Black Dogs Motorcycle Club: Full Series Box Set (82 page)

It didn’t matter how hurt
she was. The fact of the matter was that Iris was better off without me. I
would have told her as much, if she’d have listened. If my father would’ve let
me stay in the same room with her for one second more. But I knew neither of
those things were going to happen now, so I’d just have to say it to myself:
Come
on, Iris. This is the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Years from now,
you’ll look back and see. Splitting our parents up was something I had to do.
For me. For my mother. And in some ways, for you.

‘Cause being related to
Slade Jarvis? Now that’s a hell I wouldn’t put my worst enemy through.

My father moved to let me
pass without so much of a word. I thought I saw a few gray hairs glinting in
the sun, right around his temples, where there hadn’t been a single one before.
I held his gaze and my cocky grin, savoring my triumph, knowing that I’d done
what I set out to do. That I had
won.

I didn’t let him see it in
my eyes or in my swagger, but at the same time, I wondered to myself: if I’d
really beat my father, once and for all, then why the hell did I feel so
shitty?

Why the hell couldn’t I
get the look on Iris Walker’s face out of my head?

~ ONE ~

Iris

SEVEN YEARS LATER

“Dad, come on. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

My stepfather looked down
his nose at me, the wire frames of his glasses dangling precariously close to
the tip. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the past three days. Ever since
Kellan left home, our house had practically become a morgue.

You would’ve thought my
younger brother died, and maybe for Dad, that was, in a sense, true. He
certainly wasn’t the kid we once knew.

Dad shook his head and
fixed his gaze outside the breakfast nook window again, like staring at the
front lawn would magically make Kellan appear there. This was part of the
Waiting Game, the one our family always played whenever Kellan took off on one
of his benders. He was never gone for more than a week at a time—apparently,
that was how long it took for him to run out of drug money and come crawling
back home on his knees, begging for more. Or he’d call us from the drunk tank
at the police station to plead for bail money so he wouldn’t have to spend the
night.

Whatever the case, my
little brother had a self-destruct mechanism set for seven days. No matter what
else he got himself into, we could rely on him to end up at our door a week
later, just like clockwork.

Until now.

Three days ago marked one
week since Kellan left the house. He’d used his usual ruse, promising Mom he
was going to a job interview or the Army recruiter or whatever it was this
time. Kellan used the guise of bettering himself as an excuse to relapse, and
when his cellphone went straight to voicemail that night, we braced ourselves
for another week of the Waiting Game.

But now ten days had passed,
and still no one could reach Kellan. Not even me. And I had one hell of a bad
feeling about this.

“We don’t have any other
choice,” I continued, even as my stepfather looked away from me to his
newspaper. “Not one that I see, anyway. We’ve already called all the hospitals
and police stations. And I doubt you or Mom are going to be able to smoke him
out. We need a bigger gun.”

My stepfather snorted.
“Fine choice of words.”

I sighed and closed my
eyes. It had been seven years since my parents caught me and Slade in the pool
house, doing… what we’d done. Dad had sworn me and Mom to secrecy, along with
Slade. Kellan was never to hear a word of it, and when Dad kicked Slade out the
next day, he used Slade’s going off to Harvard as the perfect excuse. Still,
for all his talk of secrecy, he was so obvious with his disdain for his own son
that everyone knew how he felt. He thought Slade was an asshole. Dangerous. And
maybe he was.

But he was smart, too, and
capable. And there were times were he had been incredibly sweet and kind to
me.  I hated the idea that it was all just an act to screw me, literally and
figuratively, just to get back at his father and my mother.  When he first left
I clung to the belief that those were true parts of him, and that what he’d
done at the end had just been him acting out in… whatever.  But over the years,
after never hearing from him again, I’ve all but lost that hope.  Maybe he was
the complete jerk that his dad seemed to believe him to be.

One thing is for certain,
Kellan had never stopped looking up to him, even when Mom and Dad basically
forbade us from even mentioning Slade’s name. I knew my little brother felt
abandoned, like he’d lost one of the most positive male influences in his life
almost as quickly as it arrived. He’d never been the same after Slade left.
That day marked the beginning of Kellan’s downward spiral.

Slade might be the only
one of us who could bring Kellan home. Knowing that was one thing. Convincing
my parents it was true was another.

My mother sat down at the
table with us, two mugs of coffee in her hands. She handed one to my stepfather
and said, “Kellan’s life is enough of a mess as it is, Iris. Adding yet another
unstable element to the mix… I just can’t see how that would make things any better.”

“Exactly,” Dad said,
kissing my mother’s cheek before taking a sip of his coffee. “Kellan needs
roots. He needs someone who can set a good example.” His eyes darkened and his
brow creased. A shadow of a memory flitted over his face. “Not someone who forces
himself on his own family.”

“He didn’t force me,” I
mumbled, and not for the first time. This was a regular argument, once upon a
time, but over the past few years it became obvious he was never going to
change his mind. I saw my stepfather start to open his mouth and quickly added,
“And anyway, that’s not the point. The point is Kellan doesn’t know about that.
All he knows is that the big brother he looked up to more than anyone else in
the world just disappeared from his life one day, and that you wouldn’t even
let him ask why. He’s not going to come home if either of you go after him.
It’s obvious who he needs.”

My stepfather leaned close
to me over the table, lowering his voice and squeezing my mother’s hand so
tight I saw his knuckles whiten. “If you think I’m inviting that…
person
into my home, after what he did to us, to
you
…”

I furrowed my brow in
disbelief. “He’s your son,” I reminded him. “And he’s a doctor. You don’t know
what kind of trouble Kellan’s into. Mom found pills in his room just the other
week. Who knows how long that’s been going on? He needs
treatment,
Dad.”

My stepfather sat back and
his face fell. He eyed my mother through his periphery. “Is that true?” he
asked her. “About the pills?”

I looked at my mom. She
averted her gaze.
Shit.
I didn’t know she hadn’t told him.

When she failed to answer,
my stepfather let out a long sigh through his nose. He looked out the window
again at the empty drive, at the absence of my brother’s car, at the clouds
moving in over the horizon. A storm was coming. Maybe in more ways than one.

As much as my mother and
stepfather didn’t want Slade here, I didn’t want him around even more. It
wasn’t because he’d “forced” himself on me—I was a willing and eager, albeit
naïve, participant in what happened between us. But being played for a fool,
having my heart torn open, being
used
just to settle some kind of score
Slade had with our parents? I never wanted to see his smug, arrogant face ever
again. No matter how handsome it was.

Slade was the walking,
talking embodiment of everything I’d tried to forget for almost a decade now.
I’d done a lot in the past seven years. I’d graduated from college, started my
own business as an interior designer—no, screw that, I had a
thriving
business, and that was even more impressive than just starting one. I was a
smart, beautiful, self-possessed young woman who didn’t take shit from anybody,
and Slade Jarvis was everything I wanted to leave behind.

But he was exactly what I
needed—what our family needed—right now. And I’d do anything for Kellan if it
meant keeping him safe. Surely, my parents felt the same way?

“Slade stays out of this,”
my stepfather said, and my shoulders slumped. “He’s done enough damage. And if
Kellan needs saving, he’ll get it. Just not from my degenerate son.”

I looked to my mother,
pleading with my eyes, but she only shook her head. My stepfather’s word was
law, one of the many reasons I’d moved out right after high school, and
probably one of the many reasons Kellan dropped out. There was no arguing with
him once he’d made a decision of this magnitude. It was his way, or the highway.

And we all knew what
Kellan thought of that.

I leaned back in my chair,
glancing out the window at the coming storm. Great. Once again, it was up to me
to make the sacrifices and be the adult. Once again, I would have to put myself
on the line, and knowing Slade, I’d be the one who would have to live with the
consequences too.

I had to find my
stepbrother, the last person on earth I wanted to see. I’d have to do it
without our parents knowing, because if they found out, there would be hell to
pay. And when I did manage to find Slade, I’d have to hope that he was
different. Selfless.
Grown up.
And hopefully not so hot anymore, either.

Because that part of me
that wanted answers, the part of me I’d spent seven years trying to hold at
bay? Yeah, that part of me would wake right up with just one quirk of Slade’s
full, soft lips. Lips I knew way too well.

Lips that, if I was being
honest with myself, I still dreamed about.

Here’s hoping this doesn’t
turn into a nightmare,
I thought as I mentally prepared myself for what I was about
to do. One thing was certain: I was going to need a plane ticket, and balls of
fucking steel.

Slade available now on Amazon
!

Silver and Chrome (Excerpt)

PROLOGUE

EVELYN

I want to puke.

I’m dizzy as my fingertips
touch the closed door in front of me as it teases me with the afterimage of
what is behind it. I’m tempted to push it open again, but what would be the
point? The scene isn’t going to change; I know what I saw. There’s no chance
anyone can deny or talk their way out of it. And I’m not going to give them a
chance to try, either.

Still, it takes me a
moment of standing there with a heart pounding so hard I’m sure they can hear
it on the other side. Are they laughing about it? Am I a joke to them?

I stiffen my fingers
against the frosted glass and press against it. Not to open the door—I’d have
to turn the handle to do that—but to launch myself backward. I need that extra
push to get my leaden feet to actually move. Force them to step back to keep me
balanced, and then once they’ve started to move, I can use the momentum to
carry me out of here.

I need to get away. As
fucking far away as I can.

~ One Hour Earlier ~

Global warming, my ass.

It figures that I’d have
to make an airport run during one of the biggest blizzards Chicago has seen in
years, at least for March. It’s supposed to be getting warmer, not fucking
colder. How is it that I ended up moving to one of the only cities in United
States that has even worse winters than Toronto? Why the hell couldn’t Visions
International—or VI, as everyone always calls it—have its headquarters in L.A.
or San Francisco? It’s definitely something I need to take up with Edward.

Not that he’s likely to
change anything. The CEO of a company the size of VI doesn’t normally get
affected by such pedestrian matters like weather. He has people to deal with
things like that. People like me, apparently.

It’s not that I want to be
treated differently, or special. Hell, one of the biggest reasons I resisted
his advances as long as I did was that I was afraid that people would think
that I only got my job because I was sleeping with the boss. I made sure that
my hard work was already being recognized before I ever even agreed to a first
date with him. After all, I don’t plan on being an executive assistant forever.
Crossing off the “assistant” part of that title has been a goal of mine for as
long as I can remember. So no, I don’t want people to think that I get special
treatment.

But maybe, in this one
instance, he could have found someone other than his EA/girlfriend to pick up
Mr. Himura from O’Hare?

Like the car service that
I had booked a week ago for this very job.

I know that this is a big
client, representing millions to the company, but we have deals like this
happening all the time. I’m not sure why Edward made a last-minute decision
that he didn’t trust the service in this storm and wanted me to attend to it
personally. There may be more at stake here than I know about, but given my
position, I should be in the loop. That’s yet another thing he and I will have
to discuss at home.

If I even see him there
tonight, that is. The very definition of workaholic was modeled on men like
Edward Stonewall. I don’t think you can build a company as big as VI by leaving
work in time for dinner. Some days he isn’t even home by breakfast and I meet
him in the office, bringing him a fresh suit to replace the rumpled one he’s
worn all night. That was more of a pain before I moved into his penthouse last
month. Now that we live together, it’s just part of the routine. He works all
night at least once or twice a week, and a weekend to him just means that he
works a few hours less and does it from home, or his phone, while we’re out and
about.

Usually.

The one positive was that
he rushed me out of the office so quickly that I forgot my laptop, which means
I can’t do any more work tonight. That’ll probably annoy him, but it’s his
fault, and I’m feeling too petty for having to make this trip to even consider
swinging back afterwards to go and get it. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll bring it home
with him tonight. God forbid we take the weekend off and actually do something
fun.

I take a sip of coffee to
take the edge off of my sour mood as I look out across the endless white tops
of the cars sitting ahead of me on the I90. Even if it wasn’t already getting
dark, it would be impossible to tell the color of any of them in this storm,
and the fact that we aren’t even moving is letting the snow accumulate even more.

At this rate, even the two
hour lead time I have to get to the airport before Mr. Himura is due to arrive
might not be enough. I’ve barely made it out of downtown.

My phone beeps from my
purse, and since I’m not moving anyway, I pull it out, expecting a text from
Edward wondering if I’ve made it to the airport yet. Mental replies that range
from scathing to sarcastic are all running through my head, and I’m almost
disappointed to find out that it’s just a news alert.

Unexpected Blizzard Causes
Chaos at O’Hare.

Fabulous
. I let out a groan as I
flip over to my airport app to check on the status of the flight from Tokyo.

It’s been diverted to
Detroit.
Wonderful
.

The only thing in my favor
tonight is that I’m stuck right next to an exit, allowing me to ease out of
freeway gridlock without any further delay. Mr. Himura is going to need a new
hotel and pickup in Detroit, and that will be a pain in the ass to do on my
phone. I need my laptop after all, which means heading back to the office
instead of home.

I can feel my annoyance
start to rise even higher until I realize that even backtracking from where I
am now will still save me far more time than continuing on to the airport,
waiting for my pickup, and then driving him back to his hotel downtown. This
flight diversion actually saves me from wasting another Friday night sitting in
traffic on a day where everyone else in their right mind is curled up at home
with loved ones. Or at least, a good book and a bath.

The latter is my new plan,
since I know the weather isn’t going to send Edward home early, even if he did
tell everyone else that they could leave. I was actually surprised by that
gesture. He’s normally such a hard-ass at work, expecting everyone else to work
the crazy hours that he thinks is normal. He pays well, though, and most of his
executive team are pretty rich, so it’s rare to hear any complaints. Of course,
that doesn’t mean anyone stuck around to keep working once he told them they
could leave early.

If you can call four in
the afternoon early.

Still, it’s a step in the
right direction for Edward. I know that people often wonder why we’re together.
In truth, he can be a complete ass sometimes. But he doesn’t act like that to
me. He’s always treated me like his princess. It’s just that most princesses
can command more than a few minutes a day from their Prince Charming.

I’ve been trying since we
got together to get him to soften up a little bit to his staff. Maybe today is
finally a step in that direction. I’ve heard people talk about him behind his
back. Most of them think he’s a complete asshole. I’m just trying to get them
to see the side of him that I’ve seen.

By taking the side streets
and shortcuts I’ve figured out running errands over the last eight months, I
get back to the office in less than thirty minutes. Edward had me schedule a
conference call with Sydney for before market opens, which means he’s on that
now, otherwise I would have called to let him know about the flight issue. It’s
probably something I should handle in person, anyway. Given how important this
meeting seems to be, Edward is likely to blow his top if he doesn’t have me
around to talk him down. That’s much harder to do over the phone.

I pound on the button for
the fortieth floor, anxious to get in and out of here as fast as possible.
Maybe I won’t even tell Edward about the change in plans until he gets home
tonight. Besides, my mood was just starting to improve and I’m not sure I want
his anger at an uncontrollable situation to bring me down again. The problem
with a man like Edward is that he’s so used to getting his own way that
anything he can’t control makes him crazy. I can’t imagine a snowstorm will be
an exception.

I step out of the elevator
as soon as I reach the top floor of the cone-shaped building, stepping out into
the familiar space. Everything seems the same as always, with one exception:
it’s unnaturally quiet, the by-product of Edward having sent everyone home
early. Normally each of the windowed offices that span the perimeter of the
floor has one of the executives working in it until late into the night. It
almost seems like a waste to give them all such incredible views, since I don’t
think any of them ever pause long enough in the day to enjoy it.

I can tell by the frosted
glass doors that all of the offices on this side have their lights off. All
except for one; the office of Charles Carmichael, VP of Sales. Charles is
married. I’ve met his wife on many occasions, but they also have three young
boys, and I get the feeling that he works late sometimes rather than go home
and deal with them.

As I pass by his office, I
hear a sound that makes me pause. It sounds like groaning.

His door is closed, but not
all the way, like it was pushed shut in a hurry. Then I hear it again. This
time it is more of a moan than a groan, and I’m close enough now that I can
tell it’s coming from a woman. Is Mrs. Carmichael really the type to stop by
for a quickie in the middle of a freak blizzard?

"Fuck yes, give it to
me!" The voice is hushed, but loud enough to sound familiar. My eyes flick
over to the desk outside of the office. Lindsey Spears. Charles' secretary.
Oh
my God, he's having an affair!

My heart starts to pound
as I consider the implications. It's actually not all that surprising. I've
never had a very high opinion of Chuck. And Lindsey has always seemed a bit on
the slutty, happily-sleep-her-way-to-the-top side, but to do it here in the
office with Edward on a conference call across the floor seemed very dangerous.
He would be furious. The question is, should I tell him?

"Oh God, yes,"
she moans again. I hear Chuck grunting now as well. He must be getting close to
coming.

Under normal
circumstances, I’d think it was kind of hot, secretly listening to people fuck.
They sound really into it, and the way she’s talking to him doesn’t sound like
this is their first time. But the thought of his poor wife at home taking care
of his three kids sucks all of the joy out of it. For me, at least. Doesn’t
seem to be having any negative effect on the two of them.

I have to tell Edward. Let
him deal with it. But I can't interrupt his call for this, and if I wait, they
might be done and it'll just be my word against theirs. Chuck will just claim I
misheard things. He's in sales. He'll find a way to talk his way out of it.

"Oh, my God. Holy
shit. Slam me with your hard cock, you animal!"

I roll my eyes at her
over-the-top dirty talk. She's probably faking her orgasm, too. I can't imagine
Chuck is
that
good.

Making a quick decision, I
put my hand on the door. It's now or never. Catch him in the act and, if I'm
lucky, interrupt him right before he finishes. Totally cock block the asshole.

Taking a deep breath, I
push the door hard. As soon as it opens, I catch a glimpse of Lindsey. She's
completely naked and leaning over Chuck's desk. The puddle her long, blonde
hair is forming around her is a sharp contrast to the ebony wood it's draped
over, but it quickly disappears as she lifts her head and gapes at me in shock.
Her big, green eyes are wide and her mouth is open even wider, although in
fairness, it might have been like that before I even came in.

The door slams against the
opposite wall as I lift my eyes to look at the man holding onto her hips,
buried deep into her from behind, and just as naked. His eyes are wide as well,
but the look of shock on his face is even greater. I only make eye contact with
him for a second before the door rebounds off the wall to close the couple back
inside the office. But it’s enough time to weaken my knees and take my breath
away.