Her bony hand reaches for my arm, and she digs her fingers into the leather of my kutte. “You hate me,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes. “You hate me so much.”
“I don’t hate you, Ma. I love you, and that’s why I want you to get help.”
“They’ll come for me,” she says.
I sigh. “No one’s coming.” It’s a lie she tells to get money, one that terrified me as a kid. “Do you need food?”
She shakes her head. “I need money, just five pounds.”
I stand, and her hand falls away. “I’ll come back soon.”
“Please,” she begs, the tears now rolling down her dirty face. “I need it so badly.”
“You need help. When you agree to that, I’ll take you back to mine and clean you up. Ma, you’re running out of time. I’m gonna come here soon and find your body in that chair. Is that how you wanna go?”
“Hudson, if you love me, you’ll get me the money.”
“I do love you, and that’s exactly why I’m not.” I turn and leave.
I get back to the club and grab a beer from the bar. Whenever I’ve seen her, I feel the urge to get wasted. Skye, one of the club whores, sidles over with a sexy smirk on her face. “You look like you need a friend,” she says.
I grab her wrist and tug her to me, and she giggles. “What I need is someone to fuck.”
“Ugh, how disgusting,” comes Meli’s voice from behind the bar.
I release Skye immediately, like I’m doing something wrong. “Why are you behind there?”
“I was cleaning up for Nelly. She had to leave early.”
“You shouldn’t be sneaking around.”
“Off you go then. I’m sure after that smooth line, Skye is desperate to bounce on your cock,” she says, laughing to herself.
Meli jumps when I slam my beer down, causing it to spill over the top. “Watch your mouth, Amelia.”
“Or you’ll wash it out for me?” she whispers, biting her lower lip.
I swallow, my eyes watching the way her teeth graze the soft, plump skin. “Skye, go,” I mutter, and she leaves. “What are you playing at?”
Meli arches her perfectly plucked brow. “Me? Nothing. I see you went out even though Mav said you had to stay.”
“I had some business to attend to.”
“A woman?” she asks, wiping the bar top. I grab her wrist, and she looks into my eyes.
“We said we wouldn’t do it again,” I remind her.
“I know.”
“So why are you trying to entice me?”
“I’m wiping the bar. What’s enticing about that?”
I stand, moving around the bar and towards her. “First, you try and stop me leaving tonight, then you cockblock me with Skye . . . what do you want, Meli?” Her head tips back the closer I get, until she’s against the wall. “You’re playing with fire,” I add, glancing around to make sure the area is still empty.
“What can I say, I like the heat,” she replies.
My mouth crashes against hers in a desperate kiss. Our teeth clash as I hungrily swipe my tongue against hers. She runs her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. We suddenly stop, staring at each other with heat in our eyes. Our breathing is laboured, and she smirks. “Not here,” she whispers, sliding under my arm and going down the cellar steps.
I follow, cos I’m too weak to say no. I’ve liked Meli for a long time, and after Mav and I left, I thought that would fade, but seeing her again brought it all back. And then we had one night, one drunken night after Rosey returned and dropped the bombshell about Meli and Ripper and the shit he’d been doing to her. We were both wasted and feeling low, and while my memory is sketchy, I don’t regret it. I spent years wanting Meli, and my only regret is I don’t remember our one night together very well.
I come with such force, my legs go weak and I stumble back from her. Meli glances back over her shoulder, her perfect arse on show, and she grins. “Better?” she asks, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. “Before the guilt starts, don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”
No one knows about us, and we like it that way. I’m not sure how Mav would react, he’s not as controlling as his dad was, but I’m his VP and he’d hate us sneaking around. She’s right—as I fasten my jeans, the guilt does start to creep in. “I gotta go,” I mutter.
“I know,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Goodnight.”
HADLEY
I wake earlier than usual and stretch out. I love the weekends when I don’t have to rush around and get to work. I pull on my joggers and baggy jumper, and once I’ve brushed my teeth, I put my hair into a messy bun and grab my book. Most of the guys will still be sleeping, so it’ll be nice and quiet.
I make a strong black coffee and head outside and round the back of the clubhouse. It sits on empty land that stretches for miles, over fields of green with a wooded area at the end. I prefer the large oak tree right out back. I used to sit under it a lot as a kid and think my worries away.
I almost turn back, though, when I see my usual spot taken. Grim looks up and his eyes are red, like he’s super tired. “Everything okay?” I ask. He sways the beer can hanging loosely in his grip as if to explain why he’s sitting here at six in the morning. “I’ll go,” I mutter, but he shuffles over, making space for me to join him.
Taking a seat on the grass, I lean my back against the rough trunk. We both stare out over the fields in silence. It reminds me of when we were younger. There’s around ten years between us, but when I was fourteen, I’d sit here because I knew it was Grim’s favourite spot. When he’d turn up drunk or after a hard night, he’d stumble over and sit beside me in silence. I loved it. I savoured every second spent with him, even though he didn’t give me a second thought.
Once he left with Mav, I moved on. My stupid teenage crush was forgotten, and although I was never as promiscuous as my twin sister, I dated a couple of guys. But when Grim returned, it was like he’d never left, and that stupid teenager in me did a happy dance. Only now, he’s stronger, bigger, and more toned. I secretly watch him from afar, knowing he’ll never feel the same about me but wishing that for once, he’d look at me like he looks at my sister.
Grim takes a drink from the can and realises it’s empty. He crushes it and drops it to the ground, then pulls a hip flask from his inside jacket pocket and unscrews the cap, offering it to me. I shake my head, and he shrugs, drinking a few mouthfuls and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Don’t you have collections today?” I ask.
He groans. “Fuck.”
“Maybe put the flask away,” I suggest. He hands it to me, and I stare at the engraved emblem of the club’s badge. My dad had one exactly the same. “Try this,” I say, handing him my coffee. I watch as he takes a sip and screws up his face. “I know, it’s really strong, but it’s the best.”
“It’s like treacle,” he mutters in disgust, and I laugh.
“I pay to have it shipped in from Colombia. I can’t get it here.” He scrubs his hands over his tired face. “You should try and sleep,” I say, but he gives me a look, telling me it’s a dumb statement. “What’s bothering you?”