Rage: Royal Bastards MC Page 8

  “Let’s go, shall we?” my mother suggests.

  Once I’m inside the car with them, I pull the phone from my pocket and text Gabe.

  I’m here safe on route to my mother’s house. Never thought I’d be saying that. I missing you already - Willa.

  I can do this.

  Seventeen

  Gabe

  Two days later…

  Re-reading Willa’s last message letting me know she went shopping and managed to order the right size jeans make me smile and stabs away at the scab that’s been crusted over my heart since she left. Closing my phone and grabbing another beer, I gulp down the frosty liquid, dulling my senses.

  “You’re a miserable cunt.” Jameson quirks a brow at me. “You did the right thing letting her fly the nest.”

  “Fuck off,” I growl, signaling for the barman to bring another.

  “It’s only a thirty-hour drive,” he reminds me. I don’t know if he’s trying to cheer me up or rile me up, but I don’t like it. Thirty fucking hours is too far. Even if I wanted to, I can’t go to her. She needs this.

  “Jimmy has a couple more jobs for us to keep you busy. Stop sulking.”

  “I’m not fucking sulking.”

  “Tell your face that.” He pushes off the bar and taps my shoulder. “Come on, let’s find something for you to do—or someone.”

  I don’t want someone. I want her.

  Three months later …

  Wind and rain batters the windows of the diner where Jameson and I are camped out, waiting for the monsoon to fuck off.

  Reading the text from Willa telling me that she’s saved enough working at her mother’s wine bar to rent an apartment leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I fucking miss her. I can’t even bear to be in my own house. It feels empty. Most of my time has been spent out of town doing odd jobs for the Royal Bastards.

  Jameson and I finally got our discharge papers from the reserves and are free agents. Jimmy is the vice president of the Little Rock chapter and is putting our names forward to become prospects at the next church meeting. I should be feeling good, starting a new path, a brotherhood, but there’s a hole Willa left that keeps growing.

  I didn’t expect her to stay in Vancouver. If I’d known it was the last time I’d see her for months, I would have kissed her harder. Fucking drowned in her lips, never coming up for air. I want nothing more than to get on my bike and ride until I’m at her doorstep, but I wanted this for her, to go out into the world and discover it. To learn if the connection pulsing between us was more than hero worship.

  “You going to eat that?” Jameson asks, pointing to my untouched burger.

  I’m acting like a lovesick bitch. “Nah, have at it.” I shove the plate across the table to him. We’re on lacky errand runs, but the hours we spend waiting for orders are crippling. Better than the empty rooms and stillness of back home, though. I’d sit in a million shit diners in a million shit towns if it meant not having to go home to the echoes of Willa.

  I hit respond and type out a text, deleting the last line before hitting send.

  Happy to hear you’re getting your own place.

  That’s huge! Proud of you.

  I fucking miss you! Come home to me!!!

  Eighteen

  Willa

  Lost—that’s what I’ve felt for the past three months. People around try to engage, but I don’t want to be here, and it makes me miserable. My mother gave me a job at her wine bar and helped me look for a place of my own. Staying with her doesn’t feel right. Our relationship feels tainted, cursed by the past neither of us can change. We had such different lives, finding a middle ground is like forcing oil into the water. I’m comfortably numb, shutting down. There’s no love or hate, just indifference. It makes me feel cruel. She’s desperate to have this daughter made up of dreams she’s created in the years she spent seeking me out, but I’m just not who she thought I’d be, and the atmosphere grows colder each day I’m not blossoming under her attention.

  “That guy is eye-fucking you.” Jessie, the other bartender that works for my mother, whispers into my ear. I track her gaze to a man I instantly recognize. The glass I’m holding drops and shatters to the floor, causing a screech from Jessie’s lips.

  “What the hell, Willa?” she gasps, dropping on her hunches to pick up the shards. Rhythmic pounding rings in my ears as I round the bar and make my way to Mr. Right.

  Clasping my trembling hands together in my lap, I slip onto the stool opposite him. “What are you doing here?” It sounds accusatory, and his face becomes stoic, making my insides churn. I want to dip my head and apologize, but hear Gabe’s voice roaring in my head. “No one owns you, Willa.”

  “When did you become rude?” He takes a napkin and pats his lips. “Interesting place you have here.”

  “It’s not mine,” I race out.

  “I heard about Milo’s passing. Can’t say I’m surprised. The boy was playing way out of his league.”

  “Why are you here?” I insist with strength in my tone I didn’t know I was capable of. He stares at me, studying.

  “You cut your hair,” he mentions. It’s styled into a bob now, resting just above my shoulders. “I don’t like it.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask more firmly. His hands fly out, grabbing my chin in a penetrating grip.

  “I go where I please, and I don’t appreciate the tone.”

  “Is there a problem here?” My mother appears next to me, her arms wrapping around my shoulder. Mr. Right releases me, a smile hooking his lips. “No, not at all. I was just admiring Willa’s haircut.”

  “You know each other?” she asks, dumbfounded.

  “Do you?” I ask, my lungs seizing.

  “Mr. Cage is looking to invest in local businesses like mine,” my mother informs, looking between us, a dazed expression making her lips thin.

  “Mother, could you give us a moment?” I ask her, nodding for her to leave when she appears apprehensive.

  “Of course.”

  Turning my focus back to Mr. Right…or Mr. Cage—whoever he’s pretending to be—I pull my phone from my apron pocket and snap a picture of him before he can react or stop me.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, anger lacing his tone.

  “Tell me what you’re doing here or I’m sending this to a friend of mine and getting every drop of information I can on you. What I do with that information will depend on your answer.”

  A genuine smile lights up his face, a chuckle deep and terrifying. “Oh, Willa, you have grown. What a clever little girl. I’ll be honest with you. Whether you believe me is neither here nor there, but this is a pure coincidence.” He waves a hand in the air dismissively. Lies. It can’t be. There’s no way.

  “I can see your mind working. It’s always been your downfall.”

  Having my own thoughts is a downfall?

  “The family I work for is looking to extend their reach with their chain of restaurants and bars. I acquire places that have potential.”

  “You want to buy this place?”

  “No, actually, but when I came in and saw you were working here, I couldn’t help myself, I needed to know everything about it. It felt fated, I suppose.”

  This is insane. What are the odds of this happening?

  “I’m getting ready to leave, going back to Little Rock. Remember what I’ve told you in the past, I hold a little soft spot for you, Willa. If you ever find yourself in need, you know where to find me.”

  My pulse vibrates through my veins as I track his departure. Part of me wants to run to catch up with him, demand he take me with him—take me home to Gabe.

  “Willa, who is that man to you?” my mother asks, concern lining her forehead.

  “He’s no one.” And it’s true. He is no one who matters.

  I push into the backroom, locking the door behind me, and pull my phone free. Bringing up Gabe’s name, I hit call.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  “Hello.”


  Every rigid muscle inside me uncoils at the sound of his voice. A peace settlesin my chest and branches out like healing webs, holding back the flood of shame and fear ringing out in my head.

  “Willa?”

  “Gabe.” I smile into the phone. “I’m here.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice.” He chuckles. He has no idea how much he has rebuilt the broken girl I was before, or how much the woman I’ve become misses him.

  Nineteen

  Gabe

  Three months later…

  Reno: the biggest little city in the world, and where Jimmy sent us on a supply run.

  “If you don’t fuck her, I will,” Kahn grunts, eyeballing a blonde bitch who has been flashing me her fucking tits all night. She’s gagging for a taste of my cock and isn’t shy about showing it. Kahn rivals me in size and power, a brother with the Reno chapter of the Royal Bastards. His Prez, Loki, is a fucking sadist who’s hosting a club party after we just fucked up some traffickers who thought they could move through his city undetected.

  “He’s a eunuch,” Jameson tuts, placing a beer down in front of me. Jameson came down here for a job and to party. Like a loyal friend, he stays on the road with me until I can pull my head out of my ass and just go fucking home.

  “A what?” Kahn scoffs.

  “Has no balls. Some woman has them with her in Vancouver,” he informs him, slapping my back and chuckling like the asshole he is.

  “More pussy for me. Later, boys.”

  “You’re a fucking dick,” I growl.

  “You’re a non-fucking dick. You need to let that shit go, man. She clearly ain’t coming back.” I know he’s right, and when I bury my dick in that blonde later, it will be an empty experience, leaving me missing Willa more than I already do. I’m pathetic. The blonde crooks her finger in a “come hither” gesture just as my phone vibrates and lights up with Willa’s name.

  “Fucking hell, does she have a camera on you or something? Talk about a cockblock.” Jameson cackles, walking up to the blonde, curling his arm around her neck.

  “Let me buy you a drink, darling.” He winks down at her. She gives me a “your loss” flick of her eyelashes and a finger wave.

  “Hello?”

  “Gabe,” she sighs down the line, and I feel my chest inflate. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks as rowdy roars boom through the room at some bitch stripping on a table. I push outside to find a quiet spot.

  “Not at all. I’m glad you called.”

  “Really, why?” Her tone is playful, and I imagine her curled up on her bed, biting her lip.

  “Because I miss you. Tell me everything.”

  Twenty

  Willa

  Two months later…

  Afraid of the dark at nearly twenty-one-years old. How lame is that? A power outage plunged my block into darkness an hour ago and still hasn’t come back on.

  I watch the flame flicking on the candle I found in a closet left here by the previous tenant. The wax drips over my hand, stinging before hardening and cooling over my flesh. I peel it off, dropping it to the counter.

  I hate my life here. The plan was to move away and grow, let the rain wash away the pain and sorrow, allow the sunshine to rise and help me flourish, help me find myself so I can trust what I feel for Gabe is real—more than just clinging to the person who pulled me from the rubble of my broken life. All it’s done is make me realize I should have never left. That I should have trusted myself. It was him who had apprehensions, though. I moved away to prove to him that no matter what the world has waiting for me he’s what I want, not because I haven’t experienced life outside of Little Rock, outside of Milo’s control, but because there’s a gaping hole in my chest now that I’m not with him. A knock at my front door sends my heart skipping, almost causing the candle to fall to the floor. Crap, who the hell can that be?

  What if it’s Gabe?

  A shrill of hope blossoms inside my gut as I rush to the door. Peeping through the hole, I deflate seeing Jessie standing there. I open the door, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to take you out.” She waltzes inside without invitation and starts nosing around. There’s only a dull glow from the streetlight outside aiding her in her appraisal.

  “Nice digs. Now, where’s your wardrobe?”

  “I don’t want to go out.” I take the candle to the sink and run the flame under the tap to put it out.

  “Listen, Willa, you always turn down my offer for fun. Now, I’m not giving you a choice. Come on, the power is out. What the hell are you going to do otherwise?”

  Think of an excuse to call Gabe. Mope when he doesn’t answer because he’s out of town on business.

  “Fine. I’ll come.”

  “Yay! Now, what do you have to wear?”

  I look down at my jeans and shirt, and her eyes expand in horror. “No way! Grab your purse. We’re going to my place to find you an outfit. I have a killer red dress that would go so well with your huge tits.”

  A dress? I’m regretting this already.

  Twenty-One

  Gabe

  Pictures of my girl all dolled up and out on the fucking town ding one after the other on my cell. She’s blossomed, looks happy, confident, fucking stunning. “You want us to wait while you fucking bang one out to that or can we finish up here?” Jimmy barks, pointing down at the guy gasping for air beneath my boot squeezing the life from his throat. I let up, removing my foot from his neck, and slip my phone into my pocket. Knowing she’s out will plague my fucking mind until I get the “Goodnight” text she never fails to send.

  “You want to tell us who your source is for the coke, or should I go for round two with your windpipe?” I growl at the dealer stepping over Royal Bastards’ territories.

  “He’ll kill me.”

  Jimmy drops on his haunches and presses the barrel of his gun to his forehead. “You think we’re not, motherfucker? It can be slow and painful or quick and easy.”

  Another text comes through from Willa.

  I’m going to say night now in case it’s late when I get home. Sleep well, Gabe.

  I slip my knife from my boot, rolling my shoulders. “Let’s go with the long route.”

  Getting back to the clubhouse, I find an empty room to crash in. Placing the bottle of whiskey I stole from behind the bar on the dresser, I kick off my boots and sit back on the bed. I pull my phone out and look over the pictures Willa sent earlier. It’s four a.m., and I want to know she’s home. Alone. It makes me an asshole, but it eats away at me knowing every fucker in the club was salivating at the sight of her.

  Yanking the buttons of my jeans open, I pull my cock free and stroke the full length, tightening my fist over the head. Fuck, what the hell has this woman done to me? My fingers hover over her name. Fuck it. I hit call, grab the bottle of whiskey, and chug a burning mouthful. My cock stands at attention, needing to feel her fat fucking lips around it.

  “Hello?” a groggy sounding Willa croaks.

  “You at your place?” I ask, fisting my cock again.

  “Gabe?” she questions. I hear movement, the ruffling of her duvet, and the flicking of a switch.

  “Yeah, it’s fucking Gabe,” I snarl. Who the fuck else would be calling at this hour?

  “Are you okay?”

  “I miss you,” I tell her honestly, my mind clouding with the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight. “You tangled me up in your web, baby, and then left me.”

  “What happened?” She sounds more alert now, concerned.

  “I hear you whispering in my head, baby. Can’t focus on anything else. You’re in my bones, keeping me prisoner.”

  “Do you need me to come home?” Home…fucking hell, she’s killing me.

  “I need you on my cock.” Her gasp makes my cock jump in excitement. “You alone?” I groan, tugging my dick, bringing images of her pert tits and slim waist, the curves flaring out at her hips to the forefront of my mind.

  “I’m
never alone.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I growl, thinking of a million ways to butcher a man.

  “You’re always with me—in my head, my heart.” Well…damn.

  “Lay on your bed and touch your pussy for me. Tell me what you feel like. I need to know what you feel like so bad, baby.” I know I shouldn’t be asking her to do this shit, but I’m too far gone to listen to my own reasoning.

  “I feel warm. Silky wetness coats my fingers when I touch myself and think of you,” she breathes. Sensual gasps from her lips drive me fucking crazy.

  “Slip them into your mouth. Tell me how you taste,” I beg, fucking my fist, wishing it was her tight hole. The suckling assaults my ears, nearly making me combust.

  “Sweet, sexy…I taste like pleasure,” she moans, and my cock throbs. My hips buck up into my fist, my come erupting from the tip coating my fingers. I want to fuck her mouth, then finger-fuck her pussy with my cum-coated hand until she screams my name.

  “Oh…fuck,” I grunt, the comedown washing through me.

  “I miss you,” she purrs.

  “I’m sorry for waking you.”

  “Don’t be. Night, Gabe.”

  “Night, Willa.”

  Twenty-Two

  Willa

  One month later…