Original Sin (Dark Saints Motorcycle Club Book 1) (11 page)

“Darren, man…” Liam hesitated, drumming up his excuse. He took a chance and glanced back at Vicky, certain to make sure his expression exuded annoyance rather than concern. Such feigning was hard when the girl stared back at him, bedraggled with her right cheek starting to swell into a bruise. “It's private. Can't have your sister listening in.”

Raking his hands through his hair in aggravation, Darren threw the door open, gesturing Liam inside. “Sit the fuck down.” He pointed at the couch before turning his back on the man. “I have to finish this.”

Then, he set in on Vicky once more. As Liam had hoped, in his presence, the man wasn't so rough; but, unfortunately, the physical damage had already been done. He took Vicky's bare shoulders firmly in his hands once more, staring down at her intensely. “You'd better fucking tell me who you've been sneaking out to see, Vicky.” His voice turned suddenly pleading—so quickly, in fact, that had Liam not witnessed the physical transformation himself, he might have thought that Darren was two different people. “You're
killing
me, Victoria.” Now, he sounded as if he were the victim. “Anyone could be coming after us, and you'd be walking right into some kind of trap.”

“Darren, I told you I was going out to dinner with my girlfriends. Call them. Fucking ask them.” She was now cradling his injured cheek in a hand as she glared up at her brother. “Why the fuck can't you just trust me? I'm not some Black Eagle who's trying to undermine you and bring you down. I'm your goddamn sister.”

For a moment, Darren just stared at her, his expression incensed; Liam was almost certain that he was going to hit her again and prayed—something he never did—for composure. If Darren put his hands on Vicky again, he might have to kill the man.

However, Darren's expression softened once more. Slowly, he loosened his grip on his sister's hands, only to raise his hands to cup her face firmly between them. When Vicky winced at the gesture, Liam's fingers curled into the arms of the chair in which he sat.

“Swear to me,” he demanded lowly, in a voice so soft and dangerous that it gave Liam chills, “swear to me that there's no one. Say it to my goddamn face, right now.”

Stolid, steadfast Vicky never wavered. Her eyes never even flickered to Liam on the couch. “I
swear,
Darren.”

For a moment, the man seemed to be searching for something in her face. It was something he must have found because within moments he had folded his sister into his tender embrace, holding her against him tightly. “Good. That's good. Because if I find out otherwise, I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch.” He drew back to catch her gaze for the last time. “And you,” Darren's voice lingered lovingly over the single syllable, “you won't see the light of day again.”

With that, he turned from her, barking a command at Liam so his fellow Saint rose and trailed him from the apartment. When they were just down the hall, Darren paused, yanking the man up next to him. Though he hadn't continued to hit Vicky, it was obvious that his attitude was still foul. “Now, what the fuck is it, Beck?”

Liam let fly with the first excuse that came to his mind. “I got a tip from a guy. The Black Eagles might be going for the storehouse tonight. They've wanted in for a while, and they might think they can take us since you're here.”

Far from being upset by the news, Darren seemed to relish it. His eyes glowing with a fierce light, he smiled at his companion, letting go of the collar of his jacket. “Those bastards,” he breathed lowly, “are getting nowhere near my warehouse.”

He glanced out the nearest window where he could
just
see Sean and Matt, still in their hiding places. “Listen, Beck. I'm taking Sean and Matt and some of the other boys. We're going to head over and cut these motherfuckers off.” He pointed back down the hall towards Vicky's door. “Which mean that you're staying with her.
All
night. She doesn't move, she doesn't go out, she doesn't take a fucking
piss
without your say so, you got it?” Liam nodded emphatically, plastering his face with a neutral look. “That doesn't mean that you touch her.”

In an instant, Darren had drawn his handgun, cocked it, and placed it against Liam's temple so the man could feel the cold steel. “You touch her, and I start shooting shit off. And I ain't gonna start with your brains, chum. You hear me?”

“I hear you, boss.”

“Good.”

With that, Darren put away his weapon. Without another word, he strode towards the elevator, leaving Liam standing there wondering how on earth he'd just survived the encounter. In an instant, he remembered Vicky, and he bolted back to her door. When he rang the doorbell, it took her a moment to answer.

When she did, her eyes were red.

“
Jesus
, Vicky.” Liam quickly let himself into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him. Making sure they were far from the window, he took her into his arms. She was clad in what would have been a stunning navy dress, but her hair and makeup were mussed from her interlude with her brother. The bruise rising on her cheek was going to be a nasty one, but even worse was the hollow look of sadness in her eyes. “Are you OK?”

“I'm fine.” Her voice came in a whisper before she shook her head slightly, seeming to draw herself out of a trance. “I'm fine.” She was firmer the second time and attempted to withdraw from his grip; however, Liam wouldn't let her. As she tugged, he only fixed her with an open, raw expression.

“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry,” he murmured quietly, “I got here as quick as I could.”

“This isn't your fucking fault.” From the stiff way she was carrying herself to the tone of her voice, it was clear she was repressing a deluge of desperation. Liam couldn't exactly blame her. She must have been doing that shit for most of her adult life. “It's mine. I should have said no to you. I should have never—” She jerked wildly at his grip on her wrists, her voice cracking.  “Let go of me!”

“Vicky, come here.” Liam drew her writhing form against him, willing her to calm. “It's ok, I'm here now. I'm
here.
” The young woman struggled emphatically for a moment more before she collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

The strength of her grief was astounding, every cry sounding as if it had been wrenched up from the very core of her. Though all the Saints knew enough of the woman to know she was a tough girl, many of them were also under the impression that she never showed her emotions. It would be dangerous, they assumed, to act like a normal woman when one's brother was the volatile leader of the Saints. What they didn't understand was that it was Vicky's right to be normal—and as much as it made men uncomfortable, normal women cried.

Liam held her as she clung to him, less uncomfortable than he was miserable at her pain. He knew he had asked a lot when he'd demanded to know how she felt about them together, but he'd had no concrete idea of the havoc their deception would wreak. At this point, it might be better for him to just let her go, rather than be party to her destruction at her brother's hands.

“Don't look at me like that.” Jolted slightly from his thoughts, Liam looked down to see Vicky's tears had quieted and she was gazing up at him with an irate expression. “Don't you dare fucking say you feel sorry for me, now.” She sniffled loudly. “I said I wanted this, and I fucking meant it, Liam. If you piss out on me now, I will hunt your ass down and…and—”

Liam cut her off by pressing his mouth to hers heatedly.

This woman was something else.

She could endure Darren's wrath and still come back to her lover wanting more. Liam could imagine few women who would be so strong in similar situations. His own mother had run away from his father rather than fight for her son; yet, here was a woman he had barely known a month, fighting to hold onto him as if he wasn't just some trailer trash trying to make it in the world.

It was as if he really meant something.

Where the hell would he ever find something like this again?

Her mouth was salty from her tears, and he was careful not to aggravate the jaw Darren had wounded; but, she was still the most captivating thing he had ever tasted. Her strength and her mettle amazed him and, overwhelmingly, he suddenly wanted her.

As his mouth trailed down over her jaw to nip and suck at the fine line of her neck, he groaned. “Vicky, babe, if you don't want it, say no.” He tasted the sweetness of her perfume as his hands trekked down to find the divine curve of her ass and pull her flush against him. When he felt her curves slide across the length of his torso, his cock sprang to life in his pants.

“Yes.” Her gray eyes fluttering shut, Vicky melted against him as if they were made for one another, her arms twining about his neck as his tongue flicked at the hollow of her throat. “God, yes.”

Liam's hands moved from her hips to span the width of her waist, before they moved even further upward to spill her breasts free of the strapless navy number she'd been wearing.

At the sight of her chocolate colored nipples hardening on contact with the air, he growled lowly, lowering his head to take one of them into his mouth and suckle copiously. Vicky gave a little indulgent cry, arching against him in just the way he liked. As he licked, sucked, and nipped at the peaks of her breasts, she made sounds that had his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.

If he didn't have her soon, he would drop dead—of that, he was certain.

“Bedroom.” His demand was low and husky between the valley of her breasts, and the young woman merely pointed down a nearby hall. Liam tried to gather his wits enough to avoid all lines of sight from the windows as he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the living room. Luckily, Vicky's room only had one small window, and it didn't face the main road. Liam didn't dare turn on the lights, instead he merely lay her on the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed.

As he looked down at her half-clad, wanton form, he imagined Darren striking her.

And then again.

And again.

His anger flared, eating him alive as he lowered himself over her, cupping her face with the utmost gentleness to gaze into her eyes. “I won't let him hurt you again, Vicky.” As if to quiet him, she rose slightly from the bed to kiss him once more, her eyes sliding closed. However, Liam didn't falter on his promise. “I swear he won't
ever
touch you again,” he whispered, low and fierce, against his lover's mouth, and Vicky shuddered at his conviction.

Slowly, Liam stripped her dress from her, dropping the garment over the side of the bed and onto the floor to pool in a silky heap. Beneath the moonlight, sprawled out beneath him, Vicky Platt was his goddess, and he was going to protect her come hell or high water.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, as he lowered his mouth to draw briefly on her breasts again before trekking lower. His tongue laved her belly button with moisture as his hands fumbled with the lace panties she wore before shredding them entirely. Then, he parted her tanned, strong thighs and admired the slick flesh of her sex. She was more than ready for him

Resisting the urge to shed his pants and drive home to the hilt within her immediately, Liam slid his fingers over her lower folds, touching and playing there until she was thrashing at the pressure of his thumb on her clit. Then, he added his tongue, relentlessly giving her pleasure as she sighed and stifled her impassioned cries in the pillow beneath her.

By the time he truly knew that he could take his self-imposed torture no longer, his jeans felt like a vice. Straightening, he quickly stripped his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans, groaning as the zipper rasped over the bulge of his erection. From below, Vicky watched him as if entranced, eyeing his cock with such hunger that he took hold of her waist, lifting her hips to plunge into her in a single, smooth thrust.

Vicky moaned his name almost deliriously, her inner muscles squeezing him so tightly that he had to exercise restraint not to come on the spot. Instead, he clenched his behind, gritted his teeth and started a slow pace within her. The little hellion wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her hips against his with every forward movement until he saw stars. He was supposed to be protecting and comforting her, but instead, he found she was doing the same to him.