Worth The Risk (Royal Bastards MC Book 1) Read online

  “You should’ve stayed gone, Hunter,” I say cruelly. “I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.”

  He glances over his shoulder at the men behind him and then turns back to me. “You do need me, Skylar. You have nowhere else to go. You lost our home.”

  Our? I shove him. “And whose fault is that? When you left, you said it was so you could take care of dad and me! You didn’t do anything!”

  His brow furrows, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost looks confused. “I sent you two money every fucking month! I didn’t even know you were losing the house until I got your message!”

  “Oh, you got that message, huh? What about all the other times I contacted you?” I accuse.

  “It was best if you stayed here,” he replies. “But the only way I can take care of you now is to have you come with me.”

  “Screw you!” I scream at him, stomping off.

  “I know where Jake is!” he calls after me, and I stop dead in my tracks.

  I blink back tears, unwilling to let him see how easily he’s gotten to me. When I turn around, my face is void of emotion.

  “That’s great,” I say. “I hope the two of you have been very happy together.”

  The men behind him chuckle, and he shoots them a look, silencing them. “Your stuff is already being loaded into one of our vans. You have no fucking home and no place to go, Skylar. Get on the damn bike.”

  He’s right, and I know it. He fucking knows it. The small amount of money the church donated to me won’t last me very long, and I don’t want to blow it by staying at a hotel.

  I reluctantly walk over to him and accept the helmet he offers me from the back of his bike. Luckily, I opted to wear dress pants instead of a skirt today, so I have no issue throwing my leg over and taking a seat. I sadly look over at George and Henry and give them a small wave, letting them know I’m going to be alright.

  At least if I go with him, I’ll get answers on where the hell Jake has been the past five years. From the looks of the men my brother is with, he won’t be the same man who left me before.

  I down another shot, placing my empty glass back on the bar. Allie, the daytime bartender, looks over to me to see if I need another refill, but I shake my head.

  “I thought three might be enough,” she says and then adds, “Since it’s only two in the afternoon.”

  “Pretty sure you get paid to fix drinks, not give us your opinion,” I say but then feel like shit when I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings. “A Coke is fine.”

  Allie has been bartending for us since her cousin took a bullet for the club while we were backing another chapter on a run. She was like a sister to him, basically the only family he had left. She had nowhere else to go, and the club owed her for Wesley’s life. We always make good on our debts, and from what I understand, Hunter is off to make good on one of his own.

  Five years ago, he left the small town of Brewton, Alabama, where we grew up, and didn’t look back. No one knew where he was going or what he was doing, except for me. He had his reasons for leaving the way he did, and even though his family wasn’t clued in, he did it to help them.

  The Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club was expanding their chapter in Birmingham, and they needed members. Hunter had some affiliation with the club after doing a construction job for one of the members. He jumped on the opportunity, saying it would give him a chance to take care of his dad, who was on disability, and his younger sister, Skylar.

  Apparently, his dad had a gambling debt a mile high, and the bookies were ready to collect in the form of flesh. It didn’t matter to them if the flesh was Hunter’s, his old man’s, or Skylar’s flesh they collected either. As long as they were paid, they didn’t give a fuck.

  Hunter did some shady-as-shit jobs and paid off the debt, making his dad promise to stay away from gambling. He was sending money to his old man but had no control over what he was doing with it. He wasn’t paying his mortgage according to the text Hunter received from Skylar last week. She was losing the house and needed somewhere to stay, although she never once asked him for help. Looks like dear old dad never stopped gambling, he just got better at hiding it.

  I’m tempted to order another shot at the thought of Skylar Baker. I’m not a man with many weaknesses, but she’s my fucking kryptonite. She is the only person in this world who can destroy me.

  When Hunter left, he told me he would speak to the club about getting me in. He didn’t know if it was a possibility or not since he was pledging as a prospect himself. He would have to wait until he earned his patch or another member’s respect to mention another man joining as a hang around or prospect.

  Months went by, and I gave up on Hunter calling me to come join him. I had worked out a life of odd jobs, anything to make ends meet. I was living on the damn streets, bouncing from one friend’s couch to another, wherever I could stay a few nights. There was no fucking way I was going back home to my parents, and I didn’t feel right living with the Bakers without Hunter there.

  The night he finally did call me, I had just popped Skylar’s cherry. I had resisted as long as I could, held my attraction to her at bay for years. I had no fucking idea if I would ever hear from Hunter again. Hell, he hadn’t even shown up for Skylar’s birthday. She was upset, and a man can only fight temptation for so long. I was weak, and I wanted her, so I gave in.

  But he did call, and I left a naked Skylar alone in her bed without even fucking looking back. To say I regret that night is an understatement. I never should’ve touched my best friend’s sister, but most of all, I never should’ve left her without an explanation. I still haven’t figured out how I would do things differently if I had a do-over. Fucked, I know.

  Making a decision like that destroyed me in some ways. Luckily, I was in the right place to take out my frustration and anger, and my ruthless ways earned my respect with the Bastards. I had no issue doing the dirty work as a prospect. If they needed someone taught a lesson in a bloody way, I was all for it. I suppose that’s why I’m the enforcer now.

  I will admit, though, that I wanted to call her dozens of times, but after pledging my loyalty to the Royal Bastards, I learned they have a code. They have rules, and the rules are clear. I couldn’t and won’t break them.

  Besides, I wouldn’t have to worry about club rules if Hunter knew what happened between us. He still thinks we never crossed that line. The rules now say I can’t. Members can’t fuck with other members’ family without permission and a club vote. It’s very simple. Crossing that line causes club conflict, and our president, Charles Mason, is a stickler for the fucking rules.

  Still, I’m curious if she thinks of me, wonders where I am. Then again, she’s probably already moved on, and the douche that fucked her and left her is the last thing on her mind. I know she’s a nurse and has her life together now, even if she has lost her dad and is losing the house she grew up in. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her shit together. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t forgotten about me.

  “Did you guys finish up that job downtown yet?” Allie asks, placing the Coke I ordered in front of me.

  “Just finished it up yesterday, and the crew is bidding on another job today.”

  When I came to Birmingham to join the Royal Bastards, Mason was looking for a legit way to earn money. The Bastards needed a legal business to launder the profits from our gun trade. Hunter suggested starting a construction crew. We’d been doing that job since we were eighteen and had a lot of experience. Besides, a lot of money can be laundered through construction costs.

  “So, where’s Hunter today?” Allie asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “The sergeant at arms is on a run today,” I answer, although it’s really none of her business.

  Truth is, Hunter did ask me to go with him to Brewton, to be there for his dad’s funeral and for his reunion with Skylar, but I opted out. Made a lame excuse that the club needed me here. As an enforcer, it wasn’t a bad lie. I am actually ne
eded at the club since he took several members with him. I suppose he was just as afraid of seeing Skylar again after all these years as I am. Having the guys there with him probably made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  “A run?” Allie asks, and I know she’s only asking because she has a thing for Hunter. I give her a look, letting her know the run was club business even though it was more personal for Hunter than anything. “Fine, I get it.”

  After drinking half of my Coke, I hear the door to the clubhouse open. I don’t have to turn around to know Hunter’s back. I can hear Skylar raising hell about being brought to some frat pad.

  “How many men live here?” she questions Hunter. “This is fucking ridiculous. I can take care of myself, you asshat.”

  Gathering my courage, I turn around on the barstool, facing the woman who is constantly on my mind. Her long, wavy brown hair is the same, but Skylar is different, more mature-looking, and more grown-up. Still a fucking knockout.

  She narrows her eyes at me, and my heart pounds in my chest as she makes her way over to me, her heels clicking on the hard wood of the floor with every step she takes.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but Skylar rears her fist back and slams it into my jaw. I stumble off the stool, spitting blood on the floor as I shake my head.

  That was one hell of a reunion, and Skylar Baker is one hell of a fucking woman.

  Slugging Jake had not been my intention, but finding out he’d been here in Birmingham, only hours away from me, had really hurt. When we stopped by the house, I prodded and prodded until Hunter told me everything. Well, I’m sure he told me as much as he was willing to. He is definitely not the brother I grew up with.

  He joined some kind of motorcycle club when he left town and had been sending money to our dad this entire time. I don’t know where Dad was keeping the money or what he was doing with it, but he never said a word. He never made out like we were alright financially, and every penny I made went to the mortgage and bills.

  I can’t be mad at my dad though, rest his soul, but I can be mad at Jake. He took off and didn’t say a damn word. Didn’t tell me Hunter called him to come join the club. I have no doubt in my mind the phone call he received that night was from my brother, and he dropped everything, including me, to go to him.

  He deserved the punch, but I’ll be damned if my hand doesn’t hurt like a bitch thanks to his chiseled, rock hard jaw. I don’t recall ever throwing a punch in my entire life. I had no idea how bad it would hurt. I wince as I try to ball up a fist.

  I thought I wouldn’t recognize Jake; thought he would be so different. He is, but not in the way I imagined. He’s bulked up, just like Hunter, and is covered with tattoos, including some on his neck and head, although his face is left unmarred. The man who left me had no ink on his skin. He was utter perfection in my blinded teenage eyes.

  His appearance has changed, but he still looked at me the way he always did. Like I’m some sparkling toy that he wants but is never supposed to have because he might break me. Like I was standing right in front of him but was still out of reach.

  Damn him!

  I sit down on the bed in the room Hunter told me was mine, clutching my quickly swelling hand. I look around at the drab walls, bare of any photos or paintings. There are tape marks, indicating there were once posters plastered on the wall, but they must’ve been torn down prior to my arrival. There’s a small desk in the far corner and the bed, but that’s the only furniture. Hunter assured me this was only temporary, and I’ll be in my own place by the end of the week.

  I think about the small amount of money the church donated to me, and I know it isn’t enough for me to rent a place of my own. If I can convince Hunter to let me go back to Brewton, back to my job, I can save enough money for my own place soon. They have low-income apartments I can apply for, and I can even look for a place to rent. This is all happening way too fast, him bringing me here. I haven’t even had time to process my dad’s death.

  “You settling in?” Jake asks me, peeking his head in the door without knocking.

  “Making myself right at home,” I say and roll my eyes.

  “You might as well. Your stuff should be here soon,” he replies and walks into the room, an ice pack in his hand. “Thought you could use this.”

  He extends his hand, the ice pack dripping slightly on the floor. I take it and gingerly place it on my hand.

  “Thanks, but you can go now.”

  “Skylar, just let me‒”

  “Explain? Is that what you’re going to say?” I ask bitterly. “Because there is absolutely nothing to explain. My brother called, and you answered, right?”

  “Something like that,” he replies. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “What exactly did you mean to do, Jake? You left me alone, with no idea of where you were going or if I’d ever see you again. Did you honestly think that wouldn’t devastate me?”

  “You don’t understand,” he says with a sigh.

  “No, I don’t fucking understand!” I yell, tossing the ice pack onto the bed and going over to him. Although my hand still hurts, I give him a shove. “I don’t understand how you could fuck me and then leave me!”

  “Skylar, keep your voice down,” Jake warns, but I don’t stop.

  I push him again, my voice getting louder. “I was a virgin, and you fucked me right there on my bed, taking one thing I can never get back from me, and then walked away! All because my brother called you! You always chose him over me! Even after what happened between us!”

  In an instant, Jake covers my mouth with one hand and pushes me back against the wall, his hard body holding me still.

  “Damn it, shut up, will you?” he hisses.

  My eyes grow wide, and he lowers his hand. “Hunter doesn’t know.”

  “And he can’t fucking find out, so stop with all the dramatic fucking bullshit already,” he says firmly. “It was five years ago, I apologize, so move the fuck on for fuck’s sake!”

  I narrow my eyes at him, at how harsh his words are. “Not a problem, Jake. Besides, I don’t even know you anymore.”

  He releases me and takes a step back, running a hand over his short hair. He swallows, and it’s like the skull etched into his neck is laughing at me. I am being dramatic, childish even. It’s clear he doesn’t harbor the same feelings I do for him. I’m a damn idiot for holding on as long as I have.

  I tear my gaze from him, walking around him and back to the bed. I hear the door click behind him as he leaves. Again, he doesn’t say a word, but I suppose I should be used to that from him by now.

  I put the ice pack on my hand and lie down. Finally, I let the tears I’ve been holding in all day flow freely, my pillow absorbing them.

  It’s well past midnight when I get back to the club. After my confrontation with Skylar, I had to get out for a bit. I took my Harley out for a ride and did my best to clear my head. Usually, a good, long ride helps, but it didn’t fucking help this time.

  “Prospect, get me a beer!” I call out, not caring whether it’s Dash or Munsey who jumps to it.

  Dash hops up from his spot on the couch, not bothering to pause the video game he’s playing with Munsey and rushes over to the fridge. He pops the cap on a beer for me and slides it across the bar. Dash is our newest prospect, so he kisses ass a bit more than Munsey does. If the vote passes, Munsey’s due to be patched in next time we hold church. I’m sure he feels he can relax a little and let Dash do the grunt work.

  I take a sip, and as I’m lowering the bottle from my lips, Skylar comes into view. Her hair is up in a knot on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tank and pajama pants. My eyes instantly zone in on her tits and the fact she isn’t wearing a bra.

  It isn’t uncommon for nipples to be on display around the club. Patch pussies are always hanging out, offering up the goods to the members, but Dash and Munsey are practically drooling. I snap my fingers and point back to the television, telling them to keep their eyes where
they fucking belong.

  Skylar opens the fridge and pulls out a pizza box. I watch as she grabs two beers and places them on top of the box before closing the fridge and heading back to her room. She’s completely damn oblivious to the effect she has on us all.

  “You might not want to eat that,” I call out a warning to her. “That’s Bishop’s pizza, and he’s an asshole about sharing.”

  Without even turning around, she answers back over her shoulder, “Tell Bishop if he wants his pizza, he can try to pry it out of my hands.”

  Munsey lets out a laugh, and I glare over at him as Skylar disappears back into her room. “What? It was funny.” He shrugs. “So, that’s Hunter’s sister?”

  “Yeah,” I answer gruffly.

  “That’s too bad. She has a nice fucking rack.”

  “Damn right, she does,” Dash agrees. “Lots of nice lingerie too.”

  “How in the fuck would you know that?” I ask, approaching the couch.

  “I packed her stuff,” he replies with a grin. “She might be missing a pair of panties.”

  At his admission, I snatch him up by the collar of his shirt. “You bring me her belongings, and if I ever catch you looking at her or even thinking about her fucking panties, I’ll slit your damn throat!”

  “Easy, bro,” Munsey says.

  “Family is off-limits, so, Skylar Baker is off-fucking-limits!”

  Dash nods. “I understand. It won’t ever happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t,” I hiss and shove him back down on the couch.

  I’m using the excuse that he’s breaking club rules, but my behavior is solely about pure jealousy. I can’t fucking stand the idea that Dash has a pair of Skylar’s panties he’s hidden somewhere for his spank bank.

  It’s not like I’ve been innocent the past five years, and I highly doubt she has been either, but damn it, the thought of someone else wanting or having what I consider mine doesn’t sit well with me.

  Christ, how am I going to survive with her here? Before, I could keep myself busy with the club, the construction work, and when shit got really bad, I could bury myself deep inside a willing woman and forget the past.