Fighting for Forever
“Get your fucking hands off her.” The menacing voice stills my blood, and I shudder in Hatch’s hold.
Anger melts from his expression and is replaced by something that almost looks like excitement. I follow the line of his gaze, and my heart slams so hard behind my ribs I fall back onto Hatch’s chest.
Mason. And Drake? What . . .?
Oh my God, Mason. I scramble off Hatch’s chest only to be slammed back down onto his lap, this time facing away from him. His arm comes around my waist, holding me to him. “If it ain’t my two favorite brothers.”
Mason doesn’t take his eyes off me, pinning me with a glare that screams complete devastation.
Drake hooks Mason by the arm and tries to pull him away, but Mason shakes him off easily, stepping closer in the process. “I’m only gonna say it one more time. Let her go.”
My spine goes straight, panic and fear making me want to run. I don’t want Mason to see me like this, half naked and straddled over another man.
“Who the fuck invited you dipshits?” Hatch laughs then slides me off his lap to his side so that I’m pressed between him and the biker guy named Cage he was talking to.
How does Hatch know Mason? Why is he here?
Paralyzed with shock, my booze-fogged head tries to sort out what my eyes see, but I come up short, refusing to believe Mason would ever associate with guys like Hatch.
Drake moves forward, glaring. “Where’s Elijah?”
“Lookin’ for Daddy? How sweet.” Hatch motions to the mysterious door at the opposite side of the room where people have been coming and going all night.
Mason shakes his head as if he has no idea he’s acting out the one word his mind is probably screaming. A single tear builds and spills over my lower lid. Unable to hold his accusing glare for another second, I drop my head into my hands.
“Shit, you gonna toss?” Hatch’s hand grips the back of my neck. “If so, get your ass to a bathroom.”
I nod, feeling the acid from my stomach rush to my throat. He shoves me to standing and I take two quick steps, before my shoe snags on the carpet. I fall forward. My hands move to brace my fall, but two arms wrap around me, and I’m slammed into a wall of muscle.
The scent of fresh grass and honey surround me. “Mase—”
“Shh,” he says into my hair while guiding me through a crowd.
“Stop, don’t.” I try to wiggle out of his hold, but his grip only tightens. “Let me go.”
“Can’t. Not until we talk.” He guides me to a door and pushes me into a room, plunging me into darkness when the door closes.
I whirl around, searching for him, grateful when the light finally clicks on. I squint against brightness and turn to catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My top is made of fishnet, and my shorts cut up high on my ass, lacing up the back and leaving very little to the imagination. God, he must think the worst of me.
“What are you doing here?” I’d hoped the question would come out more accusatory than desperate. “Did you follow me?”
His jaw is clamped down in barely concealed rage. “That’s your fucking source? That guy?” He practically spits the words through clenched teeth.
“Yes, but . . .” I blink up at him, thoughts whirling and trying to put the pieces together. “You know each other?”
He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, gripping it tight at his scalp. He’s not denying it.
“Mason . . . how?”
He spears me with a glare that has me stumbling back into the wall. “This is over. Tonight.”
“What? Why? You said—”
“That guy, your boyfriend—”
“He’s not my boyfriend! You know why—”
“Almost killed my brother.”
A gasp rushes from my lips. I press against my chest to push back the feeling that my heart is about to leap from my body. “How does Drake know Hatch? Wait, why are you guys even here?”
I shake my head as if somehow mixing up all the information will help it to finally align to make sense.
“It’s over, Trix.”
I jerk my eyes to his at the non-negotiable tone in his voice. “No, it’s not.”
He takes a step toward me, his icy-blue stare sending chills across my skin. “It is.”
“How can you say that? He just came back.”
He moves in more until the heat of his breath is on my lips. “It’s over.”
I grip his T-shirt, shoving him back and at the same time dragging him to me, needing my space as much as I need to crawl inside him. “It’s not over yet. No!”
Lightning fast, he whirls me in front of him, pinning my hips to the counter top from behind me. He grips my chin, forcing my eyes to the mirror, and growls in my ear. “Look at yourself.” His eyes are wild, glistening with rage, and his jaw throbs with tension.
Possessive, violent, and breathtaking.
He flexes his hips, pressing mine deeper into the granite vanity until the pinch of pain brings my eyes to the mirror.
My untamed hair is tossed around my shoulders, purple streaks like roadways across the net shirt that displays my naked breasts. I blink as my eyes travel lower. Mason’s possessive hand is splayed across my bare stomach.
“Is this what you want, Trix?” He jerks my chin. “Look at yourself now. Is this what you want?”
I shiver in his hold, knowing the right answer is no, but holding onto the last thread of hope that I could help bring my family peace and Lana’s killer to justice.
He tilts my face up, catching my eyes, and I fight the urge to recoil at the darkness I see in their depths. “I’m done with this. Not doing this anymore.”
“What . . . why?”
His hand roams up, stopping at the tender underside of my breast. “Can only take so much. Thoughts of you with anyone else are fucking torture.” He grazes my neck with his fingertips, brushing my hair back. “I know you’re doing your best to respect what we have, but I don’t give a fuck anymore. It’s not enough.” Hot, wet kisses paint my shoulder and neck until he nips at my ear. “You wanna know why this is over? Why I’m putting an end to this bullshit?” His breath beats heavy in my ear and he grips me hard. “Because you’re mine.” His declaration rumbles against my skin seconds before he turns me and drops to his knees.
My hands brace against the counter behind me as he throws one leg over his shoulder. Rough hands grip the thin material of my boy-shorts, pulling them aside.
“Mase . . .” My words dissolve on a moan as he buries his mouth between my legs.
He nips at me with his teeth, punishing me before slashing me with his tongue in a brutal and delicious assault. I lean back, leveraging as I dig my heel into his back, encouraging him to have his way. Opening myself to his fury. He growls against my over-sensitized flesh, whether in frustration or approval, I’m not sure. I’d take either.
He slides one big hand up the back of my shorts, grabbing my ass so hard it’s sure to leave a mark. “It’s over.” His teeth graze, lips pull, and tongue lashes against me.
I roll my head on my shoulders, trying to stay upright and at the same time wanting to fall into the strength of his hands. No, no, no . . . it’s not over. My voice can’t find the words as his mouth has robbed me of breath.
So close, the sensations coil deep in my belly. I rock myself against him, joining in the rhythm as his hand at my ass guides me, rewarding me. Loving me even through his anger. Reminding me what I’ve given him and what he claimed. Proving that I’m his—that he owns not only my heart, but my body too.
I fist his hair, holding him exactly where I need him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my orgasm shreds through me, full-body and overpowering. My thighs quake, and a low whimper of ecstasy pours from my lips. Panting, I breathe through the aftershocks of my release. His tongue moves still, in lazy but purposeful stokes, coaxing me back to earth.
My heart beats to the chant of my soul: I’m his. I’m his. I’m his.
My ankle wobbles on
my high heels, threatening to give out. He pulls back, hoisting me up to the countertop and settling between my legs. His arms wrap around me, and his lips kiss a pattern against my neck.
My eyes burn with tears. The combination of seeing him here, having a front row seat to his disappointment then his punishment, and having more questions than I have answers, only intensifies the pain.
A mournful cry falls from my lips as all the years of my searching seem to dissolve in this moment. I don’t want to live with this hurt anymore. Don’t want to push away my one chance at a happy life. Sick of selling my soul for hope that Lana’s killer will be found, I’m tired of pushing Mason away.
“Beatriks, baby . . .” He smooths my hair off my face. “You gave yourself to me, and now it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. Those guys, Hatch, they’re dangerous, and I’ll give you the choice, but if it’s not the right one, I’ll make it for you.” He runs the pads of his thumbs along my jaw, his blue eyes piercing mine. “Walk away from this with me.”
He’s right. I’ve prolonged this long enough, and before, when my heart was empty and I had nothing else, it was easy to convince myself that this is what I needed to do. But my heart is full now and my search seems pointless.
I nod. “I want to. I really want to.” I hold him close, burying my nose into his chest and breathing in his earthy sweet scent. “I love you, Mason.”
“Love you too.” He rubs soothing circles against my back. “Hate seeing you here; hate all this.”
“Wait . . .” I pull back enough to see him, blinking through the fog of my tears. “How do you know Hatch?”
His eyes dart to the side of me, and I lean over to catch his gaze. “Tell me.”
“Caught him and some of his guys fucking with Drake. Thought they’d kill ’em. Jumped in. They put Drake’s debt on me.”
“Drake’s debt. What did he owe?”
“Drugs.”
My eyes narrow as I put two and two together. “So . . . you had to give them drugs?”
“Basically, yeah.”
A gasp slips from my lips before I can catch it. “You’re a . . . drug dealer?”
“No, I delivered drugs to some assholes who tried to kill my brother so that they’d fucking leave him alone.”
“And did they?”
He shrugs. “We’re here, aren’t we? No clue what Drake’s dad has in store for him tonight—”
My eyes widen as realization of their earlier conversation finally dawns. “This guy, the one behind the door, is Drake’s dad.”
He nods. “Shit with this Hatch guy runs deeper than just an MC. He’s in bed with Elijah, who is the worst combination of criminal: greedy, psychotic, and no fucking soul.”
Nausea rolls through my stomach, and the lemon drops threaten a second appearance. I shiver in his arms. “Drake’s in deep?”
“Trying to shovel his ass out, but yeah, he is.”
I shake my head, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth.
“Whatever you need from this Hatch guy isn’t worth you putting yourself in this kind of danger.”
He’s right. “You’re—”
Bam-bam-bam! “Open up!”
My eyes pop wide, and my pulse pounds between my ears. “Oh shit. It’s Hatch.”
Thirty-three
Mason
Son of a bitch.
What started off as being just plain shitty has turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
The man, or men, who killed Lana are now tied somehow to Drake’s dad? I help Trix from off the counter, make sure she’s put back together, and at her nod, swing open the bathroom door.
“Fuck’s going on here?” Hatch scowls between Trix and me.
I step in front of him. He’s not a small guy, but I’ve got a good few inches on him if push came to shove. “Where’s Drake?”
Hatch stares me down, and the heat of Trix’s body warms my back. “He’s with Elijah. They’re asking for you.”
I reach back and grab Trix’s hand then move toward the door Hatch motioned to earlier.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
I turn around to tell the guy to fuck himself.
“I’m going with him.” There’s a resolve in her voice that makes my chest swell with pride. She’s not intimidated by this guy, which is insanely brave or naïve.
“The fuck you say?” He laughs, the sound like tumbling rocks. “You’ve been paid to work.” His eyes narrow. “Do your fuckin’ job.”
She juts out her chin. “I quit.”
In a move faster than I’d think possible for a man his size, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her from me. “You don’t get to quit—”
I grip his throat, forcing him to release her so he can fight me off. He swings. Lands a solid punch to my jaw that I can’t feel through my rage.
“You’re a fuckin’ dead man.” I pull him by the throat into a flying knee that doubles him over. “Touch her again and—”
“Enough!” A booming voice radiates through the room.
I shove Hatch, sending him stumbling backwards, but he recovers with a glare that says this isn’t over. I’m reluctant to take my eyes off Hatch. He could pull a knife or a gun, and the way Trix is clinging to my body puts her in just as much danger.
Hatch glares at Trix. “Understand now why you haven’t been fuckin’ me.”
She curls deeper into my body and I tuck her in close.
“Hot, but . . .” J.P.’s voice is mocking. “Little trashy for your taste.” He’s close, too close to Trix. I bounce my gaze between him and the biker trash. “Mason, seems all you touch turns to whore.”
“Fuck you.” Hate this piece of shit. He was a cocksucker in high school, and he’s a cocksucker now.
He grins, as if pissing me off is his greatest joy. “Nice to see you again too, asshole.”
I contemplate beating the shit out of both J.P. and Hatch, but think better of it. Each man has a crew of guys around them demonstrating where their loyalties lie.
He jerks his head toward the office. “Come on. He’s waiting for you.”
I move to follow him, but his eyes cut to Trix. “Leave the girl.”
“No.”
His mouth forms a tight line. “I said, ‘leave the girl.’”
“And I said, ‘no.’”
He tilts his head, studying Trix as she clings to my arm.
“I got her, Mason.” I turn to see Santos, who is flanked by Angel and the redhead. All of them look worried, although Santos doesn’t seem nearly as threatening as I’ve seen him in the past. “I’ll get her home.”
She’ll be safe with him. But not home.
I pull her to my front and wrap her in a hug, putting my lips to her ear. “My house. Go.”
She stiffens. “No, I’m not leaving you.”
A groan rumbles up from my throat. “Please, I can’t do this if I’m worried about you. You need to go.”
She swings her gaze to Santos and back to me, her chin high. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to wait for you.”
I grab her upper arm and yank her. “With who? Hatch?”
She gasps.
“Go with Santos to my house. Don’t fuck this up.” God, why can’t she just fucking listen?
“Mason, man, we don’t have all night,” J.P. says with a frustrated growl.
She scowls. “Why are you forcing me to leave?”
“Think you’ve proven you can’t keep yourself safe.” I nod to Santos and he moves in to take her.
“Come on, Trix.” He hands her a tight dress, and she slips it over her head with a demeanor of pure hate radiating from her violet eyes.
Fine. Let her be pissed. As long as she’s safe. We’ll both live through this to fight about it later.
“Now, if we could get this fucking show on the road.” J.P. sweeps his hand toward the open door of what I’m assuming must be an office or conference room.
I head back, but not before I make sure to see Santos
and the girls leave the villa, the door closing behind them.
I follow J.P. into a room that has a long table surrounded by chairs. Elijah’s sitting at one end, his eyes cast out the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the Vegas strip. I take a seat next to Drake, who’s sitting with his head in his hands. Shit, this doesn’t look good.
J.P. doesn’t say a word and leaves the three of us, shutting the door behind him.
“Seems you two assholes are fuckin’ things up for me.” Eli’s voice is stern and non-feeling. “Interfered in a little transaction we’d worked out between us and the Wild Outlaw MC.”
So this is the shit Drake’s dad is into. From surf gang to MC ties that walk way outside of the law. “If you’re referring to me saving your son’s ass and replacing the shit he owed, yeah, I guess I interfered.” You motherfucker.
Eli spins in his chair, and I’m struck by how similar he and Drake look. Dark eyes and hair, athletic build, but whereas Drake’s style reeks of California wannabe gangster, Elijah’s is more mafia with a sprinkling of biker and a dash of serial killer. Even with their similarities, their body language couldn’t be more different. My brother has never looked so beaten, and Eli’s snarling. “Big shot superstar thinks he can talk shit to me?”
My muscles tense as the urge to wrap my hands around this guy’s throat becomes overwhelming. “You called me here. Now tell me what the fuck you want.”
He pulls a gun faster than I can track and points it at me. “Your slut mother never taught you boys any respect.”
Adrenaline races through my veins, half anger, half nerves, but the anger wins. “You’re wrong. She taught us to give respect to those who earn it.”
My gaze darts to Drake, who still looks lost in his own head. I don’t know what happened in here before I walked in, but whatever it was clearly wasn’t in Drake’s favor.
“You’re not gonna let him go, are you?” I stare at Eli, refusing to break eye contact.
He seems to grasp hold of what little control he has left and holsters his weapon. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I only came here to talk about you releasing my brother—”
He burst into an evil laugh that pricks against my skin.