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CORRUPTED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Angel’s Keepers MC) by April Lust (51)


 

Parker

 

“And you’re sure you’ll be okay there today? I would feel a lot better if I were there with you.”

 

Ellie laughed softly. I could hear her laughter on my end of the phone just like she was in front of me, and the sound went straight to my cock. She had the sort of deep, throaty laugh that turns a man on.

 

“What would you do? Sit at the counter all day? That would be a surefire way to keep the customers outside. Jimmy would throw a fit.” I knew she was only kidding, though she wasn’t totally wrong. Her boss wouldn’t have liked it too much if I hung around.

 

“I could hang out outside, then. In your car. He can’t give me shit about that, can he?”

 

Ellie laughed again. “Don’t worry so much, all right? I’m only going in until five. I’m sure he’s at work until then. If there’s one thing he would never miss, it’s a day at the office.”

 

“Yeah, with a broken nose, though? I don’t know about that.” I knew I had broken it. I had felt the bones crunch under my fist, had heard the sound. There was no mistaking a sound like that. It had been fucking incredible, laying him out flat. I would do it again if I could.

 

“Hmm. That’s true. If I know him, he would go in just to get sympathy from the women around the office.” I heard the loathing in her voice, and I couldn’t blame her. He was worth loathing.

 

“Okay. If you say you’re safe, you’re safe.” I made a note to get another security detail out there—this time, I wouldn’t have them leave before her shift was over. I didn’t care if she knew they were there or not. I’d feel a lot better with somebody keeping an eye on her, and would deal with her attitude later.

 

“I’m safe. But thank you.” She giggled a little. “And thank you for last night.”

 

There went my cock again, stirring at the thought. “I should be the one to thank you.”

 

“Okay. Thank me, then.”

 

I smirked. “How about I thank you later on? At your place?”

 

She groaned. “Sounds good. Let’s take it to the bedroom this time, though. I don’t need my kid getting a lesson in human anatomy so soon.”

 

“Copy that.” I didn’t know what got into me—she was right, of course, if the kid woke up she would’ve seen us. I had to have her at that very minute. It was like some animal force took control of me. If I had been thinking clearly, I never would have risked it.

 

We got off the phone then, since she had to get out of the car and into the diner, and I had to get some work done. It was my job to take inventory at the clubhouse once a month. Weapons, ammo, that sort of thing. We kept everything in a triple-locked shed behind the place, just in case anybody got a little handsy and decided to take what we had. I was the only one who knew the combinations to the locks on the door, too. It was really a retooled bomb shelter—Ryder had insisted on it, so nobody could break in. People had tried, but once word got around that it was impossible, they’d left us alone.

 

I stood there with my clipboard, making sure the numbers matched up. We had an entire arsenal back there—weapons we’d collected from other clubs, weapons we’d purchased for ourselves, enough ammo to keep us locked and loaded until kingdom come. There was something about standing in the middle of all that potential destruction.

 

Mason, meanwhile, kept a lookout just outside the door. “So,” he called in, “how are things going with that girl?”

 

“Why are you so interested in my sex life?” I asked, checking off a few boxes after counting the boxes of shells.

 

“I don’t know. I’m bored shitless out here. I wish you would hurry up.”

 

“I’m going as fast as I can, and I’d go faster if you’d keep your mouth shut.” I didn’t want to talk about Ellie. She wasn’t like one of the club groupies, up for grabs, topic for conversation. I wasn’t about to compare her to other women like we did when we slept with the groupies. I wasn’t trying to one-up Mason the way we normally did with each other. No bragging, no locker room talk. I didn’t feel that way about her. I didn’t know what I felt.

 

“I wish you would at least tell me how it felt to break that fucker’s nose,” he said.

 

“Oh, that felt awesome.” That much I would talk about to anybody who asked. “He had it coming. I wish it would heal up real fast so I could break it again.”

 

Mason laughed. “I know what you mean, man. I used to feel that way about my stepfather. He would scream at my mom and hit me, and when I was a kid I wished so hard that I was bigger so I could do it right back to him. I wished I could give him back everything he gave us.”

 

I left the shed, locking it behind me. “Did you ever?”

 

“Oh, hell yes. When I got big enough. He never touched me or my mom again.” I heard the vicious sound in Mason’s voice. So he knew how I felt.

 

“That’s what it was like last night. I wanted him to get up and try to fight me, you know?”

 

Mason laughed. “He’s stupid, but he’s not crazy.”

 

“Yeah, I wonder about that, too.” I remembered the way he had screamed at Ellie, how crazy he looked and sounded. Like a mad dog that needed to be put down. I wished I could be the one to do it.

 

I was still thinking about it as I walked into the clubhouse, and it must have shown on my face because Candace whistled when she saw me. “Boy, somebody pissed you off.”

 

I grinned. “How could you tell?”

 

“You look like you wanna murder somebody.” She sat on a stool at the bar, watching me. “Is it that guy? Ellie’s husband?”

 

“Why is everybody so obsessed with my life right now?” I turned my attention to the bottles behind the bar. I had to inventory those, too, and finish the job in the cellar, where we stored cases of liquor. It was thirsty business, being an outlaw.

 

“Because you’re always there to help everybody else, and you never ask for help or even talk about yourself. Sorry, but I’m getting a little bored consoling the girls whose hearts Mason has broken.”

 

Mason chuckled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s because I’m too busy being in love with you to commit to them. Don’t you know that?”

 

“Don’t you let my old man catch you talking that way,” she advised.

 

“I heard him.” Ryder’s voice rang loud and clear from the office. “I just don’t give a shit. He’s not man enough for my old lady.”

 

Mason turned a deep shade of red. I turned away, laughing.

 

I didn’t like feeling like everybody’s science experiment, like they wanted to know what I would do or say next with Ellie and Connor. I hated that so many people knew what went on in my private life. I was never a public person. I guessed when a man’s fiancée died in front of the people who have become his family, they paid attention to what he did after that.

 

I thought about her, and I couldn’t help the familiar twinge of guilt that bloomed in my chest. What would she think of Ellie? Of Isabella? Of the shit with Connor? I didn’t think she would be happy I’d punched him out, but she wouldn’t have made me feel bad either. She hated women beaters just as badly as I did—she used to see the effects of their fists in the ER all the time, and she would come home crying some nights after seeing the same woman for the third or fourth time. With the same lies as the first time, she’d say. A fall down the stairs. A door. A cabinet. I didn’t think she would blame me for hurting Connor the way I had.

 

But would she blame me for sleeping with Ellie? I believed she would want me to be happy. She was never like me. If the tables were turned and I was the one leaving Kelly behind, I would haunt the fuck out of whoever she slept with after me. I would make that asshole’s life a living hell. But Kelly was different. She’d want me to be happy. Just knowing she would tore me up inside.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Candace asked, and her voice sounded a lot softer than it had before.

 

I waited a while before turning around, pretending to be busier than I was. “I’m thinking about the amount of Jack Daniels we go through in a month. We’re either gonna have to stage an intervention or buy a distillery.”

 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

 

I sighed. She wasn’t gonna let it go, obviously. I wished she would. Turning, I looked at her. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

 

“I want you to say you’ll think hard about being with this woman. I know you care about her. You don’t have to say you do—you don’t like to talk that way. I get it. And she’d be good for you. But you can’t just walk in and out of her life. She’s the type who needs somebody to settle down with. She needs a good, strong man. I know you’re that kind of man, but I think you forgot who you are for a while there.”

 

I scoffed. “I know who I am.”

 

“You know who you think you are,” she said, her voice low. “I’m not trying to, ya know, shrink you or anything. I’m not trying to break you down. I just want you to be honest with yourself. You shut down a little a couple of years ago. I won’t talk about it, but you know what I mean. You gotta get back to being the person you used to be if you’re ever gonna be happy.”

 

I wanted to snarl at her. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business. She didn’t know shit about me or what I went through. They all thought they did, but none of them had the slightest idea.

 

“You tell me how you would act if you held the only person you ever loved in your arms as they died,” I muttered. I poured a drink—a little early in the day for a shot, but I needed one to calm my nerves. Warmth flooded my veins and I felt a little steadier.

 

“You don’t think I know what happened? I was here. I saw it. I saw you. I can’t imagine how you felt, but I saw what it turned you into. And I’m telling you, that’s not you. You have it in you to get close to somebody again, but you can’t just back out when you decide you’re scared to feel for somebody again.”

 

“I’m not scared. Don’t ever say that to me.”

 

“Fine, fine. You’re actually a brutal badass, then. You’re a violent sociopath. Whatever you want me to believe.” She held up her hands, surrendering.

 

I sighed. My shoulders slumped. “I’m not that either. Well, not the sociopath part. I don’t even know what that is.”

 

“It’s nothing good.” She smiled softly. “And I know you’re not. You’re one of the good ones, or else you wouldn’t have acted like you did after Kelly died. It hurt you badly. I get it. I’m just saying, if you wanna be with this woman, you gotta let yourself feel again the way you did about Kelly. You can’t hold her at arm’s length. Get what I mean? She’s been hurt, too. She doesn’t need more pain from you.”

 

I saw what she meant, and I didn’t like it. She was telling me to shit or get off the can, basically. To decide how I felt and go with it. Only I didn’t know how I felt, or if I wanted to go with it. Did that mean I had to leave Ellie alone?

 

I thought about it as I went down to the cellar, walking down the rickety, narrow stairs. I didn’t want to leave Ellie alone. She meant too much to me. I felt too good when I was with her—not just physically, when we were fucking, though that would have been enough to stick around. It was just that good. But I felt good inside, too. Better about myself. I liked spending time with her and the kid, and I didn’t think I liked kids before I met her. What else would they show me about myself? It was a scary thought, but it was something I didn’t mind thinking about as long as I could be alone while doing it.

 

That wasn’t my day to be left alone, I guessed, since Ryder followed me to the cellar. “How’s inventory?” he asked.

 

“Fine. We’re gonna need a new order with the liquor store, of course, but I think we’ll be okay until it comes in. Unless the guys decide to finish off the last case of Jack.”

 

“You never know,” he said, sitting on the steps. “With those alkies? All they need is an excuse.”

 

I laughed. “I wouldn’t call them alkies. They’re just…heavy drinkers.”

 

“Same difference when you’re the one shelling out the money for the liquor. Something to remember when your time comes.” I hated when he talked like that. It would just be that I’d take over the club when he left. It would mean he couldn’t run it anymore. That bothered me more than the idea of being president. That, I could handle.

 

“Is there something you’re not telling me about your health?” I asked. “I mean it. Be honest. It’s just you and me down here. Nobody else needs to know.”

 

He shrugged—but he didn’t tell me I was wrong. That was my first clue that I had the right idea.

 

“Tell me,” I said.

 

“It’s nothing serious. Just my heart.”

 

“Oh, that’s not serious,” I said, leaning against the wall. “That’s nothing.”

 

“Well, it is nothing. Too much shitty food, too much smoking. You notice how I cut back?”

 

“I noticed you only smoke one or two cigars a day,” I said, smirking.

 

“Hey, that’s cutting back. Anyway, it’s because of my heart. It’s not in the best shape, but it’s not like it’s gonna kill me tomorrow either. Doc wants me to cut back on a lot of shit. Not just the food and the smoking.”

 

“Like what else, then?”

 

“Like the club.” He stared at me. “He wants me to step down. Says I can’t handle it anymore.”

 

I gulped. That wasn’t what I expected to hear. I thought he had a few more years, maybe more. “But it’s up to you, right?”

 

He shook his head. “Wait until you get married.” I understood what he meant. Candace was on him about it, too. I had a feeling she was trying to get me settled down before I took over.

 

“What are you gonna do?” I asked.

 

“You tell me, prez. What do you think I should do?”