One Year Earlier
My dating life had been decidedly sordid. As a stupid, heartbroken and reckless teenager, I decided if I couldn’t have the man I wanted, the man I needed, I’d have every other man I possibly could.
That didn’t mean I jumped into bed with every man who was half-decent to look at and had three legs. I wasn’t that bad. Also, a lot of the fuck-worthy men in my vicinity wore leather cuts and answered to either my adopted father or my brother.
Both of those men would’ve happily had me virginal until marriage, or preferably death.
But I was a biker princess. They made me that way. I hadn’t been virginal since I walked into the clubhouse and saw Lucky fucking some chick on the sofa.
I was maybe seven.
Lucky got in a lot of shit for that, especially since he was barely patched in. Even bikers didn’t like seven-year-old princesses getting firsthand knowledge of what ‘doggy style’ was.
Despite my barriers, my family, I dated. A lot.
I liked variety in my wardrobe, and I also liked it in men. I got bored easily too. Not many made it past a couple of weeks. Or a couple of dates. And I made sure to hunt for my next distraction in neighboring towns or cities when I felt like a road trip. Which was a lot.
There were a few good guys. I dropped them quick. I needed good guys like I needed a punch in my face. I was trying to get over the good guy. Which meant I needed to make sure whoever I got under was as different from Luke as possible.
There were a lot of average guys. Also a lot of wannabe bad boys. Then a few really nasty ones, which I somehow managed to stay with longer than the rest.
It wasn’t because of low self-esteem or daddy issues. It was because they gave me some sort of sick excitement. Or maybe I liked the bitterness of a toxic relationship, craved it on some level.
Of course, no one, not even Lucy or Ashley, knew about the real nasty ones. Especially not the club. They would immediately intervene, and things would get decidedly messy. Because I went for nasty guys, they were tangled up in equally nasty things.
I could handle myself with every single one of them.
Until Kevin.
Absurdly boring and harmless name for an absurdly unpredictable and dangerous man.
I didn’t particularly like him, but he was better at distracting than the rest, and he fed that ugly evil part of me.
So I kept seeing him.
Despite the red flags.
Despite the protectiveness and jealousy that was driven by anger.
Despite the fact that the sex began to scare even me.
It took a lot to scare me.
But I was also at the peak of my fucked-up state of mind. Luke was dating too. I think it would’ve been better if it was a revolving door of girls, but it wasn’t. It was some empty-headed bimbo with fake tits and faker Choos.
He was staying with someone like that, letting her into his life, in that spot I coveted, instead of me.
So I stayed with Kevin, fed into that ugly hunger that turned ravenous after seeing Luke with someone who was only better than me because she wasn’t connected to a motorcycle club.
Then he hit me.
I can’t even remember why. I spoke back to him, most likely.
I do remember lying there, on the ground, where the force of his blow had put me. I held my cheek in surprise rather than pain. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt, a fuck of a lot, but I could handle pain. The humiliation that I’d stayed with someone who thought it was okay to beat a woman who wasn’t as silent as a mouse, that was what I couldn’t handle. No matter how fucked up I was, I shouldn’t have landed myself there.
And I was sure many millions of women had thought that exact same thing in my exact position before.
I was shocked too. I’d seen violence. Lived a life of it. My best friends had been subjected to some of the most brutal and ugly acts that could be dealt at the hands of men. Most of them had not only managed to survive it but thrive after it.
One of my most treasured girls didn’t survive. I thought witnessing that, seeing the people I loved most in the world being broken like that, was worse than anything I could experience.
And it was.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t freeze from the surprise of experiencing this violence firsthand from a man for the first time in my life.
Kevin utilized that, my shock, kicking me in the ribs. I grunted as the force of the kick expelled a painful gasp from my lungs and rolled me toward the coffee table.
“See, you’re a hot piece, babe. The hottest. And I care about you, I really do. But you just have to piss me off. Why do you do that?” he asked, as if I was the one hurting him. As if it was my fault.
I barely listened to him. I blinked through the pain that wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been since he was barefoot. My eyes focused on my purse, which, thanks to the kick, was now within reach.
I wasn’t frozen anymore. I didn’t hesitate to dart my hand forward, into the opening, and clutch the gun that was always in there.
I turned onto my back with some pain the moment he reached my side, standing above me. The barrel of the gun blocked out his handsome face.
“You don’t touch me again unless you want it to be the last thing you do,” I said, my voice even.
It was his time to freeze. And he did it long enough for me to scramble clumsily to my feet.
By the time I’d done that, still pointing my gun at him, his face changed from dumb shock to a dumb snarl. A cocky confidence fed by women who didn’t have enough strength to stand up to him.
I was doing this for them, and, of course, myself.
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
He barely got the words out before I replaced them with a gunshot.
His screams were embarrassingly loud for someone who prided himself on being the big bad drug dealer who beat women.
“You fucking bitch! You fucking shot me!” he bellowed from the floor, which he’d collapsed onto as soon as the bullet went through his lower leg.
I raised my brow. “I don’t do empty threats, babe,” I said, then snatched my purse from the ground, keeping my gaze on Kevin while I did. “You know, I think we should break up.”
“I’m going to fucking—”
“Tut tut. I wouldn’t go about making promises you can’t keep.” I narrowed my eyes. “And trust me, you can’t keep any promises of revenge that you’re going to throw at me like that weak punch.” I rubbed my cheek. “I’m not like the other girls. In all the best ways. And all the worst. That means I will fucking kill you if you come near me again. I’ll make sure I chop your dick off first. Oh, and I’ll be having someone keep an eye on you. And your next girlfriend. If she has as much as a hangnail, I’ll come back. And I’ll give you a lot more than a hangnail.”
I eyed him, clutching his leg and glaring at me. He was angry. Furious. This was probably the first time a woman had ever got the best of him.
I really hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
I also hoped that he wasn’t stupid enough to mess with me again.
I should’ve known better than to hope.
It took a while for everything to line up just perfectly for my life to be ruined. I’d pretty much forgotten about Kevin by the time all the drama with Bex came to a head. Which was comical, since it was him, not the drama with Bex, that ruined it all.