Sever (Deathstalkers MC Book 6) Read online

  I nod, getting what she’s saying and trying to absorb it.

  “Now, those girls over there.” Tracie nods her head to the couch where a group of half-dressed girls have collected. “Those are the club girls. They are here to keep the brothers happy and because of that we have to respect them, to a point.” She stresses the last part of the sentence. One of the girls looks over, as if feeling our eyes on her. Even though it’s only lunchtime, she has a full face of makeup and her hair is teased like she just walked out of an eighties movie. Tracie lifts her chin and with a flick of her hair, the girl turns back to her friends.

  “If one of them gives you shit, you don't take it. You're an old lady. Your status holds a hell of a lot more weight than theirs. Don't start problems, but if you want respect around here, you need to finish them.”

  I’m not a person who really likes confrontation. Trying to digest the fact that I might have to get into it with these girls is rough. They don’t exactly look like the type of girls to back down.

  Lucy snaps her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to our conversation. “Aside from that, if you have any questions just come ask one of us. You know our names but let me tell you a little more. I’m with Whip, he is the sergeant at arms. Tracie is with Torch, who is our VP. Nikki is with Twisted, who is the president.”

  I’m trying to keep up with all the names and faces, cataloging them in case there’s some kind of test at the end, but it’s so hard. It’s not like they have ordinary names.

  “Izzy is Twisted’s sister, and she’s with Lady.” She turns to Jaz. “Last but not least, Jaz is with Cutter, and he is the treasurer. We all have our roles and we try to help out as much as possible. Nikki and I usually have our kids running around, but we’re here if you need us.”

  Lucy reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “We’re family now, and family takes care of each other.”

  Sitting here with them, I feel like I actually belong. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.

  “I thought you were only working here, why are you in the clubhouse?”

  A voice from my past shatters my happy mood.

  Alison. Standing there with a smirk on her face.

  Tracie looks between us. Lucy’s eyes go wide, and Jaz . . . she just gives me a dig in the ribs. I stand up and turn around, facing Alison and her cronies. I might not know them, but I know their type well.

  Same bitch, different day.

  I hear a shuffling behind me and when I glance over my shoulder, the other girls are standing behind me. It may not be much, but it makes me feel braver than I ever did in high school. “I’m here because I was invited.”

  She rolls her eyes, jutting out a hip. “Hmmm, if you say so. I think we know you can't handle Tracker, though. I mean, come on, Megaton.” She laughs, turning around to her girls, who snicker and sneer at me.

  Hearing that name again makes my blood boil. It brings me back to every time in high school that her and her friends would torture me. Every lunchtime I spent hiding in the bathroom. Every sick note I had to fake. Every time I had to scrub my locker clean while tears burned the backs of my eyelids.

  “Remember what I said. Everyone is watching,” Tracie whispers in my ear.

  My hands fist at my sides and I remind myself that I am not the girl I was in high school. I’m stronger. I won’t be bullied. “Don’t ever call me that again.” My voice is hard, and rough as gravel.

  “Or you’ll what? Eat me?” Her finger twirls in her bottle blond hair.

  Something inside of me snaps and I slap her across the face.

  Her shock is only momentary. Seconds later her expression twists and she lunges at me, screaming. Before I know what’s happening, she has a fistful of my hair and I’m swinging my hands trying to connect with any part of her I can. A pair of strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back, and when I look around I see a man I don’t recognize.

  “What the fuck is going on?” His voice is strong, filled with authority.

  “T, this is Tracker's old lady, Megan.” Nikki walks over to him and my mind goes back to the names Tracie mentioned earlier.

  T . . .

  T . . .

  Twisted? Isn’t he the president?

  “Seems one of the club girls thought running her mouth and trying to antagonize her was a good idea.”

  His gaze turns away from me and onto Alison. “You know better than to mouth off to an old lady, don’t you?”

  Alison glares at me, a large red handprint glowing on the side of her face, her heavy makeup smeared under her eyes. “She isn’t an old lady. She’s just some pathetic girl from my high school.”

  Twisted steps toward her. “She is an old lady. She belongs to Tracker, and one more word from you and you'll be out on your ass.”

  She nods silently.

  Twisted walks out of the room.

  When I look toward the door, Ryder stands there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Just think it's hot to see you bitchslap, someone.” He winks, grabbing me and pulling me to him. “I think you'll fit in here just fine.”

  Me, too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tracker

  Tonight is Megan’s first club party. The claiming of an old lady is a cause for celebration; hell, most of us will find any reason to throw a damn party.

  I pull up to her house with her property jacket in my hand. Seeing this on her, my name on her, I can’t wait. After I lost her, I never imagined that we would be together again. So now that she’s back in my life, you can be damn sure I’m not letting her go again.

  When I knock on the door, Megan answers, a huge smile on her face. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me down so her lips can connect with mine. “Took you long enough to get here.”

  I pull the jacket out from behind my back and hold it up.

  “Ah! I have to say, as much as I hated you when you claimed me without even telling me, this jacket being so hot kind of makes up for some of it.” She slips it on and then turns around to Chrissy. “So, what do you think?”

  Chrissy looks past Megan to me. “I think that you need to hurry up and introduce me to my leather-wearing dream man.”

  Little does she know that when she gets to the club, she’ll have to beat the brothers off with a stick. Chrissy is gorgeous. She’s no Megan, obviously, but she does have the kind of confidence that the guys will fucking eat up.

  “We need to get going.” I jerk my head toward the open door.

  “Hell yes!” Chrissy grabs her purse and runs past me to her car. I’ve brought my bike, so she’s going to follow behind.

  Megan laughs and shakes her head. “I’m totally going to have to keep an eye on her tonight.”

  Having Megan on the back of my bike feels right. Her arms wrapped around me, body pressed close, is something I never want to forget. There is also a sense of pride knowing that people see her there, see her wearing my jacket, on the back of my bike.

  We pull into the lot, Chrissy behind us. There are a few guys outside and they call out to me. Rock has his back to us, talking on his phone.

  “Who’s that?” Chrissy asks, coming up behind us.

  Megan laughs. “Girl, we haven’t even gotten inside yet.”

  “I couldn’t care less.” Her eyes go back to Rock. “That is one fine piece of jean-covered ass.”

  I watch as he ends his call, tucking his phone away and starting to walk inside.

  “Rock.”

  He turns. “What’s up, Tracker?” He nods at Megan, and then his gaze stops on Chrissy, his eyes going wide. “And you are?”

  “Your next adventure.” She winks at him. “And you’re about to be my greatest mistake.”

  The look on Rock’s face is priceless.

  “Well, let’s get the fuck to it then.” He grabs her hand and pulls her inside.

  Megan’s eyes follow her best friend. “She’s out of her damn mind.”<
br />
  I pull her close wanting to enjoy being alone with her before we walk inside. “I’m pretty sure she said something like that when you told her you were going to take a chance on me.”

  “Nope. She basically told me to go get laid, then hook her up,” she says, throwing her head back with a laugh.

  “I knew I liked that girl.”

  I wrap my arm around her waist and we walk toward the clubhouse, hearing the telltale signs of a club party: loud music, and smashing glass.

  “So what should I expect from tonight?”

  “Expect us to only stay a few hours because after that, anyone with an old lady knows to get the hell out of there. The single brothers and the club girls can get pretty rowdy.”

  She looks up at me and smiles and I know exactly what she’s thinking. “Trust me, you don’t want to see half the crap that goes on.”

  “Oh God.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Megan

  After three long months, I’ve finally finished organizing the club’s financing. It feels great to have finished it, and as much as I didn’t agree with the fact that my boss wanted me to fudge the numbers to begin with, I’ve done it well.

  A lot has changed since I first walked through that door. These people . . . they’re not just strangers anymore. They’re my friends—my family. They all play their part, and if my part is to add a few zeroes here or take a couple away there, I’m happy to help them out.

  Everyone has been so accepting of me and, for the most part, the people are great. I love hanging out with the girls. They make me feel like I belong in a way I never really have my whole life. Ryder and I have become so close so fast, it's like we were never apart.

  I walk out of the bathroom to find Ryder sitting at my counter waiting for me.

  He reaches for me. “So how about we stop torturing your roommate and get a place of our own?”

  I nearly drop my coffee. “You think? I’m sure Chrissy doesn’t mind.”

  “Fine. I mind.” He places a kiss on my lips. “I spend practically every night at your place anyway. You refused to stay over at the club because of the last time when one of the brothers thought our room was unoccupied and brought a club whore back.” He kisses me again. “I want you to myself. I want to come home to you, and only you. I want the life we were supposed to have seven years ago.”

  After a speech like that—and that many sentences in a row from Ryder could be classed as a speech—how could I not move in with him.

  “Okay, you can't be the one to tell her. She’s my best friend. This has to come from me.” I push away from him to grab my purse and keys. Today is the first day that I'll be going back to my normal job.

  “Deal, but do it soon. I’ll start looking for places.” His hand smacks my ass and I shoot him a look.

  “See you after work?”

  “Count on it.”

  It feels so strange driving to the office instead of the clubhouse today. Mr. Duncan asked me to come see him once I got into the office and I'm hoping it's a “You did a great job, here's a promotion” meeting and not an “I looked over your work and it sucks” kind of one.

  I knock on Mr. Duncan’s door, nerves rolling around in my stomach. I’m so glad I didn’t eat breakfast.

  “Ah, Miss Hendrix, good to have you back.” He waves his hand at the chair in from of his desk. “I looked over your work and I have to say I'm impressed. It's very clean, and you completed the project two weeks ahead of schedule. After discussing it with Mr. Shie, we would like to promote you to Senior Accountant. That means more high-level work and, obviously, a pay increase.”

  I can't help the huge smile on my face. “That would be amazing. Thank you so much, sir.”

  “You’re very welcome. Have a great first day back.” He offers me a nod and I get up from my seat, managing to contain my happy dance until I’m out of sight and earshot of his office.

  The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I'm assigned new cases and given an actual office, instead of just a desk in the midst of everyone else. I texted Ryder when I found out and he’s taking me out to dinner once I get back tonight.

  I look at the clock and it's 5:00 p.m.

  I grab my things completely exhausted and on my way out to my car, I run into Connor in the lobby. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  I smile, turning to walk backward as I talk to him. “Thank you. Today has been so crazy. I wonder if things will always be like this?”

  I spin back and head for the car park. As I walk toward my car, I notice it’s at a weird angle. Then I see the tire.

  It’s flat.

  Damn, I don't know how to change a stupid tire. I reach for my phone to call Ryder.

  “I can give you a ride to your place, if you want?”

  I nearly drop my phone, my heart racing. “Connor, I didn’t know you were still there.” I look back and forth between my flat tire and him. The hairs on the back of my neck are on end, but I don’t know why.

  “Um, I think I’ll be okay, I’m going to call Ryder and have him deal with it.” I give him a smile and thank him for his offer, and he nods then walks away. The phone rings until I get Ryder’s voicemail. I wait for the beep and leave a message.

  “Hey, it’s me, I’m still at work and my car has a flat. Call me when you get a chance.”

  I look around and see Connor, about to pull out of the lot. I wave to him and he turns around and drives over, rolling down his window as he pulls up next to me. “Hey.”

  “Think I could take you up on that ride after all?”

  He leans over and opens the door from the inside. “Of course. Hop on in.”

  “Thanks so much. I drove through some construction roads today and I must have run over a nail. I live on the corner of Cramer and Green Street.”

  We pull out of the lot and I relax against the seat.

  As the trees flick past the car, I glance over at Connor. He’s quiet; even more so than usual. The radio isn’t on, which makes the silence in the car all the more consuming.

  “So how has everything been while I’ve been gone?”

  “Lonely.”

  Something about his voice makes me uncomfortable. It’s darker; more solemn.

  Fear escalates inside of me. I don’t know what exactly is going on but the air in the car changes quickly, making me long for the simple silence of five minutes ago. Connor’s hands grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. I lean forward slowly, trying to reach for my purse, hoping to grab my phone.

  Connor reaches over, grabbing my purse and flinging it into the back seat.

  “Not a good idea, Megan!”

  He opens his center console and reaches in, the sunlight catching on the heavy metal, making me wince and blink. When I open my eyes I see it properly, and my blood runs cold.

  “You and I are going to go for a little ride. We’re going to fix everything that you broke.”

  My hands grip the seat beneath me as his hand rests on the center console, the gun bouncing around with every bump and pothole in the road. I keep my eyes forward, trying to even out my breathing.

  Stay calm.

  Just keep him talking.

  “Maybe we can talk and figure this out, Connor. Why don't—”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  The car swerves and all around us horns blare. I glance at him as he runs his hand through his hair and I see the tremble. He looks over at me. His eyes are near black and his skin has taken on a gray pallor, a lock of his disheveled hair falling over his eyes. “Don’t call me that ever again.”

  “Isn’t that your name?”

  The car swerves violently again and I look up just in time to see the sign for the highway. I have no clue where he might be taking me, but it’s in the opposite direction to home. I think about the message I left for Ryder. Could he be trying to contact me?

  He hasn’t answered my question, but pure instinct tells me not to risk repeating myself.

&nb
sp; Ten minutes pass before the car turns off the highway. As we drive through the neighborhood, realization sets in. The familiar tree-lined streets. The old post office. The broken gate to the playing fields that still hasn’t been fixed.

  The car comes to a stop in front of my old house. I look over at him.

  “What are we doing here? Who are you?”

  He lifts the gun, training it on my head. “You will get out of this car and walk up that path as if nothing is wrong. If you try to yell for help or alert anyone, I’ll shoot, and from this distance I won’t fucking miss.” His lips curl and there’s humor in his voice when he adds, “Understand?”

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  “Go.”

  Getting out of the car my legs feel weak, almost as if they won’t hold up the weight of my body. I stumble out of the car, gripping the doorframe, my hands following the curves of the hood, using it to keep myself upright until I step up onto the sidewalk.

  I climb the stairs to the house I lived in for most of my life.

  When we get to the top, Connor pulls out a key and unlocks the door.

  Does he live here?

  I pause in the doorway but Connor nudges me inside with the barrel of the gun against the small of my back. He steers me toward the living room.

  It hasn’t changed at all.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “You still don’t get it?” He stares at me as if I should be having some great revelation. “After all these years, you don’t even recognize me. I get it, though. I probably weighed just as much then as I do now. Years of depression and abandonment will do that to you.”

  I search my brain but come up with nothing.

  “I’m sorry, I have no—”

  “Do you remember what you said to me that day?” He starts to laugh. “I’ll come and visit. I promise. Bullshit! You are a fucking liar!”