Chapter Four

Layla

The hum of television and Alfie’s latest video game was in my one ear while my other ear was having metal blasted into it from my headphones. I was trying my best to work on the homework I had been given. I was behind because it was already halfway through the semester.

“Layla?”

Cyrus. I hadn’t seen him today. He had been in the garage when I got home. I swear he was avoiding the inside because Mum was still unpacking.

“Yeah, Dad?” I called back, not taking my eyes off the math work I was doing.

“Can you come outside for a bit?” He was speaking from the back door. I got up, slipping my heels back on. What did he want?

I hadn’t gotten in trouble at school. I was going to do my best at school, like they wanted. I had to. They were expecting it.

I walked out the back door and saw the garage door open. Cyrus always lived in his garage. It only made sense he was moving into his new one.

I frowned while walking and realized Cyrus wasn’t by himself. I took in the two rather large guys… nah, screw that, they weren’t rather large, they were fucking huge! Especially the one to Cyrus’s right. He was standing looking dominant in the unpacked garage.

I glanced at the patch on his chest. ‘President’ was proudly emblazoned on his chest and under that was his mother charter. Looks like I was looking at the Reaper.

“This is Reaper and Brad.” Cyrus introduced us. “And this is my daughter, Layla.”

I stood awkwardly in the doorway. I didn’t want to get an inch closer to them. They looked like they could snap my neck with the least bit of effort.

“Thought you only had a son?” Reaper looked at Cyrus.

“I’m Dad’s adoptive daughter,” I answered his question.

“So much for your speech on never getting tied down.” Reaper looked at Cyrus who shrugged his shoulders. Reaper then looked at me. “So, start explaining why I am having a conversation with you?” He said that like he would snap my neck for wasting his time.

“I don’t know.” I looked at Cyrus for answers.

“Talking figures, Layla.” Cyrus said that as if it should answer all my questions. My mind slowly clicked over what he said. I repeated it in my head.

My mind slowly ticked. “You’re talking percentages.” I clicked together what he was asking me. “What’s the question?”

Cyrus didn’t do numbers. Cyrus had Dyslexia. He didn’t like people knowing. So he just handed anything to do with numbers and writing to me.

At the age of eighteen, I was laundering the club’s money.

“So, what are they offering?” I asked Cyrus.

“You pay us twenty-five percent,” Reaper answered my question, sounding as rude and as unfriendly as he looked.

I scoffed. “That’s rich, what is your second offer?” Twenty-five percent of the deadly dozen’s income was rude! Like him! Rude!

“No second offer. You are in my town. My rules,” Reaper coldly reminded me of the facts.

He was speaking like he was dealing with the junkies that lived off the crap he sold. I crossed my arms. “That would be an acceptable offer if you were dealing with a gang or another one of your associates.”

“What makes you different?” the man called Brad barked at me. Most women, hell, even men, would flinch at that tone. But I was used to Cyrus barking at me with a nastier tone when he was in a bad mood.

“The clubs are at peace, right?” I kept my voice free from nerves. I would not let them shake me. Cyrus was counting on me making this deal. I knew that now as he stayed quiet.

Reaper glanced at Cyrus and then nodded his head.

“Clubs at peace means you’re basically like brother charters. Brother charters don’t profit. Only cover losses. You will only lose ten percent. Which means what we pay is ten percent.” I put down the facts and both the men seemed rattled by my understanding of their world. “I suggest fifteen percent. Ten to cover losses plus five out of respect.” I gave them a much more reasonable offer.

Reaper grunted. “She knows her shit, Cyrus.” He looked back at me. “Only five out of respect?”

“Two because you are a brother charter. Plus three because you are a mother charter. Equals five. Are you challenging my math?” I did math really well. I did money laundering really well. I always put the club’s interest first because that’s what Cyrus wanted.

Cyrus was the dad I never had. Which was why I called him Dad. He was my dad. I loved him. I looked up to him. He loved his club. Which meant I respected the club. I did what he needed me to do. I didn’t question it.

Reaper did something then that I didn’t know he was capable of; he smiled.

He then nodded his head. “Fifteen percent. It’s acceptable.” He extended a hand to Cyrus, who shook it. “Your daughter knows your business interests.”

“That she does.” Cyrus looked at me. “You can go, Layla.”

I nodded my head. Looks like I was no longer wanted.

“Layla?”

I froze and turned around to look at Reaper. I arched my eyebrow at him.

“It was nice to meet you.” He gave me another small smile.

“Yeah, you too. You live up to your reputation as well.” I smiled at him and then spun around, taking off for the house.

***

Hannah was extremely smart. She put my math to shame. I don’t know how she was managing to be in advanced math in a year above her grade.

She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and focused harder on her work. I, however, was bored shitless. My brain turned to mush as soon as it clicked an hour into the module.

I didn’t know much about Hannah. She had a sister and a brother. A brother. That fact kept repeating in my head. Tyson. We had a few classes together. Actually, more than a few. The only one we didn’t have together was math.

I don’t know why I took notice of the fact he was in my classes, but I had. I had also made sure I was nowhere near him.

He was insanely physically fit. His muscles were the first thing I noticed about him. Second was his eyes. Those blue eyes with his dark black hair had me wanting to stare at him.

In fact, I had been gawking at him when he didn’t realize.

I was drumming my pen on the table, which I stopped doing when I realized I was doing it, because I didn’t want to annoy Hannah.

“Want to talk about it?”

I glanced at Hannah. “Um, nothing is on my mind.” Literally nothing of importance was on my mind. Unless you call thinking about her brother and his deep blue eyes and short-cut black hair nothing. And that tattoo on his neck.

The tattoo was openly stating that he stood against the law. He was part of the one percent of bikers that didn’t follow the law.

He must be a biker to have that tattoo but he was too young to have such strong connections to a club. And he wasn’t part of the deadly dozen that was just setting up.

I looked back at Hannah and noticed her move, uncomfortable. We had been spending a lot of time together lately. She could easily be pinned as my best friend. We were eating together, studying together, and she had been sleeping at my house.

I don’t know where her parents thought she was spending so much time. But if they had any idea I was linked with bikers, I doubted they would be encouraging it.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked her. I had thought she had been studying hard and just focusing on her studies. But clearly something was on her mind.

“I, um…” She nervously glanced at me. “Nothing.”

I shook my head. “Nope, don’t do that. We don’t do that to each other.” We had always been honest with each other. She knew about Cyrus, she knew everything. She hadn’t judged me. Maybe because her brother was a biker?

I, however, didn’t know much about her and her family. I didn’t really question her on it because she didn’t want to talk about it. I knew I didn’t want to talk about my real dad. Cyrus was the only father I recognized.

I saw the tears swell up in her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She nervously tapped her pen. I swear those tears were close to falling.

“Come on, Hannah, we don’t lie to each other.” I gently spoke to her and then placed a hand on her shaking knee. “Whatever it is, maybe I can help.”

Whatever was on her mind, well, maybe I could help? I cared about Hannah. She was sweet and gentle and really smart. Plus she was the only girl on earth I would willingly tell Cyrus about. All other girls in my life either went after Cyrus’s men or judged me.

Hannah looked up from her notes. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Okay... I frowned. “Who would I tell?” Was it about a boy she liked? Why would I tell anyone anything she said? “You do realize whatever you tell me is kept private. It’s between you and I. Hell, I trust that you won’t go babbling to everyone I’m a biker’s daughter.”

She smiled. Like she wasn’t judging me on that fact.

I lowered my voice. “Plus, I’m trusting that you won’t tell anyone I launder money for a club.”

She nodded her head. “I wouldn’t tell anyone your business.”

“Well, same for you. I wouldn’t tell anyone anything you said.”

“Okay.” She looked around the classroom. Then looked back at me when she was satisfied that everyone was busy. “I’m sick.”

“What with a cold still?” I frowned, not understanding why that would be a secret.

“No.” She glanced down at her hands. “They want to do biopsy.”

Biopsy? You don’t get a biopsy for a cold. I looked at her closer. “On what?”

She looked up and a tear ran down her cheek. She was quick to wipe it off. “My breast.”

Shit. She wouldn’t need to see my panic. She was my friend. I didn’t want her in pain and suddenly I was seeing a new layer to Hannah. She was really fucking strong.

“I had an ultrasound last week. It’s come back as suspicious,” Hannah mumbled. “They want to do a biopsy now.”

“When is it booked?” I hid my panic. She was way too young to be facing these kinds of problems.

“Today at two. I don’t want to go.” The dread was clear in her voice. Along with nerves and a hell of a lot of fear. She was scared.

“Have you told anyone?”

“No. You’re the only one.” She nervously ran a hand through her hair. “I just want to pretend like it isn’t happening but every morning I wake up and feel it, and my nightmare repeats.”

“You’ve done a really good job hiding it.” I couldn’t believe she had kept it from me—let alone her family! How could she be facing this alone! Well, starting from now that wouldn’t be the case. “I’m coming.”

Her eyes snapped up. “What?”

“To your appointment. I’m coming.” I would not let her face this by herself. She needed a friend. I was her friend. “You would do it for me if the situations were reversed.”

“I didn’t tell you to rope you into coming.” She spoke softly and sounded alarmed. I knew that hadn’t been the purpose in her telling me.

“I know you didn’t.” I smiled at her. “But you aren’t facing this by yourself. Every appointment you have, I’m coming to. Trust me, I’m great at getting coffees.” Whenever Cyrus was beaten up and put in the hospital, I would be the chief coffee getter. “Guessing you won’t be telling your family?”

She shook her head. “I’m never telling them.”

That meant Tyson didn’t know.

I knew not to fight her on it. Friends supported friends’ decisions. “You’ve only told me?”

She nodded her head.

“In that case, I am going to be glued to your side. Every appointment you have, I’m coming.” I sat up in my chair. “No more secrets?”

“You really like honesty, don’t you?”

“Live and breathe it. So we have a deal?”

“You’ll get sick of the appointments. I’m sick of them already.”

“Never. I love spending time with you.” I grinned. “How about we skip our next class, run and get an early lunch, and then get to your appointment. We can have a Netflix binge marathon tonight.”

“So, I can stay over?”

“Yeah, of course you can.” She didn’t even have to ask that. We were so passed that. “If it is okay with your parents.”

“They don’t even notice when I’m not around.” She smiled dimly at the table and I saw the tears build up in her eyes. “I went home last weekend and Mum actually thought I had spent the whole weekend in my room. She didn’t even realize I hadn’t been home.”

Hannah had spent the whole weekend with me. I didn’t know what it was like to not have your parents breathing down your neck about where you are. If Cyrus could put a tracker on me, he would. He hated it when I went out.

Which was why I spent so much time at home.

“What about Tyson? Surely he notices?” For some reason, I don’t know why, but I had a feeling Tyson would be there for her.

She looked at me. “He’s busy with the club.”

Of course, she knew he was a part of a biker’s club. He proudly walked around with that tattoo on his neck. I also noticed how others avoided him, like they were scared of him and he also had more tattoos running up his arms.

“Well, their loss. Means I score you.” I nudged her shoulder. “And you get the pleasure of watching Alfie play his games.”

“He is getting better at COD.”

“I’m surprised you knew a game he didn’t.”

She shrugged. “It’s old.”

“Yeah, well, you are good at it.” I took my hand off her knee. “So, food after this?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She sighed. “I’m actually thankful you are coming because I’m really nervous. And plus it means I get out of walking there.”

“You’ve been walking to your appointments?”

“Yep. And I hate it.”

“Well, I’ll personally be driving you to every one now.” I grinned at her. “And you can’t stop me. But I do have plans for Saturday night. I’m being dragged to a club party.”

Cyrus was making it mandatory I went. Something about not seeing me enough.

“Any club I would know?”

“It’s just the deadly dozen drinking it up with Satan’s Sons. Should be a boring night.” I shrugged. A night filled with drunken bikers. Not that one of them would make a move on me. I would be super glued to Cyrus’s lap.

Hannah grinned at me like she knew something I didn’t. I frowned seeing it. Why would she be grinning at that? Me suffering with bikers for a night shouldn’t have anyone grinning.

***

Reaper was laughing with Brad and Cameron, who I’d just met, and Cyrus was busy telling him the rest of my misfortune when I went on a run with them back home. I had only gone on that run because Cyrus needed me.

The story did have its points. There was a midget involved, a gun, and Cyrus’s personal favorite: me walking in on a threesome.

Cyrus had his hand on my back and was keeping me on his lap while he kept telling them the details.

I sipped my beer and tuned out the loud bikers, the roaring music and the clashing of pool cues with balls. I was going to my own planet. One that I had been spending a lot of time in since Hannah told me what was happening.

We were waiting on the results of the biopsy. Next Thursday we should get them, which felt like forever away. I kept reassuring her everything was fine and would be fine. But she didn’t believe me.

She was spending more time at my house than she did her own and she said her parents had no idea. How could they not notice that their sixteen–soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old was missing?

I would know if Hannah was missing. But she kept quiet. Kept a low profile at school. I think she did it on purpose so no one would miss her if she did go missing.

I snapped my eyes off the pool table and looked up at the bar. I was slightly surprised to find a pair of blue eyes glaring at me. In fact, if looks could kill, I’d be dead. Why was Tyson glaring at me?

I could take in his vest from here. He was a Satan’s Sons member. Made sense we would come across each other at one of these events. What didn’t make sense was why I was suddenly so nervous and throwing down the rest of my beer.

“So, Layla, which was your favorite: watching your old man show someone down, or witnessing a threesome with a midget?” Reaper asked.

“I was terrified seeing Dad kill for the first time.” I leaned on the table, talking over the music and loudness of the crowd. “But that midget threesome will forever haunt me.”

Cyrus chuckled. “And here I thought my ability to kill a man would have her running.”

I shrugged.

“Tyson. Finally back I see.” Reaper looked to his left. I didn’t even want to look. If Tyson was standing there, I did not want to see that glare again.

Did he think I was invading his territory or something by being here? Whatever his problem was, I didn’t want to encourage it or make it worse.

God, those blue eyes glaring like that would have any sane person running. So I leaned back into Cyrus. Tyson shouldn’t even so much as glance in my direction again now.

If Cyrus thought for a second someone was threatening me, then his gun would be out and down that poor man’s mouth. If Tyson knew what was good for him, he better bloody stop glaring at me.