Burned_Viking Bastards MC Page 15

  Evil aura. Jas’s strange comment jars my brain, taking on a life of its own and crippling me from the inside out.

  If Viper decided on something, he was capable of doing anything.

  I swipe my hand across my mouth and grip my jaw. Jett’s talking, fuck knows what he’s saying. I’m suffocating. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to lay him out.

  Without a word, I stumble through the house and somehow make it to my bike. I double over, hands on my thighs, and the viper tattoo is all I can see.

  There was no reason why Jas was in her mom’s room that night. Not unless she’d been dragged in there. She barely spoke to me after that night. Never let me touch her. And I put it all down to grief, without ever asking her why.

  My guts heave, and I vomit until all I can taste is blood and bile and bitter, useless guilt.

  When I was a kid, I idolized my uncle. After Jas left, he stuck by my side, put up with my black moods, and like a gullible jerk I thought it was because we were on the same side.

  If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill that fucking piece of shit rapist.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jasmine

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Laura, our admin assistant, who’s been one of my best friends since we both started work here a couple of years ago, crinkles her brow as I grip the edge of the counter in the small office kitchen.

  I drop the spoon, which I’d just picked up off the floor, into the sink. “I’m fine,” I lie. “I just stood up too quickly, that’s all.”

  “Maybe you should go see the doctor. That’s the second time this week you’ve gone dizzy.”

  I push myself upright, refusing to acknowledge the wave of nausea that rolls through my stomach. It’s been more than twice, but I’m not about to tell her that. “It’s nothing. I’ve missed breakfast a couple of times, that’s all.” Of course, that’s all it is.

  We stare at each other. She knows all about Ty, and I haven’t fooled her for a second. I wipe my clammy palm against my skirt. I’m still messed up over breaking up with him. That’s the only reason why I’m feeling so shitty. It’s only been three weeks since I left him, and every time I close my eyes his final words echo through my mind. Don’t go.

  God, I miss him. And now this…

  “Jas.” Her voice drops. “You need to find out for sure.”

  Like I don’t know that. “I will. This weekend.”

  She pulls something from her purse and hands it to me. “Do it now.”

  “Jesus, Laura.” I glance over my shoulder, but we’re still the only ones in the kitchen. I shove the small box into my pocket, where it burns me like acid. “I’m not doing a pregnancy test at work.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Look, we only didn’t use protection one time. And even then, it was only for a matter of seconds.” I don’t know why I’m telling her that. I’m not stupid. I know it could be possible. But what are the chances? “Anyway, it only happened four weeks ago. That’s far too early to tell.”

  No, it isn’t.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Jas. Go do the test, and then we’ll talk.”

  Another colleague strolls into the kitchen, and for a few moments we chat about our latest cases, but my mind’s not on our conversation.

  What if I’m pregnant? It’s been my constant thought for the last few days, even though I can easily rationalize all my so-called symptoms. So what if I’m permanently exhausted and have the infuriating urge to cry every night? And sure, so my period’s a little late, but it’s always been erratic.

  It’s because I was dumb enough to fall in love with Ty again. It’s got nothing to do with the production of pregnancy hormones.

  I manage to escape and lock myself in the bathroom. It’s hard not to remember back to over ten years ago, when I was in this exact same position. Except then, Ty was right by my side, and we read the result together.

  I let out a ragged breath and open the box. All I have to do is pee on the stick and the result will change my life, one way or the other, forever.

  Three minutes. I grip the stick and try not to think about anything, but that’s a non-starter. I haven’t heard from Ty since I left L.A. Did I really expect to? I guess I could’ve texted him first, but what would I say?

  I’m sorry I can’t live in your world. Maybe I’d fit in with the younger members of the Bastards and their old ladies, but there’s so much more to it than that. So much I could never tell him, and that’s no way to share our lives together.

  Two pink lines. My grip on the stick tightens, and I lean against the wall, my heart banging against my ribs. Take the second test, just to be sure.

  I don’t move. It’s like I’m frozen. There’s no need to take the second test. Deep in my heart I’ve known the truth for almost a week.

  I’m having a baby. I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s too big, too much to take in, but at the same time a fierce, protective wave rushes through me. I might not be ready for a baby, but I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

  As much as I still want Ty.

  I need to tell him. My stomach pitches, and I’m not sure whether it’s because of my crazy hormones or because I now have a rock-solid reason to contact him. I’ve no idea how he’ll take the news, but I know one thing for sure.

  He won’t stand for being an absent father.

  …

  Ty

  The motel is a dump, but at least the shower works, and it’s not like I plan on staying here. I’m gritty-eyed from the two days’ hard ride from L.A. and really need to crash for a few hours, but there’s no way I can sleep until I’ve seen Jas.

  I scrub a hand over my face, but it doesn’t help with the headache or the ice pick lodged in my chest. I’ve no idea how she’ll react when she sees me. Did the week we spent together mean as much to her as it did to me? Or was it like we first agreed and nothing but a long, final goodbye?

  With everything that happened in the past, my chances of persuading her that we need to spend our lives together aren’t great. I should’ve called her during the week, let her know my plans, but I couldn’t do it.

  Couldn’t risk her telling me, It’s over, Ty. I don’t want you anymore.

  Not that it’d make any difference. No matter what happens today, my life is here in Florida, now.

  Even wearing my shades, I grimace at the late afternoon sunlight as I walk outside. Can’t even blame a hangover. I haven’t touched alcohol in a week. I glance at my Harley, but the law office where Jas works is only a few blocks from here, and I sure could do with the walk.

  The area isn’t bad, but there are no sleek office blocks or luxury hotels, just regular small businesses trying to keep afloat, and on the other side of the street, sandwiched between a convenience store and a fast food outlet, is her workplace.

  I stand on the sidewalk as uncertainty gnaws through me. For a week I’ve lived on adrenaline and fury, spurred on by guilt and regret. I’ve burned bridges, turned my back on my president, and destroyed every last relic Viper left behind.

  No one tried to stop me when I smashed the framed photos of him in the clubhouse, or came near me when I hacked his fucking cut to shreds in the yard. No one asked why, but I guess you don’t argue with an ax-wielding Bastard.

  While savage satisfaction blazed through me as I destroyed his memory, it didn’t touch the raw despair deep inside.

  Nothing I do will ever heal that. But maybe, if Jas can forgive me, it won’t cripple me with every breath I take.

  “I used to think it didn’t matter that I’d never be first in your life but guess what? It does matter. I won’t be second to an MC or, let’s be honest, third after your blood family.”

  She was always first. But I never told her. If I had, would she have confided in me that night instead of keeping it locked inside and feeling like she had no choice but to run?

  My hands fist, and I suck in a tortured breath. I’ll never know. I cross the street a
nd come to a halt outside the wire-meshed glass door. There’s no going back in time, no chance of a do-over. All I can do right now is show her that when it comes to the world, she’s my number one.

  For a second I’m frozen at what I’m about to do. It goes against everything I’ve been brought up with. It’s something I never dreamed I’d even contemplate, but it’s the only way to make her see me the way she needs to.

  I roll back my shoulders and, with slow deliberation, peel my vest off my back. It’s like I’ve scraped off half my skin and I’m vulnerable, floating loose, unconnected to the bedrock of my existence.

  It’s fucking terrifying.

  I push open the door and step inside. The waiting room is almost empty but it doesn’t stop the paranoid clawing beneath my skin that everyone’s staring at me. It’s insane, because I’m used to strangers giving me the side-eye, but that’s because of my colors, and I’ve never given it a second thought before.

  It doesn’t matter. I stroll across the floor as though I own the place, but before the beefy security guard intercepts me, Jas walks into the room.

  My heart slams against my ribs. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, and she looks so damn tired I just want to pull her into my arms and never let her go.

  “Ty?” She sounds like she can’t believe her eyes, but she gives the guard a small smile and he backs off. I stand right in front of her, and her gaze is riveted on the vest that’s hanging over my arm. “Has something happened?” Her voice drops to a whisper, and she brushes her fingertips over the leather as though she needs to convince herself of what she’s seeing.

  “Yeah. You could say that.”

  Her hand drops to her side. “What’re you doing here?” She glances back at my cut as though she can’t help herself. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

  Is it my imagination or is there a note of panic in her voice? She grew up on the fringes of the Bastards. She knows the rules. It’s why I’m hoping, more than I’ve hoped for anything in my life before, that she’ll finally see what she’s always meant to me.

  My throat’s as dry as dust, my palms are sweaty, and I can’t push the damn words out. I stare at her like a fool while my heart cracks open at all the wasted years between us. All because ten years ago I was too fucking proud to ride across the country after her and open my eyes to the truth.

  “You were never third.” My voice is rough. “If it comes down to a choice between you and the Bastards, Christ, Jas, that’s no choice at all. It’s always you.”

  The silence eats into me. Everyone’s staring, and any other time that alone would kill me. But I don’t care what they fucking think or do. She’s all that matters. She’s the only one who ever has.

  She bites her bottom lip, and her beautiful brown eyes glitter with what look suspiciously like tears. I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Hell can’t be worse than this.

  She clears her throat. “We can’t talk out here.” She hesitates for a second before taking my hand and leading me through the security door and into a small kitchen. She shuts the door behind us and lets out a ragged breath.

  “I’d never ask you to choose between the Bastards and me. I don’t know why…” Her voice trails away, but she doesn’t pull her hand free.

  I tighten my grip on her fingers. “I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m making the offer. If that’s the only way you’ll come back to me, I’ll do it, Jas. No regrets.”

  There’ll be regrets. But I’ll rip out my tongue before I’ll ever let her know that.

  “But the Bastards are your family. They’re your life—”

  “No.” My voice is harsh, and there’s a hard, ugly knot in the middle of my chest. Is this her way of telling me she doesn’t want us to try again? I’ve tried to steel myself against that possibility, but standing here in front of her—it’s just too hard to face that this is the end. “Without you, they don’t mean shit to me.”

  Her bottom lip trembles, and I’m dying. She presses her palm against my heart, and the warmth seeps into me, a desperate balm. Don’t push me away.

  “You felt this way ten years ago?” There’s a husky note in her voice, as though tears block her throat, and the futile need to smash something rages through me. My fault. I should never have let her go.

  But if I’d forced her to stay, she wouldn’t have gone to college.

  Fuck…

  “I should’ve told you. I always thought you knew.” I drag in a jagged breath. Keep it together. “I spent ten years trying to forget what we had. But no one’s ever come close. All those other girls—they didn’t mean anything. Because they weren’t you. They could never be you.”

  Her fingers curl, and she grasps my shirt, which should be a good thing except she looks as though it’s the end of the world. “Are you asking me to come back with you to L.A.?”

  Would she, if I asked her? It doesn’t matter because I’d never do that to her.

  “No.” My voice is rough. “I’m moving here. Starting over.”

  Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She looks shell shocked. “But what about the Hammer?” she says at last. “Your brothers?”

  “I’ve put a manager in the Hammer. I’ve plans to open a second club here. I’m only moving across states, Jas, not to the end of the world. I’ll stay in touch with my brothers.” The ones that matter, I will. The others can go to hell.

  She cradles my jaw, and pleasure and pain collide low in my gut, but I don’t wrap my arm around her or kiss her like I’ve craved for the last three weeks. She hasn’t agreed to take me back yet, and if I taste her again and she rejects me, I’ll lose what’s left of my fucked-up mind.

  “It was never your colors I loved.” There’s a wistful note in her voice, and I cover her hand, pressing her fingers hard against my jaw.

  “I know that.” Just like I’ve always known, deep down, she’s the only girl I’ve had who could say that and mean it.

  “I might not love the MC life, but I was always so proud of you, Ty. I know how much becoming a full member always meant to you.”

  I’d sure talked about it enough. It’s no wonder she thought the club came first. “Priorities change.”

  “I don’t want you to leave the Bastards. Not even for me.” Her voice is soft, and my chest aches at what she’s giving me. “Can you join the local chapter?”

  “Yeah. That’s not a problem.” Even though I’m barely on speaking terms with Angie, Jett approved the transfer before I left.

  “Good.” She offers me a small smile, and I’m goddamn drowning in those big brown eyes of hers. “So, put this back on, Ty Jenson.” Before I can stop her, she lifts my leather vest. And freezes. “Jesus.”

  Her gaze is riveted on my arm, and I flex my fist. When I vowed to rid Viper from my life, I meant it. “It’ll heal.” It comes out like a growl, because part of me doesn’t want my skin to heal. Part of me wants it to scar, ugly and raw; a small price to pay for what Jas went through.

  …

  Jasmine

  The viper that used to wrap around Ty’s wrist and arm is gone. I stare, stupefied, at the ink-free skin that slashes through the maze of tattoos. It was obviously removed by laser and is still healing…but why?

  There’s only one reason why he’d do something like this. I’ve no idea how he found out, but that hardly matters. Nausea grips my stomach and I swallow, fighting it back. What do I say? After all this time, what can I say?

  “Jas.” He slides a finger beneath my chin, breaking my paralysis. We’re close enough to kiss, and only now do I see the exhaustion etched on every feature. It’s like he’s aged another ten years in the few weeks we were apart, and I can’t stop myself. I cradle his jaw, and for one heartbreaking moment he grits his teeth as though my touch burns him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, like the words are acid in his throat, and his cut falls to the floor beside us. “If I hadn’t been such an asshole and let you think the club came first…” He drags in a serrated b
reath that flays my heart.

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” The words haven’t been said between us. Maybe there’s no need to drag it all out into the open. He knows. Isn’t that enough?

  But it isn’t. I ran away because I couldn’t face him with the truth before. I won’t do that again.

  “I should’ve told you what Viper did to me.” Beneath my touch, a shudder racks Ty’s big body, but his blue gaze never drops from mine. “A small part of me was afraid you’d choose the Bastards but—” I hesitate as I face what had really driven me to leave, the skeletal dread that had haunted me during that nightmare week before I left and tormented me for years afterward. “More than that, I was terrified you’d confront him and he’d end up killing you.”

  “No.” His voice is hollow. “I would’ve killed him, Jas. No question.”

  “And you would’ve been put away for life. How could I live with myself?”

  A sad smile twists his lips. “I would’ve made sure his body was never found. I wouldn’t go to jail for that piece of shit.”

  I believe him. Thank God I left. “You’re not a murderer. You have to let it go.” The way I have. “Otherwise, he wins.”

  Harsh grooves score his forehead. “All the things I said to you—”

  I press a finger across his lips. “If I’d stayed, I never would’ve escaped the shadow of the Bastards. Deep inside, I’d still be that scared girl, the daughter of their favorite lay. I had to leave to find who I really am.”

  For a long moment, he doesn’t move. It’s as though he’s made from granite. Harsh. Uncompromising. And then he lets out a jagged sigh and rests his forehead against mine as the tension seeps from his rock-hard muscles.

  Once I’d been afraid that if he knew the truth he’d stay with me through guilt. I used to be afraid of so many things. But he wanted forever before he found out.

  Don’t go. It was the hardest thing I ever did, walking out on him again that day. Now he’s here, offering me everything, putting me first, and I’ll never let him go.