Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (2 page)

“Yer momma’s so stupid, she stared at a carton of juice because it said ‘concentrate.’”

Laughter rippled through the Hell’s Sons. Not the evil, curdling laughter Delta heard from the Raiders after they’d made a kill or came back with a load of guns. This was hearty, genuine laughter.

Music played from an old jukebox in the corner, Led Zeppelin if she wasn’t mistaken. A young guy, clothes loose underneath his cut, leaned against the jukebox, laughing with the rest of them.

Ever touched Delta’s arm, and it took everything in her not to flinch.
This is my sister
, she reminded herself and gave Ever a smile.

“Did you have a good night’s sleep? I hear the bed in the guest room isn’t the greatest.”

Any bed beat sleeping on the floor at a drunken man’s feet.

She nodded. “It was fine.”

Smiling, Ever looked around at the guys like they were amusing toddlers. More Yo Momma jokes volleyed back and forth. “Sometimes they get carried away with the jokes.”

Relaxing as much as she could, Delta glanced around. Men in leather reclined on a sofa with girls under their arms and their feet on a battered coffee table. The man they called Ace was behind the bar, slinging coffee and something that looked like tomato juice.

“What’s Ace handing out?”

“Hangover cure. Not sure it works, but there’s a lot of vitamin C in it, so he might be onto something.” Ever pulled Delta’s arm. “Let’s get some coffee and sit and talk.”

Talking wasn’t good for Delta. For years she’d kept everything so bottled up, she was terrified of an explosion. But her sister was so sweet, she couldn’t say no.

Nodding, she followed Ever to the bar. Ace turned from his laptop with a smile. Delta studied his rugged face a beat too long, and a gleam appeared in his eyes.

She dropped her gaze. Men were men no matter how they presented themselves.

“Coffee for you ladies?”

“Yes. Cream and—”

“Two sugars. I know,
sugar
.”

Ever hitched a butt cheek onto one barstool, and Delta took the other.

Ace leaned his elbows on the worn bar top. “What about you, Delta?”

It was strange having a say. In her world, she took anything she was given. She cleared her throat, but her voice still sounded imbued with sleep—the best night’s sleep she’d ever had.

“Just cream.”

“Aw, c’mon,
honey
. You deserve a little sweetness first thing in the morning.” Ace’s eyes danced as he poured coffee and added cream and a little sugar.

“It isn’t exactly first thing in the morning.” It was eleven o’clock. When she’d awakened to find it was ten-thirty, her heart had seized, certain she’d receive some punishment for not being up sooner. But no one commented at her late appearance, only smiled.

All smiles.

The Hell’s Sons sure were happy people. Except Drake.

She accepted her coffee and sipped. The decadent brew was enhanced by Ace’s addition, and she made a little mew of contentment.

Ace dropped her a wink. “I take it you approve?”

“Very much.” She filled her mouth with another swallow as Ever set down her mug, cradling it.

Her slender, white fingers were much like Delta’s. For the two nights she’d been with Ever, they’d say up late talking and noting similarities between them. Ever shared many features with Delta, but Delta’s coloring was dark and she didn’t have the freckles. They both loved sitting under the stars, though, and apparently coffee with milk and sugar.

“There’s my baby…and in my favorite shorts,” a deep voice rumbled. A tattooed arm snaked around Ever’s middle, the wildflowers tattooed on the wrist the exact color of Ever’s hair.

Her sister melted into a puddle, leaning back in Jamison’s arms. She angled her head to provide him with room to nuzzle.

The Hell’s Sons vice prez was a god of a man. Dirty-blond with tattoos galore, and he wore his jeans oh, so low. But the way he worshipped her sister warmed Delta’s heart.

She’d known about Ever for a while. The Raiders weren’t always good about keeping secrets, which sometimes got them arrested. She’d overheard her adoptive parents, Lucky and Micky, arguing about her. Lucky had raged that they should have left Delta with her sister.

Who was this sister, and where was she? Had she been raised with loving parents instead of cold, cruel monsters? And why had Delta been given up?

Learning the answers in the past two days had provided some closure for Delta. Her mother had been forced to give up her baby daughter by a husband who was not willing to look at a child that wasn’t his.

Delta sipped.

Jamison finished kissing Ever’s throat and looked up at Delta. “Enjoying the best coffee in Alabama, I see.”

“I am.”

“A woman of few words. Runs in the family, I guess.” Jamison slid his hazel gaze to Ever, who twisted her lips to keep from smiling.

“Always truth, Jamison.”

He pinched her bottom and bit the side of her neck. “Better always be truth, baby. Ace, gimme some coffee.”

A mug landed in front of him, followed by a second. A hand flashed between Delta and Ever, and long fingers wrapped around the mug.

Delta’s skin prickled.

Drake.

The fingers bore tattoos spelling HELL’S SONS, along with a star on each knuckle above. If she followed that hand upward, she’d see a menagerie of ink—more stars, wings, an amazing cross neck piece, and the Hell’s Sons MC tattoo of a skeleton riding a bike with flames shooting from the tailpipe.

Drake’s scent filled her head—leather and the stuff he put in his hair to slick it up and back. Too well she knew his personal musk, remembering it vividly from the moment she’d pressed her nose between his shoulder blades while on the back of his bike.

The first bike she’d ever ridden, but she didn’t let on. A club lifer like her would have been on the back of many motorcycles. But well, she wasn’t treated like a club member.

Drake leaned near. Brushing his nose against her hair? Her nipples pinched hard beneath the tight-fitting top Ever had loaned her. Her sister’s breasts weren’t as full as Delta’s.

“We need to talk.”

What?

She wanted to look at him so badly. To meet those forest green eyes and learn what had put the crease between them, but there was no use. Drake had kidnapped her from the Dark Raiders, and they wouldn’t let her go so easily. If Delta knew anything about her people, it was how possessive they were. She gave the Raiders a week maximum to come after her.

He didn’t wait for her agreement. “I’m going into town. You’re coming with me.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and instantly regretted it. A liquid heat slithered through her lower belly and between her thighs. This raw attraction wouldn’t do either of them any good. Sure, she could have a little fun with Drake—more pleasure than she’d ever gotten from a man. But sleeping with him meant the Raiders could discover it and put a target on his back.

“I don’t think so, thanks. Ever’s been good at sharing.”

“Making up for not sharing toys when we were little.” Ever’s blue eyes were sad at all they’d missed. From what she’d told Delta, her childhood had been far from rainbows and ponies too.

“You won’t want to share forever. We’ll get you some necessities.” Drake’s breath was mint toothpaste and coffee—Delta wanted a taste.

Shaking herself, she straightened on her stool to keep herself from leaning into him. “No, that’s okay. I—”

“I’ll take you later if you don’t want to shop with a biker dude,” Ever offered, winking at Drake.

He didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked pissed.

Delta tried to make peace. “No, it’s not that. It’s—” How to admit she wasn’t going to be here very long? The Raiders would be coming. Also a need to warn the Hell’s Sons burned in her. If only she could speak the words.

Drake trailed a finger over her bare arm sporting the sleeve of flower tattoos in bright reds, blues, and purples. She felt each fingerprint of his callused touch, and he didn’t even apply pressure.

A thrill ran through her, a leaping of desire she’d never known.

“Delta’s coming with me.” God, his voice was so low. It had roots that burrowed deep in her mind. Long after she left the Hell’s Sons, she’d dream of that voice.

She made the mistake of swiveling the stool to face him. Her breath caught as his intense gaze licked over her.

She shook her head. His lips hardened—far from a smile, but it transformed him.

“Drake’s momma so cross-eyed, she thinks her only child is a twin,” one of the brothers called.

Laughter erupted, and Drake carried his mug to a table and set it down. The moment with Delta broken.

“How’d you know I’m an only child?”

“Just a guess, man.” The guy with thighs like tree trunks had helped break Delta out.

Paxton looked up. The tattoo artist had been with the crew too, and from what she’d seen last night, he did good work. “Until a few days ago, we didn’t know you had a prosthetic foot either.”

Shock rippled through Delta. She dropped her gaze to Drake’s black leather boot, but it looked normal. Of course, she’d never seen him naked, even if she’d mentally undressed him a dozen times.

Drake tensed, and Jamison took charge of the room by asking, “Anyone seen Strother this morning?”

A man with a boyish face but two scarred Xs crossing his cheeks exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke. “He was up and left early. Trina’s getting released today.”

All grew quiet. Delta shot a look at Ever, who put her mouth to Delta’s ear. “Strother is the prez, and his old lady tried to kill herself. They pumped her stomach, and she’s been in the psyche ward.”

Ah, so the Hell’s Sons weren’t all light and laughter. Pain and secrets marred their group too.

“Strother will be occupied with her for a while, I’d say. I think we’d better go to church about some issues.” Jamison gave a chin-nod toward the door off the main room. All clubs were the same—long table, man in charge. Apparently that man was Jamison at the moment. Maybe Delta should tell him—

The main door exploded inward, and shots peppered the wall over her head. She hit the floor and curled up small. Ever squawked and dropped beside her.

“Fuck!” Ace grabbed them both and hauled them behind the bar. Delta began to quake all over, her mind going blank, taking her to an inner sanctuary where she survived.

“Jamison!” Ever broke free and started crawling out into the open, but more shots sounded.

Then Lucky’s voice penetrated Delta’s protective haze. “We’ve come to collect what’s ours.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Jamison barked.

Oh God, I should have warned them.
If one of these innocents died because of Delta’s cowardice, she’d never forgive herself.

“Three nights ago you stormed into our club and took one of our women.”

Gathering her strength, Delta peeked out. Jamison’s back was to her, but Drake was in plain sight—and in the line of fire. She shivered.

“Did they take you by force?” Ever whispered, her face as white as fresh snow, not that Delta had ever seen snow in the Deep South.

She nodded, and Ever’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her breathing grew rapid.

Ace crouched in front of them, a gun in each hand like some kind of Wild West gunslinger. Over his shoulder, he shushed them.

Recovering a bit, Ever threaded her fingers through Delta’s, and they waited.

“You’ve got the wrong club,” Jamison lied.

“Bullshit. We came for the girl. If you give her up, we leave. Nobody dies.”

That’s it.

Delta scrambled to her feet. Across the room, Lucky’s gaze latched onto her. Never a father figure, always a controller. She’d never even felt his arms around her or heard a kind word from his lips.

“I’m coming with you.”

Drake’s eyes flashed. Delta looked closer, but they went dead—as vacant as a robot’s. He pivoted to face Lucky and cocked his weapon.

“No!” Delta tripped over Ever and stepped on Ace to put herself between Lucky and Drake. She ran forward and locked her fingers around Drake’s muscled forearm. The tendons leaped under her grip, the tattoos like living things.

Remorse flooded her that she hadn’t taken the opportunity to memorize each and every dot of ink on his sexy-as-hell body.

“I’m coming, Lucky. Just leave these people alone.”

Lucky jerked his gun arm, and she couldn’t help it—she folded up to protect herself.

In front of all the Hell’s Sons, and especially Drake, who already saw too much. For a minute she couldn’t breathe.

Biting her lower lip, she straightened and threw herself at Lucky. He locked his arm around her, fingers digging into her spine. The pain and bruises were nothing compared to the dead-eyed look Drake wore.

“Let’s go. I’m ready to go home.” She looked into Jamison’s eyes. “I know where to find Ever.”

“No!” her sister screamed.

The noise of men leaving—boots on the worn floor and creaking leather—preceded Delta and Lucky out the door. They stuffed her into the back of a van, where she curled into a ball and tried to swallow the tears burning her throat. She never once raised her eyes.

•●•