Claiming the Biker (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 9)

I get in my car and paint a smile on my face pretending I’m happier than ever as I drive to Charleston to go to Wylla Mae’s to report for babysitting duty. I took the backway avoiding the clubhouse. Avoiding anything tied to him. To Viking. If I see him, it’ll be my undoing.

Coming this way, I have to drive by the road I’d turn down to if I wanted to visit the neighborhood where Justice lives. At least I won’t have to drive past his house.

Blue lights flash behind me and my stomach drops. I know I’m not speeding, and I had my car serviced last week. I shouldn’t have any lights out.

I pull off on the side of the road and grab my license and registration from the glovebox. It’s dark and I can’t see all that well with the headlights from the police car shining directly in my eyes when I try to glance at my side mirror.

“Was wondering when you’d show your face again.”

I swallow and debate hitting the gas as my body tenses and every cell in my body hits high alert at the sound of his voice.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

“Was on my way home when I recognized the vehicle and plates.”

“Being in the city I was born in isn’t a crime.”

“That’s true. But strange to find you in my neighborhood.”

“Is that all you wanted?”

“Just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Keeping your word.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Are we done here?”

“Good to see you, Andrea. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He taps the roof of my vehicle and returns to his car.

“Doubtful.” I wait for him to leave first. I don’t want him following me. When his tail lights disappear only then do I get back on the road.

That dreadful memory claws its way to the surface, and I can’t stop the tears. Waking up and seeing the face of that monster and receiving the worst news of my life…out of his mouth. I’ve been doing so good pushing it all down and pretending none of it happened. That I didn’t have the most precious gift life has to offer ripped away from me in the blink of an eye. He stole my happily ever after. He tore the last page of my story out and set it on fire.

Something inside me snaps. I can’t describe it as anything other than a taste for vengeance begging to come to fruition.

I turn off on his road on autopilot.

I drive past his house and park down the block under a broken streetlight.

This is crazy. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at Wylla’s. It’s just I want him to hurt. I want him to lose it all. I want him to be scared of me. I want him to look death in the face and see me staring back at him. I thought I could live with myself if I let him walk away.

But as long as he walks this earth, I’ll never be happy. I’ll never feel safe. I pop my trunk and grab the tire iron. I grip the metal in my fist knowing it can inflict some real damage with enough force.

I don’t even check to see if anyone sees me.

I stomp down the sidewalk and march straight to his door.

I bang on the glass of the screen door with my fist so hard it rattles. My pulse hums in my ears and sweat drips down my back.

The porch light flicks on, illuminating where I stand, taking away the cloak of the night sky.

The shock on his face when he opens the wooden secondary door and sees me standing on his doorstep is fucking priceless. His brows pull together as his lips purse.

Surprise asshole.

“What are you doing here?”

I stare at him and all his ugliness inside and out. How I ever thought this sick asshole was handsome is beyond me. I go to speak but nothing comes out. This man took so much away from me, and he had the fucking audacity to pull me over and fuck with me. Fuck this motherfucker.

“Do you want to come in?”

Do I want to come in? Is he stupid? What kind of idiot does he take me for?

“I hate you,” I spit my words at him. I raise the tire iron and he moves to close the door. I strike the glass and it shatters into a billion pieces.

The porch light from the house next door flips on.

“You should go.”

“And you should watch your fucking back. Don’t you ever. Ever fucking pull me over again. You hear me. You’re a rapist and a baby murdering pig. I hope every night when you lay down to sleep you think about me and my baby that you killed. I hope we haunt you.”

“I get that you’re angry but it’s not smart to threaten a detective in front of witnesses.”

“Not so smart to push a pregnant woman down the stairs on camera either. This is me putting you on notice. You so much as breathe near me and all I have to do is make one phone call. One call you hear me?”

“Everything okay over there, Justice?” An older man calls out from the neighbor’s.

“All good, Bob. Just a crazy ex-girlfriend.”

“You got that crazy part right,” I tell him before storming back to my car. I throw the tire iron in the backseat and when I get in the driver’s seat, I let out a laugh and then I scream. Then my tears flow hot like lava down my cheeks, expelling all my pent-up rage.