Haven: Renegade Saints MC (15 page)

“I called her for help,” I admitted. I sighed. This whole thing was harder to explain than I thought. I didn’t know what the guys would think of when they’d discover that I’d been digging around Kristoff’s house again. The whole thing just sounded shady, and I was well aware of how criminal I looked.

“Why?”

“I asked her to help me analyze something,” I lied. “Something I found. I wanted to see if there were prints on it, you know, some kind of DNA shit or something.”

Paul nodded. “And she can do that?”

“She has friends who can,” I said, desperate to get the subject off Maria. “And she called me yesterday and said she had news for me. So I went over there this morning, and either she’s pulling one hell of a prank on me or something weird is going on.” I ran a hand through my hair and looked away. “She said she found Talia’s prints.”

Paul frowned. “And just
what
did you bring her, exactly?”

“A letter I found,” I lied. “Not really anything important. I thought it was a mistake, but Maria said she double checked, and the prints were Talia’s.”

“Huh,” Paul said. He rubbed his chin with a couple of grease-stained fingers. Paul was a mechanic, and a pretty damn good one at that. He always looked like he’d just walked in from a garage, even if he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Well, what do you think about that?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Doesn’t it seem weird to you?”

Paul nodded. “It could be a dupe,” he replied. “You know, those scientists make mistakes. They make them all the time.” He coughed. “Once, a doctor told my mom that she had strep throat. She got all the meds and everything, but she never got better. Then we got a call a week later saying he’d mixed up his results with someone else.” Paul stretched. “We shoulda sued them,” he said bitterly.

I walked around behind the bar and grabbed two icy cans of beer, tossing one to Paul. I thought that his podunk doctor fucking up was a lot different than those brains that Maria knew, but I didn’t want to make any trouble. After all, I was already in too deep. I had no idea what Paul or the others would say when they found out about Kristoff’s house, but I wanted to be sure of what to tell them before it ever came up.

“It’s not her,” I said darkly. “She died. She was in a car accident, remember? The accident was so bad that it ripped her limb from limb.” I shuddered. When I’d gone to the hospital to identify the body, it had been covered with a sheet. Only a tangle of her dark hair had been poking out. I’d known the body on the table was hers without even looking at it. That was the day that I knew my heart would stay broken forever.

“Whatever, man,” Paul replied. “You seriously can’t think that, that’s fucked up.”

“What?” I glared at him. “That she’s dead? Or that she’s coming back to life?”

Paul stared at me. “I don’t know why you wanted to talk,” he said in a gruff voice. “I don’t really think I can do anything to help you right now.”

I cracked open my beer and poured half of it down my throat. “Look, I know this sounds crazy,” I said. “But what if she didn’t really die? What if something happened and she…I don’t know, stayed alive, somehow?”

“Like, she faked her own death?”

“No,” I almost exploded. “Talia would never have done that.” My mind was running wild with paranoid thoughts and I couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard I tried. “Like, what if she got kidnapped? Or someone threatened her and she felt like she had to do that? Just to fuck with me? What if someone’s been trying to get at us the whole time?”

Paul shook his head. “You’re reading way too much into this, man,” he said softly. “Why not try to relax a little? You’re fuckin’ freaking me out,” he added. “Go home to your wife. Fuck her, have a nice dinner. Then relax, okay?”

I put my face in my hands and leaned down over the bar. Everything was crashing and swimming around in my head, and I didn’t think I could take it anymore. Talia. Tori. Silas. Kristoff. I couldn’t believe this, that everything was happening at once and threatening to ruin my life.

“I don’t know what to do,” I moaned. “This is just so much to deal with.”

“You gotta get your shit together.” He stood up and narrowed his eyes at me. “You really gotta work on this, man,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t lead the Renegade Saints like this. And you can’t keep expecting us to cover for your shit.”

I could have punched him. All of the brotherly loyalty and goodwill that I’d felt towards Paul yesterday was rapidly disappearing and soon I’d be left with nothing.

“Fuck it,” I said, standing up and walking out of the clubhouse. “I’m done here.”

I climbed on my bike and strapped my helmet on my head before driving off into the darkness. Night rides usually helped calm me down, but tonight was apparently the exception of the year. Talia’s face haunted me as I drove, taunted me for all of our past arguments and fights, made me feel like a shit for ever believing that she could love me.

I couldn’t get past what Maria had said. If it had been anyone else—anyone!—I would have believed Paul in a heartbeat. The results had been fucked, sure. But not with Maria. Maria was whip-sharp, and her friends were all as brainy as she was. I knew that one of them couldn’t have made a mistake. Plus, not all of them had legit jobs; no one would have risked breaking into the police database just to throw me off.

None of it made sense. I felt like I was reliving the same nightmare that had begun the night of Talia’s death, the night that I first knew I’d be alone forever. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to stop.

Talia’s face floated above me as I drove into the dark night. I closed my eyes and imagined her with a playful expression on her fine features, her dark hair wild and streaming around her hair. Talia’s dark eyes winked and spoke to me, volumes louder than her voice ever could.

The ache in my chest was like a stab wound. I raised a hand over my heart and tried to listen to my pulse, just for comfort, just for anything. But no matter what I did, she haunted me.

“Why didn’t you come to me, Talia?” I asked out loud. I knew it was a mistake. It
had
to be a mistake. There was no way Talia, my love, could still be alive. The anger and hurt within me felt as fresh as it had all those years ago, and even though I tried to close the bitter and weather valves of my heart, I couldn’t make her disappear from my mind.

Over and over again, in my head, I heard Maria’s voice. Maria’s voice telling me that the prints had been Talia’s. I saw the confused expression on her face, felt the same blind rage that had welled up inside of me.

Talia wasn’t alive. She’d died that day, years ago, and nothing would ever be the same again. I knew it with absolute certainty, knew it with an absoluteness that haunted my bones. Talia was dead, and she wasn’t ever coming back.

Talia was dead, and something very bad was haunting me.

Victoria

I cleaned up the mess that Max had made in the sink and then sat down in the living room with Danny, desperate to distract myself. I could tell he was curious about Kitty, but to his credit, he stayed silent the whole time.

“I bet you’ve seen a lot of really interesting shit, haven’t you?” I raised my eyebrows to Danny.

“Enough,” he said shortly, glancing away. “I don’t really talk about it, you know?”

“I get that secrecy is part of the job,” I replied. “But don’t you get sick of keeping everything to yourself?”

Danny shrugged. “The only guys I talk to are the Renegade Saints,” he said, sounding like an ad for privacy. “And they all see the same shit I do. It doesn’t matter if something looks whack, it’s probably not that big of a deal. And anyone who hangs around long enough is going to see some dark shit.”

I closed my lips and thought about that. I bet I could have probably competed with some of the guys as to who had seen the most fucked up stuff, but I didn’t exactly want to start that kind of competition. After all, Silas had put me through a whole world of horror. But I didn’t exactly think that was the kind of thing that Danny and I would bond over. I was betting all of the Renegade Saints had their own little stories, but maybe Danny was right, maybe they didn’t like to talk.

“I’m going to lie down.”

Danny didn’t say anything as I left the room. I didn’t go into Max’s room, but rather into the bedroom I’d used a couple of times, the bedroom with the old photos. Frowning, I opened the closet and pulled out the photo albums. Even though I’d tried to disguise the fact that I’d been digging around, I knew Max would be able to tell almost instantly; there was a ton of dust everywhere and the albums had clearly been disturbed.

I pulled down one book with a photo of the vintage Renegade Saints on the cover—my dad and his cronies. A tear came to my eye as I stroked the photograph, suddenly wishing that I could go back in time and erase everything bad that had ever happened between my father and me. I wished that I could have grown up with a real dad, a dad who loved me, not just the distant relationship that we’d enjoyed.

Now that I was an adult, I was starting to see some things from my father’s point of view. Sure, he’d been ridiculous not allowing me to date when I was in high school. But I felt an odd sort of kinship with him when I thought about my young childhood. Before I’d hit puberty, Dad and I had almost been close. We’d talked every day when I came home from school. He’d always asked me what I’d learned, and what I’d liked best about the day I’d had. I know it sounded corny, but losing him really made me appreciate that.

Some parents, like Kitty’s, never inquired about their child. Even though I felt sorry for her now, at the time I’d been envious. I always thought it had been too awkward to talk to my dad about school, like he was just asking because that was what he thought he had to do. Now I realized that it was like when he tucked me in at night. He wasn’t doing it to irritate me, he was just doing it because he wanted me to feel like he’d cared.

The thought was almost enough to make me cry again. I looked down at the photo, studying my dad’s expression. The sun was in his face and he was shielding his eyes, looking down and away from the camera. The photo had been taken at dusk, and all of the men were standing in front of their bikes, in front of a giant lake. Everyone looked dusty and sore but happy, too, like they’d all reached some kind of inner peace. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what my father had been thinking about when the photo had been taken. Had he known that someday he’d be murdered and that his friends would all suspect his future son-in-law?

I shivered. Even though I wanted to believe Max, I still had some doubts when it came to what had happened when my father died. Max had only told me the briefest of details: Kristoff was working a drug deal, it went badly, he was shot in the head and left to die. I hadn’t wanted to believe the drugs, but Max said my father hadn’t ever used, just sold. Personally, I thought that was almost worse. Drugs caused so much pain and suffering, I didn’t like that my father had perpetuated that cycle. But now he was dead, and there was nothing I could do about it. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I wasn’t sure that in the past months I’d ever really
dealt
with my father’s death. The fighting with Silas had eclipsed that importance in my life, and suddenly I’d been too concerned with my own survival to worry about whether or not I’d been a good daughter. But now, all of those feelings came rushing back tenfold. I missed my dad so much that it felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

I wanted Max. I wanted him to come in and hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. I knew that was unrealistic, and fucked up, but suddenly I was missing him so badly.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” I said to the photograph. Dad’s smile didn’t waver, but I felt more separated from him than ever. I decided that even if things didn’t work out with Max, even if we got divorced, that I’d do my best and try to find out some things about what the Renegade Saints had been like when my dad was a member. Maybe I could even call up some of his old buddies who had left the MC and ask them questions about him. Kristoff had been a popular leader; I was hoping they’d be more than willing to share stories with his daughter.

“Tori!” I heard a voice yell from the hallway. “Where are you?”

It was Max. Blushing, I got to my knees and tried to stack all of the albums back in the hallway. Dust flew everywhere and I felt my face break out in a mass of itching. A hard sneeze came over me before I could move, and I started gagging and coughing loudly.

The door burst open. Max was standing there with a pained expression on his face. “Doing some research?”

My face turned bright red. “I wanted to see some old pictures of my dad,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Max opened his mouth, like he was going to reply. Then he looked away and made a funny sound. “It’s fine,” he said. “I mean, this is your house now, too.” He was carrying a few bags. “I brought food,” he said. “If you want to eat, that is.”

My stomach rumbled and I nodded. I was still feeling weird—that awkward energy between us hadn’t dissipated—but I was feeling much better than I had earlier in the day. I didn’t know, maybe some of it was just because I’d managed to channel some feelings for my father, and therefore the rest of the Renegade Saints. Maybe it was because seeing Max always made me feel better, even though I was unsure of how to feel about him right at that exact second.

“Yeah,” I said, brushing my hands off on my jeans. I was glad that Max hadn’t caught me snooping in his room again, with Talia’s things. I was dying to ask him who Talia was, and I decided that no matter what happened tonight, I’d ask him later.

“Come on,” Max said. He slung an arm around my waist and pulled me close. His touch was unexpectedly erotic but also ticklish, and I burst out laughing. Max pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my waist. A trickle of lust went through me and I felt myself shiver as I caught Max’s delicious, masculine scent.

There was a hint of beer on his breath. “Have you been drinking?” I asked softly. We were still standing in the hallway with Max’s hands all over my body, like we were in the middle of tussling.

“Only a little,” Max said darkly. Before I could respond, he pressed his lips against my mouth and kissed me passionately. As Max’s tongue slipped between my lips, I felt myself start to grow aroused and wet.

Moaning softly into Max’s mouth, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his body close to mine. I wasn’t wearing a bra and when my stiff nipples connected with Max’s strong torso, it felt heavenly. My breasts were swollen and tender but suddenly my level of desire was through the roof, like someone had reached out and given me a shot of miracle Viagra.

“Come back to bed, Tori,” Max whispered. He nibbled on my earlobe and I felt my knees go weak. Max stroked a finger down my back and slipped it under my top, caressing my bare skin with his nails. I shivered when he made contact with the base of my spine. Max leaned in and licked my neck before pressing his teeth into my delicate skin. I cried out and shook as Max slowly teased me. My heart started to thud in my chest and I was aware of my breath coming hard. Reaching a hand under Max’s chin, I tilted his face towards mine and leaned in for a delicious kiss. He tasted like beer, but also like strong determination, like power. Max’s powerful jaw muscles clenched and I could feel his own heart pounding through his chest. I was barely aware of Max lifting me into his arms and wrapping my legs around his strong waist. As he walked towards the bedroom, we started kissing so hard that I thought our heads would merge. Desire and lust tangoed in my belly and I could feel my face flushed and hot with the immediate urge to fuck Max.

“You’re so sexy,” Max whispered. He unfastened my jeans and tugged the snap down, exposing the white triangle of my panties. Locking eyes with me, Max set me down on the bed and slowly slipped one of his hands down my pants. When I felt his strong thumb stroking my clit over and over, I let out a loud gasp and threw my head back. Max was grinning when I looked at him again.

“That feels so good,” I murmured in a low voice. Max gave me a wicked grin.

“Keep your legs spread,” he ordered me softly. I shivered; beneath the cuddly exterior that I’d grown to know, Max was a man of power and strength. I had no doubts that he could tie me up and spend hours making me succumb to his will. The worst part was he wouldn’t even have to. I already knew Max was better in bed than any other lover I could imagine, and the prospect of spending even one more night as his wife was more thrilling than I could say.

Tugging down my jeans and tossing them to the side, I spread my legs. Max crawled on the bed so he was mere inches away from my pussy. I blushed hotly; I knew from his vantage point that he was capable of smelling my arousal. Every time I moved, the wet crotch of my panties slid against me, causing the most exquisite friction. As Max gently blew on my soaked crotch, a bolt of hot pleasure shot up my spine.

“I’m going to tease you until you can’t take it anymore,” Max said softly. He reached out and gently rubbed my clit in circles with the tip of his finger. The pressure was just enough to make me feel delicious, but it made me want more and before I knew what I was doing, I was crying out and bucking my hips along with Max’s hand. Max grinned and pulled his hand away. When the sensation of his touch disappeared, I cried out in frustration.

Max unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor before stepping out of his pants. I saw that he was rock hard, that his cock was straining the front of his briefs and I felt the sudden urge to push him over and suck him dry. Before I could move, Max got back down on the bed and crawled close. He reached up towards my breasts. Taking one of my nipples in his hand, Max caressed and pinched it until I was crying out in pleasure. Bolts and sparks of the most delicious feeling were shooting through me, and soon I realized I was grinding my pelvis on the bed, desperate for Max’s touch.

I’m acting like such a slut
, I thought. The thought made me blush even harder, but I didn’t care. So what if I was acting like a slut? I was with my husband, in our bedroom, and he was making me feel a way that I never even dreamed of feeling before we’d met.

Max reached out with his other hand and began stroking and gently slapping my other breast. It didn’t hurt, rather the slight pain only intensified the pleasure from my nipples. I was acutely aware that I was so wet, I was dripping out of my panties and onto the bed. When I looked down at my crotch, I saw a wet stain spreading out.

“I know, it looks good,” Max murmured, following my gaze. I blushed hard as he pulled one of his hands away from my breasts and started rubbing my crotch through the thin fabric. I shivered and moaned, arching my back and throwing my head back. I could feel the ends of my hair tickling my bare back and I gasped. Every sensation felt raw, every sensation felt amplified. I didn’t know if it was a product of being stressed, but this was already the most intimate and exquisite sexual encounter that Max and I had ever had.

Max tugged my panties to the side and slid a bare finger down my slit. I shivered at his touch, crying and begging for him to touch my clit. Max yanked his hands away immediately and left me swollen and wanting.

“You beg me for anything again and I’m not touching you for the rest of the night,” Max warned. “Sometimes I like it when you beg, but tonight’s not going to be one of those nights. Tonight, you’re mine and I’ll touch whatever part of you I want to touch. Understood?”