Underworld Champions (The MC Outlaw Series) (4 page)

I flinch awake.
Fucking dreams. It’s always Liam too. Always about the things he did to me. My skin tingles from the memory of the burns, and I gently run my fingers over the tiny bumps of scarred flesh over my stomach.

Rubbing my eyes
, I get out of bed. There’s no point in trying to sleep anymore. The dreams will just start up again. I pad quietly down the hall, and into the kitchen where I get a glass of water. My plan is to turn on the television and watch it until morning, but my eyes stray to the room at the end of the hall. The one where my old things are supposed to be.

Tip-toeing toward the door, I place my hand on the silver handle and twist, wincing when it creaks loudly. The room is pitch black, so I grope around on the wall to find a switch.

When the room floods with light, I’m taken by surprise. I thought it would be a room stacked with unwanted items, but instead, I find a shrine to a little girl. The toddler sized bed is still sitting, made up in the corner, the shelves are still filled with toys, and when I open the drawers, they’re still filled with tiny clothes.

My eyes land on a plastic pink jeep, one of those ones kids can actually drive, and the memory of driving it hits me square between the eyes.

It’s as if a movie is playing for me. I can see myself, driving around in that little jeep, yelling that my daddy had to watch out, because I was going to get him. I aim the car right at him, and he stands there, laughing along with me before jumping out of the way at the last second. My mother sits on the steps that lead into the house, her long blonde hair hanging loose over her shoulder as she waves at me when I drive past. I ride around, doing laps in our front yard as I keep looking back at my parents, smiling when I see my dad sit down next to my mum and lean in for a kiss…

Blinking rapidly, I take a deep breath as my mind returns to the present. A sadness comes over me as I get a glimpse of everything I missed out on. I continue to loo
k through the room, seeing children’s books, and a small crate filled with tin motorcycles. So many things, just sitting here, waiting for their owner to return. My chest grows tight as I move around and realise just how messed up this whole life of mine is.

Jesus, it must be really dusty in here, because my eyes have started to water
and my throat feels like it’s closing. I can’t be crying again. Surely, I’m not crying.

But I am. Because presented
in front of me is the life l could have had. The life my uncle stole from me when he took me away from here. It's a life my parents kept for me, obviously hoping that one day I’d return.

A pile of photo frames catches my attention. I move over and sift through them, one by one, studying each image. It all seems so unreal to me. There’s a picture of my mother and father, smiling as she leans against him, his arms wrapped around her body as his hands grip her swollen belly proudly.

Another shows them both posing after I was born, holding me between them as if I was some sort of prize they won at a fair. My finger slides over each of my parent’s images as well as my own smiling face, as tears continue to fall down my cheeks. Fuck. We all looked so happy. Why the hell did he have to take me?

When I flip to the next frame, I immediately clutch it to my chest as a pained sob escapes my throat. It’s my one good dream. The one where my mother is spinning me and laughing. It’s a memory. After all these years, I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t real. But it was. I didn’t th
ink it was possible, but now I hate my uncle even more. He always made me feel like I had no option. Like my horrid life was inevitable. But I belonged somewhere else… somewhere better… here.

“Is everything ok?” Carla
asks, her voice gentle as she watches me from the doorway.

“I’m not crying. I’m just allergic to the dust,” I say immediately, wiping at my face as I put the photos back where I found them.

“Of course you weren’t cryin’. It’s fuckin’ dusty in here,” she agrees, leaning down to pick up a photo that had obviously fallen from one of the frames. Looking at it, she smiles to herself. “I reckon you and me missed out on a pretty good life.” She places the photo on top of the frames. It shows me and Prez, sitting on his Harley together. I've got the giant helmet on my head while I’m laughing my head off. He’s smiling too. It's another shared moment of joy that I can’t even remember.

Another tear falls. “Fucking allergies,” I gripe, sniffling as I wipe at my face. “I only came in
here because I wanted some of your old clothes.”

“They’re over here.”

She moves over to cupboard, and opens the door, revealing some stacked plastic tubs. After pulling the top one down, she removes the lid to check inside. “They might need a bit of a clean. They’ve been stored for a good fifteen years, but they should still be decent.”

“Thank you,
um…Carla,” I practically whisper, not really knowing what to call her.

She presses her lips together, I can tell she doesn’t really like me calling her by her first name. But I’m nineteen now. I haven’t called anyone ‘mum’ in my living memory. Even Toby wouldn’t let me call him ‘dad’ – I guess know I know why though…

“How did you know?” I ask suddenly.

“Know what?”

“That Toby was dead.”

“The hospital called. I’m the only relative he has left. There was no record of a daughter on file.
I had to approve them turning his life support off.”

“I see.”

“Best get out of this room before the dust gets you again,” she says kindly, a sad grin on only half her face as she glances around the room, and a kind of a nostalgia settles upon her. Clearing her throat, she stands up, holding one of the plastic tubs. “Do you want me to move these to your room?”

“Um yeah. That would be great.”

She pauses in front of me, her eyes moving over my face and down the length of my hair. “You grew up real pretty Maddie. I’m so sorry I missed it.”

I
just nod, then excuse myself and head for the bathroom, switching on the taps of the sink to try and drown out the sounds of my crying. What the fuck is going on with me? For as long as I can remember my life has been shit, and I haven’t cried, not since Toby let that man use me to settle his debt. I was thirteen then, and I haven’t cried since. I just did what I had to do. I survived, and now that he’s dead - it's over. I’m out of there. I should be smiling. So, why the hell am I feeling so messed up now?

This is probably the safest I’ve ever been
. But being here, with my real parents and realising how much they cared, and how much they wanted a family - it just makes it all hurt so much more. I could have had a better life.

As my sobbing continues, I turn on the shower and climb into the tub, standing under the warm spray. This is when I really let loose. I can cry all I want in here, because it doesn’t count. I can’t even feel the tears as the water washes them away.

So I let myself cry. I cry for that little girl who looked so happy in those photos. I cry for the many nights that she went to bed hungry because Toby had spent all of their money on drugs. I cry for the girl who had no friends, because the other parents were scared to have the child who seemed to constantly have head lice in their house. And I cry for the teenager, who realised that sex was worth something, and started to sell blow jobs at school, just to earn some money. And the girl, who never even finished school, because she progressed to screwing a teacher for even more money, and got found out.

Finally, I cry for the family
I wished for and never got, and I cry because the only family I’d known was now dead, and despite the fact he was really my Uncle, I had spent my life loving him like a father. But I will forever hate him. So. Much. More.

***

“Hungry?” Prez asks as I step out of my room, dressed in a pair of denim cut-offs and a black hippy shirt that ties at the waist. They smell a little musty, but I sprayed them with some air freshener, so they’ll have to do. Besides, they look a hell of a lot better than the clothes I arrived in. They’re still a little big, but they fit better than Carla’s jeans did.

“Yeah. But there’s no food.”

“There’ll be some at the compound.”

“Oh. You’re letting me back in there?”

“Yeah. Time to let you in on the family way of doin’ things. You can help out in the kitchens, or wherever they need you, to earn your keep.”

“But what about me finding a job?”

“You pull your weight, and I’ll help you out.”

“I don’t want charity.”

“You’re family. This is what we do.”

He shrugs into his jacket and holds a helmet out for me to take before walking out the door and getting on his bike.

“Where’s Carla?” I ask, taking a hold of the helmet.

“She’s gone ahead of us to help the other Ladies out. She’s kind of like their boss, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does,” I say, fixing the helmet on my head before getting on the back of his bike.

The gates are pulled open as we approach, and we rumble straight on in.
Prez parks in his designated spot and waits for me to get off the bike before he does.

“You right?” he asks, noting that I’m a little shaky on my feet.

“Yeah, I just haven’t really been on a bike before.”

“Now, that’s not true. I used to take you riding all the time.”

The sadness that has been overcoming me, threatens to flare up again. But I squash it down and keep my response even. I can’t keep losing my shit every five minutes just because I found out my mummy and daddy cared about me – I’m starting to find myself pathetic.
Suck it up girl. You’re in biker territory now,
I say to myself.

As we walk inside, I wonder how I’m going to be received. Are they going to accept me? Hate me? Treat me like a wannabe biker? Or will being the president’s daughter earn me some sort of respect?

He takes me up to the kitchen window and asks the lady inside, who he calls ‘Cora’ for two plates of food. “Gotta fatten this one up a bit,” he says, nodding his head toward me.

She’s an older lady. Probably around the same age as my father, with short brown hair and a decent amount of aging tattoos up and down her arms. She dressed in an apron that covers her light blue sleeveless button up and a pair of jeans.

“Ah yeah, Carla’s been sayin’ your daughter was back. That’s great Prez. Nice to see all grown-up Maddie. You was only a baby when I saw you last, so you probably don’t remember me. Wow. So pretty, just like your mamma.”

I smile, not knowing what else to do. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember any of this place.

“Maddie wants to earn her keep. Are there any jobs she could be doing today?” my father asks.

“Um… I don’t know. Maybe she c
an help in the bar? Can you pull a beer hun?”

“On tap? I guess I could…” I shrug, willing to give anything a shot, (except for sucking cock. I’ve been there, done that), to feel useful.

“Great. Well, you eat up, and once I’m finished here, I’ll take you over and introduce you around.”

When we're done eating, Cora walks me through to the bar, and I have to say that, for a converted wool shed, this whole complex looks pretty good from the inside. It’s all been purposely built so there’s living quarters, eating areas, leisure areas, club rooms, bar. You name it - it seems to have it. The tin shed look from outside is very deceiving.

In the bar, there’s a few men either sitting alone or clustered together. They give us a cursory glance, but I’m not getting any ‘rape and kill you’ kind of vibes, so I guess I’m going to be ok. I don’t know why I’m so worried. I guess it’s because the only bikers I’ve ever known, have been the ones on TV, and they’re always bad guys. So far though, they seem a hell of a lot nicer than the drug dealers I’m used to.

“Hey Pip, I’ve brought you some help for the day.
Carla and Prez’s daughter, Maddie, she gonna earn her place in the club.”

“Great. It’s nice to meet you Maddie. You worked in a bar before?” Pip asks, her long brown hair braided down her back as she pulls a beer for a member with a shiny shaved head and a black goatee. He has the club emblem tattooed at the base of his skull (Now, that’s dedication).

“No. To be honest, I’ve never really had a real job before.”

“Whoa!” she laughs. “We’ve got ourselves a virgin boys. Best be nice to her or the ladies won’t be warmin' ya beds tonight,” she teases.

“We’ll be real gentle,” a deep rumbly voice says from behind me, sending shivers up my spine and causing my body to react in ways I don’t want it to. I’m starting to see this as a clean break from my old life. The start of a new one. I don’t need to get mixed up with one of my father’s men and risk ruining it all.

I turn toward Cole, keeping my expression as even as I can.

“Can I be the one to pop your cherry?” he murmurs, leaning in so he’s talking right next to my ear. I shiver. I fucking shiver. His velvet voice just entered my ears and fucked me internally. Great. Now I need a change of underwear.

“Sure. What’ll it be?" I see the amused look on both Pip and Cora’s face, as I wander around the bar and position myself as though I know what I’m doing.