Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC #1) Page 4

  And that beard.

  He still had that trimmed, even-shaved beard.

  I swallowed hard as I watched him ride off into the shadows. And as his figure receded from view, something clenched in my gut. I licked my lips as guilt pooled in my chest and I closed my front door as quickly as possible.

  Then, I flipped the lock for good measure.

  “Oh, holy Hannah,” I whispered.

  I forced myself away from the door, but I couldn’t stop envisioning Brooks sitting there. What in the world was he doing? Just watching me like some creep?

  You know that’s not what he’s doing.

  I shook the voice out of my head and made my way into the kitchen.

  With trembling hands, I poured myself a glass of dry white wine. The puckered taste pulled me out of my trance, and I was able to draw in a deep breath. I had to get a grip. I had to pull myself out of it. It didn’t matter how good-looking Brooks was. It didn’t matter about the connection we had all those years ago. And it didn’t matter that my heart skipped a beat when I realized it was him outside.

  I was with his best friend.

  And that meant he was off-limits.

  “I’d never cheat on you, Gage. I swear it,” I murmured.

  Still, there was a small part of me that hoped he turned around and came knocking on my door. I mean I couldn't control Brooks’ movements, right? Only my own. I couldn't control anyone else’s actions, and it would be very rude of me to not answer the door for an old friend after he’d just gotten out of prison.

  Right?

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  I threw back the rest of my wine and raced back toward the front door. I peered through the small window it afforded me, trying to see if maybe Brooks had come back. Maybe he had changed his mind and came back to perch, or maybe he simply parked his bike in a spot out of sight before walking back.

  However, I saw no one outside.

  And the absence left an anxious hole in my heart.

  “It’s for the best. You know this,” I whispered to myself.

  But still, it was hard to turn away from the door. It was hard to backtrack toward my bedroom to start getting ready for my evening. I’d had a long day at work, and all I wanted to do was soak in a massive bath with candles lit and a good book to read until I felt the need to sleep. And I had every intention of doing just that.

  Until I heard a motorcycle outside again.

  It’s Brooks! He came back.

  With my body half-undressed, I quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank-top. I raced back down the stairs and slipped my feet into flip flops before racing for the front door. I wasn't sure about letting Brooks into a home I once shared as a married woman with Gage, but we could sit out on the porch like old times and talk.

  I missed those late-night talks of ours.

  I stood in my living room waiting for his knock on the door. The sounds of the motorcycle ceased and I waited on bated breath for that knock to sound. Brooks always knocked the same way every single time. Two big knocks before a slew of little knocks that kept sounding and sounding and pissing you off until you decided to open the door. It always made Gage laugh and it always made me grin.

  I miss you so much, Gage.

  However, the knock didn’t come. Boots fell against my porch, so I knew someone was outside, but no knock came. Was he second-guessing himself? Was he about to turn and walk away again?

  Don’t let that happen. Go after him.

  I launched myself down the small hallway toward the front door before I paused. I saw a shadow beneath the door, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the moment. For years, I had conflicting thoughts about Brooks. For years, I wondered why he never made a move after the connection we felt that night in the bar across town where I’d first met him and Gage. I mean yes, Gage and I hit it off as well. Very well, in fact. But there was something about the way Brooks and I interacted that just… hit differently.

  I wasn’t sure, even to this day, how to explain it.

  It just simply was what it was.

  Then, a knock finally came. Two big knocks and a slew of smaller knocks that set my heart thundering in my chest. My hands trembled as I reached out for the doorknob. I swallowed hard as the trembling fingertips from my other hand unlocked the door so I could open it.

  However, when the door eased itself open, the smile quickly drained from my face.

  Because it wasn’t Brooks standing on the other side of the door.

  Seven

  Brooks

  I sat at the exit of Raven’s townhouse complex and waited for traffic to clear so I could ease myself back out onto the road. Normally, I’d blaze a trail of my own volition and give a bright, spanking-new middle finger to anyone who didn’t agree. But this time? I took my precious time. I had so many great memories in this place. Memories of picking up Gage before we went away for biker’s weekends. Memories of escorting the newly-wedded couple to and from their home while they packed up and went away on their honeymoon. Memories of toilet-papering Gage’s place the night before Halloween just to piss him off the next morning.

  “Damn it, I miss my best friend,” I hissed.

  After traffic finally cleared, though, I eased myself onto the road. Better to leave with the good memories than potentially make bad ones trying to force myself into a situation Raven didn’t want me in. I mean, it wasn’t like she ever responded to my letters. Or picked up the phone when I called from the prison. Or came to visit me, despite the fact that I put her name on the “welcomed people” list.

  So, why the fuck was I showing up to her place anyway?

  “She’s probably with someone else by now anyway,” I said with a snicker.

  Not that it was important. Raven was a beautiful woman and she had lost her husband in one of the most tragic ways one could lose a husband. So, why wouldn’t she seek the comfort of another man during her time of grief? There wasn’t anything wrong with that. People did it all the time. Fucking around to get out the pain, anger, and sorrow was what we men in clubs like mine did best.

  Hell, that was practically our weekly therapist appointment.

  And Raven was beautiful. No, no, beyond beautiful. She was breathtaking in every way, and every time she walked into any sort of establishment, she turned the heads of single and married men alike. It used to always piss Gage off, men staring at his wife. But I always thought it was kind of funny. I always thought Gage should’ve been proud at the fact that he was about to show Raven off every chance he got, but that was neither here nor there.

  The point was, the woman’s drop dead gorgeous and she probably already had someone cleaning out her pipes.

  “For all I know, she’s completely forgotten about me,” I murmured to myself.

  Five years could do a lot to someone. It did a lot to me. I always slept with one eye open, and I knew that trend would continue. I didn’t get along with people anymore like I once did, and I knew that trend would also continue, especially with Chops as president. I also didn’t trust people anymore, except for Porter.

  So, who was to say Raven didn’t change in all sorts of ways over the years?

  You made the right decision.

  You know she saw you. She had it. It wasn’t like you were concealed.

  The shadows had your back, bro. She didn’t see shit.

  And if she did see you but you chose to leave anyway? What then? What will you tell her then?

  That question gave me pause. So much pause that I didn’t realize the stoplight in front of me had changed from red to green. Some old woman behind me laid on her horn and I pulled off to the side of the road, giving myself a second to catch my breath.

  Did she really see me?

  Before I had a chance to answer that question myself, I heard a rumbling in the distance. I peered over my shoulder and tried to pinpoint where the noise came from, but then I felt it. I felt it beneath my feet as the tar of the street vibrated. I felt the whooshing of wind
as bikes soared down the road, and it caused me to whip my head around. I watched three bikes fly past me at blazing speed, carving out a trail in traffic that caused people to blow their horns and hang out of their windows while cursing the drivers of those bikes.

  And I recognized their leather cuts.

  The Black Flags.

  I turned my bike around and pulled a U-turn in the middle of an intersection during a red light. Why the fuck were the Black Flags on this side of town anyway? It wasn’t their home turf, and that meant something was going down.

  “Right place, right time. You still got it,” I growled.

  I cranked my bike as fast as it could go and tried to catch up to the fuckers. But when I saw them pulling into Raven’s townhome complex, I slowed to a stop. I blinked a few times just to make sure I saw them go in the right entrance. However, when I saw their bikes slipping down into the small slice of paradise, my gut clenched.

  What the hell are you guys doing?

  I let off the gas and let gravity take hold. I silenced the engine of my bike and turned it off, allowing the downslopes of the hill to pull me where I needed to be. I counted three bikes with three different douchebags, all sporting those disgusting black leather jackets with white and yellow emblems on the back.

  A bunch of bullshit bumblebees, if you asked me.

  My bike slowed to a stop just inside of the shade of one of the oak trees that managed to grow on this property, and I waited. I watched as the guys talked amongst themselves before one of them pointed, and I followed his finger. I narrowed my eyes as I slid off my bike. I reached for my holster, hoping to find the butt of my gun there just in case I needed it.

  Except I was fresh out of fucking prison and I couldn't have a gun.

  “Damn it,” I hissed.

  I walked around to the storage compartment on the back of my bike and dug around for my knives. I always kept a set of throwing knives on me in case I found myself in a situation just like this one. I pulled five of them out and dangled the sharp objects from the fingertips on my left hand, readying myself to take any one of them and chuck them at these guys’ heads.

  Because they were pointing at Raven’s front door.

  A couple of the guys patted the largest brute on the back before he started for her porch. And despite everything inside of me wanting to charge that man and rip his fucking legs off, I stayed put. Maybe this was a harmless visit. Maybe they were simply paying their respects.

  Because maybe she’s in bed with one of the Black Flags.

  The idea made me sick to my stomach. Raven knew exactly how disgusting and how wrong these men were. They dealt in things my club didn’t agree with, like prostitution and drug-running.

  Oh shit, maybe they were the ones that framed Hyde.

  I licked my lips as the man hopped up onto her porch. He turned around and held up his hands, as if expecting some sort of encore from his pals that were still seated on their bikes. They pumped their fists in the air as if they were watching the best show on television, and it briefly confirmed my fears.

  No man ever boasted like that unless he was about to get some.

  I shook my head as I leaned against the tree. No use in standing by to watch, just in case. But I knew this could go either way. Either they were here to do harm to Raven and it was my job to put them down like the dirty dogs they were, or that guy was here to get a slice of her.

  In which case, Raven would become a person of interest for my club.

  I mean she held intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the Dirty Misfits. Being married to Gage all of those years allowed her to be privy to some of our more intimate and dirty dealings. She could take us down with the knowledge I knew she had, though she probably didn’t even realize it.

  Is she trading the information?

  Is she just looking for some comfort?

  Did she flip because of her anger toward the club?

  I knew enough to know that Raven blamed us for Gage’s death. I knew her well enough to know that was why she shut everyone out. For a while, Porter and Cole were my two most frequent visitors to the prison, and they told me of all the horrible things she said to them whenever they went to check up on her. They told me about Gage’s funeral, and how her eulogy she gave practically spat in the face of the entire club.

  She held a great deal of anger toward us, and rightfully so.

  Especially since there were still so many questions that surrounded that night.

  “Stay alert,” I whispered to myself.

  I watched the man knock on the door continuously, like I used to do. It made me sick to my stomach to think that a man like that was knocking on her door. Beckoning for her, when he didn’t even deserve the scraps from her fucking dinner table. I wasn’t sure what was going on, or whether she was now friendly with our enemies. But I knew one thing was for certain.

  If Raven looked to be in distress, I’d be there to save her.

  Whether she wanted it or not, I’d make sure she stayed safe. Whether she wanted me or not, I’d always be there for her. Whether she loved me the way I loved her or not, I’d always make sure she had a roof over her head, a place to lay her head at night, and food on the table.

  Because that was what best friends did for one another.

  They looked after each other’s loved ones that always got left behind.

  I’ve got you. Gage. One hundred percent.

  I watched the door open, but I couldn’t see Raven’s face. I couldn’t see how she reacted to her little visitor, so I paid attention to him. I kept my eyes bouncing between the man on the porch and the two men still perched on their bikes. And out of nowhere, a nauseating thought crossed my mind.

  What if she set Gage up?

  For a split second, rage filled my entire body. For a split second, everything turned red. The idea that Raven could’ve been working with the Black Flags all along made me more murderous than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Bloodlust wasn’t something I indulged. That was more Chops’ avenue than anything else. But for the first time in my life, I justified the capture of a woman.

  Because if she betrayed my best friend and got him killed, she’d answer for her crimes.

  “Come on, you know her better than that,” I whispered.

  Do you really, though?

  “She’s a good girl. Always has been.”

  Or is that all an act?

  “Of course, it’s not. I was just here and all she was doing was watering her flowers.”

  Hitler had an entire garden to himself that he tended to everyday.

  I wished for the voice in my head to have a face so I could punch its teeth back into its brain. But the longer I sat there and watched the current predicament unfold, the more I worried that my brain was right.

  Because no one seemed hostile toward one another.

  If anything, everything seemed almost friendly.

  Eight

  Raven

  I drew in a deep breath to cry out for help, but the man standing before me pressed his finger against my lips.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve got two other men with me, and they really think you’re a pretty little thing, Miss Raven.”

  I swallowed hard. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I’d tone that attitude down if I were you.”

  My nostrils flared as I kept my voice even. “Then, get the fuck off my porch.”

  He grinned. “You always were such a spitfire, weren’t you?”

  He ran his fingertips down my cheek and I jerked back, trying to control the urge to shove him off my porch. I peeked my eyes around his body and saw a couple of other men on bikes about twenty yards away and they waved at me.

  Before showing me the guns they had on their hips.

  “Can I come in?” the man on my porch asked.

  I looked up into his eyes. “No, thanks. But we can talk outside.”

  I tried to step outside, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “
I think I’d rather come in.”

  I glared at him. “And I think that if you want to talk, you’ll do it outside. Because it feels like you didn’t come with orders to kill me, right?”

  His eye twitched. “We can stand in the doorway, that’s fine.”

  I knew damn good and well that these men weren’t Dirty Misfits. For one, their leather jackets were black. Not brown. And I knew by the gnarly scars on their faces that they rolled with one of the sickest clubs in Santa Cruz: the Black Flags. Gage warned me all about them during our marriage. He told me of the horrors this club brought down upon the people in their territory, especially the women and the single mothers. They saw women as weaker. As subservient. And if they sank their claws into a single mother, they’d use the mother’s children against her.

  The stories alone made my stomach roll with sickness.

  But standing in the presence of one of them made me angrier than I’d ever felt in my life.

  You can handle your own. Remember what Gage taught you.

  “You gonna tell me what you came all the way out here for?” I asked.

  The man ran his eyes down my body. “Can’t a man stop by to pay his respects?”

  I blinked. “Respects for what?”

  He snickered. “For Gage, of course.”

  I blinked. “He died five years ago. You’re a bit too late.”

  He shrugged. “Better late than never, they say.”

  “They do, but I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  I tried to close the door, but he slammed his hand against it. He shoved the door open and tried to push his way inside, but I jammed my fist into his gut. He grunted a bit with the force before his eyes lit up with anger. And when he swung at me, I jumped back.

  “You’re going to pay for that, you stupid bitch,” he growled.

  He charged me and I backed up before ducking down to avoid his punch. I kicked my leg out and swept it behind his, knocking my shin against the crook of his knees. He cried out a couple of names I didn’t catch before he fell to the floor on all fours, and I peeked out the door long enough to see his other two friends throwing themselves off their bikes.