Wrath (Dirty Soul MC: Long Beach #2)

Chapter 11

“ M orning sleepy head.” I gently nudge Aaron where he’s laid out on the floor, with the toe of my high heel.

“What time is it?” He yawns, cracking his neck as he sits up.

“Almost 8.”

“You’re lookin’ fancy.” His voice comes out groggy when he looks up and sees me in the pencil skirt suit I’m wearing.

“It came from a thrift store, but it will do.” I shrug, moving over to the mirror so I can fluff my hair.

“Don’t ya think it’s a little too fancy to be wearin’ around here?” He chuckles to himself, as he stands up and lifts the pillow and blanket from the floor.

“For here, yes, but not for work.”

“Work?” he checks he heard me right.

“Yes, Aaron, work. I have to take back control of my life. I have projects I’m supposed to be working on and presentations to prepare. I need my workspace.”

“You're not seriously considerin’ goin’ back to your office?” He scrubs his hand over his face as if I’m exhausting him.

“It’s a studio,” I correct him with a clever, little smile. “And since Mark is holding my business to ransom, I’m assuming he’s still paying the rent.”

“Eden, it’s not safe out there. We spoke about this last night.”

“I’m heading for Beverly Hills, where I can assure you things are very safe. I’m going to work.” I go to lean forward and kiss his cheek, but think better of it and smile awkwardly, instead. “Have a good day, Aaron.” I strut out of my room and onto the balcony.

“It’s Wrath!” I hear him yell after me, as I shut the door and walk toward Peyton's car. She said I was welcome to use it while she’s away with my brother, and I’m trying not to think about the fact that right now she’ll be getting to meet my father before me. What I think about instead, is how good it felt to sleep beside Aaron, and how he shifted our positions just so his arms could cling around me during the night. I shouldn’t have let myself enjoy it, but I did.

I know I’m being followed as I make myself toward the studio, but it doesn’t bother me. If Aaron is prepared to waste an entire day watching me work, then it’s his choice. I can’t see it lasting long, especially since my brother’s away and he’s the one left in charge. Bad traffic means it takes me a good hour to get to the studio, and when I pull up outside the building and see the shutters are open, my heart drops into my stomach.

“No.” I get out of the car and slam the door, reading all the cruel names that have been sprayed in big, black letters across the glass windows.

Slut. Biker Bitch. Whore. Tramp. Cum Dumpster .

My legs go weak when I think of all the people who could have seen this. I locked up here last Thursday night. I’d pulled down the shutter myself and there are only two people who have the keys to open it. Myself, and Mark.

I know what I did really hurt him, but this… it’s just not like him.

Taking out my cell I scroll to the first number in my contacts and hope that after all these years he still has the same one.

“Eden, what's wrong?” I look down the street and see Aaron’s pulled in five cars behind. Jimmer gave me a burner phone when he dropped me off in Utah and, despite all his instructions to move on from the life I knew before, I stored Aaron’s number on it straight away. His number has been the first one I save every time I’ve gotten a new phone, despite the fact I know it from memory.

“Eden, what’s happened?” He keeps the phone pressed to his ear as he gets off his bike and starts matching toward me.

“I…I.” I must sound so weak and vulnerable, everything I’m trying to prove that I’m not, and when he stands beside me and sees what’s in front of us he hangs up his phone and looks ready to commit murder.

“I don’t know what to do.” I’m still speechless and my hands shake as I cover my mouth with them.

“What the fuck is this?” He looks between me and the window.

“I don’t know how it got there, but the shutter was down when I last–”

He silences me when he steps forward and in one effortless motion reaches up and pulls it back down, the force he uses makes it rattle as it hits the ground and I wonder why I didn’t think of doing that.

“Gimme the keys.” He holds out his hand and focuses so hard on breathing that he’s unable to look at me.

“Aaron, I didn’t know who to call… I just–”

“Give me the keys,” he repeats, tensing his jaw.

I place them in his palm and hide my face in my hands while he locks away all those vile words.

A few seconds later he takes my wrists and pulls them down so I have to face him

“Now, get back in the car, drive to the club, and give these to Rocco. Tell him I said to come out here and fix this.” He gives me the keys back before rushing back toward his bike.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nerves start stirring in my stomach as he kickstarts his engine and revs the throttle.

“Aaron!” I call out over the noise, rushing to stand beside him and placing my hand over his. “Please, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Go straight back to the club, don’t stop off anywhere, and do as I said. I’m handlin’ this.” He strokes my face, then checks over his shoulder before pulling away from the sidewalk and tearing up the street with a gut-wrenching rumble.

“That’s what worries me,” I whisper to myself as I stand and watch him get further away.

I make the journey back to the club last as long as I possibly can, and I’m far too humiliated to give Rocco Wrath's order. Instead, I head into the clubhouse and ask Polly for a coffee.

“You look as if you need something stronger than a coffee,” she smiles as she places a mug in front of me. It’s just us here, and although the place smells like stale booze and cigarettes, it still beats being on my own.

“I tried to go back to work today,” I admit, having to get how I’m feeling off my chest to someone. I’m comfortable with Polly. She was at the club way before I came here ten years ago and I remember her always being kind. Peyton told me that her son turned out to be a traitor and that he died the same night Griller did. It fascinates me how she can still be here, among the people he deceived, and the man who killed him. She must be made of strong stuff, and that kind of inspiration is what I need right now.

“I take that it didn’t go so well?” She pours one for herself and moves around the bar to join me on a stool.

“No, someone graffitied my windows with some really nasty words. Aaro– Wrath is dealing with it, now.” I don’t even want to think about how.

“Oh.” Polly raises her eyebrows. “He’s never been one to control his temper.” She laughs to herself as if this isn’t a big deal.

“He used to be able to, befor—” I cut myself off and lower my head.

“Wrath’s a good guy, his temper may flare but his heart is always in the right place. I often wished that Sonny could’ve been more like him.” She smiles sadly.

“They were half brothers, right?” I have to check because things around here can get complicated. I’ve learned a lot over the past few days and I’m pretty sure Peyton told me that Cliff was Sonny’s father.

“Yeah, though Wrath never knew it, none of Sonny’s siblings did. Cliff always wanted the fact that he was his father to be kept a secret.” She grips her hand around her mug and looks disappointed.

Just hearing that bastard's name makes me shiver but I decide I want to learn more. This guy was Aaron’s brother, after all.

“Sonny never understood it, he hated being rejected. Cliff may not have been a good father, but he was proud to let everyone know that Aaron, Freya, and Willow were his. I think that's where Sonny’s issues really started.” Her eyes start filling with tears.

“Hey, he had you. He would have known how much you loved him. I recall her and her little boy from when I used to hang out here. “I saw how you were with him.” I know a little about rejection. Raze and Aaron made out for a long time that they were keeping Vex in the dark about me, but Jimmer let it slip when he came for me that my father was the one who sent him. Yet, he’s never made any attempt to contact me himself. I’ve tried talking to Raze about it but he changes the subject every time.

“I should have been more forceful, made Cliff stand up and treat Sonny the same. You know, Wrath is the man he is today because he’s terrified of turning into his father. All Sonny ever wanted to was impress Cliff and be accepted by him. It’s not hard to see why he did all those awful things.” She lets out all her hurt and frustration, then wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “If he’d looked a little deeper and seen how bad Cliff treated those kids he’d claimed, maybe he’d have thought differently.” She picks up a blunt from under the bar and lights it.

“I spent such a long time burying my head in the sand, pretending I didn’t see how dangerous Sonny was becoming. If he wasn’t dead, I’d be sure that he was responsible for what’s happening to these dead girls that keep showing up,” she admits. “And yet, I still miss him. I still cry for him.” She laughs at herself as she wipes more of her tears away and tokes back on her blunt.

“I’m sorry you lost your son.” I take her hand and smile sympathetically, I’ll bet it’s something she doesn’t hear all too often.

Polly looks up from where our hands are joined and manages a smile.

“You must wonder why I stick around.” She chuckles.

“Not at all. These people are your family, you like to take care of them. What happened was a tragedy, but it was out of your control.”

“Raze is a good man, and the vision he has for this club is the reason I’m sticking around,” she assures me, pulling herself together and getting up. The place is still trashed from last night and when she starts clearing some of the tables I decide that a distraction from the mess, that is my life right now, is exactly what I need. So I get up and set to work helping her.