Rage (Royal Bastards MC 2)

“I’m not fucking into her, you asshole, I’d never take advantage of her. She’s broken.” I sound like a little bitch. What the hell is she doing to me? I’m so caught up in her welfare and I don’t even know her.

“And you want to fix her?”

“So what if I do.”

“Gabe, damage from that kind of living may not be fixable. You sure you want to take this on?”

He’s my best friend and I love him to death, but to say that shit about her just makes me want to punch him in the mouth, even if I know he’s right. Just the fact that I’m reacting so intensely to his words is scary as hell.

“I’ve always got your back. If you want to pursue this…”

“There is no pursuing. I’m going to wait for that piece of shit brother of hers to go to ground, then I’m going to put her with people who can help her.” I need her off my hands, and she needs help. She’s making me crazy, and it’s been hours. What will I be like if I spend any real time with her? At this rate, I’ll be signing over my house and become her bitch boy.

“If it’s not done in the three days, we’ll take care of him together.”

And this is why this motherfucker doesn’t end up getting punched in the mouth. When it comes down to the bottom line, he’s willing and ready to lock and load for me. No matter the circumstance.

“You know I just want to protect you from yourself sometimes, right?” He frowns, pulling two beers from the fridge and handing me one.

I nod my head, feeling lighter as I accept his peace offering. I’m so fucking grateful to have him. He’s the reason I always feel the need to pay that shit forward. Without him, I’d be a fucking mess. “I know, and that’s why I come to you first.” I’m impulsive, and that can be reckless. Jameson has always been the calm to my chaos.

“So, you’re not into her, huh?”

“I said I’m not,” I warn with a glare.

“What color are her eyes?”

Brown with hues of amber. Argh. Fuck.

“Fuck off,” I grumble. Downing my bottle, I sling the bag of cash over my shoulder and leave my chuckling friend to it.

Nine

Willa

I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep in a stranger’s place, but I slept better than I have in forever. Milo didn’t haunt my dreams, but was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. The dark pit in my stomach swirls, waiting for him to come for me and shame me some more for growing up and not having the innocence Mr. Right finds appealing. What if he goes to Mr. Right and Mr. Right tells him he has friends who are willing to pay for the use of my body? He’ll pimp me out to one of them—maybe all of them. How long will it be before he has me out on a street corner servicing anyone willing?

A shudder rattles the bones inside my skin, forcing me to race to the toilet and expel last night’s dinner.

I run the cold water from the tap and splash my face, taking a calming breath. This place has bathrooms attached to the rooms. This one is the size of my bedroom back home. It smells new and fresh. I want to live in here for a few days before I have to return to reality. Gabe said he’d help me, but he doesn’t know Milo. Returning home is inevitable, but I can enjoy my surroundings for now. I slip out of the oversized shirt Gabe loaned me and turn on the shower. The pressure is so strong, it feels like tiny fingers pitter-pattering all over my skin. I stay in until my hands and feet prune, then step out, wrapping a long, fluffy towel around my body, sighing from the comfort. Swiping the condensation from the mirror, I stare at my reflection, trying to match the woman before me with the person I am inside my head. A banging sounds from somewhere in the house, making me startle. I pull my dress on, feeling dirty beneath the fabric, and towel dry my hair, having no choice but to leave it to air dry into a tangled mess.

I make my way through the house to find Gabe in one of the rooms, shirtless, in a pair of low-rise jeans. I knew he would have abs. God help me, he’s stunning. I’ve never seen a man look like that before. Tan flesh stretched over taunt muscle. sweat coats his skin, making it shine like he’s some kind of sparkling vampire. A chuckle catches in my throat as I picture Gabe as one of the characters from the books I read. He’s painting a wall and has in earbuds. I’ve never wanted to hear music more. I bet its soft rock or nu-metal. Turning suddenly, his eyes widen, and a genuine smile lifts his lips, reaching his eyes. “Oh, hey. You’re up.” He plucks his earbuds out and drops the roller brush onto a tray.