Andi and Niro Page 5

  But several of our cousins were now members of the Henchmen MC.

  On top of that, our cousins always had hot guy friends.

  "The clubwhores can get annoying," Hope said, shrugging as she cut the engine.

  "I really don't think we should be calling them whores," Gracie said, wincing. I had to admit, the term had never sat right with me. Luckily, when I was growing up, there hadn't been many younger, wild members around, so those women had never really been much of a presence in the club. I wasn't surprised, though, to find that had changed since the next generation of bikers started getting old enough to throw their own parties at the clubhouse.

  "I hardly think cut-sluts sounds better," Hope said, snorting.

  "I think I've heard them referred to as club bunnies," Gracie volunteered, shrugging.

  "That's just ridiculous," Hope decided, climbing out of the car. "But whatever we call them, they can get stupidly possessive of the guys. It's obnoxious. Anyway, the drinks are free. We can crash if we want to. And we will know most of the people here, so there's no creeps grabbing ass. It's a win-win-win."

  With that, the two of them moved forward with the casualness that said they had no idea that Niro and I had been experiencing a falling out of sorts. I guess that was a good thing, though, right? They wouldn't get weird about it, try to force us together to reconnect or anything like that.

  I also figured it was a good thing that they hadn't mentioned anything about Niro being different than he used to be either. Maybe my father was just overreacting after all.

  Still, the closer we got to the front door, the more my stomach wobbled ominously, the harder my heart hammered against my ribcage.

  The music was thumping, the bass of the unfamiliar song making my pulse skitter around, putting me even more on-edge.

  "Come on!" Gracie called, voice raised to be heard over the music, reaching out to grab my hand, pulling me inside.

  Ready or not.

  The clubhouse hadn't changed much ever since I was a kid. Sure, it went through some fresh painting, a new pool table felt color, changes in furniture, and the gaming systems were something that had never been around before—likely brought by the newest, younger members.

  I'd been here a million times. I fell out of a tree out back after settling a baby bird back in its nest, and sprained my ankle, needing to be carried back to the clubhouse by Niro to get help. I'd played tag with my cousins—none of whom were by blood—in the back during big family barbecues. I had bunkered down in the barracks-style basement when there had been security scares. I'd had a picnic with Niro up in the glass room on the roof, both of us lying flat on the hard floor with over-full bellies, and I raised my arm and pointed out the constellations to him like I had done many times before because he always claimed he forgot them.

  I knew every inch of this place.

  Hell, I'd even been inside the armory in the basement once.

  Still, it felt oddly foreign to be back.

  It was weirder still to be back and not see any of my uncles or aunts around. They'd been such a permanent staple when I was growing up. But now, they were likely home snuggled in bed while the next generation of bikers were throwing big parties.

  And big it was.

  Bodies were crushed close around the bar. Lines were waiting for their turn at the pool table. The couches were full. And people milled in and out of the kitchen, drinks in hands.

  For once, I found I didn't know all the faces around. Sure, there were some familiar ones dotted around. Fallon, Finn, Seth, Malcolm. But the majority of the people were strangers to me, new friends the club members had made while I was away.

  In a back corner, one of my cousins was blocked by a semi-circle of scantily clad women, one of them leaning in to whisper in his ear; another was running her long fingernail down his chest. Then lower.

  "Told you," Hope said, reaching to hand me a bottle of beer, clinking hers with mine.

  Gracie was already lost in the crowd, being much more of a social butterfly than Hope or me ever were. "Not bad, right?" she asked, looking around. "Sure beats the shit out of those skunky beer and cheap vodka parties we went to when we were underage. Plus, it's all the club guys and their close friends. No skeezy ass-grabbers to be found. Well, except him," she said, jerking her chin over toward Fallon who had just slapped a woman on the butt over her red leather skirt.

  Fallon had always been a bit of a whore. And since he was sort-of family, we forgave it more easily than we normally would if it was anyone else. I wasn't surprised that it hadn't changed. From what I could tell from the snippets of stories I'd heard about when all our parents were younger, almost all the bikers had been man-whores before they came across their future wives.

  "Andi," a deep voice called, making me turn, having to crane my neck up like I always did with his father and, as he got older, Malcolm himself. "You're back," he said.

  "I, ah, yeah, I am," I agreed, giving him a smile.

  "That's good," he said, giving me a nod, and moving off.

  "You know, I once heard him speak two sentences all together once. Complete sentences and everything," Hope said, smiling before taking a long swig of her beer.

  "I will believe it when I hear it myself," I said, feeling some of the tension slip from my shoulders as I raised my beer for a tentative sip—having never been a big fan of the taste, but starting to settle into the party vibe.

  I promptly nearly choked to death on it.

  Because as I drank, my gaze did another scan of the room.

  And spotted someone I had missed before.

  Niro.

  His back was to me, but I would know him anywhere.

  "I knew it," Hope said, snapping my attention back to her.

  "Knew what?" I asked, taking another sip, telling myself it was to wash down the beer that had gotten a little caught in my throat somehow, but, really, I knew it was just to try to calm my frazzled nerves.

  "That you and Niro had a falling out," she said, making my stomach drop. "But Gracie kept telling me I was being my usual anti-romantic, pessimistic self. And, to be fair, she is partially right about that. But I freaking knew it."

  "It's not that..." I started, but got almost immediately cut off.

  "Bitch!" another voice broke into our conversation, high and confident.

  "Here's trouble," Hope said, shaking her head as Billie joined us, big white smile beaming out of her stupidly pretty face, complete with a dainty little septum piercing like her own mother still sported to this day. And while her mom was a fan of multicolored unicorn hair, Billie favored a pinkish-purple mauve color that suited her.

  Billie had been born pretty and seemed to have confidence from the cradle to go along with it. Which I always understood. Even if I couldn't always relate to being so wholly comfortable in your own skin. But why wouldn't she be? She was fit, but round of hip and thigh with a butt we all envied almost as much as we envied her chest. She was practically perfect. And with her extroverted nature, she was always someone you wanted to be around. Even if just in small doses because she could get overwhelming at times.

  "That's me. Trouble," Billie agreed, giving Hope a wink.

  "Jesus Christ," Hope said, half scoffing, half laughing. "What are you wearing on your ears?" she asked, eyes wide.

  "My pussy flower earrings!" Billie declared proudly, reaching her hand up toward them, running her light pink coffin nails over the reddish petal that, yeah, was very anatomical-looking. "Mom and I did them as a little DIY project last weekend."

  "Of course you did," Hope mumbled, taking a breath.

  "I have cock ones too."

  "I'm not the least bit surprised by this information," Hope said.

  "Anyway. You're home," Billie said, looking at me. "We need to catch up sometime."

  "Word to the wise, Andi," Hope said, holding a hand up, palm out. "Be very, very specific about the parameters of a hang-out with this lunatic. Or you might find yourself at a cult gathering."
>
  "Oh, my God. For the fiftieth time, that was not a cult gathering."

  "Everyone was wearing white robes and chanting," Hope shot back.

  "It was a guided meditation. They were mantras!"

  "And then like there was some hidden cue, everyone suddenly stripped out of those robes. I was standing in a room with twenty naked-ass people. I saw things, Andi," she said, voice grave, eyes wide. "I saw things I can never unsee. And then, as if that wasn't bad enough," she went on, pressing a hand to her mouth, pretending—or at least I thought she was pretending—to gag. "Then they all leaned forward. They leaned forward, Andi," she said, and I was starting to think the gag was legitimate. "They leaned forward and put their hands on the mats. And I saw more things. I saw things that still give me nightmares to this day."

  "Well, excuse me for trying to give you a little enlightenment," Billie said, toying with her crescent moon necklace.

  "Oh, I was enlightened alright. And I now know I will never, ever bend forward in front of a man again unless I am fully dressed."

  "Right. Like you are ever undressed around a man," Billie teased.

  "I am busy with work."

  "She always says that. And half the time, she is lounging on her couch with her real boyfriend: Netflix," Billie said.

  "Guys are a hassle," Hope said, shrugging.

  "Guys are fun," Billie corrected, eyes dancing.

  "Well, when one toys with them like you do, maybe," Hope relented.

  "They love being played with," Billie insisted. "Speaking of playing. Is that Malc's friend Rowe I see? Excuse me. Girl code," she said, shrugging. "Thy bitches shalt not get in the way of a good dicking," she clarified before sauntering off to talk to the tall, dark, handsome stranger.

  "The one man in the world she stands no chance with," Hope said, shaking her head. "Of course, it is the one she wants."

  "Why does she have no chance with him?" I asked, seeing her move in front of him, getting his attention.

  "He's a lot like Malc. Quiet. Sensible. And Billie, well, she is..."

  "The exact opposite of sensible?" I filled in. With love. Because I happened to get a kick out of Billie's brand of crazy.

  "Exactly. Anyway. Back to Niro," she said, making me jump and turn, wondering if he had spotted me yet.

  He still mostly had his back to me, though, as he raised a glass of amber liquid to his lips, taking a small sip as a woman moved in front of him, reaching out in a familiar way, running her hand up his arm.

  "It's, ah, it's nothing," I said, my voice a small, uneven thing.

  "Yeah, sure looks like nothing," Hope said, tone dry, but I was too distracted to call her on it as Niro turned a little bit more, showing me more of his profile.

  Which had a badly healing cut right above and along his eye as well as a bruise on his chin.

  It wasn't a strange sight to see Niro with bruises. I mean, he was always getting into little skirmishes when we were growing up. And a biker life was not always an easy one. Still, I had this old, familiar urge to walk over there and insist he follow me into the bathroom so I could clean the cut out with some witch hazel before the infection set in. The woman's hand moved across his shoulder, sinking under the neck of his tee, then pulling it down slightly to inspect something she found there. A tattoo, most likely. One I didn't know existed, and it bothered me more than it should have since I was an active participant in our fallout to realize there were parts of his life I no longer knew about.

  As if suddenly sensing my inspection, Niro's gaze went from the woman's hand on his chest right to me.

  The contact as it fell on me felt like an electrical current right through the center of my body, unsettling, unexpected.

  He looked like I remembered, if maybe his jaw had chiseled out a bit more than before. But it was the same face. The same dark hair. The same dark eyes.

  Except, something was different about those eyes. Something was so different that a strange chill moved through me, making a shiver rack my system, shocking me enough to suddenly turn and dart out the back door before I even really understood what I was doing.

  What was I doing?

  Running away from Niro, my old best friend?

  No, I realized as I made my way across the back grounds, making a beeline for the picnic table under a weeping willow.

  No.

  I wasn't running from that Niro.

  I was running from the man who had taken his place.

  A man I no longer recognized.

  My father was right after all.

  Something had happened to Niro.

  And a part of me didn't want to know what it was. Because I was terrified I wasn't going to love this version of him like I loved my Niro.

  Hell, I wasn't even sure he was a man who would allow himself to be loved.

  And that was possibly the worst thing I could imagine.

  So I was running from it.

  From him.

  Only... I didn't realize he was chasing after me.

  Chapter Five

  Niro

  I guess I should have expected her.

  Once the news got out that she was home, of course someone was going to head over and drag her to the party so everyone could welcome her back home again. Like family and friends should.

  Gracie was the most likely to reach out first. And Hope, already getting dragged by Gracie to a party she wouldn't love, decided to drag an even more unwilling Andi along with them.

  She'd never been a fan of parties. It was too crowded, too loud, too overwhelming to her senses. She'd rather be one-on-one with a friend. Or surrounded by a pile of puppies. Not at a party.

  I'd been cornered by Amy, one of the newer clubwhores who, apparently, just made it into town a few months ago after having been shacked up with some MC down in one of the Carolinas for a few years.

  On the one hand, it was nice that she knew how things went. No strings. Just fun.

  On the other, the ease of it felt hollow.

  Then again, most things did, so I'd taken her to bed a time or two in the past, waking up feeling a little colder than I'd been the night before.

  It was my MO, after all.

  Colder.

  Harder.

  Nothing gets in, nothing gets out.

  Life was easier that way.

  But I don't know what it was. I should have been paying attention to Amy's invitation to take me up to the glass room to suck me off right where anyone could see.

  But I felt something—a strange sizzle, something strong enough to make me want to find the source of it.

  Then I turned my head.

  And there she was.

  The woman who was the reason for my highest highs. And my lowest lows.

  The woman I'd needed to harden myself for. Harden myself against. Because I knew how easily she could sneak back in if I let my guards down for even a moment.

  She looked a lot like I remembered. Her hair was a little longer than I realized since she'd had it up the last few times I caught sight of her. It danced around her upper arms now, golden strands catching the light above her head. I had been fascinated by her hair once upon a time, always having to force myself to resist reaching out, feeling the strands slide between my fingers.

  She was still small, slight, her body wrapped in a yellow sundress that showed off her subtle curves in a very understated way.

  She had the same sweet, delicate face. The same big, expressive blue eyes.

  Except those eyes held a look of shock, then something worse yet.

  Fear.

  Fear.

  When she was looking at me.

  I'd told myself after learning she was back in town that I wasn't going to approach her. I wasn't going to seek her out. If she came to me, I'd talk to her. I wasn't a complete dick. But I wasn't going to make plans with her. I wasn't going to let myself go down that road again. The man I was now would tear up the concrete, make a mess of the landscape.

  But the fear had me pull
ing away from Amy as Andi turned on her heel and rushed through the crowd, then disappeared out the back door.

  "Niro, nice to see you," Hope said in a fake high-pitched voice as I passed, getting a glare from me that she smirked at before raising her beer to salute me.

  Hope had a good way of reading a scene. She should, having two profiler parents who knew far too much about human nature for anyone's good. She was raised on that shit. It used to be annoying as fuck when we were all younger. She'd been the first person to ask me about my feelings for Andi, back when I would never admit it to anyone. But, luckily, these days her job worked as an outlet for all those observation skills now, so she didn't ask as many prying questions as she used to.

  I shrugged off the hand of another of the women as I pulled open the back door, feeling a bite in the air that hadn't been there when I'd come into the clubhouse earlier.

  I didn't have to look to know where she was headed.

  Andi had a strange attachment to that damn weeping willow tree. Always did, even before saving that bird and hurting herself. That was why we'd dragged the picnic table under it. I couldn't count how many afternoons we'd spent there doing our homework. Or, rather, Andi helping me do my homework since she was always a much better student than I was.

  It was dark, but I could make out the shape of her back from her spot perched on top of the table, her feet planted on the bench below.

  "That was one hell of a greeting," I said, voice a cold sound. It was my normal tone these days. But it wasn't one she was used to. I could feel myself wince even as her body stiffened.

  "Niro," she said, a strange hesitance in her tone.

  "Been a while. Maybe you forgot what I looked like," I suggested. There was none of the usual teasing lightness I would have once said the words with, making them sound pointed, almost a little cruel.

  Cruel.

  I was being cruel.

  To Andi.

  A part of me, the minuscule little bit I'd never been able to completely break down, couldn't quite believe I was capable. But this newer, larger part of me? This raging asshole I'd become? Yeah, he was capable. I was capable.