Unattainable Read online

  Cage’s eyes darkened and the muscles in his arms began to twitch and jump under his skin.

  “Bitch,” he hissed. “What the fuck do you want to hear? I ain’t gonna tell you that I’m not gonna fuck up and I ain’t gonna tell you that you’re the most beautiful fuckin’ woman in the entire world! Yeah, you’re too fuckin’ skinny, you ain’t got shit for tits, and you look like a goddamn motherfuckin’ hippie!”

  My lower lip started to tremble as I fought back my blossoming tears. Seeing this, Cage closed his eyes and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

  “Tegen,” he said and took a long step forward. Wrapping his hands around my upper arms, he bent his head, bringing us face-to-face.

  “But, babe, you’re the most beautiful woman in the whole goddamn world, to me. You’re all I fuckin’ want, Teacup. You got the hottest pair of eyes I’ve ever fuckin’ seen and your tattoos, babe, they’re sexy as all hell, and your goddamn hipbones, fuckin’ shit, me grabbin’ on to them, fuckin’ you slow, drives me straight-up crazy.”

  Air exploded from my lungs in the form of a whimper and my body, suddenly exhausted, slumped forward against Cage’s. I couldn’t hold back my tears now; they were streaming freely down my cheeks.

  “You know what else I fuckin’ love?” he asked in a growling whisper. “I love your dirty fuckin’ mouth. I love the fact that you don’t hold back, that you’re tough as fuckin’ nails on the outside, but on the inside you’re still my Teacup.”

  “St-stop,” I whispered, unable to contain all the emotion welling up inside of me.

  “No,” he growled. “You need to hear this shit. You need to fuckin’ get it through your thick fuckin’ skull that I want those skinny-ass legs wrapped around me, I want your tiny fuckin’ tits in my hands and in my goddamn mouth, and I don’t give a fuck what you’re lookin’ like as long as you’re lookin’ like it by my fuckin’ side.”

  Then Cage tilted my head back and grinned down at me. “You fuckin’ feel me, babe?” he said, mimicking his father.

  I stopped crying and started glaring. “Don’t you dare act like your father!”

  Cage crushed me to him and burst out laughing. “Reel it in, Teacup. Reel it the fuck in.”

  • • •

  Cage held Tegen tightly to him and breathed out a sigh of relief.

  She was a hot fucking mess. She was crying, trembling in his arms, yet still glaring up at him with the combined anger of a thousand spurned women alight in her eyes. But he didn’t care. She was his hot mess.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m on the road for a fuckin’ month and this is what I’m comin’ home to?”

  Tegen froze in his arms and he glanced over his shoulder. The man standing less than fifteen feet away, a man he’d known his entire life, was almost unrecognizable to him. His dark hair was much longer than it had ever been, greasy, pulled back in a ponytail, and he’d aged a good ten years in the few he’d been gone. He looked tired, beaten down, and extremely angry.

  “This what you been doin’ on your trips home, Tegen?” ZZ said, lifting his chin in Cage’s direction. “Fuckin’ brothers?”

  Cage released Tegen and turned around. Keeping his eye on ZZ, he wasn’t feeling the guy’s body language, so he bent down and grabbed Tegen’s clothing off the floor.

  “Get dressed,” he said, shoving the clothes in her direction.

  ZZ’s mouth curved into a cruel grin. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Been up inside that more times than I can count. Bitch is in my fuckin’ bed. Or didn’t you know that?”

  Cage’s already tense body tightened further. “Yeah, I fuckin’ knew. And she ain’t in your bed no more.”

  ZZ’s grin only grew. “Yeah? She in yours now?”

  “Z,” Tegen said, tripping over her jeans as she awkwardly tried to get dressed. “I tried to call you a million times.”

  ZZ’s eyes shot to Tegen and he lost his grin. “You tryin’ to tell me somethin’?” he asked darkly.

  Cage stepped in front of Tegen before she could answer. “I’m tryin’ to tell you somethin’,” he said. “Don’t fuckin’ look at her.”

  “Shut up, Cage,” Tegen said, pushing out from behind him. Fully dressed, she stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “This was not how this was supposed to happen.”

  Cage watched as his old friend’s eyes grew hard, cold, and unfocused. “You’re one dumb bitch,” ZZ spat and Cage went rigid. “If you’re thinkin’ he gives two fucks about you. Fucker is just like his sister and they’re both just like their old man.”

  “Don’t bring my sister into this shit,” Cage gritted out.

  ZZ laughed coldly. “Your fuckin’ whore of a sister tossed my ass to the curb like I was week-old garbage she couldn’t get rid of quick enough.

  “And you,” he said, turning back to Tegen. “So that’s fuckin’ it? Me and you, these past years, it meant jack-fuckin’-shit to you?”

  Cage looked to Tegen who was staring openmouthed at ZZ, her shock plain as day. “Z,” she whispered. “I didn’t think…it wasn’t…we weren’t that…”

  ZZ smiled bitterly. “Yeah,” he said coldly. “I guess fuckin’ not. But you are so fuckin’ wrong if you think this asshole ain’t gonna put your whorin’ ass on the curb, just like his sister did to me.”

  Cage had been feeling sort of bad for the guy, because Danny had done him wrong. But first the fucker called his sister a whore, then his woman, and not only that he accused him of not really caring about Tegen…

  He lost his last shred of self-control. “Get the fuck out!” he bellowed, reaching for his gun as he stormed forward. He wasn’t going to shoot ZZ, just scare him the fuck out of here.

  “Cage!” Tegen shrieked from behind him.

  Cage stumbled backward as searing pain shot through his chest. Another crack and more pain exploded throughout his body. He stared dumbly at ZZ, at the gun still pointed at him as he lost his footing. Then he was staring at the floor as it came rushing up to meet his face and for a moment everything went blurry.

  “Cage! Cage! CAGE!”

  He blinked furiously, trying to rid the cloudiness that had overcome his vision, and could sort of make out Tegen beside him. He could feel her gripping his arm, trying to roll him over; he could hear her screaming, sobbing, and crying; and off in the distance, he could hear sirens.

  They weren’t going to make it in time. He was trying to hang on but warm blood was flooding his mouth, a stark contrast to the freezing cold taking root inside his veins.

  “Cage,” she sobbed. “Please wake up, Cage. Please, please, wake up!”

  He couldn’t answer her. He tried but nothing happened; nothing was working.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” she screamed. “No! NO! Fuck! Don’t leave me! FUCK YOU, CAGE! Please don’t leave me, you stupid fucker! I fucking love you and you can’t leave me!”

  He tried to smile; maybe he did, he didn’t know.

  Then everything went dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “How many times do we have to go over this?” I screamed.

  The two police detectives, a man and a woman both dressed in plain clothes, glanced at each other before glancing back down at me.

  “Ms. Matthews,” the man said calmly. “I know you’re upset, but what you’re telling us doesn’t make any sense. Now, which one of the men are you romantically involved with?”

  Shrieking, I buried my face in my hands.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Ms. Matthews,” the woman said. “I understand how hard this is right now, but we need to know everything that happened.”

  Of course they did. They had to know right this motherfucking second. Who cared that Cage was bleeding out all over an operating table? Not them. They’d taken one look at the leather cut the doctors had handed them, read the words “Hell’s Horsemen,” and immediately thought the worst of him.

  Who cared that I just watched the man I loved get shot twice in the chest, cough and wheeze and spit bl
ood all over himself? Who cared that I watched as his eyes rolled back and his body went limp, or that I had to stand by and watch as the paramedics jammed a tube into his lungs to help him breathe, or that he was now in surgery as trauma surgeons attempted to remove the bullets and repair the damage to his lungs?

  These fuckers didn’t care.

  “Cage,” I hissed, jerking my head up. “I am involved with Cage.”

  “And Mr. Jeffries?” the man asked. “What was your relationship with him?”

  “ZZ,” I said. “And he was my roommate. And just FYI, if you go around asking about Zachary Jeffries, no one is going to know who the fuck you are talking about!”

  “ZZ, then,” the woman said, squeezing my shoulder. “Were you ever involved with him? Is that why he shot Cage?”

  Embarrassed, I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

  God, this was all my fault. All of it. Why couldn’t I do anything right? What the fuck was so wrong with me that I couldn’t even coexist like a normal fucking human being?

  “Tegen!”

  At the sound of my mother’s voice, my body spurred into action. Shaking off the detective, I jumped out of my seat and went running toward the reception area where my mother met me halfway and threw her arms around me. Suddenly, I was roughly yanked out of her arms and Deuce was gripping my arm painfully tight and bearing down on me, his blue eyes burning. “Where is he?” he growled.

  “I-I…” I swallowed hard and tried again. “He’s in surgery,” I finished quickly.

  “Not Cage!” he shouted, shaking me. “Where the fuck is ZZ?”

  My eyes filled. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “He just left…he shot him and left.”

  “Deuce,” Eva said quietly, appearing beside us. “Let her go.”

  Deuce ignored her and continued to glare down at me. “This is your fuckin’ fault, you stupid fuckin’ bitch, and if my kid dies in there, you’re fuckin’ next, you feel me?”

  My stomach seized and my tears spilled over.

  “Let her go!” my mother cried.

  “Dammit!” Eva yelled, trying to pry Deuce off of me. “You’re hurting her! Let her go!”

  “Is there a problem here?” Both detectives had joined the fray and were both frowning heavily at Deuce.

  “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he barked in their direction. “My kid is who the fuck knows where with holes in him and you pantsuit-wearin’ motherfucks are askin’ me if there’s a motherfuckin’ problem?”

  Again, the two detectives glanced at each other.

  “Cole West,” the male said, his voice flat, his expression clearly repulsed.

  “Yeah,” he snarled. “You wanna fuckin’ autograph?”

  “Either you release Ms. Matthews,” the female warned, “or I will arrest you for assault.”

  “Baby,” Eva said softly, running her hand up his arm and gripping his bicep. “This isn’t Tegen’s fault and even if it was, this isn’t helping Cage at all.”

  Nostrils flaring, glaring down at me, Deuce yanked me roughly forward and up onto my tiptoes.

  “Get the fuck outta this hospital,” he gritted out. “Stay the fuck away from my boy and my fuckin’ club. I see you, Tegen, I fuckin’ so much as smell you, I will crack your fuckin’ skull wide open.”

  With a hard shove, he sent me stumbling sideways into my mother.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered loudly, gripping tightly to my middle. “Right now, baby.”

  “Don’t leave town, Ms. Matthews,” the male detective called out.

  Shaking, I turned my body into my mother and let her guide me toward the elevators.

  “I mean it, D,” Deuce bellowed from behind us. “I see her anywhere near—”

  My mother skidded to a stop and whirled around. “You’ll never see her again!” she spat angrily. “You’ll never see me or my kids again!

  “And if this is anyone’s fault,” she continued. “It’s mine for bringing an innocent little girl around a criminal motorcycle club full of self-important assholes who think with their dicks and their guns instead of their brains!”

  On our way to the elevators, we passed by Danny, Ripper, Cox, and Jase, and I turned back toward my mother, refusing to meet their eyes.

  “D!” Jase called out.

  My mother picked up her pace.

  “D, what the fuck!”

  Stopping again, she spun around to face Jase as he quickly approached us, and pointed her index finger at him. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she hissed. “I’m not married to you, I don’t share a child with you, I have absolutely nothing in this world tying me to you.”

  Jase’s eyes widened. “But you said we could talk.”

  “I said that before my daughter was forced to experience yet another violent result of your club, and then publicly humiliated and shunned by the only family she’s ever had because of it!”

  “D,” he whispered, raising his arm and holding out his hand. “Don’t do this.”

  Setting me aside, my mother stepped forward and slapped Jase’s hand away.

  “Come near me again,” she spat, her features twisting with disgust and hatred. “And I will kill you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Find what you love and let it kill you.

  — Charles Bukowski

  One year later…

  Time passes differently when you’re stuck in emotional limbo. It’s slower. Hours go by at a snail’s pace, your feet drag through the days, the weeks; years take forever to come and go. You don’t see things as they are but instead you see them as the way you feel. Things are dark, heavy, even the air feels weighted down. People aren’t smiling at you, they’re whispering about you, they’re laughing.

  Not even the sunniest day can overcome the shield of gray skies you’ve built around yourself.

  I spent nearly all my life stuck inside an emotional limbo of my own making, constantly waiting for my life to begin, yet completely unaware that with each passing year, I’d remained cemented in the same frame of mind, unable to break free from my own binds.

  But once you’ve broken free, the world speeds back up, the days fly by too fast and the nights even faster. You see things differently, in color as opposed to Technicolor. The sun begins to peek out from behind the clouds and suddenly you can see again; you notice people, places, and things you’ve never noticed before. Even the stupid stuff, unimportant in the bigger scheme yet utterly important in that one single, solitary moment, but only because you noticed it and it affected you in a way that made you feel something.

  You see a smile for what it really is.

  You see people for who they really are.

  You know love for the first time.

  But most importantly, you can see yourself through the eyes of an unbiased mind and you realized that all that self-loathing, that wishing and wanting, the years spent trying to become someone, anyone else than who you were, was never necessary because there had been nothing wrong with you in the first place. All you’d ended up doing by running and hiding was hurting yourself and everyone else around you.

  “Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Tegen?” Christopher asked.

  My smile grew. “I’m so proud of you,” I told him as I rolled over on our picnic blanket and reached out to tickle his belly.

  Giggling, he swatted my hand away. “Mommy’s proud of me too,” he said.

  “Everyone is proud of you,” I teased. “Mister, I started kindergarten this week.”

  “I miss being home with Mommy.”

  “Aww,” I cooed, lifting my hand to ruffle through his long red hair. “I miss being home with her too. I was little once too, you know.”

  “You lived inside her tummy, too?”

  I nodded. “I did.”

  Christopher wrinkled up his little button nose. “But you’re so big!”

  I burst out laughing. “Watch it,” I said. “Girls don’t like it when boys say stuff like that.”

  I wasn’t big, not
at all, but I had put on quite a bit of weight in the last year, thanks to my mother’s round-the-clock cooking.

  Christopher went back to playing with his Legos and, knowing I’d been dismissed, with a sigh I rolled back over and squinted up at the sunny California sky.

  This was how life should have been from the get-go for my mother and me. Not that I would trade my brother for all the time travel in the world, but even at my age, living with my mother again, I knew peace for what it truly was.

  We had a small apartment in downtown San Francisco with only two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchenette. We were living off only my salary and my mother’s disability checks, but we made it work.

  And it did.

  In fact, the first few months aside, the past year had been one of the most peaceful ones I’d ever had. The three of us did everything together; my mother and Christopher even walked with me to work most days. We always had something to do—trips to the farmer’s market, walks around the city, movies at night, picnics in the park.

  And once a month Hawk would ride into town to see Christopher. He’d sleep on the living room couch, spend a week, sometimes less, and then just as quickly was gone. He never spoke of the club, of Deuce or Cage, and neither of us ever asked. Things were quiet and, after everything that had happened, I wanted to keep it that way.

  The first few days after Cage had gotten shot were a painful blur to me. My apartment was a crime scene; I was questioned repeatedly by police detectives, and then later by the FBI and the ATF. Everyone wanted to get in on the action; apparently when one brick fell within the confines of a criminal organization, it was expected that all four walls would eventually crumble.

  But the Hell’s Horsemen’s walls stood strong, despite it all. Mouths stayed shut, secrets stayed hidden, and the club stayed as strong as ever.

  Even so, the entire disaster had made national news, and slowly but surely Hell’s Horsemen and Silver Demons from all over the country began invading San Francisco. The city was crawling with bikers, small riots broke out, and many arrests were made.

  They’d come from all corners to show their support for Deuce’s son, a fellow brother. They sat vigils outside the hospital, they revved their engines in unison, a chrome and leather prayer for one of their own.