a bike I loved riding.
Fuck him and her.
We head back inside, and I swallow past the way hearing his bike vibrate the clubhouse with the knowledge of her on the back feels.
Bastard.
Yana fishes out her phone and answers a text. “Okay, so! It turns out, Hella isn’t letting you out of the compound to crash with me in the city, so Jada has agreed to let us both stay there while you’re here.”
I pause. “What?” The only reason I didn’t pack a bigger shit about coming was because I kinda liked the idea of chilling in Yana’s girl pad in the city. Now I’m stuck here, in farmland filled with bikers, one I don’t like. “Fuck!”
Yana hooks her arm with mine. “Come on, Killer. The walk isn’t that long and by the time we get there, we’ll be ready for a glass or three with our new friend.”
Jada’s house is a small white two-story home with a porch. A swing is near the front door, and every light is on in the house, making it a beacon for us to find in a paddock with a man-made road.
“I don’t think she likes me,” I say slowly, my footsteps toward the cute home.
Yana rushes me forward. “You’re over thinking it.” We climb the steps, and Jada swings the door open as soon as we hit the last one.
“Welcome!” Her arms stretch as wide as her smile, before she steps aside and gestures into a wave of heat. “Come in.”
I stop just as I pass, turning to her. “Thank you for letting me stay.” I really wish she was an asshole. But she isn’t.
Jada pats me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Melissa.
We’re all friends here.” She shuts the door and hitches her thumb over her shoulder.
“I’ve gotta go check on the kid upstairs, but kitchen is that way and make yourself at home.
” She disappears, and I shuffle off my Chucks and drop my duffle bag near the front door.
“What are you thinking about?” Yana asks as we make our way through the small archway to the kitchen. It’s warm, lived-in. Photos hang on the wall of a small boy, I’m guessing Garett, and most of them include Hella.
“I'm thinking about the night I slept with Hella,” I answer, studying a picture of him and Garett as a baby. Hella’s smile, flashing his set of white teeth. “I'm thinking I should have ridden his dick with a machete pressed against his throat.”
“Jesus, Melissa,” Yana hisses, breaking my spell.
“Now I'm turned on,” I reply flatly, following her into the kitchen and taking a seat on one of the four chairs tucked beneath a round table.
Jada strides in carrying wine bottles. Her hair is pulled up in a messy knot, makeup off, yoga pants and an oversized tee. “What turns you on?”
I choke on a laugh. “Nothing!”
“So, where's Garret?” Yana asks, shifting in her chair. I mentally roll my eyes. “I have to tell him what I saw in Westbeach.”
“He's just washing up. He'll be down soon, especially with all this food.” She gestures to the table, which is filled almost every space. “But I'll be kicking his butt upstairs after that. School tomorrow.”
“I have to ask,” Yana begins, pouring a glass of wine after Jada places the bottles on the table. “Why expensive wine?” We all burst out laughing.