Chapter 3

Ainsley

Somewhere, Texas

Pulling up to my father’s house feels strange. I haven’t spent a day of my life in the place, but my stepmother insisted I come home for Christmas break. She thinks it will be good for me to try and connect with the man who raised me. Like she has any freaking idea what I need. My whole life I was hidden away like his dirty secret because he said it was safer for me that way. My father was not a good man. He was a criminal. A cartel boss. That was the impression he gave to all who knew him but to me he was my dad. He never missed a thing going on in my life. He was there for every important moment and yet I feel numb.

The men who killed him decapitated him and I buried my father without his head. The police claim to be working the case, but they know, and I know they won’t find his head, nor will they arrest the men responsible. In their eyes my father got what was coming to him and maybe he did.

I shut off the car and grab my bag from the backseat. I have never met my stepmom. Her and my father only married a few months back. She’s in Tennessee. Something to do with her ex. I guess he is in the hospital or something. I really don’t care. Those people are nothing to me. I’m on my own as usual. I’m used to it. As much as my father was there for all the big moments in my life, he was missing in action for the little things in between.

I take out the key from under the fake rock that was left for me and unlock the massive door. The house is warm considering no one has been living here. Aside from the maid coming in to clean and to stock the fridge for me. Speaking of food, I am starving. Dropping my bag on the floor by the front door, I give myself the grand tour. Stephanie said I could have my pick of any of the bedrooms on the second floor. This isn’t the home they shared. My father had several properties. The fact that they all belong to her now bothers me, but at the same time do I really want my father’s blood money. I stand to inherit thirty million dollars I will receive half upon my eighteenth birthday a few days from now and the rest when I turn twenty-one. I will never have to work a day in my life. My father made sure of that. He left me well supported but now I am unprotected. I don’t expect anything from Stephanie nor should I. From what I hear she is as cold and evil as my father could be.

She’s in bed with the Devils Rejects and only out for herself. Though can I blame her? It’s a man’s world and we just exist in it. My father had a lot of enemies and I can’t help but wonder when they will come for me. I am sure my existence and DNA has been made known. No sense in dwelling on things out of my control. I continue to wonder the halls of the house. I make it to the lavish kitchen that has state of the art everything including a fully stocked bar.

Smirking to myself I grab a bottle that looks fancy without reading the label. Peeling the plastic seal from around the cap, I twist it off and take a hard swig. I nearly spit the vile liquid back out but force myself to swallow it. My throat is on fire and my belly is burning as well.

I drink until my fingertips and my lips are as numb as I feel inside. It’s growing dark outside and the automatic timer for the Christmas lights goes off. The outside and interior of the house comes alive with Christmas but all I want to do is shout, “Bah Humbug.”

I look down at my wet shirt and grab my bag. I take it upstairs to one of the bedrooms and start dumping the contents out on the queen-sized bed that has a cream-colored duvet with pink roses embroidered on it. It matches the one I have back at school. I wonder if my father intended this to be my room at some point. I suppose whatever his intentions were, they don’t matter now.

Looking down at the bed I let out a groan of frustration when I see that I took my dormmates bag instead of my own. Her candy cane striped tights and red velvet sexy Santa dress is staring back at me instead of my jeans and my sweaters. Maybe it’s all the twinkling lights and decorations but I say screw it and change into the ridiculous ensemble. My phone goes off from inside my purse. At least I got that right. It’s a message from Phoebe.

I’m so sorry! I have your bag. —Phoebe

I dial her instead of texting. “Hey. It’s no biggie. Just an excuse to go shopping.” I don’t tell her it also gives me something to do.

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“It’s fine but what are you going to wear for the play?”

“I dropped out.”

“Phoebe…did you take my bag on purpose, so you could weasel out of the play you volunteered for?” I laugh under my breath.

“Maybe, but I was only doing it to impress, Manuel.”

I sigh. “He is married and like thirty-five. Not to mention your teacher. Don’t be gross.”

“I know,” she whines.

“Suck it up and do the play.”

“Yeah…yeah,” she groans, and I smile to myself. Suddenly I see headlights coming down the driveway.

“I gotta go.” I end the call and hope it isn’t my stepmother. As depressing as the thought of Christmas alone was sounding, I would much rather spend it alone than with a woman whom I have never met. I know she didn’t love my father. She didn’t attend the service I held for him and my grandmother. Some of my father’s friends paid their respects and were disappointed to learn that the family business was in her care. They thought things would fall to me—a child they were hoping to manipulate. Joke was on them. I am happy that Stephanie inherited a problem I never wanted.  I know my father had hoped for a son to leave his dynasty too. Stephanie is pregnant but says the child isn’t his.

I rush down the stairs and make it to the foyer just as the door swings open. I skid to a halt, sliding on the marble floor in these stupid candy cane tights. Before me stands a tattooed and muscled wall of biker. He smirks at me and looks up at the mistletoe centered above his head in the entryway. A patch on his black leather vest reads the name Axel.

I freeze in place, but he winks at me then pulls me in close to him before I can register the feel of his arms around me. His lips come down bruisingly hard on mine. I’m taken by surprise but decide what the hell. My lips move against his. This strange guy has lips soft as pillows. Just when I am getting into the kiss he pulls back. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” His thumb brushes under my lip, wiping away my smeared lipstick.

“Um… you’re welcome.” I say the first thing that pops in my head, sounding like an idiot.

He chuckles softly then pulls a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his biker vest and lights one up.

I study him unsure what to do. I hope he isn’t one of the men responsible for murdering my father.

Did Santa really just bring me a biker for Christmas?