Zane (Reapers MC Book 11) Page 6

  “Yeah, you did. But, you understood the way he did things. You always backed up his choices, even when I’d bitch about them to you.”

  He nods again, “Yeah, but we’re two different people Zane. He picked you for a reason.”

  I shut my eyes for a moment and debate sayin’ this shit to him. Fuck it. I can’t keep my trap shut. “It wasn’t always supposed to be me. When we were fifteen, he had a conversation with me, said how he thought you would be the better leader. How he was gonna change his mind again, ‘cause he had made the contract between me and one of the Raiders’ girls. Shit, Kade . . . it fuckin’ killed me to know I wasn’t what he wanted. Then fast forward to you and Ivy and . . . well, he wanted one of his sons to be in the Prez position, so he thought he’d have you be my VP, but you weren’t too keen on the idea. So, the cards fell the way they did.” I shrug, tryin’ to not think too deep on it.

  On the outside, I must look like I have it all. I appear to be confident as fuck, like nothin’ anyone ever says or does can fuck with my head, but it does. Kade’s the only one that knows I’m the emotional one. How I overthink and overanalyze like it’s my fuckin’ job.

  “Chill. He made his choice ‘cause he knew it was the right one, Zane. Fuck. I love Dad, I love him so fuckin’ much it feels like my heart is bein’ slowly ripped apart . . . but the choices he made . . . not all of them were right. Some of them cost us our people, and knowin’ Dad the way I did I’d say he chose you because he knew you’d choose another path. He knew you wouldn’t do things the way he would, and he wanted that. You wanna know why he wanted you as Prez? ‘Cause you’d be smarter than he was, and hopefully the club wouldn’t have to sacrifice so much.”

  This right here is why Kade isn’t only my brother, but my best friend. He always knows the right shit to say exactly when I need it. “Thanks for pullin’ that Hallmark movie shit.” I grumble out with a laugh.

  “We both know you really just came here for one of my motivational talks.”

  I roll my eyes, not even bothering to respond and avert my attention back to Orion. Man, it feels weird thinkin’ this. This kid has my dad’s name. “You know, he’s not our blood . . . but this lil’ man looks like Dad.”

  Kade pulls his neck back, lookin’ at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “What kinda crazy shit you talkin’?”

  “Huh?” I say, all confused like.

  “You just said he wasn’t our blood. Do you not know?” Kade asks, cockin’ a brow.

  “Know what?!” I almost yell but decide not to. There is a sleepin’ baby in my arms after all.

  “Shit. Zane . . . I thought you knew. When Ivy and I got hitched I needed a copy of my birth certificate. Our father was . . .” Kade grows quiet, gnaws on his lip and I know this fucker is debating on whether to tell me.

  “Kade, spit this shit out or so help me God.” I warn.

  “Cracker was our biological father, Zane. So, the Monroe blood is in our veins. Before Dad died I questioned him on it, on the story he told us when we were kids, you know . . . the more in depth one he told us when we were older about the drug addicted clubwhore and biker. None of it was true. Or at least, not in the end. They thought he was our father, the piece of shit, but he wasn’t. Cracker had been fuckin’ her too. Dad got curious apparently ‘cause we looked awfully similar to Cracker and he said he did a hair DNA test. We obviously came back as matches, and Dad had the birth certificates updated. Showed proof to the state and all that. Cracker even had to sign a waiver giving up his parental rights after everything was discovered, especially since Mom and Dad had already adopted us.”

  “And you didn’t fucking tell me?” I don’t mean to do it, but I’m seething . . . I’m angrier than I could’ve ever been.

  “He asked me not to, Zane. I don’t know why, but he asked me not to.” Kade mutters, lookin’ at me with a bit of remorse. He’s never kept anythin’ from me. Well, besides Ivy. But that’s a different story in itself.

  “I can’t fuckin’ believe this shit . . . all of you, you just fuckin’ lie.” I stand up, carefully handing Orion back over to my brother and walk straight out the door. Grim handed me the keys earlier since he was drinkin’ tonight, ‘cause he has a tendency to get a little rowdy. Well, I’m just gonna get in the fuckin’ car and go get some of this anger out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Truth is like surgery. It hurts but it cures. A lie is like a pain killer. It gives instant relief. But has side effects forever.

  ~ Unknown

  Zane

  It’s ironic how I was preachin’ to Octavia about using alcohol to numb her pain. Yet here I sit, starin’ into an empty glass with a few ice cubes. “You want another?” The bartender asks, and I give him a curt nod.

  He whisks away and leaves me alone to my thoughts. All I’ve been doin’ is thinkin’. Thinkin’ about why Dad didn’t tell me any of this before he died. What’s worse is how Kade knew and didn’t say shit to me. Even after Dad died, he didn’t say a damn word . . . when I could’ve used some sort of positivity. Fuck, Ash too. Ash could’ve used this news too. Shit. How long did they know?

  Is that the real reason Dad lost his shit when Kade and I were viewing Ash as our next conquest when we were teenagers? Motherfucker . . . this is all too much.

  The lies.

  The holdin’ shit back.

  My family and the fuckin’ club have completely betrayed my trust. And that isn’t somethin’ I can just give back without thinkin’ about it. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Kade was supposed to be my ride or die, the one person I could continuously count on no matter what was going on . . . and I don’t have that faith in him anymore. I don’t have my rock. Guess I should get used to the fact I can only count on myself.

  “Here ya go, man.” The bartender slides my drink over to me, and I hear him whistle under his breath. “Hot damn . . .”

  This is the part where I’d usually turn back and see whatever vixen is walkin’ through that door, but I’m not in the mood. “Hell must’ve frozen over for a woman like that to walk in my shitty ass bar.”

  “Mind if I take a seat?” Shit, today is full of surprises.

  “Sit wherever you want sweetcheeks.” The jackass behind the bar tells her, and I lose it. This is the last fuckin’ straw. I reach my hand out and grab him by his neck, slam his head down onto the bar and scowl at him.

  “Is that any way to speak to a man’s fiancée?”

  “Shit. I-I didn’t know. I . . . I’m sorry man. N-no harm, n-no foul, right?”

  “Zane, it’s fine. I’ve handled men like him in my sleep.” Octavia takes a seat next to me and taps my forearm with her acrylic nails.

  I keep my hold on this asshole, until she gives me a knowing glance. “Zane, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Moments of silence pass us by and I don’t know why I’m not letting this guy go. Am I using him as my outlet? If I just keep suffocating him until he can’t get a breath in . . . will it make everything better?

  Suddenly, a pressure is applied to my chest and I see Octavia pushing her hand against me. “I might be fine, but obviously you’re not. Zane, let him go.”

  I release my grip on the guy and watch as he staggers back against the glasses, “Get the f-fuck out of my b-bar.”

  Octavia turns her head back, “Oh stop being dramatic. He wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  “You’re fucking insane,” The bartender starts to say, and that’s it. I’m done with this. I move around the bar, just as Octavia chuckles, “Well, now he’s gonna hurt you.”

  I end up behind the bar quicker than I thought, and this idiot has pinned himself up against the back. He starts to hop over the bar when he sees me comin’, and I follow his lead, breakin’ bottles and glasses on my walk through.

  “Help, Jesus! Someone fuckin’ help me!” He hollers to the few patrons in here. They shrug their shoulders and don’t do much.

  “Don’t think they want to lend a helpin’ hand, buddy. You apologize to the lady
and I—”

  I don’t even finish what I’m sayin’. “I’m so sorry lady. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” His apology is shit and everyone in here knows it.

  I keep on walkin’ toward him until he has nowhere else to run, backed into a corner. “I-I thought you said you were gonna leave me alone if I apologize.”

  My laughter bolts out of me, “I never said that. You interrupted me when I was sayin’ if you apologized, I might make this easier on you.” I reply, picking up a wooden barstool I pull it into the air and slam it down on his body.

  Almost like I black out, I’m not sure what transpires until Octavia is tugging at my arms for me to stop. “That’s enough, Zane. You’ve made your point. You keep it up and he won’t be able to walk again.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t!” I snarl in her face. “Why should someone who disrespects you be given that privilege? Huh? Tell me. Tell me why I should show mercy.”

  Shock crosses her face, “Because I don’t believe you’re a monster, Zane Monroe. In fact, I think you’re far from it. So, what do you say about grabbing a bottle of liquor and gettin’ the hell out of here. We can go talk . . . because somethin’ isn’t right with you.”

  I’m fighting every urge to push her back and slam this stool into this smartass fucker’s legs over and over. Every bit of betrayal is fuckin’ with my mind, makin’ me feel like I can’t trust anyone. My head is goin’ at a million miles a minute and I’m left wonderin’ how everythin’ got this far.

  With the club. With my dad. With my brother . . . with everythin’.

  When did they all seem to think I couldn’t be trusted with all this shit?

  It hits me— maybe this is just confirmation they don’t have the faith in me like I thought they did. Maybe, just maybe they don’t think I have what it takes to be their Prez.

  There’s really no other excuse.

  I drop the stool and it clunks against the floor. Making my way over to the bar I grab a drink, and then peel my hand back into my wallet, leavin’ a few hundreds on the counter. The damage couldn’t have been any worse than that.

  “Are we gettin’ outta here or what, Cinnamon?” I grumble back to Octavia, who’s looking over the bartender.

  I don’t wait for her reply. I just fuckin’ leave.

  Chapter Twelve

  If I ever tell you about my past, it’s never because I want you to feel sorry for me, but so you can understand who I am.

  ~ Unknown

  Octavia

  I’ve never been more glad I walked my ass to this bar than I am right now. Zane had left, so I had this bright idea of how it would be my perfect opportunity to get away, to run before anyone could find me and end up on a beach somewhere sipping a margarita. Ultimately, I ended up at the bar . . . figured I could weasel my way inside and ask a few questions. I slammed my heel into my phone when I walked out of the driveway, figuring they’d try to track me that way first.

  I came into this bar to use someone like that idiot of a bartender, but then I saw Zane and thought what luck I had. It was obvious he wasn’t okay, and I know I don’t owe him shit. I just couldn’t leave him there, not with the way he was. No, let me rephrase that. The way he is.

  I tore the keys from his hand the second I got outside and told his ass to get in the car. I don’t know where we were going, but I knew we couldn’t go back to the club. Zane told me about a property the club bought, about how it’s a brothel but it’s not fully functional yet . . . meaning it was private. I asked him if he knew the address and he plugged it into the navigation system in the car.

  We got there in about fifteen minutes and just as he said, no one was there. The construction crews have long been gone, and there’s only a few lamps illuminating the driveway. There’s a big sort of hotel kinda vibe here with the way it wraps around, with smaller little houses located around the property. Zane told me to go to one of the little ones, so I did. He got out of the car and tried the door, but it was locked, so his ass tried to find other ways into this joint. A window was left open, so he slid it up and we both got in the room that way.

  After turning on a light, I figure this is like a small themed cabin. The cabin we’ve walked into is . . . dark, filled with some of the deeper desires one might have. A St. Andrew’s cross is on the back wall, while the bed doubles as a cage. There are even restraints on both sides of the bed. This room is where the kinky fuckers go and damn, if we had to walk into any room . . . it couldn’t have been something that didn’t scream sex? Jesus.

  “Want to tell me what happened tonight?” I ask, not even sure if he’ll say anything to me.

  “Just a bunch of family shit, darlin’. Nothin’ you need to worry your little heart about.”

  I roll my eyes, and I make damn sure to show him I’m not pleased. Heading over to the leather armchair by the window in the bedroom, I take a seat and open the bottle of vodka. Taking a swig, I raise my brows at him. “I thought we weren’t gonna start this off with lies.”

  “We aren’t.”

  “Pretty positive you’re already lying. If we’re gonna make this work, Zane, or even be friends we can’t lie to one another. I’m tired of lies. So, tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

  He shakes his head while he looks to the floor, “There isn’t a fuckin’ way you can help me with this, Cinnamon.”

  “How about you shut up and just tell me?” I bark, gritting my teeth.

  Zane sucks in a deep breath and leans against the wall across from me. “Found out my club was hidin’ shit today, somethin’ they should’ve told me about. One of our members is missin’ and two of them are hurt pretty damn bad. If that wasn’t the worst part about it all, I found out my dad lied to me my entire life.”

  Now this is interesting. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m adopted. Not sure if you knew that or not,” He mutters, sliding his hands into his pockets.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, I was adopted by my dad and mom when I was little. My twin brother too. I was told and was always led to believe a man named Michael Nichols was my father. He used to be in the Reapers years ago. The story that I was told is he fucked a clubwhore and she didn’t want us. He tried to take care of us but ended up followin’ the chicks lead and split too. Instead of lettin’ us go into the foster system, my mom and dad adopted us.”

  “They must’ve been great people,” I comment, genuinely being sincere.

  “Yeah, Mom was. She was the fuckin’ best. God, I miss her every day.”

  He misses her? I didn’t know she had died, but I knew Fist did. He took a knife to the heart saving . . . Alexa. Oh! That must be the same Alexa he was talkin’ to me about earlier. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Zane gives me a half-smile, but the kind that makes you think they’re saying ‘thank you’. “It’s been a long time since she passed. At least the cancer was quick.”

  God, I couldn’t imagine losing my mom. She and I aren’t the closest, her being a free spirit and all, but she’s still my mom. “So, you said you were led to believe. I take it you were lied to.” I speak up, hoping that by talking about it, this will help him.

  “Ding-Ding-Ding,” Zane sounds like a slot machine. He takes a step toward me and takes the bottle from my hand, taking a hefty shot straight from the bottle and hands it back. I figure what the hell and do the same. The vodka burns, practically making me gag. Shit, this stuff is good. “So, get ready for this. My dad, the man who raised me is actually my uncle.”

  Fist had two siblings from what I know. A sister named Roxy who was married to Rage from the Iron Vex MC for a while until she was able to get out of that. His brother was his VP, and I think his name was something like . . . Biscuit. Yeah, I think that’s what it was. “Wow. That must’ve been a shock.”

  “Understatement of the century. So, my biological father had been around me my entire life, Cinnamon. He’s dead now, and he never even told me. Dad told Kade after he saw ou
r birth certificates and Kade had confronted him. That’s when he was finally honest with him, but, they never told me. I don’t get it.”

  I can’t imagine the way he feels betrayed, especially after everything he’s discovered over the last day. It must be rough. “I’m so sorry, Zane.” I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It’s not like I’ll make any of it better in the least bit.

  “Feels like everyone close to me just needs to lie, you know?”

  I nod, knowing all too well. “Yeah, just remember people do stupid shit. I’m not excusing what they did, because it was wrong, but people always feel like their reasons are valid, even if they’re dumb.”

  “Look at you, bein’ a fortune cookie.” Zane jokes, poking fun at my bluntness.

  “Destiny is what you make of life.” I cockily reply back, sticking my tongue out at him.

  “Oh girl, you’d better watch where you point that tongue. I might put you to work.” I can tell he doesn’t even think about it from the way his cheeks flush. While his cheeks are growing red, I feel a heaviness in my chest. I don’t know if it’s because everything with Inc is so fresh, or if it’s the longing for some sort of companionship.

  I take a swig of the vodka, taking double what Zane did when he took his last drink and stand up. The burning sensation shoots through my body, and with it, so does courage. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

  I know we’ve just met. I know how fucking insane this is in my mind. But, I also know I’m going to be with this man until one of us dies, so better to rip off the band-aid than keep trying to make it stick.

  I’m hurting, my heart’s been ripped into so many pieces it’s not even funny, and the only thing I want is to be held. To have a pair of arms wrapped around me, giving me the illusion that everything will end up okay.

  Inhaling through my nose, I strut directly up to Zane, drop the bottle on the ground and slam my lips onto his while I work my hands at his jeans. He pulls back, “Whoa, are we really doing this? Here? Right now?”