Hart Page 4

  I rolled my eyes. Of course they did. “Look, believe what you want. But Cobras ain’t in the business of hurting innocent people to get ahead in our operations. That’s what started this war in the first place. The Fury nearly killed a woman, and we don’t look too kindly on that. And that’s the truth.”

  He stared at me for a long time. “Yeah. Well, some things about them make me wonder . . .”

  Cracks in his alliance with the Hell’s Fury? I pounced on it. “Like what?”

  “Like I said, Slade can be one mean son of a bitch. He’s done some things that scared the crap out of me. The first day I went to their clubhouse, I made the mistake of trying to talk to his daughter. The guys told me that if Slade found out, I’d never walk again.”

  Sounded familiar. I knew Slade’s daughter, Cait, because she was now Drake’s girl. The things he went through to be with her? Slade was the one who ended up dead, but it very easily could’ve been Drake. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “And there’s other fucked up stuff. Rituals and hazing they make the prospects go through. I don’t like that shit. It’s all a bunch of bullshit so the patched members can flex their muscles and look like hot shit.” He gave me a curious look. “Do the Cobras do stuff like that?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. What the fuck for? Sounds like stupid college shit.”

  He nodded and said softly, “That’s good, man. Really good.”

  Maybe he hadn’t made the decision to jump ship and join us. But at least he was being honest with me right now. I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure he wasn’t feeding me a line of bull so I’d let him go, but he seemed sincere.

  As he finished up his cereal, I said, “So what are you going to do when you get out of here?” I was testing him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “When?”

  “Whenever. You think I’m going to keep you here forever?”

  He smiled the first real smile I’d seen since I met him. “I’ve been thinking about my sister. She doesn’t deserve me giving her shit. I called her a bitch, and that was a big mistake. I’ve got to talk to—”

  He stopped suddenly, and his eyes widened. He felt around his pockets and cursed.

  “What’s up?”

  He looked around wildly. “Shit! I need to call her! Where’s my phone? She’s probably out of her mind right now, worrying about me.”

  I went to the coffee table and lifted up the black screen. “It’s dead, though.”

  “Oh, fuck. Oh, shit,” he said, his voice frantic. He vised his head in his hands, stooped over. Jesus, this sister of his must’ve had fangs. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  I shook my head. I’d heard too many stories of people borrowing phones and fucking with them, so I never let anyone borrow my phone. I had a charger for that model but I didn’t let on.

  “Look, I’ll do you one better. Let’s go back to the garage and pick up your bike. I bet my guys have fixed it by now. And then I’ll follow you over to your place. Okay?”

  He frowned. “You guys have my bike?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t just gonna let it stay by the side of the road. We took it back to the garage, and I bet it’s better than it was before you crashed it.”

  “Okay. Cool.” He nodded slowly, then grabbed his phone from me and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte

  The neighbors downstairs must have hated me. I paced around the house, stomping heavy-footed, ready to blow a gasket.

  Where the fuck is he?

  I’d always thought he was the person who knew me best on this planet. He had to know I was frantic, by now. So that meant that the person I cared the most about in this world didn’t give a fuck about how I felt.

  And God, it stung.

  As I stormed about the apartment like a tornado, the animals followed me. Burt and Ernie paced behind me, constantly getting caught up between my legs. Opie just watched from the sofa, eyes going back and forth like a pendulum, like she was too classy to engage in such an activity.

  Then I lifted my phone and dialed again, and it went straight to voicemail.

  If I had a dollar for every time I called Jojo only to have the phone go right to voicemail, I’d be rich. He never remembered to charge his phone. But if his phone was dead, he’d find another way to get through to me. Always. And this was going on a full day. He’d never ignored me for this long.

  I went to the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. Brought down his prescription of Theophylline and opened it. We got it on a monthly basis, and the month was almost over, so he should have had only a pill or two left. But there were twelve in there.

  That wasn’t good. He needed to take those pills every day, like clockwork, to control his asthma. He’d been taking them since he was twelve. He knew this.

  When I got my hands on him, I’d rip him a new one, the dumb shit. But I couldn’t think about that now. I needed to find him.

  Maybe he’d wanted to get in touch with me. Maybe he was dead, or dying, or crying out for help.

  After a few more minutes of pacing, I threw myself down at the couch and let out a “FUCK!” The pressure was just too much.

  As I was sitting there, hunched over with my head in my hands, I heard it.

  A motorcycle.

  Actually, two of them.

  At first, I thought I was hearing things, or that the bikes belonged to someone else. But Jojo’s little jalopy sounded unlike any other bike out there—metallic and raspy, like it was puttering toward a certain death. Then it got closer, until the whole building vibrated and the noise appeared to be coming from right under the window.

  I jumped to my feet and ran to the front of the apartment, just as the noise cut out. I tilted the blinds for a look. Sure enough, there was Jojo, climbing off his bike, next to another rider twice his size. Jojo stood there, flexing his nonexistent muscles, trying to look cool and relaxed for the big douche with him, both of them taking off their helmets.

  I ripped opened the door and flew down the stairs, into the parking lot. I didn’t care about the other prick. All I saw right then was Jojo. And as happy as I was to see him alive and kicking, I also wanted to kill him for putting me through this crap for the last day.

  I approached him as he was tucking his helmet under his arm. I took his face in my hands, looking for any sign of injury, and he shirked away, turning on his cool act. “Are you okay?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I—”

  As he started to step onto the curb, I shoved into his chest, full force, with both hands. “Then why didn’t you fucking call me, you asshole?”

  He staggered back. Lightweight. I’d dealt with people a hell of a lot bigger than him.

  “Whoa, what—” he started to say.

  “Don’t you whoa me!” I shouted at him, my face hot and my fists curled. I pushed him again. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m sorry!” His voice cracked and he held up his hands in surrender, and those chocolate brown eyes got all puppy-dog on me. I refused to give in.

  “I—”

  “You’re not sorry! If you were sorry, you would’ve done me the courtesy of a fucking phone call!” I shouted, shoving him again.

  This time, he crossed his arms defensively over his chest, standing taller. “Give me a break. My phone’s dead.”

  “And you couldn’t borrow someone else’s? Where the fuck were you?” I insisted, stalking away with my hands on my hips. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. As I faced away from him, I noticed a couple apartment doors opening, and people looking outside to check on the commotion.

  I was beyond caring. And those deep breaths? They did nothing for me. I was still pissed beyond belief.

  “You know I thought you were dead? I was imagining you lying dead in a ditch and thinking I’d get a phone call saying I needed to identify your body. You know I—”

  I stopped suddenly
when I heard something.

  Laughter.

  Not happy laughter, but laughter like, Who is this crazy, overreacting bitch?

  Okay. I’d already lost my shit by this time. But if anything could’ve made me lose my shit and smear it all over the place in a fucking finger-painting, it was this prick, laughing at me. I didn’t care how tough or cool he was. I’d fucking eat him for breakfast.

  I turned to my little brother’s companion. In contrast to my brother, he was not little. He had bare, tanned arms, big and thick, and a tattoo on his bicep peeking out. His face was covered in a cinnamon-colored stubble, and his long reddish blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. I think his look was exactly what my brother was trying to achieve, in his dirty jeans and leather vest. Tall, broad, and leaning against his bike like he was auditioning me for a job, this guy regarded me like I was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

  Oh, hell to the fucking no. I narrowed my eyes at him. “And who the fuck do you think you are? Some Son of Anarchy? Badass biker? Wannabe?”

  The guy stared back at me for a few seconds, not saying anything. As I looked at him, my face started to heat up. Because he wasn’t just one of those fuck-it-all badasses who scared most people enough to make them pee their pants.

  He was actually kind of . . . hot. Really hot. He had these deep hazel, tiger eyes, green with flecks of light that settled on me and wouldn’t let go. He tight, army green t-shirt hugged his body so tight I could see the rise of his pecs. His mouth lifted but only on one side, in a surly, full of attitude smile, baring one dimple.

  I’d never had a guy look at me like that before. Amused, scrutinizing, assessing me but . . . also mentally undressing me at the same time.

  I felt naked and also kind of, head-to-toe buzzy, like I’d said something wrong.

  Shit, what had we been talking about? My mind had gone completely blank, all as a result of those feral eyes of his.

  Little by little, it flooded back. I bit my tongue as I realized what I’d called him. I started to backtrack as he crossed his arms in front of him. “Sons of Anarchy, huh? You watch the show?”

  Fine. If I couldn’t take it back, I might as well press forward. Didn’t matter how hot he was. I was in the right here, and my brother was clearly in the wrong, the result of listening to scumbags like this one. “Are you the one responsible for my little brother looking like a stupid thug and not treating me with any respect?”

  He didn’t say anything. Just laughed some more, then licked his lips. Those bright hazel eyes were, unmistakably, on my lips. What was it he found so fascinating about them? Was it because I was the first person who’d ever stood up to him and all those muscles of his?

  Well, they didn’t intimidate me. There was plenty more where that came from.

  I snarled at him, “What the hell is so funny?”

  Finally, he did speak. He opened his mouth and said one word, in a low, grumbling voice. “You.”

  That was it. I saw red. I thought about shoving him but he was so big, so manly and muscular . . . so blatantly sexual, I didn’t want to get closer. I scowled at him. “Kindly stay the fuck out of our business.”

  I turned to Jojo and got ready to unload on him some more.

  But the big guy just laughed some more. I looked over, and now that surly, one-sided smile was big and baring a set of perfectly white teeth. He threw his head back with laughter, as if I was the funniest thing on earth.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I said to him. “Go away. This is family business.”

  “Er—” Jojo suddenly broke in. “Char . . .”

  I wagged a finger in his face. “You shut up. You go upstairs and you’re cleaning your room for the rest of the day. I don’t even want to see your face right now. Do you hear me?”

  He cringed. So he didn’t like being treated like a kid in front of his big, strong new BFF, was that it? Well, fuck that. He should have been glad I wasn’t talking about how his dirty underwear never made it into the hamper or the fact that his sheets were more come-stains than cotton because of his never-ending jacking off.

  Jojo hung his head and started down the path to the apartment.

  Good. I lifted my chin to face Mr. Incredible Eyes. I set my jaw and took the time to choose my words. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t want to hear it. I held up my palm. I had to say my piece.

  “Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Just know that Jojo was once a really good kid. And ever since he’s been hanging out with the likes of you, he’s changed. And I don’t like it. He doesn’t have parents, and he hasn’t had the easiest time with staying on the straight and narrow. He doesn’t need you filling his head with ideas that he can be a gangster and go shooting people. So I’d prefer if you found some other impressionable kid to sink your claws into. Do you understand me?”

  I took a desperately needed breath after I finished that speech. I waited for a response.

  He didn’t give one. He just kept staring, undoing me bit by bit with the light in those eyes of his.

  By the time he did open his mouth, I was practically salivating for his answer. But it wasn’t a yes, or a no, or even a fuck off, like I expected.

  He simply said, “Hart.”

  My brow creased in confusion. “What?”

  “You asked me who the fuck I thought I was,” he said, extending his hand out to me to shake. “The name is Hart. And I ain’t any son of anarchy. I’m anarchy itself.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hart

  So, Jojo had a little spitfire of a sister.

  Not to mention, she was damn sweet. She wore an old, open, grungy flannel shirt that must’ve been a boyfriend’s. She wore her dark hair in a ponytail, had dark eyes like her brother, and her short shorts and a tight camisole that showed me the outline of her nipples turned me on. To top it all off, her, her taut stomach sported a little belly ring.

  Fuck, I wanted to suck on that belly ring. Lick all of her, from head to toe. Where the fuck did she get hips like that, that tight waist, those tits . . .?

  Holy fuck, she was hot.

  I held my hand out, waiting for her to shake it. Introduce herself. But I didn’t just want that. I wanted to touch her. All over. But her hand would be a good start.

  She didn’t bite. She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and said, “I don’t care who you are. Stay away from my little brother.”

  I pulled my hand away. “If that’s what you want. But the kid is nineteen. You can’t stop him from doing what he wants.”

  Her lips puckered and she snarled, “Oh yeah? That’s what you think. He’ll listen to me because he doesn’t want my foot up his ass.”

  Behind her, Joel waited at the steps to the apartment complex, watching us. I glanced back at this sweet little girl in front of me with the red face. She blew some rebellious strands of dark hair off her forehead and exhaled heavily, fisting her hands like she was ready to fight. Like she was daring me to touch her little brother.

  She really thought she was something tough, didn’t she? I guessed that was where her brother got it from.

  The girl was half my size. I probably had seventy-five pounds on her. I couldn’t help it.

  I started to laugh again.

  Her eyes brimmed with fire. “What’s so fucking funny?”

  She was. God, she was cute all riled up like that. I hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. I shook my head and raised my palms up to her. “Nothing. Nothing. I was just seeing your brother home. That’s all.”

  She lowered her fists a little. “That’s all? Then where was he?”

  “Well, he was getting himself into a little trouble last night. But I took care of it. He’s good now. I’ve been watching him.”

  She pressed her lips together, and her eyes flitted down to my kutte. “You took care of it? You’ve been watching him?”

  I nodded. She pointed at the Cobra patch on my kutt
e. “You have a different patch than Jojo has. What does that mean?”

  “That’s right. I’m from a different club.”

  She frowned. “How is that possible? I told him I didn’t want him messing around with any of those gangs. The drugs, the violence, the . . . it’s not his scene. It shouldn’t be his scene.” She shook her head. “What kind of trouble was he getting himself into?”

  I gave her a smirk. “You seem to know all about us, with our drugs and violence. Use your imagination.”

  “Tell me,” she demanded, coming up real close to me. She smelled fantastic. Like apples.

  I leaned into scent her, drawing her in slowly.

  “What are you . . .” Her face twisted, and the next thing I knew, she brought her foot down hard, on my boot. She was barefoot, and I had steel-reinforced toes. It didn’t do much of anything. Even so, she ground her foot down on my toe, like she was trying to murder it. It felt like a mosquito, breathing on me.

  I looked down. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She sucked her lips in, a determined look on her face. “Tell me!”

  I just started to laugh again at the feisty, crazy little woman. As I threw my head back, the bitch kneed me in the balls.

  I leaned forward, sputtering as I grabbed at my nuts. Fireworks exploded in my vision as the pain nearly took my breath away. “What the—”

  “Tell me!”

  I took a few deep breaths and managed to get control of myself. When I spoke, my voice was almost back to normal. “The usual shit guys like us get into and the reason you don’t want him hanging out with a guy like me.”

  She sighed. “So can you be more specific, motorcycle man? Is it drugs?”

  I could’ve told her that he’d been shooting a gun and leading the police on a chase through all of Aveline Bay. But I didn’t want to worry her any more. For the kid’s sake. If she found that out, I wouldn’t put it past her to lock him up in a dungeon inside her apartment. “Nah. Just having some fun. Your brother said you don’t know anything about that.”

  She considered this, then looked over her shoulder for her brother. “I know how to have fun. The things Jojo has been getting into have been borderline illegal, though. That’s not fun to me. That’s stupid. Being in a motorcycle club? Stupid.”