Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0) Read online

  “First you warn me against Tabitha, now Brooklyn. News flash, big bro, you can’t have them all.”

  I warned him off Tabitha Richardson because the kid is fucking blind and can’t see what’s obviously right in front of him. Tabitha is spoken for. It might not be public fucking knowledge, but everyone knows Danny Parrish put his mark on that girl a long time ago and I don’t care how much time my little brother puts in at our uncle’s boxing gym, he is no match for Danny. He makes Uncle Jack look like a fucking preacher and let’s not talk about Tabitha’s dad, Cobra. That guy wouldn’t think twice before taking a cheese grater to Rob’s balls if he knew he was sniffing around his youngest daughter.

  But Brooklyn isn’t spoken for and the sudden protective streak I have over her has nothing to do with how hot I find her and everything to do with making sure no one hurts her. You see, somewhere between crashing her mother’s car and finding out she was Bones’ daughter, I made a solemn vow to myself. As long as I live, I’ll never be able to repay her old man for his sacrifice, but I can make sure no one hurts his daughter—including my horny brother who is just looking to get his dick wet. Brooklyn may have come here looking for her father, but she got herself a guard dog instead.

  “I’m not going to tell you twice, Rob. Back off.”

  “So you can have her?”

  “No, dickhead, because she’s Bones’ daughter and if it weren’t for him, none of us would fucking be here. Not Mom, not me, and not fucking you. Have some respect.”

  “Eric! Robert! Family meeting,” Mom calls from downstairs.

  Neither of us run at our mom’s command, instead, we stand completely still and continue to stare one another down.

  “What are you gonna do when she leaves?” he asks. “You going to follow her wherever the fuck she lives and threaten every guy who smiles at her?”

  Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Until now I didn’t even want to acknowledge the promise I made to myself, but my brother forced my hand and now there’s no going back. If I’ve learned anything from my dad or my uncles, it’s that a man’s word is all he’s got in this world. Once you speak it, you see it through.

  Bones vowed to have my dad’s back, and he saw it through all the way to the end.

  It’s my turn to do the same.

  I don’t owe anyone anything but him. Without another word, I leave my brother standing there and head downstairs. A moment later he follows, and we quietly enter the living room where our parents are waiting for us. As expected, Anthony and Bella are already there, but so are Grandpa Wolf, Grandma Maria, and all the Satan’s Knights.

  “What kind of family meeting is this?” I ask.

  “Told you they were shipping you out,” Rob sneers as he plops down on the loveseat next to Bella. “Move over, squirt.”

  “Mommy, Rob, called me a squirt!”

  “Don’t be a rat, princess,” Rob retorts.

  “Take a seat, Eric,” Dad says, jutting his chin toward the empty armchair.

  “Is Eric in trouble for robbing Uncle Gangster’s car?” Anthony questions smugly.

  Ignoring him, I take my seat and anxiously await the answer to the little shit’s question.

  “No one is in trouble for anything,” Mom answers.

  “That’s such bullshit!” Rob exclaims.

  “Watch your mouth,” Grandpa scolds.

  My dad sighs, rubbing a hand over his drawn face. I try to recall a time in my life when I’ve seen him look so drained but I can’t and that says a lot because my father has seen some shit in his life. He’s been beaten and thrown behind bars. He’s buried people he’s loved and rode for days on end defending his club, and yet he’s never looked so fucking worn out as he does now.

  “Bella, baby, come here,” Dad calls hoarsely, crooking his finger.

  Being daddy’s little girl, my seven-year-old sister ditches her place next to Rob and runs straight toward our dad. Two people in this world that can make my dad smile no matter what. The first is my mom, the second is my sister, and as soon as his arms wrap around her a small smile ticks his exhausted face.

  “You know how you’ve been wishing for another girl in the house?” he asks her.

  Bella’s eyes widen and she nods.

  “Well, what if I told you I could make that wish come true?”

  “I thought you weren’t having any more cubs,” Anthony interrupts.

  “I’m not pregnant,” Mom explains. “But that doesn’t mean our family can’t expand.”

  “Expand? We’re busting at the seams as it is,” Rob volleys.

  Dad presses a kiss to the top of Bella’s head before setting her between him and our mother and fixes Robert with a stern look.

  “Then I’ll buy a bigger fucking house if you’re so uncomfortable.” His eyes slice to me and I immediately sit a little straighter. “Joss is dying. She lost consciousness because her body is slowly shutting down, the cancer is everywhere and there’s nothing left for the doctors to do.”

  I knew the woman was really sick, but dying…come on, how is that even fair.

  Dad continues to keep his eyes pinned to me and I know by the solemn expression on his face, I’m going to hate what he says next even more.

  “They came here looking for Bones because there’s no one else to take Brooklyn in once she’s gone.”

  Suddenly, it feels like there is a palette of bricks sitting on my chest. As if her mother dying wasn’t enough, there’s no one to take her in because the guy they were depending on is dead. He’s fucking dead because he took a bullet for me and my mom.

  “Shit,” Robert mutters. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean anything by it—”

  Shaking his head, Dad sighs heavily.

  “I know you didn’t,” he rasps, scratching the scruff lining his jaw. “Look, I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to just say it. Joss only has a few weeks left and her health is going to decline rapidly. She will need a nurse around the clock and…well, after talking with Joss this morning, your mom and I have decided that she and Brooklyn are going to stay here with us. I’ll hire a nurse and we’ll do whatever needs to be done to make sure these last days are as comfortable as possible for her.”

  “So, Brooklyn is going to live with us?” Bella asks, looking between our parents. I watch as Mom smooths a hand over my kid sister’s head and offers her a smile.

  “Yes, and so is her mommy. Is that okay with you, sweetheart?”

  Before Bella can answer, I find my voice.

  “What happens…” I pause to swallow. “… afterward?”

  Dad glances at mom before bringing his eyes back to me.

  “Well, Brooklyn’s your age, she needs a guardian until she turns eighteen and Joss has agreed to give us that honor.” His words trail as he lifts his head.

  “So, she’ll be like our sister?” Anthony questions, his brows furrowing with confusion. As soon as he asks the question, I feel Robert’s eyes on me.

  “Well, that certainly puts a wrench in your plan doesn’t it, big bro?”

  My cheeks heat as anger coils inside of me and I glare at him. Actually, it suits my plan just fine, but I don’t tell him that. The kid is itching for a beating. The girl literally has no one but her dying mother, and all he can think about is getting in her fucking pants.

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” I grind out.

  “Eric said The F-Word!” Bella shouts.

  “I told you all the cursing you people did around these kids would scar them,” Grandma chimes in. “Now they talk like a bunch of sailors.”

  “Lady,” Grandpa warns. “Maybe now isn’t the time for that, yeah?”

  I can feel my dad’s gaze burning a hole in the side of my head, but I don’t dare look at him. I know what he’s thinking, and it’s really not a conversation I want to be having with an audience. Instead, I focus on my mom. She’s like Switzerland, always neutral.

  “Look, there’s a lot of love in this house,” she st
arts. “And right now, Brooklyn and Joss need some of that love. We can do that for them, can’t we?”

  The room falls silent.

  There is really no need for words.

  It is the least we can do.

  Five

  Brooklyn

  The last twenty-four hours have been a complete clusterfuck. As if the dead dad thing wasn’t enough, I almost lost my mother too and though it was a false alarm, the doctors gave her two weeks to live and that was being generous.

  Two weeks.

  That’s it.

  It didn’t faze me at the time because she was awake and talking. I could hold her hand and still hear her voice. I guess that’s why I was so quick to agree to us moving in with Riggs and Lauren. I mean, it’s not like there are any other options, but still, we could’ve had a discussion, maybe iron out some details. Instead, I hugged my mom and told her I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. I’d go live in a monastery if it gave her some peace.

  To my surprise, that’s when she asked me to leave the room so she and only she could speak with Riggs and Lauren. When I was allowed back in the room, my mom—oxygen and all—started rattling off a list of things I needed to take from our house. Apparently, they had come up with a plan and the first part of it included me and Riggs taking a road trip to Connecticut. We left the hospital and he and Lauren took me back to their house so I could shower. By the time I came down the stairs, all the bikers that crowded the bar when we arrived at Kate’s were now in the Montgomery’s living room waiting to escort us to my childhood home. It’s like they were on speed-dial or something.

  If you ever need a moving crew at short notice, call a biker—they got you. I think it took us longer to drive to and from Connecticut than it did to pack up our stuff. To be fair, there wasn’t much my mom wanted for herself other than some photo albums, a necklace, a lockbox that held some of her personal documents, and the fanciest dress in her closet. It was pale pink with lace trim around the neckline, and she wore it on my First Holy Communion. I knew why she wanted it, that it would be the dress she wore when I laid her to rest, and that knowledge broke me. I fell to the floor of my mom’s closet in a heap of tears, clutching the dress as if it were her frail body in my arms.

  That’s when I learned the bikers excelled not only as movers, they also knew how to pick a girl up from the floor, dry her eyes, and make her smile and they did that by teasing Riggs.

  Back in the day, before Lauren and Riggs were a thing, my mom’s friend had an altercation with Lauren’s mom. They were vague about the details, but it involved Riggs, Maria, and a frying pan. The woman clocked him with it and gave him a black eye! When he got back to the clubhouse, he started crying because he thought she ruined his face. I don’t know if it’s true or if it was just a fib they told me to take my mind off the dress in my hands, but I pictured Riggs with tears rolling down his cheeks, holding a bag of peas to his eye, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  If my mom was there, she would’ve scolded me for being rude and laughing at the man who was helping us, but oddly enough, he started laughing too. Then he took the dress from my hands and helped me to my feet.

  In case you were wondering, bikers give good hugs too.

  After the tears subsided, we moved to my bedroom where they helped me pack my things, or at least they started to. When it was time for me to tackle my underwear drawer, they all ran like they were on fire, and again, in the most hopeless situation, I laughed. It made me wonder if my dad was anything like the rest of them. Was he as kind? Did he have a sense of humor? Did he smell like gasoline and musky cologne too?

  By the time we got back to Riggs’ house, I was exhausted. The guys unloaded the truck as Lauren gave me a tour of the house. She also revealed that while we were gone, she, her sister-in-law, and her mom—the frying pan lady, had converted little Bella’s playroom into a room for my mom. Lauren and I unpacked the few things I had taken from our house for Mom, and then she brought me upstairs to what would be my room. It was the same room I found Eric and Robert fighting in earlier.

  Eric, the boy who spoke a total of maybe five sentences, had given up his room. I didn’t know what to make of that and I didn’t feel comfortable filling his barren drawers with my things, so you can imagine how I feel lying in his bed.

  Unable to sleep, I stare up at the ceiling. My mind is in overdrive, trying to process everything.

  Eric.

  His parents.

  Robert, Anthony, and Bella.

  This house.

  The bikers.

  My mom’s health.

  My dad’s death.

  Just everything.

  It’s all too much and I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating.

  Pushing the blanket off me, I throw my legs over the edge of the full-size bed and start to pace. For a decent sized room, it feels like the walls are closing in on me. I pull at the neckline of my t-shirt, but it’s already hanging off my shoulder. I close my eyes and try to clear my head. I force myself to think of happier times…simpler times. Nothing works.

  My mother’s face flashes before my eyes and I start gasping for breath.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Am I dying?

  Water.

  I need water.

  Air.

  I need air.

  I pull open the door and quietly make my way down the stairs. I momentarily debate going outside, but I spot the alarm keypad next to the door and decide against it. The last thing I want is to wake anyone. It’s one thing to let a soon-to-be orphan crash in your house, it’s another when said orphan is a pain in the ass who wakes you up in the middle of the night because she’s freaking out.

  Reaching the kitchen, I search the cabinets for a glass. I finally find one and make my way to the sink. With my hands trembling, I turn on the tap and fill the glass. I’m so focused on trying not to spill it, that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me.

  “Fuck, it’s you.”

  I jump at the sound of Eric’s voice and the glass slips from my fingers into the sink. Luckily, it doesn’t break, but it makes a loud clink. Holding my breath, I turn to face him. His words echoing in my ear.

  Fuck, it’s you.

  Standing in the kitchen doorway with a baseball bat perched high over his head, he stares at me with his mouth agape. My eyes zero in on the bat. Maybe he’s not as hospitable as I figured if he’s ready to whack me with that thing.

  As if he suddenly remembers he’s holding it, he lowers it to his side. His eyes dart back to me and he exhales a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard something… and well, I didn’t think anyone else was awake,” he continues. “I thought you were a burglar or something. Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  With all the chaos going on inside my head, I manage to nod.

  So he’s not actually looking to beat me with a bat. That’s good to know.

  The fact that he’s the one apologizing to me bothers me, though. He has nothing to be sorry for. This is his house, I’m just a guest who woke him in the middle of the night and scared him enough that he felt the need to grab a bat to defend himself and his home. The glass in the sink that I almost broke is his too. The bed I was just lying in—all his.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he mumbles, and this time I hear his feet pad across the tile. I turn around, ready to stop him from leaving, but my eyes catch sight of his bare back and instead of struggling to breathe, I struggle to find my voice.

  How am I just realizing he’s shirtless?

  Those butterflies I felt the moment I laid eyes on him return and I try to shake them off. I blame my reaction on the fact I’ve never been so up close and personal with a half-naked guy before. But I’ve been to the beach before, I even did a stint as a camp counselor last summer where plenty of male counselors paraded around shirtless on pool days. It never affected me the way staring at Eric’s muscular back is affecting me right now.

  Shaking that realization
from my head, I force myself to focus. A little voice sounds in my ear, warning me not to let him walk away.

  Say something to him!

  Thank him for giving you his bed.

  “You’re not much for talking, are you?” I half blurt, half screech.

  The question sounds accusatory even to my own ears and I flinch as a result, but then his feet come to a halt and those damn butterflies jump higher. He turns around and they soar. I struggle not to gawk at him, but my eyes have a mind of their own and slowly trail up his body, taking in the low riding sweats and his chiseled chest.

  Your mother is dying.

  Your entire life has been turned upside down in a matter of twenty-four hours.

  You should not be swooning over a boy.

  My cheeks heat just as they did when he first smiled at me, only he doesn’t smile now. He just stands there with a blank expression on his handsome face. Then he lifts his hand and combs his fingers through his mussed hair.

  “I like talking just fine,” he says, breaking the awkward silence. “There’s bottled water in the fridge.”

  I swallow.

  I don’t think that’s the response I was hoping for, but it’s the only one he gives before telling me goodnight. He turns around and this time when he starts to walk away, I don’t stop him.

  Eric may have given up his room, but he’s not happy about it.

  As many times as I’ve said it and thought it, I don’t think I’ve ever felt it yet, but at that moment, standing in the dark kitchen, a sense of loneliness washes over me.

  The only person I have is on her death bed.

  Six

  Eric

  I think I fucked up last night. Er—correction, I know I fucked up. But, in my defense, it was bound to happen, eventually. I mean, have you actually met my parents?

  They might’ve surprised us all when they announced they had a solid plan yesterday, but for the most part, those two live life flying by the seat of their pants and have made their fair share of not so stellar decisions from time to time. Come to think of it, I specifically remember a story about my mom wielding a bat around a few times. So, it’s in the genes.