Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (8 page)

“How did she get here?”

“She showed up at your house in Las Vegas, barely walkin’. When she started banging on the door, begging you to let her in, it tripped the cameras. The security system we set up on your place sent out an alert and one of Smoke’s men at his security company saw your mom slumped against the front door then
called it into the club. I was busy dealin’ with shit in another state, so Vance handled it for me.”

“And his first instinct was to bring her to Austin? To our
home
?”

Beach gave me a funny look, the tone of his voice almost scolding. “You don’t want her here? I know you two are fightin’, but Sarah, she’s your mom and she needs your help. I busted my ribs years ago spillin’ my bike on a slick road and I can tell you that she won’t be able to care for herself like she’ll need. It’s too painful and she says she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Shit, could did I say? As far as Beach knew, my mother was a fuck-up who’d been married a bunch of times, and was a harsh disciplinarian. I hadn’t told him yet the more sordid details of my past, my shame making me wish that part of my life would just disappear. If Beach knew some of the things I’d done…the marriages I’d destroyed, the good men I’d brought low while helping my mother, he’d be disgusted with me.

Trying to buy myself time, I rubbed my face with my hands. “Sorry, my brain isn’t working. I’m kind of in shock here. How did she get here again?”

“Vance went out to Vegas and got her. He said she refused to go to a hospital, but that she needs our help. She left her current boyfriend after he beat the shit out of her and she needs a place to lay low and heal. Someplace safe. I know you’d do the same for my mom in a heartbeat if she ever needed it.”

He loved his mom, and he loved me, so that was all the reason he needed to bring the viper to his bosom…if guy’s had bosoms.

Beach’s mom, Mouse, was super amazingly awesome and down to earth; she loved me and her love was fierce. If his mom had ever shown up banging on our doorstep, beat to shit, I’d move heaven and hell to make it right. But Mouse was a good woman, salt of the earth, while my mother was nothing but poison.

If only he knew how being around her had been slowly killing me for years, how she’d risked my life again and again without thought, manipulating me until I didn’t know up from down, left from right. Beach thought all my issues came from Morrie, having no clue just how bad my childhood was.

I’d fucked myself with my own lies, painting myself into a corner that I couldn’t think of a way out of.

Mistaking my silence for worry, Beach pulled me into his arms and held me close. “Seriously, baby, I’ve got this handled, but I’m sure you want to see your mom. Just brace yourself ’cause someone beat her up good.”

I merely nodded, standing then momentarily considering changing and straightening myself up. It wasn’t because I wanted to look good for her, but when I was growing up, if she was in a bad mood and caught me dressing in a slovenly manner, she’d make me do chores until bedtime with no supper. Knowing that she was going to see me in pink sweatpants and an oversized Def Leppard t-shirt with my hair all fucked up had triggered my old litany of things I had to do to keep my chaotic yet OCD mom happy.

Beach tugged my arm. “Come on, you look fine.”

I didn’t even attempt to smile as I followed him out of our bedroom, steeling myself for the shit storm that had turned up on my doorstep.

As we came down the stairs, I could see a group of Iron Horse men talking in our foyer, their black leather cuts a stark contrast to the pure white perfection of the two-story room. When they spotted us, they grew hushed, and I found a bunch of really mean bikers giving me openly sympathetic looks. I suppose I should be crying or something, like a normal girl would if her mom was hurt, but I couldn’t allow myself any emotions right now. With each step I raised my internal walls higher, then reinforced them with steel, then raised them again and reinforced them with titanium.

I couldn’t let her back into my life, no matter what happened.

This wouldn’t be the first time I saw my mother black and blue, and probably wouldn’t be the last. In a very fucked-up way, my mom liked being hit, liked douchebag men who treated her like shit emotionally but spoiled her financially. Eventually she’d have enough of their garbage, or they’d have enough of hers and they’d part ways, but not before she’d come home with a split lip and a black eye more than once. It used to make me angry, made me want to go kick those guys’ asses for touching my mother, but as I’d grown older, I realized my mother sought these men out, looked for ones who would abuse her.

My stomach twisted again as we walked past Smoke, who reached out to touch my arm as I passed.

“Need me to get Swan?”

“No!” The word came out in an aggressive shout and I had to dial my bitch back by about a million. “No, please, don’t disturb her. You know how she is, how hard it is for her to be around people. Promise me you’ll keep her away from all of this, please. My mother…they don’t have a good relationship and it would be stressful for them both.”

Smoke frowned. “Not sure if that’s the best idea. If it was my mom, I’d want to know.”

I let my head fall forward, my slightly tangled, light blonde hair hiding my face almost to my chin. Jesus, another mama’s boy.  How in the world this bunch of degenerate fucks had some of the world’s best moms was totally beyond me. I must have
really
done something bad in a past life for karma to stick me with
my
birth mother.

Beach waited for me, but I could see he was impatient so I cut to the quick with Smoke, needing him to understand me.

I took a step closer, the dark wood floor cool beneath my bare feet, and lowered my voice. “Do not make Swan face the club, please. Once, when we were younger, I was at the mall with her and some bitchy girls were giving us shit because we were attracting all the male attention. While I had no problem cutting them down to size, one of them grabbed Swan and she threw up all over the girl. Swan was so embarrassed, she refused to leave the compound for nine months.”

“What?” Smoke barely breathed.

“I didn’t tell you the full extent of her sensory issues because she hates for people to know how much it bothers her, hates pity and appearing weak.” I gave him a humorless smile, aware that Beach was behind me, but that the rest of the men had stepped back, no doubt warned away by my man’s rabid-tiger glare. “I’m not saying she’s an invalid. Through therapy she’s gotten to the point where if someone touches her clothing, it’s okay, but if someone touches her bare skin, any skin, it pains her. Now, think about what would happen if you brought her here, all these people, unfamiliar place, to see a woman she doesn’t particularly like?”

“Shit,” Smoke muttered, and I was surprised by the way his gaze strengthened as it met mine. “She doesn’t like your mom?”

I looked him dead in the eye and let him see all the things I couldn’t put into words. “Not at all. They don’t really get along; my mom doesn’t know how to handle Swan’s eccentricities so Billie gets all weird and awkward with her. It’s difficult for them both to physically be around one another so they just avoid each other.”

Not looking particularly happy about the decision, Smoke nodded. “Might not be the best idea to throw Swan into the clubhouse face first, might be better to ease her into it. But Sarah, you’re gonna have to tell her at some point. I seen a lot of beatings and your mom took a hard one about a week ago, and is still hurtin’. We’ve made her as comfortable as we can, so she might be a little loopy.”

Right away, acid burned my throat and I forced myself to nod. Right, my mother was loopy? When was she
not
fucking stoned out of her mind? And I do mean out of her mind. The woman is no longer sane, her brain fried on over twenty years of indulging heavily in everything from coke to heroine. I just wondered if she’d be coherent enough for me to figure out why she was here and what she wanted.

“Right.”

Beach squeezed my shoulder gently and murmured, “I’m here for you, baby, whatever you need.”

I closed my eyes then drew in a deep breath, channeling every ounce of personal strength I had to face the woman who, right before she tried to rob me, had been blitzed out of her mind on PCP and had, in a psychotic rage, tried to stab me.

She was dangerous, and there was no way in fuck I was going to let her harm my family, new or old.

At the sight of my mother’s black, blue, green, and yellow bruised face, I froze, blinking hard. Her long, blonde hair was held back in an elegant, low ponytail and her lips were so swollen she looked like a grotesque parody of herself. One of her blue eyes, so like my own, stared back at me while the other was hidden behind a swollen-shut eyelid. Big diamonds, which I knew were real, glittered in her ears. She’d never wear fake, and I realized she was doing better than when we’d last seen each other.  Her body had filled out a little bit, no longer stick thin and ravaged by heroine.

Now, I’d seen her beat up before—her taste in rich, violent men who liked to use their fists on her had led to more than one week spent hiding from the world while she healed. I have no idea why she sought these men out, but obviously some sick part of her craved their viciousness.

It fucked with my head to think about the reasons she’d been attracted to my father, and I started walking again as I realized what would happen if he found out she was here. My father loathed Billie, with very good reason, and she knew better than to get any closer to him than she had to; it wouldn’t be good. And then there was Mimi, who’d burn down the world for me to keep me safe and do it with a smile. I think she’d like an excuse to carve up Billie’s face. A giggle almost escaped me as I thought about Mimi’s favorite threat against Billie, to cut out her implants and beat her with them.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts as the room fell silent and everyone either looked at me or Billie, who was watching me closely. She knew coming here was a risk, and like some kind of fucked-up adrenaline junkie, she was waiting to see if her gamble payed off.

While I had no idea what in the world she’d gotten herself into this time, I forced any feeling of pity away. “What happened?”

That got me some odd looks, but I focused only on her. Reading her face with all those bruises was next to impossible and I gazed above her right shoulder, an old trick for appearing like I was looking at her, when I really wasn’t. My eyes focused on a lovely, smooth crystal vase full of bright red, orange, and—of all things—blue tulips that added a splash of color to the pale, textured gold of the wall behind my mother.

She reclined on my white velvet fainting couch wearing a shirt that managed to show a lot of cleavage and a pair of tight yoga pants. Even though she was close to rocking her sixties, my mother still had an amazing body, and it wasn’t lost on me that a couple of the older brothers seemed to notice.

Shit.

The absolute last thing I wanted her to do was hook up with a member of the Iron Horse MC as her next conquest.

“Sarah.” Her husky voice broke my wandering thoughts and I reached out, grasping Beach’s hand in my own for strength against whatever bullshit she was about to throw at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. I’m so sorry to be an imposition on you. I told them to let me go to a hotel and I’ll be fine, but they wouldn’t listen.”

As she talked, the glittering rings she wore flashed on her long, artistic fingers. Every movement she made was a dance, even when she was covered in bruises. Always preening for a male audience. I ran my gaze down her body, noticing she wore sandals with a high, thin heel. She couldn’t be hurt too bad if she was strutting around on stiletto spikes. The sight of her ridiculous, bright yellow shoes made me want to take them off her feet and hurl them, and her, out the door.

Beach spoke before I could, which was probably a good thing, considering my temper was prodding at my self-control. “Billie, you’re always welcome here. I’m Carlos, Sarah’s man.”

My mother let out a soft, fluttering sob that would have been perfect on one of those terribly overacted Spanish soap operas. “Oh, Carlos, thank you. I-I’m so scared. My fiancé and I have fought in the past, but nothing like this. Walt is rich, and I’m afraid he’ll find me if I use any of our bank cards.”

“So you need money? How much?”

The brothers stared at me but I ignored them, hoping I had enough in my savings to make Billie go away without leaving me bankrupt.

“No, sweetheart, I don’t need your money. I gave Hustler some jewelry to pawn for me. I’ll use the money to get safe. Please don’t worry about me. I knew my being here would make you uncomfortable and…well—I brought this on myself. I shouldn’t have pushed him so much.”

I clenched my teeth so hard I was afraid they were going to crack as I choked on her martyrdom act. “Gentlemen, I would like a moment to speak alone with my mother. All this attention has to be making her uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, Sarah,” my mom gave me a pathetic look, “these men don’t scare me, I feel safe with them.”

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Beach and had to hide my disgust at the soft expression warming his rugged face. God f’ing dammit, he’d fallen for her shit—hook, line, and sinker. She knew just what to say in order to have all these men feel responsible for her somehow. It was a popular manipulation of hers that she used often because it worked so well on macho men. I wanted to sock Beach in the kidney to stop him from giving my mom any kind of attention, but knew I’d come off as a psycho.

She wanted to play games, fine. I let my lower lip tremble, then made a soft noise of sadness, tears filling my eyes. Yep, I could cry on command, a skill my mother had taught me when I was barely seven years old in a way so fucked up I still didn’t think about it if I could help it. Let’s just say I’ll never have a pet again. Those acting skills came in handy now as I let fat tears spill from my eyes.

“They’re good men, and Beach is the greatest.” I looked at him, then leaned up on my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Mom, you can trust them, because I do, completely. They’ve proven over and over again that they have a code of honor like you wouldn’t believe. Might be a little twisted, but they’re one of the rare breed of men who give their word, and mean it. I’m so blessed to have them in my life.”

I meant every word I said, so it made the words ring true in my voice and gaze. While I hated playing with the men’s emotions, I’d do whatever I could to keep her away from them. Giving Beach one more kiss, I smiled at him and blinked back tears.

“Honey, I need a moment to speak to my mom alone, okay?”

“Whatever you need,” he murmured just low enough for me to hear, his gaze warming for a moment before it turned cold again as he looked at his men and gave them the oh-so-eloquent chin lift that seemed to have a thousand different meanings in biker culture.

As soon as everyone was out of earshot, I put on my big-girl panties and strode over to the couch, the anger open on my face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Shrinking back as if she was afraid I would hit her, which was ridiculous, because the only times I’d fought her had been in self-defense, Billie whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave as soon as I can. Please, I’m sorry.”

Memories of her saying that exact phrase to the monsters of my past as they beat her pulled an unwilling sympathy from me. Shit. If only I could truly be as coldhearted as I pretended.

Sucking in a deep breath, I forced my eyes to meet hers. “What happened?”

Shame, or at least I think it was shame—with her swollen face it was hard to tell—twisted her battered features. “I tried to leave my pimp, but he found me. I didn’t want to work the street, but he said I was old so men wouldn’t pay top dollar for me anymore.”

Closing my eyes, I prayed no one was close enough to have heard that. Embarrassment filled me as if I was the one who had sold my body for money. She’d escorted before, but she’d always gone to one of those high-class brothels out where it was legal. I knew this because when I was thirteen, one of my friends’ older brothers went to the brothel and said he’d seen her there. To say I’d been devastated was an understatement, and that’s the year I’d started smoking pot, something I quit last month so I could focus my attention on my classwork.

I felt dirty; just being around her was like standing in a ditch full of sewage.

I could only imagine how my mother felt, having to say those words. At one time, so long ago it felt like a century, my mother had been a vibrant young woman. According to what I’d learned from my dad and Mimi, Billie had doted on me and my sister before my parents divorced, an amazing mother in every way. That was why my dad hadn’t been worried about her moving to a new house across the compound with me. He had no reason to believe she’d take off in the middle of the night—and take me along with her. I’ve wondered if their divorce, or just the strain of being married to my crazy dad, had been the proverbial straw that broke the mental camel’s back and began Billie’s descent into narcissistic madness.

To see how far she’d fallen down the hole of mental illness and drug addiction struck me like a blow, and against my will, a couple of tears escaped. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Why can’t you just be normal?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her tears joining my own. “I’m so sorry.”

The guilt in her voice disturbed me. She must have fucked up really bad to be feeling guilty about anything. “Just tell me, are you putting me in danger by being here? The truth, Mom.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “If my old pimp finds me, he’ll try to bring me back. I might have stabbed him while I was trying to escape. They had me chained to a bed—”

I took a step back, as if I’d been slapped, and if felt like I had. “They chained you to a bed?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She tried to sit up and groaned. “I’ll leave.”

“No,” I said quietly. “You can stay until you heal. But not here. I’ll set you up with a furnished apartment and get you what you need, but you have to leave once you’re well enough. I don’t want you living here. Don’t contact me, don’t talk to me, don’t even use my name. Understood?”

Billie nodded eagerly then winced. “I will, I promise.”

Even though I felt like the world’s biggest bitch for what I was about to say, I knelt down and stared into her face, needing her to know I was completely serious. “If you do anything, and I do mean anything, to hurt my family—blood or club—I will make sure you can never hurt anyone ever again. Do you understand? If you came here with any ulterior motives to somehow fuck me over because you’re a selfish bitch, you better wipe those thoughts from your mind right now.”

“Yes,” she whispered then curled up on the couch. “You really love him?”

“More than anyone.”

That struck deep, and I could tell when her voice came out hollow. “Oh.”

Only my mother would be surprised that her constant abuse had killed my affection for her.

Without another word, I rose to my feet and kept my attention locked on the floor before me, my heart heavy and my mind racing. Was she telling the truth? I knew from personal experience she was a chronic liar and did it with ease, but those bruises…the pain she must be in. I’ve been beaten up once or twice in my life and it fucking sucked, your body aching for weeks as it tried to heal all the broken bits. An echo of remembered pain overtook me for a moment and I paused, gathering myself, before I hit the foyer where the men stood talking.

The scent of coffee hung heavy in the air as I took in the tired faces around me. For the first time, I wondered what else had happened tonight, my mind too preoccupied with Billie to focus on anything but her drama. It had been so nice, so freeing to not have her in my life, and I wanted to return to that state as soon as possible.

The guys gave me those stupid sympathetic looks again, and more than a few patted my shoulder as I walked past.

Beach spotted me coming and held his arms out. “Come here, baby.”

I gratefully burrowed into his embrace, allowing his strength to become my own.

He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back. “You talk to her?”

“Yeah.”

“She tell you the name of the guy who beat her? Vance tried to get it out of her but she refused to give him up.”

My mind spun as I debated once again lying for my mother, or telling the horrible truth, that I was the daughter of a drug-addicted whore. “No, she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Why is she tryin’ to protect the fucker who did that to her?”

I shrugged, my throat filling with bile.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

Eager to get her out of my house, I blurted out, “Hey, don’t we have medical equipment at the club?”