Chapter 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

CLINK

The only reason I slept was because I took painkillers that knocked me the fuck out. Had I not taken those, I’m not sure I would have slept at all. I’m still on edge about where Dillion could be. She hasn’t answered my texts, and I feel she won’t be responding anytime soon.

I don’t know where she is, and I don’t have a good feeling about any of it, either.

There is a knock on the door. Jerking my head. I blink, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I frown. It’s too early in the morning to be the SUV from the club. Forcing myself to stand, I groan as I shuffle toward the door.

I check the peephole mainly because if it is someone from the Demon Guns to finish us off, I have zero way to defend and protect myself right now. Honestly, if they wanted to end me, they could do it in about two seconds at this point.

But the Demon Guns aren’t the ones standing on the other side of the door. It’s someone I didn’t expect to see but am glad she’s made her way back to us. Pissed off or not, she’s family.

Tugging the door open, I dip my chin and look down at her. “You’re back.”

Her gaze shifts to the side, then she brings it back to meet my own. “I’m still upset at the way things are going down,” she confesses.

“I’m sure. But it’s not because we’re trying to be mean. This is the way of things, and right now, we need to do what’s best for the club. Even if it might not be what you want.”

She gulps, then nods again. “I know. I thought about it, and I screwed up big time. I think it’s time we go home. I can take one or two, maybe lie down in my car.”

I smirk, taking a step to the side to allow her to pass. Looking behind me, I smirk at the sight of King lounging against the headboard of the bed. He jerks his chin toward us. Vixen moves into the room before I close and lock the door behind her.

“There’s an SUV coming to take us back to Pineville. You can follow us. A group has already gone back.”

Vixen sucks in a shaky breath, then walks over to the table and chairs, sinking down and letting out a sigh as she does.

“What?” I ask.

Her head wobbles back and forth, her eyes water, and I am frozen in place, partially because I’m going to hurt if I move, and the other part of me is surprised to see her upset. I’m not sure why she would be.

Unless.

Unless there’s some kind of problem.

“You wanna tell me why you look like you’re about to cry?” King asks, taking the words out of my mouth.

She sucks in a deep breath then exhales slowly. “I lied.”

“You lied?” King and I ask simultaneously.

She nods once, then sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Her gaze slides down to her feet, then she lifts it up and flicks it between mine and King’s. Whatever she did, she fucked up big time, and depending on what it was, she may not make it out of Tennessee alive.

“I lied,” she says.

Her confirmation is worrying me. Vixen has been part of the clubhouse since she was in her early twenties. She’s been a fixture of the Dark Horse MC, and I can’t imagine she would betray us in any way.

“James isn’t my sister,” she whispers.

There is another knock on our door, and I assume it’s Atomic. He has his own room since the other guys have already left. Since his injuries were a little more intense than mine, we gave him his own space.

Vixen jumps up from her seat and rushes over to the door, pulling it open. Atomic ambles into the room, grunting and moaning with each step he shuffles inside. Vixen closes the door behind him, then makes it back to her seat.

“Vixen was just telling us that she lied about who James is,” King says, his voice completely void of any emotion.

“Do you want to expand?” I ask, looking down at her.

She bites the corner of her lip. Then her eyes widen as she tells the rest of the story. “James is my daughter.”

I blink.

King blinks.

Atomic blinks.

What none of us does is speak. I’m not sure that any of us know what to say. “How?” I finally ask.

Her top lip curves up into a smirk. “I had a baby at fifteen. I’m thirty-five. She’s twenty. Anything else?”

“Who raised her?” King asks. “Because we did a background check on you and found none of that shit out.”

Vixen dips her chin in a single nod. It’s clear she knows she must tell us this, but it’s not what she wants to admit. It’s her past, and when she came into the clubhouse, we said we didn’t want to know.

And honestly, we haven’t cared who or where she’s come from.

But now this is affecting the club, and we need to know the details. There’s no fucking way we can not know what the fuck. What the absolute fuck. We need to know who the father is, who raised her, and if this is going to get us into an even bigger war.

I have a feeling it is.

“My parents raised her as their own,” she says. “She doesn’t even know I’m her mother. She thinks she’s my sister, and that’s fine with me, but I don’t want her to be some kind of sex slave. I let my parents raise her so she could have a normal life. I couldn’t give her that.”

“I thought your parents were shit,” I point out.

She slips her tongue out and slides it along her bottom lip. Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes, then let out a heavy sigh as I wait for what she’s going to say. My heart slams against my chest, more because of my pain, but I’m curious as fuck about what she’s going to say.

“They are, but they were older. I was wild. I didn’t know what the best thing was to do. I just knew that anyone else would have been better than me.”

Atomic grunts. He doesn’t appear to give a fuck that James is her sister. That she didn’t raise her. What he gives a fuck about is how this affects our club, and I have to admit that I feel the same way.

“Her father is Blur.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

DILLION

I hate Conrad.

Hate everything he is and everything he stands for.

So why am I biting my bottom lip and giving him sexy eyes? Because I want to save my life and get the fuck away from him alive.

“If I thought what you’re trying to sell me right now was real, I’d give you everything you wanted, Dillion. You’re a goddamn Southern Mafia princess. You could have the whole empire to yourself, sweetheart.”

I try my hardest not to physically cringe when he calls me sweetheart. And the fact that he’s saying I’m a princess makes me ill. I want absolutely nothing to do with the Southern Mafia. Princess, queen, king, whatever the case, I want nothing.

“But?” I ask, trying to keep my voice husky and sexy.

He smirks. “I know this is an act. I might fuck you anyway, but I’m going to do it when I have your man tied up, and I’m going to make him watch as I make you come.”

As much as I want to tell him that he couldn’t possibly do that, I also know he probably could. He did when we were together, and he could probably do it again, at least with his fingers.

It would never feel as good as when Humble makes me come. Not in a million years. When Humble touches me, it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had in my entire life. I love every single part of him.

And I love the way he makes me feel.

My breath hitches at that realization.

I love him.

My secret lover. My motorcycle roughneck. I don’t know if he’s a good man or a bad one. I don’t know much about him, but I know how he makes me feel. I know how gentle he is with me, how his touch makes my body sing. I know enough to come to the realization that I am head over heels in love with him.

Although, to be perfectly fair, it’s probably more lust than it is love, considering I don’t know much about him at all. But what I do know is that I want his hands and cock to be the only male body parts near and inside of me until the day I die.

So, I’m going to call that love.

It’s the closest thing to love I’ve ever experienced. Love isn’t something I understand, that I know anything about, but whatever this is with Humble, I consider it love because the feelings are completely foreign to me.

Conrad stands and takes a step backward. And as soft and kind as his eyes were a few seconds ago, they shift. Then he smirks and dips his chin.

“You’re mine now, Dillion, which means you’re mine to do with what I wish. Since I’ve already fucked you, I’m not going to do it again. However, my new friends would love a go, I’m sure.”

I know what friends he’s talking about.

And I refuse.

“Fuck you,” I hiss. “I won’t be with any of them. None of them. I would rather die.”

“That can be arranged,” he murmurs.

“Good. Then just do it already.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of dying. Not yet.”

Then, without another word, he walks out of the room. I’m not tied to anything, but I feel like I might as well be, especially when that door is locked behind him, and I’m left alone in this room.

This windowless room is the same as me being tied up. The only difference is that I have a sense of freedom in this room. It’s a mind game. A whole mindfuck. I refuse to play into it, though.

Fucking refuse.

Closing my eyes, I try to think of a way out of this. Except I can’t. I’m not helplessly tied to a bed anymore, but I am indeed helpless. I don’t think I can get out of this on my own. If Humble doesn’t save me, I have a feeling I’ll be at Conrad’s mercy and that man is anything but merciful.

I’m going to have to think fast and act faster if I’m going to save myself. I’m not even sure if Humble knows where I am, so it may get down to that. My thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang. Then I hear yelling before several loud pops.

Oh my god.

Is it Humble?

Is he here?

But when the door flies open, I lift my head, and my gaze connects with someone who is definitely not Humble. In fact, he’s not wearing a Dark Horse MC vest at all. The vest says Demon Guns, which are the assholes who took me in the first place.

This is not good.

Not in the slightest.