Crux Untamed Page 3

  Tank and Tanner fell into step beside me as I kept my head down and walked to church. “You have a good run?” Tanner asked, trying for conversation. I kept my eyes straight fucking forward. I nodded. But didn’t say shit. I had no time for the Prince to try and make conversation with a “mix-breed,” a “mongrel,” or any of the other fucking names that had been thrown my way from his kind.

  I took my seat at church. Styx and Ky took up the top seats. When the door had closed and the prospects—Lil’ Ash, Zane, and Slash—had left out the liquor, Ky started to speak.

  “My sister is staying with us for the time being.” Styx sat back and let his VP talk. Ky reached into his pocket and threw a Polaroid onto the table. I stared at the picture of a single black rose lying on a bed. “Told you a while back about Garcia.”

  “The prick from Mexico,” AK added. I could hear the venom in his voice. The bastard had been two minutes away from taking his bitch and her kid to Mexico to sell as slaves.

  “Yeah, that fucker.” Ky ground his hands into fists. This Garcia had nearly gotten Ky’s kid too. “Told you he had history with my sister. Now that history is repeating itself.”

  Styx sat forward and lifted his hands, and Ky translated. “Diablos got word to us about Garcia sniffing around. This you know. But Chavez, the Diablo prez, called us today to say that Garcia has sent men to Texas to find Sia. For all he knows she’s living in fucking Australia. But we’re here, and he’s starting with us.”

  “Why the hell have you brought her here if he’s gonna look here first? Seems pretty counterproductive to me, non?” I asked. Ky’s bullet eyes slammed into mine.

  He leaned forward. “Well, mon frère, I—no, we—can all fucking protect her better here. Where she was living, if he found it, he could get to her without anybody even realizing he was back.” Ky gritted his teeth. “And if he got her again . . . if he fucking touched her again . . .” Ky trailed off to silence, then shot to his feet and stormed out of the room.

  My brow furrowed at his abrupt exit. The brother was a hothead, but not normally this out of control.

  Styx nodded for AK to translate his sign language. AK read Styx’s hands and said, “We patrol the compound in shifts. I’m in touch with the Diablos in case they get more intel. Tanner.” Styx looked Tanner’s way. “We need you on the computer doing whatever the fuck it is you do on there to see what the asshole is up to.”

  “Got it, Prez,” Tanner said. “I’ll see what I can find. Have to say though, the last time I looked into the cartel shit, they were ironclad.” Cowboy must have felt my leg bouncing up and down, because he discreetly slid his hand onto my thigh under the table. I paused on feeling his hand and let it stop me from losing my shit. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, in and out. I focused on calming my racing heart. On slowing down my pulse.

  When I opened my eyes I glanced at Cowboy, nodding to let him know I was calm. Viking was watching us from across the table. He raised his eyebrows, making a stupid fucking kissing motion with his mouth, but as usual with the brother, his attention was on us for all of three seconds before something else entered his head. “Prez?” he asked, and Styx’s hazel eyes locked on the club secretary. “Inquiring minds wanna know—”

  “Don’t bother, Vike,” AK butted in, clearly anticipating that whatever Vike was gonna say would be bad.

  Vike ignored him. “Inquiring minds wanna know if there’s free rein on Ky’s sister.” He splayed his hands. “You know the rules: pussy is in the clubhouse without a brother’s claim and she’s free for any Hangmen dick.”

  I felt Cowboy grow just as tense as me. And as if he knew the temperature of my blood had spiked to over a hundred fucking degrees at the thought of Sia being free pussy, his hand was back on my leg, gripping me tighter this time. I opened my mouth to say something, but Styx broke from his eerie stillness and leaned forward.

  AK cleared his throat, then he translated, “You listen to me, and you listen good.” Vike nodded, clearly fucking oblivious to the cold anger behind Styx’s words as they came calmly from AK’s mouth. “You go near Sia—” Styx looked around the table at every one of the brothers, including me and Cowboy. “Any of you fuckers touch a hair on her head, I will take you down to the barn and do to you what we would have done to Rider that night months ago.” His lips tightened. “I will tear the flesh from your body until you scream, then I will kill you so slowly that you’ll soon be wishing for death.” In that moment, I knew why Styx was the best choice to be the Hangmen mother chapter’s president. Not just because it was his heritage, but because there wasn’t any part of me that doubted what he was saying, and that the fucker would follow through on the threat without even batting an eye. “She’s my sister just as much as she’s Ky’s. Keep that in all your fucking thick skulls.”

  The room was silent as AK finished speaking. That was until Vike said, “So just to clarify, that’s a no on her being free pussy?”

  AK grabbed Viking by the cut, yanked him off the seat, and dragged him out of church before Styx could shoot the fucker right where he sat. Flame followed. Styx slammed the gavel on the desk.

  Everyone cleared out.

  Cowboy held on to my leg until the room was empty. “You good, mon ami?” he inquired, searching my face.

  I rubbed my hand over cheeks, feeling the heat of my skin. “Oui.”

  “Can we head home or do we need to stay around for a while?”

  “Stay. Don’t wanna ride just yet.” I glanced down at my hand. It was still shaking.

  Cowboy nodded and followed me down the hallway to the bar. “What do you think?” he all but whispered.

  “About Garcia?”

  He stopped me with his hand on my arm and checked no one was around. It was clear. Meeting my eyes, he spoke in fluent Cajun French to hide his words. “About his sister. About her being here.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t pretend you don’t care. I saw your reaction in there.”

  I turned and continued to the bar. “I have no thoughts on the matter whatsoever.” Cowboy sighed, but he ran to catch me. We grabbed a table, and I ordered water; Cowboy got a beer. Smiler was at the bar, talking to Lil’ Ash and Slash behind it. “I was gonna fucking kill him if he didn’t shut his mouth,” Cowboy stated, again in Cajun French, nodding at Viking as he walked in behind AK. I closed my eyes and wished he’d just fucking move on from this conversation. Cowboy’s fingers wrapped around my arm, and I opened my eyes to meet his pissed face. “Don’t fucking ignore me, Val,” he warned, using my real name. Well, my real nickname, at least. Cowboy went to say something else, but instead he bypassed my eyes and stared at the entrance to the clubhouse. My gaze followed his and landed on a pair of long slim legs. I followed the path of her body up to her long blond hair and blue eyes.

  Sia.

  Cowboy’s grip tightened, until I wrenched my arm back and took another gulp of my drink. But, like a fucking magnet, my eyes were drawn back to her. Sia, with all the confidence her brother possessed, walked up to the bar. “Lil’ Ash, isn’t it?” she said. Ash beamed red and nodded. “Grab me a whiskey and water, would you, darlin’?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sia’s cowboy boot tapped on the wooden floor, keeping rhythm to whatever hick song was playing. Lil’ Ash gave her the drink and she turned around. I shifted in my seat as her bored eyes drifted across the bar . . . before landing on me and Cowboy. A slow smile pulled on her lips; she pushed off the bar and headed toward us.

  Cowboy leaned back in his seat and kicked my leg under the table. He tapped his Stetson when she came to a stop in front of us. “Cher,” he said, his accent laid on thickly for her benefit. Sia’s face lit up. It never failed him.

  “Darlin’,” she drawled in response, earning a shit-eating grin from my best friend. Fucker was taken with this bitch, all right. “Can I sit with y’all?”

  “Sure,” Cowboy agreed, at the very same time as I finished the last of my water and announced, “We’re going.”
>
  Cowboy looked at me, and I saw another flash of annoyance—greater this time—light up his eyes. “We can wait a little to have a drink with a beautiful lady, Hush. Stop being so fucking miserable.”

  I gripped my empty water glass tighter. I looked up at Sia’s confused face, but then gave her a tight smile and muttered, “Sure.”

  “I can go, if you want. I—”

  Cowboy kicked the seat opposite us. “Sit your sexy ass down, cher. Have a drink with your resident Cajuns. Hush here just got his period, so he’s feeling all kinds of shitty and emotional.”

  Sia dropped down to the seat, laughing awkwardly at Cowboy’s joke. She took a huge gulp of her liquor, then said, “You ain’t drinking, Hush? That’s water, yeah? You feelin’ okay?” She laughed. I felt like a shitbag at how nervous she suddenly became around me. I had always been good with her. She must have been as confused as hell at my sudden change of personality.

  But it was the way it had to be.

  “Don’t drink much,” I replied coolly. Cowboy scowled at me again. I could feel it. I didn’t even need to look for confirmation. I’d no doubt get a fucking lecture later.

  “He may not drink much, but I do,” Cowboy said, earning a big smile from Sia. “Now tell me,” he asked as he leaned in close, “how are those mares?”

  “Good.” She stared into the contents of her glass. Her smile slipped, and she quietly added, “Not sure when I’ll be going back to my ranch though.” She finished the rest of her whiskey and gestured for Lil’ Ash to send her another.

  The sadness in her voice made me look up from staring at the tabletop. “Yeah. Sucks you having to be here, cher,” Cowboy agreed. He reached his hand across to squeeze hers . . . then just left it there. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. Her cheeks turned pink. Cowboy gave her one of his pussy-magnet smiles.

  I stood up. “I’m going home.”

  Sia snatched back her hand from Cowboy’s. My heart was racing again. I took my keys from my cut and headed out of the bar. I’d barely made it onto my saddle before Cowboy slipped onto his Chopper beside me. “What the fuck’s up with you?”

  I didn’t answer; instead I pulled out of the club and hit the road. When I’d parked up at our place, I went straight for the kitchen and downed a large glass of water. Cowboy came up behind me, standing a few feet back. I turned and met his eyes. “What?”

  “What the fuck was all that about?”

  “Just tired. Going to bed.”

  I went to walk off, but Cowboy grabbed my arm. “You feeling okay? You hot? Got a temperature or anything?”

  I shrugged off his hold. “Ça va.” I’m good.

  Cowboy exhaled, but he held my eyes for a fraction too long. Nodding, he said, “Ça c’est bon.” That’s good.

  I turned away from him and headed to my bedroom.

  “You were cold tonight, mon frère.”

  I stopped dead, but didn’t turn round.

  “She likes you. And you made her feel like shit. You could see it on her face. In fact, you were fucking rude.” Cowboy sighed. “We back there? You pressing the self-destruct button again?”

  I stayed silent for three strained seconds, wanting to say more than I did. “It’s for the fucking best and you know it.”

  Cowboy didn’t follow me as I shut the door to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my hands down my face. “Merde,” I whispered and lay back. I heard Cowboy clumping through the house, still pissed at me.

  And fuck, I was pissed at myself.

  I tried to sleep. But eyes open or closed, I couldn’t shake the image of Sia’s fading smile from my head.

  Yeah, I was a cold bastard to her. I knew it. I’d intended to be.

  But as I leaned over and opened my bedside drawer to stare at the photograph inside, I knew I had to be. Truth was, I fucking liked the bitch. But it could only ever end one way . . .

  In a fucking mess.

  Bitch was worth more than what I could give.

  Chapter Three

  Sia

  Two weeks later . . .

  Bella’s laughter pealed through the air as she told a story about her husband. “He is with his mother, Ruth, right now. Father is with them too.” She took a drink of her tea. “I believe Solomon and Samson have a meeting today with Styx.”

  Mae nodded. “They came to our home two nights ago. They were in the office with Styx and Ky for a couple of hours.”

  “They are joining the Hangmen?” Lilah asked.

  Mae sat back in her seat and cradled her bump. It was getting big now. “I do not know what was discussed, but I guess that is where it is going.”

  “I think so too,” Bella said. “Even in the commune in Puerto Rico, they were rebels among those who were already considered anarchists of the faith. They would do well here, I believe. They are good men, strong in character and devoted to their kin. The Hangmen, over the past several months, have become kin to them.”

  “Surely they will not prospect with the young ones?” Phebe asked.

  They all shrugged. I exhaled a long breath and sank farther into my seat. I closed my eyes and imagined what I’d be doing right now if I were back on the ranch. I loved these ladies. I did. But their way of life was not the way I liked to live mine. Over the past couple of weeks I’d spent my days with Lilah, Mae, Phebe, Maddie, Bella and Lilah. They were always together. It actually kind of broke my heart to see how close they all were, and to know what they had gone through. They all spoke in their strange little accents. Were more polite than anyone I’d ever met. Their mannerisms were soft and delicate. And I was under no illusion as to why their men adored them like they did. There was no choice but to want to protect them. And unlike most modern women, they lived to serve their husbands. They were traditional in a sweet way, but not a downtrodden way.

  I was nothing like these ladies.

  The only one who didn’t speak much was Maddie. I watched her now, hand-stitching something that looked like a picture of a Harley. As if feeling me watching, she met my eyes and gave me a small timid smile. Beaming back, I decided to sit beside her and ask, “So, Madds. How’s life?”

  Maddie paused mid-pull of the black cotton she was sewing with. “Very well, thank you,” she replied and immediately returned to her work.

  “And Flame?” I continued. “How’s your husband?”

  Maddie’s eyes widened, and I realized all the voices in the room had silenced. All eyes were on me. “What?” I challenged. “Just trying for conversation.” I turned back to Maddie. “So Madds? How’s the big guy? Gotta be honest, never thought anyone would tame that dude, from what Ky’s told me about him in the past. And here comes little old you, taming the beast.”

  “My husband is not a beast!” Maddie snapped. I tensed at her words. It was the most feisty statement I had ever heard from her mouth.

  “I . . . I wasn’t.” I leaned forward. “It’s a saying, darlin’. I wasn’t actually calling him a beast.”

  Maddie’s green eyes stayed locked on me as she read my face. Apparently sensing I was telling the truth, she relaxed. “Then he is well, thank you,” she eventually said and again returned to her stitching.

  “I didn’t mean to offend, Madds. I was simply asking how it was, being with him. You seem . . . you both seem so happy.” They were, from what I’d seen. They were rarely at the bar, but when they were, she never left his side. His big arm was always holding her, like she was his anchor. He adored her, and she him. It truly was fucking beautiful to see.

  Maddie gave a small smile but continued with her sewing. I knew that was all I was getting from her.

  “More tea, Sia?” Lilah asked as she rose from the table. “Grace returns from school soon, so it’ll have to be our last, ladies. Slash will be coming to take me to collect her.”

  All the others agreed, but I was barely listening. My hand tapped on my knee. I couldn’t take this. I had to get out of here. That swirl in my stomach, as destructive as a whirlpool, sank further
and further south until it began to consume me. I tried to breathe, but it switched north to my lungs, swallowing the air inside them.

  “Sia?” Lilah was watching me. Unable to sit still, trying to escape the all too familiar feeling of falling apart, I jumped to my feet.

  “I . . .” I rubbed at my chest and bolted for the door. “Sorry. I gotta go.”

  I burst out of the cabin onto the grass. I ran into the woods that led to the compound, just in case someone tried to follow me. I took shelter against a large tree. Bracing my hands on my knees, I tried to breathe deeply . . .

  “You’ll wear the red dress, bella. I like you best in red.” I stared at the dress. It was beautiful. No doubt expensive. But all I saw was a cage. Only the bars weren’t made of iron, but of satin and lace.

  Juan gripped my face and yanked my head towards his. His grip was so hard that I whimpered. “You will wear the dress. Yes?”

  “Yes.” I forced a smile. His eyes flared at my submissiveness. Releasing my face, he moved around me. I clutched tightly to the dress in my hands like a lifeline. My eyes closed as he circled my naked body until he stopped at my back. I winced when his finger ran over my shoulder . . . over the tattoo he’d had branded on my skin that morning.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on the still-raw flesh. “Mine, bella . . . mi rosa negra . . .”

  I gasped, trying to the shake the fucked-up memory from my head. I knew it was because I’d been away from my ranch for too long. Doing nothing but grocery shopping, drinking tea, cooking, baking, and caring for Grace wasn’t enough to occupy my busy mind. I needed the laborious work the ranch provided. I needed to be so exhausted by the end of the day that I fell into a deep enough sleep to ensure the nightmares didn’t return.

  I ran my hand down my face, knowing my eyes wore dark circles as if they were the newest fashion from Paris. I needed my horses. Needed the comfort they gave me. I needed my familiar little ranch house with its creaks and groans. I needed the aches in my muscles and the smell of leather soap permeating the air.