Sydney's Battle (Reapers Rejects MC: Second Generation Book 1) Read online

I don’t like where this is going, not in the least bit.

  “When we got close to my car, he pushed me into an alley. I hit the ground, and he got aggressive. I guess he thought I was going to have sex with him.” Sydney shrugs her shoulders and her hands shake even more than they were before.

  “Did you tell him you were going to?” I question, and her face twists in disgust.

  “No!”

  “Alright, then whatever he thought didn’t fuckin’ matter. Not if you ask me. Now, go get that first aid kit over there and come here. I hope I’m not overstepping, but if you’re not going to let one of them help you, then please allow me.” I’m speaking with the utmost sincerity and the last thing I want is for her to be hurting when she doesn’t need to be.

  Sydney’s eyes widen for a moment before she goes over to the wooden bench and grabs the first aid kid. She comes over to where I am on the ground and sits across from me. The girl is obviously too trusting. Now, I’d never hurt her, but it doesn’t mean someone else in my position wouldn’t. She has a good heart—what a rarity.

  Sydney pulls back the latches on the first aid kit and opens the box. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Grab the scissors and cut the zip ties holding me.” I know it sounds bad, but I’m not trying to make a run for it. There wouldn’t even be a point if I did run. Where would I go?

  “Uh, what? No way.” Sydney scoots back a couple of feet, taking the box with her.

  “I have nowhere to go. You do realize that, right? If I were to even attempt to leave and somehow managed to get off this property, I would eventually be found and either your dad or Boomer would kill me. I’m not an idiot, Sydney. I’m only asking for you to free me so I can help you. You can put new zip ties around me after we get you sorted.” I don’t lie to her at all. There isn’t a point in it. She doesn’t know this, but I’ve helped women in her position many times before. At the Corrupt Kings MC, there were far too many beaten women within our clubhouse, and unlike my brethren, I’m not like them.

  Sydney inhales sharply through her nose and makes her way around me. The blade scraping against the plastic shoots a tense feeling through my body. I can’t see what she’s doing, but I can feel it, and the click of her closing the scissors followed by the release of pressure is both good and bad. A stinging sensation shoots around my wrists as the pressure is alleviated. She heads back out in front of me and narrows her eyes on my swollen, red wrists.

  “I’ve told you what happened to me, so now it’s your turn to tell me how you ended up here,” Sydney speaks with an authoritative voice as if we agreed to some sort of trade-off. We didn’t, though I’ll humor her.

  “My Prez, he made a stupid mistake. I was caught in the crossfire and so here I am.”

  “Sounds like you’re holding something back.” She calls me out and while she isn’t wrong, what I’m holding back is something I don’t want to ever admit.

  “You’re good at reading people.”

  She nods. “Sometimes. Obviously, I’m not great at it all the time.” She offers me a half-smile and I want nothing more than to give this woman a hug. If you ask me, she needs it.

  “My Prez, he pulled out a gun on me before he fled with the rest of my club. My thought is he saw I was injured and didn’t want me to say shit.”

  Sydney gasps, throwing a hand over her mouth in surprise. “No.”

  “The irony here is that your club saved my life. If they hadn’t shot at him, I’d be dead right now.” This is something I haven’t even told Zane, but I know he wouldn’t believe me at all. Why would he?

  I grab an alcohol pad and some triple antibiotic, dabbing at her upper lip and she hisses as it stings. I take gauze and put the antibiotic ointment on it, smearing it lightly over where her lip is busted. “Don’t lick your lips. Let the antibiotic do its job. Take some Tylenol and put some ice on your lips for twenty minutes, then take it off. It’ll help with the swelling.”

  “T-thank you, Gears,” Sydney murmurs, looking down at the ground.

  I look into her chocolate brown eyes and speak with sincerity. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m glad to help, even if it’s so minimal.”

  She offers me a small smile and puts everything in the first aid kit back, then stands and places it on the bench. Sydney proceeds to head over to the stairwell and looks at me, “Goodnight.” She disappears up the stairwell and I pull my wrists on my lap. She forgot to tie me up, but I won’t abuse this small freedom. I’ll be grateful for it.

  Chapter Seven

  Sydney

  Early this morning, I woke up to a text from my dad asking if I could cover a shift at Tart. It’s a bakery sort of café owned by the club. Not only do they have some awesome coffee, iced teas and lemonades, but they have soups, salads, sandwiches and more. We’re working on getting flatbread pizza, but Dad is the taste tester and hasn’t found one he’s liked.

  Now, I’m not someone who enjoys waking up at four in the morning, but I’m an incredibly light sleeper. His text jolted me from my bed, and I hopped in the shower, put my hair up, dabbed some makeup on really quick and got in my car. Throughout the day, I’ve had to reapply concealer, color correcting primer, and foundation over my lip quite a few times. My bruises are a bitch, but the swelling isn’t as bad as I thought. I followed Gears’ advice, so I’m thankful for that.

  I’ve been here for about seven hours now and my relief is coming in any moment. For being a one-woman show today, I don’t think I’ve done a bad job. I’ve already refilled all of the drinks and lids back here for whoever’s coming in next. I’ve even checked all the syrup containers, combined them into one if I could, and threw out the old ones if they were empty. All the tables have been wiped down, and the lunch rush should be coming in waves. It usually starts around eleven and now it’s one, so it shouldn’t be too bad.

  A brunette with a blonde ombre comes walking in. She’s wearing a Tart uniform and smiles brightly as she waves. “Hey, you’re Sydney, right?”

  “Yeah, and you are?” I trail off, forgetting this girl’s name. I haven’t worked with her yet and most of the time, when I’m here at Tart, I work with Kelsey, the manager.

  “Tara. Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. I’m more of a night owl and Kelsey says you’re an early bird.” Tara laughs nervously. I can tell she’s trying to be my friend, but what she doesn’t realize is I have awful social anxiety too.

  “I’m only an early bird because I’m forced to be one. No one ever likes covering the opening shift, so here I am. Who’s working tomorrow since Kelsey is out of town?” I ask Tara, wondering if I’ll be forced to wake up at the ass crack of dawn again or not.

  Tara comes behind the counter and walks toward Kelsey’s office. “Looks like I’m closing again, and Millie will be opening. There’s a shift later this week that isn’t covered, though.”

  “Okay, I’ll text Kelsey and let her know. If she can’t figure something out, worst case, I can come in and work again. Now, I did already refill everything for you as far as cups and syrups go. It’s been somewhat steady today and the mobile orders have been coming in hot all morning. This afternoon they’ve taken a turn, but I was more than willing for the break.” Tara laughs like she understands and I’m sure she does. I think this girl’s been working here for a year or so now.

  Making my way out to my car, I unlock it, slide in the driver’s seat and put on my seatbelt. “Hypocrite” by Annika Rose plays over my radio and I bob my head to the beat as I drive out of town and head back to the clubhouse.

  It only takes me about five minutes to get home, so I pull down the driveway, get to the gate and Siren buzzes me through. I continue driving forward and glance in the mirror to see if I look alright. My makeup looks good, and I think if anyone asked about the swelling, I could lie and say it’s allergies. Okay, I’ve made up my mind. I pull over at the clubhouse, throw the car in park and get out.

  The second I’m out of my car, my dad’s voice can be hea
rd and my stomach drops. He’s yelling like that time I took his car without asking. Oy and that was bad. This is so much worse. I push open the French doors to the clubhouse and walk right in, and what’s before my eyes is terrifying.

  “Who in the fuck cut his ties?” Shit. I know who. Chills swarm over my body at my dad’s question and the pure look of rage is enough to send fear into anyone in this room.

  Dad looks around the room and no one speaks up. They all look at each other and he groans in aggravation. “I walked into the fuckin’ barn to take somethin’ to Syd’s apartment and he was sittin’ there with his fuckin’ hands in his lap. Who the fuck did it? If no one fesses up, I’ll be takin’ patches until someone admits what they did.”

  A few moments of silence pass and my dad looks at Zorro. He starts to talk, and I walk further into the room. I swallow hard before I clear my throat and speak up. “It was me.” My words come out softer than usual. Then again, I’m scared for him to know what I did.

  He turns around in slow motion and limbers his neck and shoulders before walking in my direction. “You did what?” he asks, blinking his eyes a couple times like it’ll make me take back what I said.

  “Don’t do anything to anyone here. It was me, Dad. I did it.” I confess and he closes the distance between us.

  He licks his lips and roars in my face like a drill sergeant. “Why would you fuckin’ do that?! You’re not stupid, Syd. He’s a dangerous man and he could’ve killed anyone here on the property!”

  I could be in denial, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. I mean, sure, he has the potential to be. He could’ve taken those scissors last night and slit my throat, but he didn’t. “He isn’t a threat, Dad. I mean, seriously, I talked to him and—”

  “You did what?!” he roars in a blind rage and his eyes widen. “You don’t know him, Sydney. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “And do you?” I narrow my eyes and wait for some sort of answer.

  He scoffs and clears his throat. “What the fuck did you just ask me?”

  I roll my eyes and tell him exactly what’s on my mind. Gears isn’t a bad guy. “If he was a bad guy, then I’d be dead already. He was literally going to be shot by his Prez and you act like you don’t even know? The only reason he’s still breathing is one of us shot at his Prez. It’s the reason he was left behind, Dad.” I hope him knowing this will start the process of looking at Gears like he’s a human, not a tool, not a prisoner, not this thing living in our barn.

  Dad shakes his head in disbelief and a couple of the club members gasp. They know he’s about to lose his shit, and so do I. “Whose side are you on?”

  I start to open my mouth, but before I can say anything, he’s charging past me and is already through the clubhouse doors. Fuck, this isn’t going to be good.

  I stand here in shock and, after a few moments rush after him. Only, the second I’m pushing one of the doors open, he’s speeding off on the four-wheeler. I get in my car with lightning speed and follow him, but by the time I’m at the barn he’s already through the door.

  I slam on the breaks and start to get out, but my car rolls back and a beeping sound fills the car and I realize I didn’t put it in park. I shift it into park and jump out, grabbing my keys and slam the door. I’m in the barn within another minute and by the time I’m close enough to Gears and my dad, blood is already covering his fists.

  Gears’ hands are tied behind him again and I scream with every fiber of my being. “Stop it! He didn’t do anything!”

  “Why the fuck are you turning my kid against me, huh? What’s your fuckin’ prerogative?!” Dad yells at Gears punching him over and over.

  Okay, I can’t talk to him. I have to do something because if I don’t, something terrible might happen. I run over to him and grab onto the crook of his arm to pull him back. I begin to pull, but the moment I do, his elbow collides with my stomach, and I fall back from the force of the hit.

  My ass hits the ground and I blink a few times to process this. Did that really just happen? My hands shake and chills cover every bit of my skin. Tears form and his eyes lock on mine. My dad tries to walk toward me, but I backward crawl, scooting my ass against the concrete and shake my head. “Stop it, don’t come near me,” I tell him as tears slide down my cheeks and he continues to come closer.

  I have no doubt the tears are washing away my makeup and I have to wipe the wetness away from under my eyes. As I do, my dad’s eyes lock on the center of my face. “What happened to your lip and nose?”

  I shake my head a couple of times and look right at him. “Like you deserve to know. You’re lucky Gears patched me up.” I’ve never sounded more disgusted with him, but right now, I’m disappointed. I can’t believe what he just did. Never in my life has he ever done something similar to this.

  “Syd, c’mon, you know I didn’t—”

  I waste no time telling him how I feel. “Get the fuck out!” I scream with pure rage.

  My dad keeps his eyes locked on me and the tears keep filling my vision. “Please, just . . . leave,” I sob and he backs away slowly, eventually leaving the barn. Wrapping my arms around myself, I cry, hoping it’ll help me feel better, but who knows if it will.

  Chapter Eight

  Gears

  Her hiccupping sobs fill the silence in the room. Sydney has her arms wrapped around her legs and she’s shielding her face from me. I hated having to witness what happened between her and Zane. Even if he loathes me, I hate it for both of them. Ironic, isn’t it? As a father myself, there’s nothing worse than your kid being upset with you and upset isn’t a strong enough word for how Sydney looks right now.

  Even with my watery eyes and throbbing nose from the impact of Zane’s fists, I’m worried about her. Every bit of concern I can have for myself is nothing compared to the woman sitting on the floor across the room from me.

  The dizziness has subsided since Zane stopped hitting me, but I thought I might still be feeling a bit of it. Blood drips down from my nose onto my jeans, and I rub my nose against my shoulder in a feeble attempt to make myself more comfortable. God, I hate not being able to move my hands.

  “Sydney,” I say her name lowly in a calming tone. She doesn’t stir in the least bit, doesn’t glance over at me, so I give it a few moments and try again.

  “Sydney.” This time, I’m a little bit louder and she peers up from behind her arms. Her eyes are filled with tears, glassy from even this far away.

  Her mascara’s spread across her cheeks, making her look a bit like a drowned raccoon, but damn she’s beautiful. I stare into her chocolate brown eyes and all I want to do is wrap my arms around the woman and hold her tight to tell her everything will be alright.

  “W-what?” she sobs her question and looks right at me.

  “I’d come over, but unfortunately, I can’t.”

  Sydney releases a loose laugh and pushes herself onto her feet. She goes to the bench where the first aid kit is, grabs it, and comes to sit down in front of me. She’s so close our knees touch and the pain in her eyes is evident.

  Still, she opens the box, takes out the scissors and leans around me to cut me free. The moment she peels the zip ties from my skin, I let out a hiss. It stings like a mother. Then again, when I had a new zip tie put on me earlier, he made sure to dig it into my flesh.

  She leans back and continues sitting where she is, and I wipe my forearm against my nose. Blood coats my forearm and I’ve probably made a mess of my face. Hell, I bet I look like I came straight out of a horror film.

  “I’m so sorry. If I thought he would’ve—”

  “You don’t need to apologize.” She doesn’t need to say a damn thing. There’s no way she could’ve known what would’ve happened.

  Tears continue to well in her eyes before they slide down her cheek and she rips open some antiseptic wipes, then leans forward and dabs them against the skin around my lip. I lowly hiss as the stinging sensation shoots through my upper lip area and she looks
right in my eyes again. “I need you to pinch the bridge of your nose and lean your head forward. It’ll stop the bleeding, and I’m sorry to ask you—”

  “Stop apologizing, alright? Everything is fine. Whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do.” I’m not trying to be harsh with her. I only want her to know I’m takin’ this shit seriously, so I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean forward a tad. I know from past experiences what she’s telling me to do will work.

  “I . . .” Sydney starts to speak but stops. She swallows hard and just as I think she’s going to speak again, a gut-wrenching sob escapes her. Fuck, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t do this anymore.

  Without even thinking, I wrap my arm around her and pull her against me. “Everything is okay, I promise you, everything is alright.” Still, she sobs in my arms and holds onto my ratty, filthy t-shirt. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be holding her, nor should I ever have spoken to her. Maybe if I knew who she was, I wouldn’t have in the first place, but right now, I don’t have a choice. The need to make sure she’s okay runs deep in my soul.

  I hold Sydney against me for a while, though I’m not sure how much time has passed. Eventually, she looks up at me and shakes her head, pursing her lips together. “I don’t know why he would do that.”

  “What’re we talkin’ about here, you, or me?” I can come up with a valid reason for him beatin’ me, but I know he wouldn’t have hurt her on purpose. Unless you’re a piece of shit, you’d never touch your kid. Sure, we don’t get along, but I don’t think he’s a bad person.

  “Me. I know why he did that to you, but it was my fault, so I—”

  “Sweetheart, if you tell me you’re sorry one more time.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

  She shoots me a soft smile and looks down at the ground. I run my hand along the side of her face and brush a few stray hairs behind her ear. I sigh and tell her my thoughts, “If you ask me, he only did it ‘cause he was so pissed. I doubt he even realized what he did until you were on the ground. The only thing he cared about at that moment was getting to me, ‘cause I’m a monster in his eyes. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”