Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 2

  She hadn't wanted that, and neither had Chris.

  He’d been so happy and carefree and Esmerelda loved that about him.

  “He wanted me to make sure you were taken care of, Esme. Let me take care of you.”

  But, Esmerelda knew that Axel couldn't fix her; not like he wanted to.

  Not like he’d promised he would.

  No, that duty fell at her own feet, and no matter how hard she fought the change, eventually she would have to move on.

  Today wasn't that day though, so she tucked her picture into her bag and looked up at Axel.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  Chapter 3

  Rayna Claire had her hands planted on her hips as Green shook his ass to Taylor Swift, Slayer right beside him.

  “Excuse me, but do you think you’ll be gettin’ back to work anytime soon? Ox will have both of our asses if you don’t catch up on your pink slips by the end of the day,” She snapped.

  Green turned to face her and she caught sight of his t-shirt. A black t-shirt with the words #peener written in white block letters adorning the front.

  She snorted and when Slayer turned around, she saw that he too was wearing an inappropriate t-shirt.

  His had the words Cervix Crusader stamped directly on the chest.

  Rayna rolled her eyes and sighed when Green started to argue.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Thang, but who died and made you boss?”

  A snicker escaped Slayer’s mouth and Rayna raised one eyebrow.

  Green’s eyes widened and he hurried towards the car he’d been lewdly grinding against only moments before.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t wanna hear Fury bitching anymore,” She admitted as she ran a hand through her long blonde hair.

  Slayer peeked at her as he made his way back to the bike he was pulling apart.

  “How’s the house coming along?”

  Rayna stuck a square between her teeth and shrugged.

  “It’s coming along. They've got the foundation done, so that’s a plus. I'm more concerned with the wedding that’s coming up,” She said off-handedly.

  “Yeah, well you guys have moved the date like four times,” Green supplied.

  “It’s been two times, and I had a good reason both times.”

  Green’s jade eyes met hers beneath the hood of the Camaro he was servicing.

  “Lady, you moved your wedding date because your damn dress wasn't ready yet.”

  “It’s a Vera Wang original! Do you know how much it cost me to even commission that?”

  “More than it was worth, I'm guessin’.”

  Rayna smiled at the sound of Fury’s voice.

  “Ha-ha. You wouldn't know the difference anyways,” She said.

  He shrugged as he leaned forward to kiss her.

  “Sure as hell don't . Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. Look, Ox and I have some business to contend with today. Axel is droppin’ off Chris Wilder’s old lady,” Fury said.

  Rayna’s eyes narrowed as she tried to remember just who that was-

  “No, shit? He is? How come?,” Green asked.

  Rayna glanced at him as Fury began to speak again.

  “Says she needs a change of scenery. She didn't take Chris’s death well, and he's worried about her.”

  Rayna remembered Axel, the Prez of the Lone Rangers, but she didn't know any of his club members personally.

  She’d probably never met Chris Wilder’s old lady.

  “She stayin’ in my old room?,” She asked.

  Fury nodded.

  “Looks that way. You okay with that?”

  Rayna nodded.

  “Of course. I couldn't imagine losing you, so I already sympathize with her,” She admitted.

  Fury smiled and leaned forward to kiss her one more time.

  Slayer made gagging noises while Green grimaced.

  “I knew you’d make her feel welcome. Alright, they’re on their way here. I’ll see you later.”

  Rayna nodded and watched Fury go.

  “Have we met Wilder’s old lady?”

  Slayer looked at Green.

  “Yeah, remember? When Axel had that lot party last year, the summer blow out? She’s the one with the black hair and blue eyes? Real curvy piece?”

  Green nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, you’re right. She has the beauty mark right above her right eyebrow.”

  “How the hell could you remember that?,” Rayna asked, amazed.

  “Hello, she’s gorgeous, how could we not remember?”

  “You better leave the poor woman alone, Slayer. Ox’ll have your ass if you bother her,” Rayna said.

  Slayer giggled- giggled- as he shrugged.

  “Ox wants to kill me like, ten times a day. Besides, she’s all sad and stuff. That’s not for me,” Slayer said with a frown.

  “Sad and stuff? What are you, six? Lord, you’re obnoxious,” She said as she stomped out her cigarette.

  Slayer didn't say anything else, but he did start to hum along to Green’s favorite Taylor Swift CD.

  Rayna glanced around the garage before she headed towards the clubhouse.

  She wasn't owed any explanations, but she could ask a few questions about the newest addition to the Seven Deadlies…right?

  Damn right.

  ◆◆◆

  Lace.

  Tulle.

  Invitations?

  It took a lot to make Esmerelda feel, but the second she stepped into the Seven Deadlies’s clubhouse, she felt.

  There were two men sitting around a small table, both of them studying different invitations, wedding paraphernalia strewn across the wooden surface.

  In her own defense, Esme tried not to notice.

  In fact, she ducked her head in an effort to bypass both of them altogether, but the one with the red hair stopped her cold in her tracks.

  “You Wilder’s old lady?”

  The words pierced her heart quicker than the blade in her boot could have, so she only nodded.

  Chris’s old lady?

  I guess that’s still me, huh?

  He smiled, as if he didn't realize that he’d just ripped her heart out in a matter of four words.

  “The name’s Killian, but you can call me Green.”

  She took the hand he held out to her as he moved to stand.

  Esme shook it, her fingertips accidentally grazing the small bundle of tulle he still had tucked between his fingers.

  His blonde counterpart glanced up at her and smiled kindly.

  “Hi. I’m Slayer.”

  His blue eyes met hers briefly before he was back to studying the invitations in his hands.

  Esmerelda tried not to let the sight of the wedding planning bother her-honestly, it’d been six months since Chris died, she should be okay.

  It shouldn't make her nauseous.

  It shouldn't make her want to shed her own skin and run, but it did.

  The idea of anyone saying ‘I do’, and ending up in her situation, made her want to cry.

  “Who’s getting married?,” She found the courage to ask.

  Green’s smile slowly faded as he gently set the invitation and tulle he was holding down.

  “Fuck. I didn’t even think about-,” He stopped when she held up a hand.

  “Don’t apologize, Green. It’s okay.”

  He didn't look like he believed her, and why would he? Her eyes were practically flooding with tears at the mere idea of a wedding, and wasn't that selfish of her?

  To be thinking about herself when someone else had obviously found happiness?

  “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn't let it bother me.”

  He canted his head to the side as he watched her, his jade eyes astute and precise as they roamed over features.

  “Why shouldn't it bother you? You’re entitled to grieve your old man,” Green argued.

  She smiled a sad smile as she gestured towards the decorations.

  “Yeah, but I shouldn't
let my own grief taint someone else’s happy day.”

  “I don’t think that’s what you’re doing at all, is it?”

  The tinkling voice didn't belong to Green or Slayer; it belonged instead to a petite blonde woman with big blue eyes and a pretty mouth that was upturned into a smile.

  “Not what I was trying to do,” Esmerelda admitted.

  “I’m Rayna. You must be Esmerelda,” Rayna said softly as she held out a hand.

  Esmerelda took it hesitantly, surprised to see that the woman she’d heard so much about was a small blonde with doe-eyes. Rayna seemed to sense that, but she didn't say anything about it although her smile did widen.

  “I’m guessing you've heard about me, then?”

  Rayna crossed her arms across her chest as she sucked on her bottom lip.

  “About as much as you’ve obviously heard about me.”

  Esmerelda wasn't sure if Rayna was trying be coarse with her, or if she was trying to dig for information in her own way, but she was an open book.

  There wasn’t anything she had to hide.

  “I don’t want to be here. Axel seems to think this place is the only place for me right now, and he won’t even tell me why. Do you know why?,” Esmerelda asked.

  Green and Slayer were looking between her and Rayna like they were at a tennis match, but regardless of what Esme had heard about the small blonde, she wasn't going to back down.

  “Maybe he knows how this place helped me, and he wants that for you, too.”

  Esmerelda couldn't help but laugh.

  She didn't find the situation humorous, but she did find the fact that Axel - and apparently, everyone else- thought they knew what she needed more than she did, frighteningly absurd.

  That bitterness she’d felt earlier as Axel packed her bags for her rose up in the back of her throat like bile, and she let the smile drop from her face before she took a step towards Rayna.

  “I don't want anyone else’s help. I don't need it.”

  Rayna’s blue eyes narrowed as she too stepped forward, her arms falling to her narrow hips.

  “That’s what I thought too, and I was wrong-”

  “Well, I’m not you.”

  Rayna’s eyebrows rose as she lifted her chin defiantly.

  Esmerelda reacted like a caged animal, her gaze sweeping the room to see Green and Slayer watching her; in the back of the room she caught a glimpse of tall man lurking in the corner with his arms crossed. His gray eyes were trained on her, as if he was waiting for her to make a move against Rayna, but she didn't want to hurt Rayna.

  She just wanted her to leave her alone.

  “You sound a lot like me though, Esmerelda. Axel wouldn't have sent you here if he truly thought you were handling Wilder’s death well.”

  Esme snarled under her breath at the mention of her dead husband.

  That wound on her heart was reopened instantly as all of her anguish crept to the surface of her skin.

  She swallowed audibly as she dipped her head and shook it slowly.

  “You don't know what its like,” She spat.

  Rayna reached for her, but Esmerelda turned away.

  “You’re right. I don't and I can’t even imagine losing Fury. But, I do know what it’s like to lose someone I love, Esmerelda. I know how it can eat away at you, how badly it can hurt-,” Esmerelda sighed and practically pressed herself up against Rayna in an effort to make her quiet.

  “Look, I get that this is your space. These are your boys, and I ain’t here to step on your toes. If you wanna try to assert your dominance, then give it your best. There’s nothing you can say or do to me that will hurt me, Rayna Claire. Trust me when I tell you that.”

  Esmerelda noticed that Rayna’s eyes were practically glittering with unshed tears as she watched her; the sympathy Esme saw nearly did her in.

  She was clenching her jaw so hard it ticked, but she didn't let up on it.

  If she did, she’d cry right there in front of everyone, and she couldn't handle the shame.

  The embarrassment.

  “No, I don't suppose there is.”

  And yet, behind the sympathy lied understanding, and Esmerelda wasn’t so sure she wanted to bond with Rayna Claire or anyone in the Seven Deadlies’s clubhouse.

  When Axel realized she was fine, he’d come back for her, and she would go home.

  She wouldn't stay here.

  “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Rayna’s words were soft and easy, like the breeze outside.

  Esmerelda wasn't sure what was worse; that Rayna had almost witnessed her breakdown, or that it wasn’t over yet, and that the worst had yet to come.

  Chapter 4

  Prettyboy knew that eavesdropping was probably not the best way to get on Rayna Claire’s good side.

  Shit, he knew that he didn't have to do anything to get on her ‘good’ side, but listening in on Rayna Claire and Esmerelda Quinn go at it in the great room of the clubhouse was too good a temptation to pass up.

  Especially when he realized that Green, Slayer, and Limit were all privy to the show.

  He was just leaving church when he heard her voice- Esmerelda’s- and he’d stopped in his tracks to listen to her.

  Of course he knew Chris Wilder; everyone in the Seven Deadlies either knew him personally, or knew of him. He was a good man. At least he had been before he got into the accident that took his life. Prettyboy remembered him as someone who smiled big and laughed often, and he’d always liked that about him. When Chris died, every club in North Carolina had been shocked; a freak motorcycle accident wasn’t the cause of death for most outlaw bikers.

  The saddest part about it had been witnessing Esmerelda’s breakdown at his wake.

  Yeah, Prettyboy remembered that day. Not every member of the Seven Deadlies could make it, so Ox sent him and Limit out of respect. While Limit had remained in one place for most of the evening, Prettyboy had wandered through the clubhouse, drink in hand.

  That’s when he'd first seen her.

  Esmerelda Quinn.

  Long black hair, honey colored skin, and the sexiest body he’d ever laid eyes on.

  And, like the fucked up bastard he was, he’d wanted her right then and there.

  Her sad blue eyes and the way she watched the dark room that held Chris Wilder’s body were the only indications that she knew him.

  She wasn’t wearing a ring, and he didn't remember her having any visible brands that night.

  He’d watched her from a dark corner until she finally made it to the casket before it registered that she was Chris’s old lady. His wife.

  Prettyboy had done a lot of fucked up things in his life, but lusting after another man’s wife before he was even cold and buried was definitely within the realm of the top five worst things.

  It wasn’t like he’d ever make his…appreciation of her known, either.

  She wouldn't want someone who looked like him, anyways.

  If and when she decided to move on with someone new, she’d want someone whole.

  A man who would take care of her and give her everything a sweet woman like her deserved.

  Sure, she wasn’t in the best state of mind right now; her little encounter with the dangerous Rayna Claire was proof enough of that.

  But, he knew she was soft-hearted.

  He remembered the way she’d cried in Axel’s arms that night; anyone who fell apart at the seams so smoothly had to be soft.

  Didn’t that just prove he was a monster?

  The poor woman was out of her head with grief, and all he could think about was how plush her mouth looked, or how mesmerizing and miserable her eyes were.

  He wanted to wipe away her tears and just maybe make her smile.

  When he realized that Rayna and Esmerelda were headed his way, he quickly ducked into the bathroom to avoid both of them.

  He sucked in a deep breath when his green eyes met his reflection in the mirror; monster was right.

  Pre
ttyboy knew he wasn’t a handsome man anymore; he didn't have much to offer anyone, not even his looks. He could turn a regular bike into a masterpiece, he could tear apart an engine and stick it all back together, and truthfully he could hold his own in a fight…

  But, that was about it.

  Like a creep, he waited until Rayna left before he turned to leave the bathroom; and stopped cold.

  His hand was wrapped around the doorknob when he heard the muffled sounds coming from Rayna’s old room.

  Weeping.

  She’s fucking weeping…

  Through the thin walls of the bathroom he could hear her heart-wrenching cries.

  He winced at the sound, because he knew how badly it hurt; he’d cried like that himself for the first few months after his accident.

  Truthfully, he’d wanted to die, and why wouldn't he?

  He’d gone from living a normal life to living the life of a beast with a slight limp that would never heal.

  Half of his body, including his face, was practically burned away, and there was nothing he could to change that. No makeup, tattoo, or beard could cover the destruction his accident had left in its wake. He’d grown a short, patchy beard in an effort to hide some of his scars, but that too was hidden beneath the bandana covering the lower half of his face.

  Some days he tried to accept the fact that he, as Tasha put it, was hideous.

  Some days he almost made it too, and then something would happen; some tiny moment would remind him of the fact that he was deformed, hollow, a poor excuse of a man…and the bandana would once again find it’s way onto his face.

  He thought about burning them.

  Prettyboy often imagined how freeing it would be to pile all of his bandanas in the fire pit and set them ablaze.

  It would be poetic, to see his crutch burning much the same way he had.

  Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

  He needed the mask to cover what even he couldn't stomach to look at.

  Yeah, the sounds of Chris Wilder’s widow sobbing through the thin walls had him stuck in his feelings; he wasn't ashamed to admit that.

  Much like her, he too had once had it all.

  Now, he had nothing.

  No woman, no family.

  Fuck, all he had was the club, and some days even that didn't feel like enough…