Conan (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 1) Page 4

  There goes my only hope of getting out of tonight without a beating.

  That fleeting thought is enough to take my attention away from the raving lunatic in front of me. He takes advantage of my lapse and backs me against the wall by using his big body as a barrier. The top of my head doesn’t clear his shoulders so his chest is all that I can see as he advances. My back hits the concrete wall, a sharp pain in my shoulder blades that drives home the message that I’m trapped.

  “I don’t know what you said to them,” my uncle says, his stale, beer breath blowing over my face like the exclamation point from hell. “Just know that your games won’t work with them. They use little girls like you, chew them up and spit them out, then move on to the next little whore without so much as a backward glance.”

  He stops talking. His eyebrow is raised, a questioning gleam filled with nasty intentions in his eyes. I look at him, unsure what he wants from me. Silence is my friend in this situation—past experience a good teacher. It doesn’t matter what I say, anyway.

  One way or the other, he’ll find something wrong with it.

  My lack of response infuriates him further. Just like I knew it would. A wave of recognition breaks over my mind, his predictability calming me. I’ve learnt that when you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, sometimes the familiar is your only comfort.

  “What. Did. You. Tell. Them?” Each word is punctuated by a spray of spit landing on my forehead. I keep my gaze straight, focused on his chest. If I move a muscle, he’s going to pounce. The best way out of this is to pretend he’s not there.

  Usually it works.

  Tonight, I’m not so lucky.

  Hard hands grip my shoulders and he shakes me. My head snaps back and forth on my neck, before he pushes me harder against the wall.

  “Tell me what you told them, you little bitch.” He presses himself against me. When I don’t answer he lets go of my shoulders and backhands me across the face. Stinging pain blooms in my left cheekbone. I press my hand over it, wincing when the ache increases under the pressure.

  “I won’t ask you again.” The threat is more like a promise—punctuated by a thrust of his hips against my stomach.

  “Nothing!” I scream. “I told them nothing.”

  He’s creeping me out with his proximity and it’s messing with my ability to act on my plan to ignore him. There’s been a couple of times when his touches have almost crossed the line between innocent and sexual, but this is the first time I’ve been certain that I’m not reading too much into it.

  I can feel his hardness pressing against me. It’s growing bigger the longer he manhandles me. Our confrontation is turning him on.

  “Lying little cow,” he yells at me, then slams me against the wall again. I let go of my face and brace my hands against his chest to keep him from squashing me. “They told me you’re not welcome back there. Thanks to you, I have to find another way to get them off my fucking back.”

  “Get off me,” I snap with a sharp edge to my tone. It’s just bravado, but it works. My uncle takes a step back straightaway. The small amount of space that his movement puts between us gives me the ability to draw in a full breath. “Touch me like that again and I’ll call the Police.”

  His eyes widen. A glimmer of malice fills his expression, then he schools his features into a blank mask. Two beefy arms are crossed over his chest and he presses his weight against me once again. This time, it’s just his upper body angled over mine. His hips aren’t touching me anymore.

  I guess, I could call that a win.

  “Stop it.” I narrow my eyes and hope like hell that I look menacing. “Touch me or Kerry and I’ll tell the Police about your stash in the ceiling.”

  My uncle doesn’t get the opportunity to respond. A gasp breaks the silent standoff between us. I see my little sister coming into the foyer behind us and an urgent need to get her out of here overwhelms me.

  She’s my soft spot and he knows it.

  It takes all the strength in my arms to push him completely out of my way. My hands shake from a perverse mixture of apprehension over his next move and pride in my standing up for myself for once.

  When I can see properly, I check my sister. Thank God, Kerry has stopped in her tracks, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, her normally smooth forehead creased with worry. Holding up a trembling hand to make sure she stays out of reach, I sidestep our uncle.

  As I pass, he snarls, “As if I’d wanna touch you. You’re nothing but a fat, ugly cow. Ain’t nobody getting a hard dick from looking at your fat rolls.”

  My step falters for a split second, then I steel myself and keep walking to Kerry. Any other night, his words would have turned my face red, and made me feel worthless. Tonight, I was called perfect and then kissed by a boy who could have any girl he wants. I’d like to believe that there’s very little chance that he finds me to be a fat, ugly cow.

  Unless he was sent by his Club as part of their solution to the problem they have with uncle?

  “Come on, now,” I murmur to Kerry. Worrying about Cole’s motives for kissing me are the least of my problems. My sister is on the verge of tears. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I steer her to our bedroom and away from the man who is supposed to be our protector, not our tormentor.

  I lock the door and wedge a chair under the handle for good measure. Once, we’re secure, the layer of anxiety that’s been coating my skin like that cool sweat you get when you’re sick and having a hot flush starts to recede. My hands begin to steady and saliva returns to my dry mouth. I pretend my cheek doesn’t hurt and concentrate on making sure that our room can’t be broken into while we’re sleeping.

  “Want to sleep with me?” Kerry must sense my need for closeness. She likes her space when she’s sleeping so sharing a bed is a huge no-no for her. “Are you okay, Colleen?”

  I nod, a small smile the only reassurance I can manage.

  We make ourselves comfortable, pulling the covers up to our chin and snuggling close. My little sister lays her head on my shoulder with her arm thrown over my waist. I brush her fringe from her forehead and stroke the tiny little scar she has from the day I threw my Barbie car at her head because I wanted to play and she wanted to watch a movie.

  She was four. I was seven. Once she’d been to the hospital to get stitches, we’d lain down on her bed together and watched the Barbie movie that had caused the argument. That day I’d been tasked with making sure that she didn’t doze off because they suspected she had a concussion. Tonight, ten years later, I pray like hell that she falls asleep before she asks the questions that I don’t yet have answers for.

  “How many days until your birthday?”

  And, it begins. My stroking picks up speed while I count down the days in my head.

  “Only fifty-eight to go, sweetie.”

  Kerry takes hold of my arm and pulls it over her when she rolls over onto her other side. I go willingly, snuggling into her back and taking as much comfort from her as she seems to be getting from me. She doesn’t acknowledge my answer about my birthday, except to sigh.

  No more questions are forthcoming. Relief flits around the edges of my mind—hope growing that I might have escaped explaining what I meant by the threat I levelled at our uncle to call the Police about his stash of weed in the ceiling.

  The quiet continues.

  My eyes grow heavy.

  The final residue of fear that our uncle set flight in my brain flies away when I hear the front door slam shut. We’re alone again. The horrible man who rules our life is gone for now.

  I’m on the verge of sleep when Kerry’s voice breaks the silence.

  “I don’t know if I can make it through another fifty-eight days, Colleen.”

  Her desperation to leave breaks me. Pulling her closer, I rest my face in the curve of her neck and try my hardest to fight back the tears that are trying to fall.

  “We can do it, sweetie.” I murmur, injecting as much truth into my words a
s I can. “As long as we stick together, we can do anything.”

  SEVEN

  Colin

  Usually, my idea of hell is being surrounded by Brian and Paddy’s little sisters.

  They’re loud.

  They’re argumentative.

  They think nothing of dobbing on us to our dads for anything they think will get us in the shit. They’re pretty much a typical pair of thirteen-year-olds—placed on earth to drive their big brothers to distraction.

  Now, I say “usually” because today when we were ordered to pick them up from their High School orientation I’d agreed without an argument. Why, you may ask? Because their new school is the same one that a certain redhead with hips that curve for days also attends.

  So, yeah, today I’m happy to see Alanah and Grace.

  “I call dibs on Cole’s bike,” Alanah, Brian’s little sister, crows as they approach. Brian couldn’t make it—he has mechanical skills that Paddy and I lack so he was forced to stay back at the Harley workshop that the Shamrocks own to help with the backlog of jobs. My dad tried to make me stay and work as well, but I swapped with Vic behind his back so it’s just me and Paddy on the school pick up and party prep duty that forms part of our punishment for Paddy’s fuck up last night.

  Grace pouts at Alanah’s proclamation. She stops short, throws her bag on the ground, and wails at the top of her lungs. “Not fair. I’m not getting stuck on my brother’s bike. He hates me.”

  Kill me. Kill me now.

  Our Prez can be an asshole to his sons. That’s a given fact. Conversely, his baby girl is his shining light—a little pampered princess who can do no wrong and is never pulled up when she acts like a brat. And since her daddy puts up with her shit, she expects the rest of us to do the same thing.

  I look at Paddy for help. He’s not paying her any attention. Hell, he doesn’t even flinch when she wails again. Nope, my best friend is too busy checking out the Seniors who are filing past now the bell to end school has sounded.

  “I told you, Alanah. It’s not fair if I get stuck with Paddy.”

  Slinging my helmet from my head, I hang it from my handlebar. After cutting the engine and kicking down the stand on my bike, I face the annoying teen who’s on the verge chucking a bloody tantrum of epic proportions.

  “Grace,” I spit her name between gritted teeth. “If you don’t stop right now, I’m gonna make you walk home.”

  She stops. Her stance changes from hostile to pleasant in an instant. Suspicions makes my skin prick, and I swallow. She’s about to pull out the big guns.

  Holy Mother, a full-blown Grace O’Brien tantrum is the last fucking thing I need today.

  “Hey, Grace. Hi, Alanah,” a sweet voice behind me greets the girls. “Did you enjoy the rest of orientation? I had fun showing you around this morning.”

  Alanah starts waffling on about art classes and Grace pushes past me with enthusiasm so she doesn’t miss out on any of the conversation. Apparently, the presence of her new High School friends is enough to make her act her age. Thank God for small mercies.

  I signal Paddy to turn his bike off, then spin around with the intention of hurrying up our annoying charges. Instead, my feet grind to a halt and my mouth drops open. The girl that Alanah and Grace are talking to is the spitting image of Colleen. Younger, yes. But, the dark strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and short stature are almost identical to the features of the pretty girl I spent last night dreaming about.

  “Cole, this is Kerry.” Alanah takes pity on me and introduces us. I snap my gaping mouth shut when I hear Paddy and Grace sniggering. Like brother, like sister—they both take more pleasure than is normal in other people’s misfortune. Brian and Alanah are much gentler. They’d give you the shirt off their back with a smile.

  “Hey,” I say as I nod. “Nice to meet you.”

  “M-eee, too,” Kerry’s voice cracks when she responds. “I-uh-I mean, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

  A dark-pink blush starts at the base of her neck and travels with speed up her freckled face. I could laugh—if she’s not Colleen’s younger sister, I’ll eat my bloody helmet. Kerry’s arrival is proof that the universe is on board with the plan that I made last night to make Colleen get over her hatred of the Black Shamrocks MC.

  I’m formulating a way to ask her about her sister without coming off like a creep when the universe throws me another home run and Colleen appears from between two buildings. She stops, stands on her tiptoes, and looks around the crowded parking lot with worry in her eyes.

  Kerry sees Colleen and waves her over to us. “Colleen, come here and meet everyone.”

  The worry disappears and Colleen nods at Kerry’s request. A fleeting thought springs forth—why the hell would she be so stressed over her sister? Kerry’s old enough to get herself home. It’s not like we live in the ghetto.

  My stupidity makes me want to slap myself upside the head. It’s true that me and my friends live in one of the many good areas of Brisbane. The street where I dropped Colleen last night, however, is known for being part of one of the rougher suburbs. It’s on the border between the Black Shamrocks turf and that of our current ally, the Mavericks of Mayhem MC.

  Her street is pretty much no man’s land in MC circles. A wasteland filled with addicts and whores looking for their next fix. Even the cops don’t bother patrolling that area. The law that they represent isn’t followed down there—street justice is the order of the day.

  “Uh, hey, uh, you,” Colleen does a double take when she sees me and Paddy standing a few feet away from the girls.

  “Cole,” I offer my name. “And, hey yourself.”

  Paddy pulls himself to his full height, grunts, and gives her a nod. Then he returns to ogling the other girls who pass by in groups. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his behaviour, instead running my gaze the length of Colleen’s body.

  Starting at her painted toenails, I move up her shapely legs, and stop for a second glance at the tiny bit of cleavage that peaks out of her blue, white, and red pinstriped school dress. I let my eyes linger on her full lips, smiling when a telltale blush darkens her pale skin. She’s still as pretty as I remember from last night—probably prettier since she looks a lot more comfortable in this environment than she did at the Clubhouse.

  I finally allow myself to meet her eyes and that’s when I lose my shit.

  “What the fuck happened to your face?” There’s a purple bruise on her left cheekbone. It wasn’t there last night, and the sight of it sets off a burning need to maim whoever’s responsible. The anger pulses through my veins, roaring in my ears, and making my body shake. My mind screams at me to kill.

  I close the distance between me and Colleen, baring my teeth when she flinches away from me like I’m capable of hurting her. The fear I see on her face is enough to make me stop and think. Slow and steady wins the race. Treating her like a skittish horse, I lift my hand and touch her bruise with a soft brush of my fingers.

  “Who did it?” This time I ask the question with less intensity.

  Without a word, Colleen pulls away from me. She grabs Kerry’s arm and forces her to follow her to the bus bay. I’m in motion in an instant, intent on following them, when Paddy grabs my arm and makes me stop.

  “Dude,” he lifts his eyebrows at me when he speaks. “Calm the fuck down. You’re acting like a lunatic.”

  Alanah nods, while Grace looks between me and Colleen with an interested expression covering her face. I mutter a prayer that she doesn’t put two and two together.

  Shaking my arm free, I head for my Harley.

  “You’re with me,” Paddy directs Grace to come with him. “No fucking arguments.”

  It would seem that he knows that her perverse need to needle me is the last thing I need right now. I offer him a thankful incline of my head for the reprieve. Alanah is much easier to handle.

  “I can ask Kerry what happened if you want?” Alanah offers once she’s slid behind me onto the pillion seat of my bi
ke. “She’s our guide during orientation so we’ll be seeing her all week.”

  “I’d appreciate if you could.”

  Alanah nods as she adjusts her school bag so it’s sitting straight, then wraps her arms around my waist. “I won’t do it in front of Grace, though. You know what she’s like with you.”

  We exchange smiles in the side mirror. Grace has had a crush on me for the past year or so. I’ve ignored it. One, because she’s a kid. Two, because she’s a typical O’Brien so giving her an inch will result in her trying to steal a mile. It’ll be a hot day in hell before I let her know that I have a weakness that she can exploit.

  My thumb hovers over the start button as the bus that Colleen and Kerry boarded passes by us. It’s stupid, but I try to spot them through the dozen or so windows.

  Luck is on my side. They’re sitting next to a window on the second to last row at the back of the bus. Kerry waves at us. I don’t wave back when the others do. Instead, I stare as hard as I can at Colleen, dumb hope that she might feel my gaze on her trying to eat me alive, as the bus waits for a break in the traffic so it can turn left.

  Colleen doesn’t look back. She stares straight ahead with an unnatural intensity.

  I hit the start button and follow Paddy as we leave. We need to turn right so I rev my engine harder than necessary in one last effort to get her attention.

  Nothing happens. She doesn’t move a muscle.

  My hope dies and I ride to the shops with a hollow feeling in my gut that refuses to go away.

  EIGHT

  Colleen

  Kerry stares at me. She opens her mouth, then closes it and looks out the bus window. Wash, rinse, and repeat. I keep my gaze on the back of the bus driver’s head and pretend that I can’t see her curiosity.