The Aces MC Complete Collection

My bike wasn’t even shut off before she was standing on the porch, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “Patrick?”

  I knew why she was surprised to see me. Hell, I hadn’t seen her in six years. Mum had moved into a small apartment, and I’d had no connection to Amy except for the photos of her and her son that Mum had placed next to photos of Brenna and I all over her home. Amy and her son were always conspicuously absent during the times I’d brought Brenna to see Mum. She’d never even seen my daughter.

  “I’m so sorry, Patrick,” she said kindly as I moved toward her. “I’m so sorry about Moira.”

  Her words wrapped around me, sinking into my skin like razor-sharp talons.

  She meant it. She was actually sorry that I’d lost the woman who’d taken me away from her.

  I lost it.

  I reached her on the porch and pulled her to me, my fingers digging into her back as I pressed my watery eyes against her throat. I shuddered when her hands slipped under my cut to grip my waist.

  This was the only place I wanted to be. I couldn’t bear to let go of her.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispered in my ear, her hands running lightly over my lower back. “Shhh.”

  I gasped, my breath heaving in my chest as I tried to pull myself together. What was it about this woman that made me lose control of myself? It had been that way since the moment I’d met her, and almost ten years later, that still hadn’t changed.

  “Why don’t you come in?” she asked, pulling away slightly to grab my hand. “Nix is at a friend’s house for a sleepover.”

  She turned away, and I tried to wipe my face off with my free hand as she pulled me into the cool house. My fingers tapped my thigh as I took the time to look her over, from the thick ropes of gray hair that hit the top of her back to the slim waist and round ass covered by worn out jeans.

  “You hungry?” she asked, never letting go of my hand as she turned to me with a small smile.

  My mouth was on hers before either of us knew what I was doing. It was harsh, our lips pressed roughly against our teeth, but it only took a second before her hands were gently brushing through my hair. It calmed me in an instant, and I pulled away slightly to meet her eyes.

  They were clear and wide—gentle and understanding—and my breath hitched as I leaned forward again, giving her plenty of time to pull away.

  She didn’t.

  She left her hands in my hair as I kissed her lips softly, learning the contours and texture again after so long.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into her mouth, not even sure what I was apologizing for. The years we’d spent apart? The way I’d kissed her so roughly? The fact that I’d just lost the woman who’d torn us apart and I was using her to console myself?

  “It’s okay,” she said immediately. “You’re okay.”

  I groaned and pushed her against the wall, crowding her with my body until one of my thighs was pressed between hers and she was the one who was groaning.

  “I’ve missed ye,” I said harshly, kissing her neck as guilt filled my chest. “Christ.”

  She pushed me away abruptly, and I was suddenly afraid as I met her eyes.

  “We don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in this house,” she said, reaching up to flick my forehead.

  My surprised laugh turned into a sob, and I hid it by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into me so I could press my trembling mouth against her throat. I licked and sucked at her skin. It tasted different than it had all those years ago, and I wondered briefly if it was age or having a baby that had changed it.

  I lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her down the hallway, past the room covered in Power Ranger posters and through the door I knew instinctively was hers.

  Her bed was covered in a quilt that I knew my mother had made, and before I set her down, I ripped it off the bed. I didn’t need any reminders that what I was doing was wrong.

  I was using her, and for some reason I couldn’t understand, she was letting me.

  We fumbled and bumped into each other as I tried to strip her jeans off and she went for my cut. Christ, our hands had no idea where to go and we were moving as if we’d get caught at any moment—frantic and desperate.

  By the time we were both naked, Amy was completely silent, even her breath had ceased.

  “So many tattoos,” she said softly, running her fingertips over my arm and down my hand until she’d reached my anchor and the silver ring that rested at the base of it “You didn’t cover it.”

  She sounded surprised by that, and it baffled me.

  “Of course not,” I replied.

  There were tears in her eyes when they met mine, but they didn’t fall as I pushed her into the bed and crawled on top of her.

  “Yer gorgeous,” I said reverently as I knelt above her, covering her breasts with my hands. My heart was racing and my breath was ragged as I weighed them in my palms. She was bigger there, more slender in her waist and more wide through her hips and thighs, giving her an hourglass figure that she hadn’t had when we were kids.

  I immediately needed everything at once and I laid down on top of her so I could reach it all. I barely noticed when her chest stopped rising and falling beneath mine. When she still didn’t move, I leaned back from where my mouth had been on her nipple. God, I loved that new taste.

  Her history came back to me in a rush, and I pushed my hands against the bed to get off of her.

  “I’m so sorry!” I practically yelled as I tried to move.

  “You’re okay!” she assured me. “I swear, you’re fine. I’m not scared, I was just… taking it all in, you know?”

  “Aye. I feel dat way meself.”

  I kissed the small smile off her face, and leaned down until I was on my side. I couldn’t stop my wandering hands as they moved over her curves, and she moaned low as I finally reached the place between her thighs.

  “So wet,” I teased, as she gave an embarrassed smile.

  “Lovely,” she whispered back.

  My balls throbbed at the word, and I felt my skin flush in one hot wave. I rolled over on top of her and pulled one leg over my arm until it was resting in the crook of my elbow and she was wide open to me.

  “Lovely,” I murmured into her mouth as I thrust hard inside her.

  “Shit!” she gasped, her hips coming off the bed.

  “Did I hurt ye?” I began to pull out, and her free leg was suddenly wrapped around my ass.

  “Don’t stop,” she groaned. “Keep going.”

  I was beginning to sweat, and for a split second I hoped I’d remembered to put on deodorant that morning. Then I cursed myself silently for acting like an idiot. Who the fuck cared what I smelled like? I was inside the love of my life—there was no room for anything else in my head.

  I felt like a kid with his first woman as I thrust in and out of her, watching her face so I could relearn what she liked and what she didn’t. I wanted it to last forever. I never wanted to leave her body, but eventually whatever I was doing must have pushed her over the edge, because she went completely still beneath me and then shuddered over and over again.

  I came only a few thrusts behind her, my arms shaking from holding myself above her, and my heart beating as if it was trying to escape my chest.

  I fell beside her and pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arms and legs around her.

  That’s when everything came back to me.

  “You okay?” she asked as I went stiff.

  “Fuck knows,” I answered honestly.

  “You will be,” she assured me, laying her head against my shoulder.

  Her hands soothed me as I thought about what the hell I was doing.

  I hadn’t been able to focus on anything but getting to Amy, but I hadn’t thought of what I’d do when I’d actually reached her. I hadn’t planned on fucking her. It honestly hadn’t even crossed my mind during the long ride from Oregon. I’d just needed to be near he
r, however that played out. I’d needed the comfort of her presence, the assurance that she was still out there in the world, happy and healthy and whole.

  “I’m a right bastard, aren’t I?” I sighed, kissing the side of her head.

  “You’re not so bad,” she replied, running her fingers over my side. “Sometimes, the things we need don’t make sense to anyone else. That doesn’t mean that you’re wrong to need them.”

  “Why did ye let me in?”

  “Because you needed me.”

  “Because I needed to fuck ye?” I asked harshly, immediately regretting my words. I was angry at myself, not her.

  “No,” she answered seriously, leaning up to look at me. “Because you needed me. You could have fucked anyone. Don’t try to make this about something it wasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. You’ve had a hard time of it,” her American accent had slipped a little since we’d began talking, and I couldn’t help the small sense of satisfaction it brought me. She was an American, she always had been, but occasionally I could hear Mum’s odd mix of Scottish and Irish in her voice.

  “I’m not sure what to do now,” I confessed, reaching down to pull the sheet over us.

  “You keep living and you take care of your girl.”

  “What about ye? How can I—”

  “Patrick, no,” she said, shaking her head. “We had our time, and I’d give anything to go back… but that’s not possible.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “No, no it’s not. I have a child. A son. And our life is here. Your life is with that club, and with your daughter.”

  My chest began to ache in a way that I’d become familiar with. I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. I didn’t want to think about anything else but the fact that she was right there with me, in my arms for the first time in so long.

  I interrupted her words with my mouth, and proceeded to distract her.

  I knew it wouldn’t change anything, but I needed to stop thinking, if only for a little while.

  I knew I’d be leaving the next morning without her.

  I also knew I wouldn’t be welcome again.

  Chapter 45

  Amy

  My hands were shaking as I watched out the window, waiting for Patrick to arrive.

  I hated it. I hated that I was so anxious to see him, even though I had more important things to worry about. I hated that he was driving to the small, two-story house I’d saved and scrimped for until I could afford the down payment, but still looked as beaten down and weathered as it had three years ago when I’d been full of dreams to repaint the walls and refinish the floors. I hated that I’d made Nix go to his best friend’s house so he wouldn’t have to endure the same agony I was in.

  I hated most of all that Peg was dying in the small, downstairs bedroom in my house, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it but wait.

  It had been eight years since the day Patrick had come to my house, hurting and confused after Moira’s death. I’d seen him occasionally in passing after I’d made him leave the next morning, and even more often after Peg had gotten sick, but I’d still never met his daughter.

  According to Patrick, she’d been too upset after her mother’s death to go very far from home, and by the time she seemed to be healing, Peg had refused to see her because she was so sick. She’d didn’t want to be the cause of more pain, the crazy old broad. I couldn’t understand how she could ever believe that knowing her and losing her would be worse than not knowing her at all.

  Mum. She was Mum to me now, and my chest ached as I thought about how she’d taken care of me for half my life. I’d never heard from my parents again after they’d left me, and looking back, I’d barely missed them. How could I when I’d been pulled under a wing so kind and full of love as Peg’s?

  Tires crunched outside and I was brought back to the present. A truck was coming down the road, but I couldn’t see who was inside it. I placed Mum’s hand on the quilt she was wrapped in, and stepped quietly out of the room. There was no need to wake her if it was just someone who’d taken a wrong turn. None of the roads near my house were marked, so it happened more often than I liked.

  The door was open, letting in a cool breeze, and I pushed the screen out of my way as I stepped onto the porch… and felt my legs buckle beneath me.

  Memories flew through my head as my stomach lurched and I anxiously reminded myself of every technique I’d learned to calm my breathing.

  What in the fucking hell was that man doing standing in my driveway?

  “Amy?” Patrick asked, racing toward me from the driver’s side door of the truck.

  I waved him back as I caught my breath, gripping the post that held up my porch railing.

  “Get the fuck off my property,” I growled, looking at the second man.

  “I’m just here to—”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck what you were doing. Leave.”

  The white clerical collar at his throat made me want to vomit—it was a response I’d had to train myself for years to get over. It wasn’t socially acceptable to puke every time your mother brought you to Mass.

  “What de fuck?” Patrick asked in confusion, stepping forward once before stopping himself. “He’s just here for Mum’s last rites. I thought she’d like to see a familiar face.”

  “I can guarantee your mother would do something to land her an extended stay in purgatory if she got one look at him,” I retorted, feeling stronger with Patrick standing between me and the priest.

  “Kevie?” Patrick asked, looking back toward the truck. His expression was a mask of absolute confusion, and in that moment I hated that I’d never told him the whole story about my attack. Watching Peg deteriorate was already breaking my heart, and I was afraid that seeing Kevie again was going to push me over the edge.

  Kevie stepped forward, his face a mask of pious calm, and I wanted nothing more than to string him up in the nearest tree. I knew how to tie a fucking noose, I’d learned it for a history presentation in college. I still couldn’t move past the fear, though. If Kevie knew where we were, then Malcolm might know, too.

  It was too much.

  “I’m sorry me presence offends ye, Amy,” Kevie said calmly, “Very sorry. I did not realize dat after all dis time…”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hissed, hiding my shaking hands in my armpits as I crossed my arms. “After all these years? Look at my hand!”

  I raised up the fingers that had bent and twisted from arthritis and poorly set bones. It was gnarly looking, and when I pressed both hands together, they looked like they belonged to two different people. While Phoenix was growing, I’d made it into a game—‘the claw.’ No matter how sore the joints felt, I’d tickle him with my left hand until he was practically peeing his pants.

  I’d turned the disfigurement into something joyful, but standing just feet from Kevie had me looking at it in disgust once again.

  “Your presence will offend me until it’s buried six feet under,” I announced flatly. “Even then, I hope you rot in hell.”

  Patrick’s face was like stone and his fingers began tapping his leg as he turned to Kevie, “What’s goin’ on, Kevin?”

  “Ye don’t—” Kevie asked before turning to me. “Ye never told him?” He swallowed hard and turned scared eyes back to Patrick.

  “No,” I replied flatly, his frightened expression like a balm over the resentment I’d felt for years. “I didn’t tell him that you’re the one who found me after your brother tortured and raped me. I didn’t tell him that you told me no one would believe me, and if they did, they wouldn’t care.”

  Kevie’s face fell, his remorseful eyes refusing to leave me even as Patrick spoke.

  “Ye knew?” Patrick asked, meeting his oldest friend’s eyes. “Ye fuckin’ knew and ye never said anyt’in’? I’ve spoken to ye hundreds of times in de past fifteen years. Malcolm?”

  I noticed then, while lis
tening to them talk, that Patrick had lost a lot of his accent while we’d been in America. It wasn’t something that I’d ever thought about, but hearing both of them at once made it clear how much thicker Kevie’s accent was. Patrick still sounded like Ireland, but his inflections and pronunciation had become more and more Americanized. He also sounded more and more like Peg as we got older. I guess a mother’s voice really is the most important sound a child hears as they grow.

  The thought made my stomach clench as I glanced toward the window to Mum’s room.

  “How close are yer neighbors?” Patrick asked menacingly.

  “We don’t have time for this, Patrick,” I replied softly. “Just make him leave, okay?”

  He stared at me silently for a long time, taking in my long dreadlocks and the summer dress I was wearing, before nodding and turning back to Kevie.

  “Yer already a dead man,” Patrick said calmly, before swinging his arm out. Kevie’s body bounced as he hit the hard-packed dirt.

  “Are you just going to leave him there?”

  “No, I’m gonna tie his arse up and let him lay in de fuckin’ sun all day in de back of me pickup. De fuckin’ prick.” He spit on Kevie’s unconscious form then raised his eyes to me. “Ye got a rope?”

  “What did you just do?” I asked, stepping backward as he moved toward me.

  His eyes met mine, and he wrapped his fingers around my hips as he stopped on the bottom step of the porch. “I just slayed a dragon,” he said seriously.

  I sobbed once, and my shoulders relaxed as he reached up to brush his thumb across my cheek. “My hero,” I whispered back.

  “Always,” he replied, squeezing my hip before stepping around me.

  He called someone from his cell phone as soon as he’d led me into the house, and I walked away as he spoke to whoever was on the other line. It made me nervous, having Kevie passed out and tied up in my front yard, but I wasn’t stupid.

  Patrick wasn’t an accountant. He’d been a part of an outlaw motorcycle club for the past fifteen years. I knew he would take care of everything, and I was willing to let him do it.

  As I sat back down next to Mum’s sleeping form, I tried to decide how I felt about the scene I’d just witnessed outside. Patrick was going to kill him—I knew that with absolute certainty. The way he’d moved, the tone of his voice, the way his eyes had met mine afterward… I knew that Kevie would never make it back to Ireland. The fact that I had no overwhelming feelings of horror or fear made me pause in my chair, considering the scene in my mind once more.