Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0) Read online

  Rob pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger before holding up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Oh, now you got me shaking in my boots.”

  “Boys!”

  The stern tone of my mom’s voice causes me to divert my attention back to her and I watch as she moves to stand between the two brothers.

  “Why don’t we leave all the uncles out of it and call your parents?” she suggests, her tone hopeful.

  “No!” they shout simultaneously.

  “Shit, lady, anything but that,” Rob says. “Our parents are nuts and while Eric may be the one behind the wheel, I’ll somehow get blamed for it too. Our mom swears we’re in cahoots to give her a heart attack.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, no thank you. Call Uncle Gangster.”

  Okay, so I tried not to laugh, really, I did.

  But c’mon… Uncle Gangster? I’m not only amused, I’m mildly intrigued. However, the laughter dies as soon as I see the look on my mother’s face.

  “Mom?” I choke.

  She continues to stare at the two brothers with a blank expression on her face, so I take a step closer and lay a hand on her shoulder. Before I can call out to her again, she speaks, pointing a finger between the two boys.

  “I’m sorry, did you say his name was Eric? And… your name … it’s Rob? As in Robert?”

  As soon as she asks them to confirm their names, I make the connection too, and a gasp flies out of my mouth. Eric is my sperm donor’s name and their best friend was Robert.

  That is like way too coincidental.

  “Uh, yeah…” Rob says, eyeing Eric. By the look on his face, I can tell the younger brother thinks my mom is crazy.

  “What’s your last name?” Mom blurts.

  Before either of them can answer her, a loud roar rumbles through the street. Both boys flinch at the sound and a moment later, a motorcycle pulls up beside us. The engine dies and Eric mutters a curse. I stare at him, watching as he roughly drags his fingers through his dark brown hair for the third time and a daunting thought crosses my mind. What if this boy is my brother? It’s a stretch, I’m sure, but isn’t that why my mother looks so spooked?

  Oh my God, what if I was just crushing on my biological brother?

  They can arrest me for that, can’t they? I mean, that’s a form of incest, isn’t it?

  “We’re dead,” Rob declares. “I swore I wasn’t going to die a virgin.” He smacks his brother on the back of his head. “This is all your fault.”

  The engine dies on the motorcycle and it suddenly becomes incredibly quiet as the man straddling it reaches to pull the helmet from his head. Wearing only a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and a smirk, he stares at Eric and Robert.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?”

  “It was all his idea, I swear!” Rob blurts. “If you’re going to kill anyone, it should be him. He’s not a virgin.”

  Eric grimaces, smacking the palm of his hand to his forehead.

  “Fuck, Rob, can you shut your mouth for five seconds?”

  “Not a virgin, huh?” the man questions, raising his hand high. “My man put it there.”

  Eric’s cheeks blush as he rolls his eyes and obliges, giving the strange guy a high-five. I didn’t know losing your virginity was cause for applause. I guess you learn something new every day.

  “Robert?” my mom whispers as the man high-fiving Eric suddenly turns to face her.

  Wait a minute.

  This is Robert?

  The smirk falls from his lips as he plucks the sunglasses from his face, and a gasp sounds from my mom as she brings her palm to her mouth.

  “Oh my God, Robert!”

  “Joss?”

  He shakes his head in disbelief as my mom nods. Everything that comes next happens in a flash and before I know it, my mom is hugging the man and they’re both laughing.

  “Oh, good, everyone is friends. Does that mean this idiot gets to live another day?” Rob asks.

  I turn back to the two boys, who look just as confused as I do.

  “Um, does someone want to explain why you’re hugging the lady whose car I hit?” Eric questions. “I mean, I’m all for peace and all that shit, but it’s weird and I think mom might castrate you.”

  Still laughing, our parents break their embrace. Mom wipes away a few wayward tears as she juts a thumb toward the bickering brothers.

  “These two yours?”

  “They sure are,” Robert boasts. “Got two more at home, another boy and a girl,” he reveals proudly, then his eyes find me, and that smirk, which is so like his eldest son’s, falls once again.

  “Holy shit,” he murmurs.

  My mom follows his gaze and our eyes lock as a proud smile graces her face.

  “Brook, baby, come here,” she urges.

  Before I can make a move, the leather clad man steps forward, and my gaze slices toward him. He continues to move until he’s standing right in front of me, staring at me with what I swear are tears in his eyes.

  This day is getting stranger and stranger by the second.

  Feeling as if I’m a specimen under a microscope, I look away.

  Big mistake because both of his sons are scrutinizing me too. If there was ever a time to wish I could disappear into thin air, it’s now.

  “She looks just like him, doesn’t she?” my mom says from behind him.

  The question seems to break the trance, and the man turns back to my mom.

  “Joss,” he rasps.

  His voice fades, though, as he closes the distance between him and my mom. Without uttering another word, he lifts one hand and fingers the soft silk sash of her scarf. That vulnerable look crosses my mother’s face again and she steps out of the man’s reach. When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice is hoarse and her tone desperate.

  “Is he here, Robert? Please, tell me he’s here.”

  The thought of Eric Nicholson being close by makes my stomach roll and bile immediately rises in my throat as I wait for the elder Robert to answer.

  “Joss,” he repeats, stumbling with his words. My mom drinks him in, acknowledging the despair in his eyes and her shoulder slump in defeat. “I’m so sorry…but Bones…” He closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head. “Eric,” he corrects before pausing again.

  Yes, him! Is he here?

  Spit it out, guy.

  He lifts his eyes back to mom’s and I swear the biker dude looks like he might cry.

  “Joss, he’s gone.”

  And just like that, my mom’s optimistic approach to life hit the inevitable dead-end she so badly tried to avoid.

  Two

  Eric

  When you cheat death before you take your first breath it sets the stage for a remarkably interesting life. It starts off all sunshine and rainbows. You’re spoiled rotten and put on a pedestal. Your mom considers you a miracle and your father, who is a badass biker with no religious background, refers to you as the second coming of Christ, or rather Simba because he, himself, is the King of the Jungle—don’t ask. It’s a very long and extremely embarrassing story.

  Anyway, you don’t think anything of it because you’re a kid and when you have two younger brothers and one little sister; you soak up any attention you can get. Then somewhere between priding yourself on being your parents’ favorite child and adolescence, you learn favoritism had shit to do with all the attention you received growing up. That your parents let you get away with swinging from the chandelier and riding a four-wheeler in your grandma’s living room because of another man’s sacrifice.

  I should not be alive today, and if I’m being totally transparent, neither should my mother. In fact, the whole Montgomery family shouldn’t be here. The only reason we are is because my dad’s best friend, Eric Nicholson, or more commonly known as Bones sacrificed himself to spare us.

  Let that sink in for a moment.

  The man my dad considered a brother, not by blood but by choice, gave up his life to save us and it had nothing to do with
them both being members of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club. Bones had pledged to have my dad’s back long before either of them had a patch or a rank and it’s because of that bond—that love, respect, and loyalty they shared for one another that I’m here today, feeling all kinds of guilt because Bones has a daughter.

  Yeah, you heard me correctly.

  Bones has a daughter.

  Or at least he would have one if he were alive.

  I mean no one has whipped out DNA test results or anything, but I’ve seen pictures of him, and this girl is a spitting image of the man except she’s like ten times prettier. On a scale from one to ten, she’s an eleven.

  I’m seventeen, so of course my eyes did everything backward and worked their way up, checking out her slender body first. Long legs, a trim waist, and if I had to guess I’d say, her cup size is a B. But it’s her face that tips the scales and sets her apart from every other girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s like every single feature has been delicately carved, from her full lips and perfect little nose to her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that are the color of milk chocolate and full of sadness. One glance and you want to pull her into your arms and assure her everything is going to be all right. It’s a beautifully tragic picture that’s framed by what seems like miles of auburn waves that I want to touch.

  So, yeah, Brooklyn is definitely an eleven.

  She’s also a mindfuck because none of us saw her coming. Not me, and certainly not my dad, who seems as if he’s having an out-of-body experience since Joss confirmed Brooklyn was, in fact, Bones’ daughter.

  After my dad revealed Bones was gone, Joss lost it. The nice lady whose car I wrecked started shaking like a leaf, demanding my dad explain himself. That’s about the time the knot in my stomach formed. My chest tightened instantly, and I forced the bile down my throat as I took in the pale coloring of Joss’ face and the tears that slowly slid down her cheeks. However, it wasn’t until the wind kicked up and blew the silk scarf from her head that I actually wished I could disappear without a fucking trace.

  The woman was sick and by the looks of it, she was really sick. Sicker than my grandma Maria, who beat breast cancer about ten years ago. I was just a kid, so I don’t remember much, but I remember her wearing a scarf around her head just like Joss is wearing, and grandpa Wolf, who, at the time we called our uncle, would carry her to bed after Sunday dinner because her body was too weak.

  Not realizing my body was in motion, I bent to retrieve the scarf, like somehow the simple gesture would even the playing field and lessen the guilt I was feeling. But dad beat me to it, and I watched as he handed it to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not a single word. For the first time in quite possibly his entire life, the man who prided himself on being a jokester was completely speechless.

  Joss snatched the scarf from his hand and yelled at him when the doors to the bar opened. Grandpa Wolf and Uncle Pipe were the first to step on the porch, but it didn’t take long for the rest to follow. The Satan’s Knights surrounded us and every one of them wore a patch in memory of Bones whether they knew him or not. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t have to. One look at my father and they were ushering all of us into the bar. My dad took Joss’ hand and without a word, he led her and Brooklyn to the backroom that acted as the club’s chapel.

  I don’t know how long they’ve been in there, but it seems like forever and more than anything, I wish my uncles would get lost so I can steal a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Nothing washes away guilt better than a little Jack Daniels.

  What a mindfuck, man.

  One minute I’m staring at the girl wondering how I can get her number after wrecking her mom’s car, the next I’m looking at her like she’s heaven sent or some shit like that. It’s fucking weird.

  “I’m sorry, but did we skip over the part where Eric wrecked that nice lady’s car? If it were me who stole Uncle Gangster’s car and crashed it, I’d be dead or at the very least grounded. This guy leaves a bumper in the street and crickets,” my idiot brother rambles from beside me.

  “We’ll get to that,” Grandpa promises, giving me a pointed look. I roll my eyes and look down at my hands. I’m not really in the mood for him. “One of you better start talking.”

  My eyes cut to him.

  “And one of you should probably go in there because dad is not okay right now,” I snap. It’s true. If I’m fucking spooked, I can only imagine how my father feels. The poor guy looked distraught. Grandpa arches an eyebrow as his light eyes quietly assess me.

  “I got that much,” he says finally. “You want to tell me why?”

  “Who’s the woman?” Uncle Pipe asks from behind him.

  Great, now he’s gonna start too.

  All we need is Uncle Jack to join in and it’s a fucking party.

  I tear my eyes away from them and lift my hands to my face. I don’t even know how to answer them. Grandpa pulls my hands away from my face and grabs my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye.

  “That woman…is she sick?”

  I swallow.

  Sick.

  She looks like she’s fucking dying.

  “Looks that way,” I rasp.

  “And the girl…that her daughter?”

  I nod and he drops his hand away from my face, looking toward Uncle Pipe.

  “Bones,” he says hoarsely before pausing to clear his throat.

  “I’m gonna need more than that, Wolf,” Uncle Pipe urges, but he gets nothing else out of him because the front door swings open and my mom comes rushing through with her brother, Anthony—AKA Uncle Gangster, hot on her heels.

  Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse enters the retired gangster whose fancy car is trashed courtesy of me.

  Excellent!

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?” Mom exclaims, reaching me. She grabs both of my cheeks and turns my head one way and then the other, inspecting my face for injuries. Satisfied that I appear to be in one piece, she makes her way to my brother and does the same.

  “Oh, good, they’re fine,” Uncle Anthony growls, smacking me upside the head. “That’s for stealing my car.” He gives me another smack. “And that’s for crashing it.”

  “Anthony,” my mother reprimands, stepping between us. “He’s just a kid. You want me to call mommy and have her recite the list of shit you did when you were his age? Never mind, I can name them myself.” She pauses to think, her blue eyes darting toward the ceiling. “Let’s see at seventeen, you were already working for Victor, so you were probably breaking kneecaps and taking bets.”

  My uncle relents, but not without glaring and pointing a finger at me.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from, kid,” he threatens.

  Little does Uncle Gangster know he’d be doing me a fucking favor. Since getting drunk is off the table, I’d happily go a round or two with Mr. Boxer Man. Maybe he can beat the guilt out of me.

  “Lauren, sweetheart,” Grandpa says gently. “You should sit.”

  My mother’s eyes slice toward him and instantly narrow.

  “Why?” her voice lowers. A moment later those blue orbs go wide as saucers. “Oh God,” she cries, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “The people in the other car, are they hurt?” Drawing her hand away from her lips, she turns back to me and like her brother, slaps me upside the head too. “What did you do?” she hisses.

  “Oh, good, we’re back to smacking him around,” Uncle Anthony sneers. “Let me at him.”

  Ignoring him, I stare at my mom.

  It’s not what I did, it’s what we did.

  We lived.

  But how do you tell your mom that? How do you force her to feel as miserable as you do?

  “Your favorite cub didn’t crash into just anyone’s car. He crashed into some woman named Joss’ car,” Robert supplies. “Apparently dad knows her well. They were hugging like a bunch of long-lost friends. It was weird. She
had a girl with her too…a very hot girl…”

  My gaze shoots to my brother and I glare at him.

  “You’re an asshole,” I spat.

  “What? Don’t pretend like you didn’t notice.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” my mom mutters.

  “Sure it does,” Rob argues, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Wait till you see her. Total babe.”

  Why no one smacks him around is beyond me.

  Suddenly mom starts stalking toward the hallway and all thoughts of my idiot brother are suspended as I slide off the stool to chase after her. After all, someone needs to prepare her for what she’s about to walk in on. I call after her but it's no use. When Lauren Bianci-Montgomery has her mind made up, no one’s changing it. It’s a quality I’ve always been proud to share.

  She reaches the chapel and the sound of Joss’ voice halts the both of us.

  “How did he die?” the sick woman questions from behind the door.

  I close my eyes for a second, dreading my dad’s response, but he remains quiet. That’s when my mom opens the door. I follow her inside just as my dad lifts his head and stares at both of us. My mom doesn’t meet his gaze though, she just stares at Joss and Brooklyn, connecting the dots before anyone can do it for her.

  “Kitten,” dad calls, but the use of the nickname falls on deaf ears.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mom chokes, her eyes still focused on the mother and daughter duo. I give her credit, connecting the dots, and still being able to stare them in the eye. I can’t do it.

  “Joss, this is my wife, Kitten—er, I mean Lauren and Eric you’ve already met.”

  Joss looks at me and smiles faintly, then glances back at dad.

  “I chose to name our daughter Brooklyn because it’s where I knew he lived, and you named your son after him.”

  I don’t mean to look at Brooklyn, but as soon as her mom mentions her name my eyes seem to have a mind of their own. Twenty minutes ago, she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen and now, it actually hurts to look at her.

  “Naming him Eric was Kitten’s idea,” my dad reveals.