Twisted Tales of Mayhem Page 2

  “Spill it.”

  She inhales a deep breath, tears already spilling over her cheeks as she confesses, “I had a miscarriage.”

  My brows jump, shocked at hearing about this. “Did this just happen?”

  She shakes her head. “A few months ago.”

  My sight becomes glazed, thinking of the lost nephew or niece that no doubt would’ve been just like my brother and me but without the baggage. It hurts, that’s for sure and I can only imagine what she must be feeling. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, P.” I mutter the useless words and she nods.

  Her lips tremble. “He thinks it’s his fault.”

  “What?” I instantly ask with a near whisper.

  “Viking.” She sucks in another shaky breath, exhaling before continuing. “He’s rough with me,” she says, and I cut her off with a growl.

  “He hurt you?”

  Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. He’s rough with me, but that’s how it’s always been. I love that about him,” she clarifies, and I nod, her meaning clicking into place. I’ve seen the two of them, we all have. It’s like a tornado between her and my brother when they fight or fuck. “But he thinks he hurt me and that it’s his fault I lost the baby.”

  “Idiot,” I breathe. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you tell any of us?” My brother can be a damn dumbass sometimes. He should’ve told us about this.

  “Bethany and Nightmare know.”

  That’s understandable. Bethany is her best friend, but I’m a little jaded that Viking didn’t confide in me, his blood brother.

  “And you know how he is. He doesn’t open up about anything,” she continues, making an excuse for him that he doesn’t deserve.

  I know that Vike’s stubborn, but it still sucks.

  “We had this big plan.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in her voice. It’s broken. “We decided to wait until we had an ultrasound. We were going to have a big party for the club and make our announcement.” Buckets of tears fall over her cheeks and it twists me up inside to witness her like this. “Then two and a half months in...I-I just lost it one day. The hospital says it’s common in early pregnancies.”

  “Okay.” My brows raise. “Not to be insensitive, but can’t you guys try for another?”

  “I know you’re not being insensitive, and others would probably think the same thing.”

  I wait, breathing, trying my damndest to project calmness, so she feels comfortable enough to keep speaking.

  “We’ve been trying for five years to get pregnant and it had finally happened.”

  “Fuck,” I murmur. It was meant for myself, but it comes out loud enough for her to hear.

  “Exactly. There’s a chance it could be the only time I ever get pregnant.”

  “I had no idea you guys were even trying. Does anyone else know you’ve been struggling with this? Doctors or anyone?”

  “I’ve confided in Bethany, of course, and my dad. It’s why he finally got sober.”

  Her father, Prez, is the original Oath Keeper. Ares is the president of their club now, but we still call Princess’s father Prez out of respect. And we’ve all noticed the change in him; he went from drowning his sorrows to one day coming into the clubhouse looking like a different man. We’ve each made him a tonic with lime at some point, noting that he’d cut alcohol out of his life completely. I had no idea what made him change, but it makes sense.

  She swipes at the wetness coating her cheeks, using the blanket to attempt to dry the evidence the tears have left behind. “Viking is too stubborn. He says we don’t need help from anyone else, that we’ll work it out together.”

  “And he’s off being an asshole.”

  She nods. “He blames himself. I’ve lost him.”

  With a jerk, I disagree. “No. Far from it. He may’ve fucked up, but he’ll come to his senses and that’s when everyone in his path will be mowed over so he can get back to you.”

  With a sniffle and fresh tremble of her lips, the shattered female admits, “I sure hope you’re right, Odin, because he’s my life.”

  Chapter 1

  Princess

  “You!” I wail, fire burning in my gaze as he enters what was once our sanctuary. I was foolish to believe his week away had helped me reach any sort of peace. I was wrong, as seeing him again has only sparked that memory fresh into my mind. Drunk or not, I know what I fucking saw.

  “We gotta talk, P.”

  “Fuck you!” I scream and launch the closest thing to me at his face. “Stupid motherfucker!” The welded metal stiletto he had made for me nearly clocks him in the side of the head. “You’re the last person I want to speak to. Just get out.”

  He swallows. His beard is shorter and that minute detail has me spinning with fury. Who’s the bitch that he’d be trimming up for? He hasn’t manscaped for me since my goddamn birthday.

  Nah, I don’t need to hear anything this asshole has to say. I listened to his shit for years. I believed him; I gave him every piece of my soul and came to believe I wasn’t good enough for him in the end. I loved him with every breath I took. Fuck, I still do... It doesn’t excuse his behavior. I watched my mother get trampled on for far too long. I was a witness firsthand to her heartbreak. I refuse to live my life that way.

  He ducks, cheeks pinking as he stands back up to his massive height. “Rein it the fuck in, woman.” His huge hands go to his hips, the move making me want to chuck something at his dick next.

  With a snort, I smirk and shake my head. “So rich, coming from you.” I get sarcastic when I’m pissed. I thought it was only with my dad, but it looks like I’m that way with all men when I’m angry. “Go sleep at your club; I’ll throw your shit out when I feel like it.”

  His lips part as he exhales, brows bunched. “Just calm down, you’re being dramatic.”

  My eyes grow so wide, I’m afraid they may damn near pop out of my head. “Dramatic?” I laugh, sounding a bit crazy, and maybe I am losing my mind a little bit. He was my everything—my fucking everything. “You want to see dramatic? Let me show you what level I’m on,” I threaten and step to the gun cabinet. One thumbprint is all it takes and the door pops open, offering me my weapon of choice.

  “Goddamn it, Cinderella!” His voice raises as I reach for the shotgun. It’s loaded and ready. We don’t have children, and in this lifestyle, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  Spinning around, the barrel meets his abdomen. I’m far too short compared to him for it to be comfortably positioned over his heart. He doesn’t deserve to have a heart. That cavity’s probably damn near empty anyhow. “You want to get your dick sucked by some whore?” I scream, growing more infuriated by the moment, my finger itching to pull the trigger. The kick from it will sting, but he’ll never hurt me again after that shotgun goes off.

  Blaze takes a step closer, coming in from the kitchen. Viking had me so distracted, I’d forgotten he was even here. “P, put the gun down, babe. You can toss shit at ‘em all you want, but no shooting.”

  “You saw him, Blaze,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes, clouding my vision. I keep my focus on Vike’s abdomen; I can’t risk meeting my ol’ man’s gaze. I’ll falter and I can’t afford to do that with him. He’ll completely ruin me.

  “I know, and he’s asked the club for forgiveness. He’s asked the brothers for understanding and time. You need to put the gun down so we can all talk about this.”

  My lip wobbles, my chest feeling as if a knife was stabbed through it. I saw him with my own two eyes in that office. The one man I believed I could count on always, has betrayed me. He knows how fragile I am when it comes to being unfaithful. He promised me he’d always be mine... I was his, but he was mine first. My gaze climbs higher, meeting my husband’s. A tear falls over his tanned cheek, contradicting the hard, merciless man he’s always shown to the outside world. With a broken whisper, I utter, “I hate you,” and move to shoot.

  Before I can get a bullet off, I’m tackled fr
om the side. The shot goes crazy, the gun kicking into my shoulder hard enough to leave a decent sized bruise. I cry out in shock, even though I knew it would hurt. I’ve shot all of our guns many times, always practicing in case I ever needed to use one.

  Drywall crumbles down from the ceiling where my aim ended up. Blaze pants over me, bracing himself as to not crush my small body under his mass. I’ve grown thin, nearly willowy as this month has been even worse between Viking and me. I couldn’t get down more than a few bites over the last week. After seeing my true love in a compromising position with that whore, I stayed sick to my stomach.

  Viking’s massive boot stops in front of me and the gun’s yanked out of my grip. He tosses it off to the side out of my reach. My eyes cut to his face to discover him glowering down at me tangled up with his cousin. “You’re off your fucking rocker, woman!” he roars.

  “Give me my phone,” I tell Blaze.

  Viking interrupts. “The fuck you gonna call?”

  “Ares!” I hiss.

  “Oh?” He growls and Blaze finally climbs off me, pulling me up to stand beside him. “What do you think Ares will do?”

  “He’ll put that bullet in you since I obviously can’t.”

  He rolls his eyes and my hand lashes out, slapping square across his cheek. His reflexes are too quick for me, catching my hand after it makes contact. He doesn’t let go, yanking me into his powerful frame. “Bitch!” His chest rumbles as he finally grows angry.

  The spit leaves my mouth before I realize what a mistake it was to go there in the first place. He’s lowered me to this. “Fuck you,” I say as his irises shift to black, his free hand coming up to wipe the spittle from under his eye. His hand moves to wipe it on his jeans, jaw clenching so hard, I’m thinking he’s about to crack his molars.

  I’m breathing quickly, my chest heaving, waiting for the blow I know has to be coming. I’ve overstepped, gone too far. Perspiration dots my brow and the back of my neck, knowing he’s probably either going to beat me or kill me. I shot at him, hit him, and spit on him. I’m not dumb enough to think he’ll not lose his shit. Viking’s far too calculated and menacing; he’s the President of his own chapter. There’s nothing soft about him except me, and I’m the one who’s pushing his buttons.

  “Blaze, give me your shirt,” he says, gesturing with his hands to come closer. His cousin, ever the dutiful soldier, whips the T-shirt over his head, handing it off. I’m too freaked out to move, waiting for him to drag me out back and put a bullet in me. Viking tosses the shirt on his shoulder than grabs my other wrist, transferring it to one big grip.

  “W-what are you doing?” I croak, my voice is lacking its full amps after my previous screeching. He doesn’t reply, just begins stretching the soft fabric around my wrists. Within seconds, I’m bound and trying to make peace with the pain I know is coming. He grabs my bicep, yanking me to the kitchen.

  So, it’ll be a knife. I should’ve known I’d go out bloody. I swallow, tears cascading over my cheeks. I refuse to beg, but I have to try a bit of reason. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You can stay and I’ll leave.”

  Vike’s brow scrunches again, peering at me as if I’m still the crazy one. Opening the junk cabinet, he comes back with a roll of painters’ tape.

  Fuck. I can’t believe this is ending like this.

  He rips a small piece free, further confusing me until he places it over my mouth. “That’ll hurt like a bitch when it comes off, but you won’t shut the fuck up and listen to me.” He pulls a kitchen chair free from the little four-seater breakfast table and moves me to sit in it. At least it’s not duct tape; that’d be painful enough to have me shaving the hair off his head when he sleeps if I live through this.

  He yanks another chair over, turning it around so he can straddle it. Viking’s far too close, I feel like I can’t breathe. My chest hurts from a mixture of things, the main one being his betrayal. I glance to the living room where Blaze plops down on the couch, seemingly relaxed again now that I’m restrained. He blows out another breath then his hands come at me and I flinch.

  “I missed you, P,” he mumbles and wipes my tears away. It’s confusing. I’m angry and sad inside and so fucking hurt. He clears his throat, his stare boring into me too much. I look at the floor instead. I can’t handle it, not being able to scream and I refuse to sob like I want to in front of him. I’m not weak; I never have been.

  “Look, I know I fucked up, ‘kay? This is gonna sound so fucking cliché, but it’s the motherfuckin’ truth. When Odin brought you into the office, I was blitzed. We’d just had another fight the night before, and I’d started my day with whiskey in my coffee.” He tugs a cigarette free, lighting it up in my kitchen. I glare, because when in the fuck did he start smoking, and he’s doing that shit in my house.

  He takes a long drag before blowing it off to the side and continuing. “I was drinking heavily all day. The club slut had been trying to chat me up for days and I kept telling her to fuck off. Those young ones are resilient.” He shakes his head. I want to spit at him all over again for making me listen to this bullshit.

  He puffs on the cigarette, not letting my glower disrupt his course. “I was halfway passed out. You know I can drink damn near any motherfucker under the table, but I was tore the fuck up. I’d been through a fifth of Jack Daniels; I was trying to sleep it off when the tramp came in my office. It began with her trying to kiss me and that’s when I’d started to wake up. She’d unbuttoned my pants and unzipped them when I was out of it. When I’d batted her off, I thought she’d taken the hint. I’d leaned my head back, started passing out again and she’d tugged my pants to my knees. I’d felt her hand on my cock and my mind was fuzzy. I started thinking it was you. Hell, I’d told her to fuck off, so I thought she was long gone.”

  His ashes fall to the floor as he takes another drag, half of the cigarette already burned through. “She was naked already when I came to again. I watched her stroke my cock for a second before I was able to focus enough not to pass out again. I was just telling her to get the fuck out when Odin kicked the door in, carrying you.”

  Tears cascade over my cheeks. Hearing Viking say she touched him makes me want to hunt her down. Odin kicked her out of the club, but I’m wishing she were still there so I could go find her. I want to hurt her—badly. His fingers come to my cheeks, swiping my tears away again.

  Climbing to his feet, he tosses the cigarette into the sink. I can’t help but watch his muscles flex with the movement. He’s thinned out himself, no doubt from a liquid diet. Wherever he’s been, he hasn’t been eating like he normally does. I want to believe him, but after the turmoil we’ve been going through following the miscarriage, I don’t know what to think. That was the last thing I ever expected to walk into. I was drinking and flirting myself, but it was harmless compared to that shit show. I know who my ol’ man is, and in the end, no matter what shit we face together, I love him. I would never be caught with my pants down with another man who wasn’t Viking. How does he expect me to react to all of this?

  He grabs a bottled water, twists the cap and chugs half of it down before taking his seat again. “I’ll open the windows to air out the smoke. My nerves have been fucked up,” he admits, and I nod, still teary. “After all these years, Cinderella, you’re still so fuckin’ beautiful. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt my loyalty or love for you?”

  Again, I shake my head. It’s not like I can speak through the damn tape. It’s true though, he’s never made me feel jealous or unsafe. I’ve always been able to count on him, but the sight of her on her knees feels as if it’s burned into my brain. One thing’s for certain, if I see that whore anywhere, I’ll be teaching her a lesson. No one touches what’s mine.

  “If I remove the tape, you gonna spit on me again?” My gaze meets his, pausing, thinking it over. I can’t spit again; I’m surprised he didn’t smack my freaking lips off for doing it to him in the first place. Viking doesn’t handle disrespect well, even if it’s
coming from me, and Lord knows I dish out attitude when I see fit.

  Shaking my head, more tears leak. I may not be sobbing, but my heart still hurts, and when I get angry, I’m either a smartass or I cry. It pisses me off—crying when I’m mad. It’s the last thing I feel like doing, yet it happens anyhow. Right now, I’m a mixture of angry and upset. It’s a messy emotion to be going through.

  Viking leans forward, planting a kiss on my forehead. My heart squeezes in response, and finally he removes the tape. “You all right?” he mutters and I nod. “You can talk, P.” I nod again, swallowing, not sure what I should say in this moment.

  Exhaling, I silently hold my bound hands up.

  “Nah, we’re gonna talk this shit through before you go off and point a loaded gun at my ass again. I’ve killed men for less.”

  “Where’ve you been?” I ask eventually. He completely disappeared for an entire week. I was sick with hurt, then jealousy began to eat away and finally yesterday I’d began to grow worried. I was starting to wonder if maybe he’d gone Nomad and if I’d ever see him again. He had a wandering soul when I first met him. I was the reason he found a home. If I’m not his home anymore, why would he stay? I was about to break down and confront Odin tomorrow if I hadn’t heard anything yet. I guess I got my answer. He came home and he arrived with answers. He seems completely sober too.

  “I took a ride down to the coast. I had to clear my head and be sure that what I remembered was all the pieces. At first, I wasn’t sure I could forgive myself and drank until I should’ve been hospitalized. I blame my metabolism for burning the alcohol up and not killing me. I started tying everything together and eventually came to the full truth.”

  “And you’re certain you won’t remember anything else later down the road?” Inhaling, his scent hits me—leather road, wind, soap, and man. I’ve missed his smell. I’ve missed his presence.

  He shakes his head, gaze confident. “I found that club slut on my way back into town.”