“It was so much fun.” She leans forward, bending her lips near Violet’s ear. “We made a present for Mommy and Daddy Z. I put it under the tree.”
Violet leans back, a secretive look on her face. “I bet it’s awesome.”
She nods, her curls bouncing around her face. And just like that, she slides off Violet’s lap and sprints back inside.
“Is that Aziel’s daughter?” I can barely remember him, but I remember he was drop dead fucking gorgeous. The girl has to be about six, though. Which means he had to of knocked a girl up around the last time I was around.
She nods. “That’s his daughter. But not by blood. Doesn’t matter, though, he’s the best dad she could ever have and her sperm donor is dead.” She starts walking toward the front door, like she didn’t just drop that bomb shell. I blink at her as she opens the door for me. Biting on my lip, I walk through the doorway, my eyes widening at the massive tree that’s pushed all the way up to the ceiling. It’s huge, like ten feet wide, and the top almost crests the ceiling, only leaving an inch of room for a star to be hung on the top.
“Holy shit,” I mumble.
Violet laughs. “I told you.”
Glancing around, I see every single branch hung with different ornaments, handmade and store bought. Kids crafts and Harley Davidson figurines—a mixture that should clash and look bad, but it doesn’t. It looks phenomenal.
Underneath the tree sits piles and piles of presents, so tall that the bottom row of branches bends and contorts around the colorful boxes. It looks ridiculous.
So ridiculous I want to cry.
I so badly wish this was my life. Even though it’s unconventional, I want as much love as these people get.
The last time my mom told me she loved me?
I don’t even remember.
Maybe never.
“Iris?” Violet places her hand on my arm, and my head whips to the side. “Whoa, where’d you go? You were zoned the fuck out.”
“Sorry. This tree is amazing,” I breathe.
She smiles sadly, like she knows exactly where my thoughts strayed to. “Do you have a tree at home? Do you and your mom celebrate?”
I frown. “No. Not really.” Not at all, but I don’t want the pity.
“Violet, who’s your friend?” Comes a clipped voice from the other end of the room.
Both Violet and I spin around and see a woman in her mid-thirties behind the bar, a Harley tank pushing her breasts up. Her hair sits in a high ponytail and a dishrag is grasped in her hands. She looks edgy and not like someone I’d ever want to mess around with.
My mom is scrappy, but this woman looks like she can throw hands.
Violet sighs. “Haley, this is Iris. You met a while back.”
I did?
My face scrunches up, my eyes popping wide when I remember. She just got here when I used to come around. She looked like my mom back in the day, living on the streets of LA and in shitty relationship after shitty relationship.
She looks different. Healthy.
“Oh, yeah! I remember you. You’ve grown up, kid. How you doin’?” She sets two glasses on the table, filling them up with what looks to be soda.
I shrug. “Not much. Glad school’s out—”
A door behind me opens, and a flood of huge men in leather walk out. They all stare at us—stare at me—and I instantly feel on edge as they walk from the room.
My breath leaves my lungs as I glance at each man. They are all equally rugged, raw, brutal-looking with their tousled hair and beards, leather jackets and biker boots. Not to mention the Glock each one of them has holstered on their belt.
Fuck, these men are deadly.
Then the last man; he’s older than the rest, yet still young enough to be handsome. His blondish hair is pulled back to the base of his skull, a trimmed beard sits on his face, his body lean and toned, but still so dangerous.
His gaze steels on mine, and I can’t blink away when he stops, his eyes widening a fraction, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching as he stays halted in place. His hands fist at his sides before he takes another step toward me, then another. One more until he’s only feet away, and the masculine, smoky scent invades my nostrils.
“Who are you?” he barks at me.
“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Lynx,” Violet snaps.
See, I’ve known Violet a long time. She grew up like me, actually. With shitty parents that basically abandoned her on the streets of Los Angeles. The clubhouse brought her in, raised her like their own.
“You look so fuckin’ familiar.” His hand goes to his jaw, and he rubs back and forth, inspecting me from head to toe. “But… it couldn’t be.”
“My name is Iris. I go to school with Violet.”
“You’ve met her before, Lynx. She used to come to the clubhouse all the time years back.”
He takes another step toward me, and I can barely breathe as he invades my space. Not enough that it’s awkward, but enough that I can feel the energy radiating from him. It’s intense, and I can barely breathe as I inhale a shaky breath.
“You aren’t her,” he mumbles, spinning on his feet and stomping out of the clubhouse.
I blink, then hear the squeaking of Violet’s chair as she spins around to Haley. “What the fuck was that?”
I glance at Haley, and she has a strange look on her face. “I have no idea. But that was weird as hell.”
Chapter 4
“I should probably go home,” I tell Violet hours later. We eventually moved from the bar to the nearby couches. Everyone has stayed out of our way, though they did eventually move into the bar area. I can hear them talking, swearing, talking about shit that makes the hair on my arms raise.
These men are… ruthless.
“Already? You know you can spend the night, right?” Violet asks, her arm elbow deep in a bag of Doritos.
I’ve already stayed long enough. I know I could stay the night, and maybe I should. Maybe getting away from my mom and the toxic environment of our apartment would be a good idea.
But my stomach has been uneasy since the encounter with the man earlier, and I have felt his eyes on the back of my head numerous times throughout the night. I don’t know how I could tell they were his, when there’re several other people sitting behind me.
I just know.
He’s the guy that brought Violet in. Her pseudo-father. The guy who looked so old years ago, but now I swear he doesn’t look like an old man. He looks vicious, fucking handsome.
I shake my head, ridding my thoughts that feel so, incredibly forbidden.
“Maybe another time? I don’t want my mom freaking out.”
She frowns. “Why don’t you just call her?”
I laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed, though I shouldn’t, because once upon a time Violet was in the same circumstance. “Don’t have a phone.”
She frowns at that, a chip extended halfway to her mouth. “Fuck.”
I nod my head. “Yeah.”
She pops the chip into her mouth, then rolls up the red bag, setting it on the table in front of her. “Yeah, I can take you home.”
“Can I use the bathroom first?”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Obviously. Right upstairs.”