Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Read online

  After Prettyboy admitted to her that he wanted to be more than friends, she’d had no idea what to expect.

  Esme wasn't sure why, but she coveted that first note. And the second one, and the third.

  The second note had been a tad longer, half of a piece of paper he’d shoved under her door while she was in the shower.

  Secret number three: When I was ten I stole for the first time. It wasn't much, but stealing that small pack of gum made me feel like a ten year old badass.

  Does it surprise you that I have an extensive criminal background?

  -Prettyboy.

  The third note was a little sweeter, a little more poignant; at first it’d made her cry, because Esme was still struggling with the ever-present memory of Christopher Wilder.

  Yet, Prettyboy’s third note was still safely tucked away inside of her pillow case as if she were afraid that if the rest of the world saw it, the words would disappear.

  Secret number four: I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the moment I first saw you. Do you taste as good as you look, Esmeralda Quinn?

  -Prettyboy

  So there Esme stood, watching the man who was now apparently writing her pseudo-love letters, talk to Limit as if she were completely enamored with him.

  Was she?

  Am I?

  “You okay, baby?”

  Esme turned to see the last person she expected to see watching her: Axel.

  She squealed happily, rushing to throw her arms around him.

  His strong arms wrapped around her tightly as he crushed her against him. He was laughing as she hugged him to her.

  “You’re lookin’ good,” He said wryly, setting her down easily.

  She smiled up at him, her fingers tugging on the ends of his hair.

  “Yeah?”

  His sparkling eyes were trained on her expertly when he nodded.

  “Yeah, baby. How ya doin’?”

  She shrugged, her smile still in place as she held one of his big hands.

  “I’m better. The people here are real nice.”

  Axel’s gaze caught something over her shoulder, and she turned to see Ox and Prettyboy watching them.

  “I told you they would be,” Axel said as he gave her his full attention.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Esme cupped his scarred cheek and smiled.

  “I missed you,” She admitted.

  She hadn't realized how much she did miss Axel until she saw him standing there smiling at her. His familiar scent enveloped her, sweet musk and motor oil. Seeing him sent a pang of contentment resonating throughout her.

  “I missed you too, baby. I’ve gotta speak to the club about a few things, but I’ll be here for the day. I think we’re gonna have a party for old times sake tonight.”

  “You’re not here to take me home?,” She whispered so only he could hear her. Axel’s dark eyes met hers, and she knew he wasn't there to take her back.

  “Not today, Esme.”

  Not today, but soon?

  Not today, but never?

  She wasn't sure how she felt about that; did she want to go home yet?

  Instead of asking him any more questions, she leaned up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

  “Okay. I'm going to help Rayna with some wedding planning, but promise me you’ll save me a little time later?”

  She tried to smile, but her bottom lip got caught between her teeth instead.

  Axel nudged her under the chin before he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

  “Always. Go and have fun, I’ll find you later.”

  She nodded, watching as he walked towards Ox and Prettyboy.

  Just as she was about to turn around to leave, she caught Prettyboy’s gaze, and felt her cheeks heat when he winked in her direction.

  Dear lord.

  He’s going to be the death of me.

  ◆◆◆

  Esme found Rayna outside talking to Rider and Fury, her fingers working furiously over the screen as she muttered under her breath.

  “What’s the matter?,” Esme asked.

  Rayna swore again and Fury gestured towards Rayna’s phone.

  “Her wedding dress is delayed again.”

  Esme glanced at Rayna.

  “What’s it look like?”

  Rayna turned her phone towards her, displaying a gorgeous confection of lace and crystals.

  Esme smiled as she ran her fingers along the screen reverently.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  Rayna smiled at her.

  “Yeah, it is. But, at this point I’ll never get it in time!”

  Rider was grinning as he watched Rayna roll her eyes heavenward.

  Esme cleared her throat, not quite sure if she should offer what she was about to offer Rayna.

  “I still have mine. If you want to try it on,” Esme said softly.

  Simultaneously, everyone turned to look at her.

  Rayna tucked her phone into her pocket as she glanced at Fury.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Rayna said.

  Esme shook her head.

  “No, I want to. Really, I spent a lot of money on it and I would…hate for it to have been a waste,” She explained.

  A fucking waste, Esmerelda.

  Rayna hugged Esme to her, running her fingers through Esme’s long hair.

  “Thank you. I’d love to try it on,” Rayna said.

  Esme smiled before she gestured towards the lot.

  “What do you say we go and grab it before the party starts?”

  Rayna looked at Fury before she nodded.

  “Okay, let’s do that.”

  Fury looked at Esme though dark lashes before he mouthed a ‘thank you,’ in her direction.

  Esme sent him a wave as Rayna guided her towards her bike.

  “Can we wrap it up to bring it back on my bike?,” Rayna wondered.

  The dress wasn’t large by any means; Esme and Rayna were close to the same size. The dress could easily be held by Esme as they rode the distance to the Lone Rangers’s clubhouse.

  “Yeah, let’s ride.”

  Rayna's eyebrows hit her hairline at the steady timbre of Esme’s voice as she spoke.

  “Okay. Let’s ride.”

  Chapter 13

  Esme knew that as soon as she stepped into her old bedroom, she’d be swept up in so much emotion she’d likely sink into the abyss all over again.

  Rayna seemed to sense that; she seemed to know that if Esme were given the chance, she’d be lost.

  “You want me to join you?,” Rayna asked.

  Esme shook her head slowly as she eyed the same clubhouse she'd left only a couple of weeks ago.

  “No. I’ll be okay,” She said.

  Liar.

  Esmeralda Quinn, you’re a fucking liar.

  And she knew it too, as she entered the same clubhouse and saw the same people ambling about.

  Everyone waved, nodded, or smiled in her direction; but Esme knew what they really thought of her. Christopher Wilder’s poor little widow, all torn up with grief.

  I am torn.

  The hallway that led to their room never seemed so long, but she took each step slowly. One foot in front of the other until she was standing outside their door, her fingers wrapped around the brass knob.

  The knob turned easily in her fingers, and the creak of the hinges barely made it’s way to her ears.

  When did the room she’d seen every day for six months turn into something so different? When did it turn into a shrine for her dead husband?

  When I fucking let it, and lost myself in the process.

  Pain is a fickle bitch, and she’s as indecisive as mother nature…

  Esme knew she had to get in there and get that dress, but as she stepped into the small room, her gaze landed on something sparkling in the bright sunlight on the edge of her night stand.

  As if she were seeing it for the first time, she headed for it, her boots clomping loudly on the tiled floor.

  E
sme ripped the offensive item from the top of the nightstand and rolled it over in her palm; Chris’s wedding ring.

  The thick gold band was simple, like him.

  And yet, it was still here, and Chris wasn’t, and something has to fucking give.

  I can’t keep living like this.

  I can’t keep acting like I’m okay.

  As Esme turned, she saw the same line of pictures standing tall and proud on top of her dresser she'd put there months ago.

  Chris’s handsome face smiled up at her, and for the first time, she felt angry.

  Why did he leave me?

  Why didn't he just stay home?

  Esme gripped the ring tightly, the rounded edges almost cutting into her palm, as she released a sound that bordered on desperate.

  A deep, guttural sound that easily portrayed how fractured she was.

  Her arm went flying and then all of the pictures did, too.

  The glass shattered easily, just like her world had.

  Esme’s whole body shook with the force of her grief and her utter fury.

  Her blue eyes were leaking and wet, but her tears couldn't stop the avalanche of emotion that had her whirling to find the next object to smash.

  His shoes went flying, knocking over the vase of mummified roses from their wedding day. Esme hadn't ever gotten around to throwing them away, not even when they’d rotted in that crystal vase that Axel’s sister had gifted them.

  The roses and the crystal slammed into the ground at full force, spraying her with shards of glass and bits of roses, and Esme remembered how much she fucking hated roses!

  She hated them, abhorred the sight of them, and as she stomped on the broken bits of stems and petals, she made sure she grabbed a hold of his cut hanging on the wall. Esme wanted to slice it to pieces but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

  Instead, she cried into the thick leather material as she turned towards the book shelf housing all of the knickknacks they’d collected together. Small snow globes, a couple of them housing their pictures inside, a few more photographs that made her want to curl into a ball and die right along with him.

  Esme’s hand flew out before she could stop herself, and suddenly all of those knickknacks were sailing towards the ground, bouncing and breaking just like she had.

  Her bedroom door slammed open as she turned to face the destruction. Familiar arms wrapped around her while she kicked and cried into the leather cut she hadn't yet let go of.

  “Jesus, calm down, sweetheart!”

  The voice belonged to none other than Tango, the Lone Rangers's enforcer.

  “Just let me go,” She begged through her tears.

  “I can’t do that, Esme.”

  He tucked her closer into his chest as she sobbed, her black hair sticking to her wet cheeks.

  The cut in her hands smelled like nicotine and sadness and everything she missed so fucking much.

  Everything she couldn't get back.

  “What are you doin’ here? You’re supposed to be with the Seven Deadlies,” Tango said softly.

  His large hand smoothed hair away from her face and she turned in his arms to look at him.

  “I came to get my wedding dress, to give it to Rayna Claire. I thought that she could use it, and I just…lost it,” She admitted.

  Tango’s hazel eyes were soft and sweet as he wiped tears from her chin.

  “We heard. Don't worry about it, Esme. I’ll have the prospect clean it up.”

  She hid her face in his green shirt and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me,” She whispered shakily.

  “You lost your old man. Nobody here blames you for being upset.”

  She laughed, the tinkling sound loud in the aftermath of her destruction.

  “I’m a little more than upset, Tango. I’m lost.”

  “Maybe, but something gave you the courage to drive over here and give that sparkly dress of yours to Rayna Claire. Something inside of you wants to be better, Esme. It’s okay to move on, ya know. Settle down, find somebody new to warm your bed. Chris would want that for you.”

  Esmeralda’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of someone else warming her bed; not because she had a lot of options lining up to sleep with the notorious crazy widow, but because someone’s face popped into her head at the exact moment those words left Tango’s mouth.

  Esme knew she couldn't go on the way she was.

  She had to pull herself up by her bootstraps and get moving.

  She had to find the strength within herself to not only forgive Chris, but to forgive herself.

  Tango released her from his hold and she stumbled, catching herself on the door frame.

  “What the fuck happened in here?,” Esme heard over her shoulder.

  Rayna’s vanilla perfume met her nose and she sighed as she wiped her tears away.

  “I had an accident.”

  Rayna snorted and stepped over the broken glass and chunks of ceramic that were littering the floor.

  “Honey, it looks like a hurricane swept through here.”

  “Yeah, if Hurricane Esme is a thing,” Tango deadpanned.

  Rayna looked up at him, confused.

  “I fucking lost my shit, Rayna.”

  Esme dropped Chris’s cut onto the bed and pointed at it.

  “You can hang it up on the memorial wall now, Tango. It’s yours. I’m gonna take the dress and we’re leaving. I’ll tell Axel what I did when I get back to the Seven Deadlies’s clubhouse,” Esme said shortly.

  Tango’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the cut.

  “You sure? You've been real adamant that you don’t want us to touch it.”

  Esme ran her fingers along the worn patches and nodded.

  “Yeah. He wasn't just mine, he was all of ours. It’s time for me to get my head out of my ass and get the closure I need to move on,” Esme admitted.

  Rayna’s hand landed on her shoulder.

  “You’re gonna be okay, Esme.”

  I’m going to be okay.

  For the first time since she’d awoken from her emotional-coma, Esme knew that what Rayna said was true.

  One day she would be okay.

  Not today, and maybe not even tomorrow, but one day she’d be okay again.

  Chapter 14

  Prettyboy sat around the very same table he’d been dreading seeing.

  They'd talked about helping Axel with his turf war going on involving the Silver Bullets. They’d discussed money, business, and tonight's party.

  Now, they were discussing something much more interesting to Damon Michael.

  The current topic of discussion?

  Esmeralda Quinn.

  Axel had only just gotten off the phone with his club enforcer, Tango, and the expression on his face told Prettyboy that whatever had happened, wasn't good.

  “What’s the word, brother?”

  Ox’s deep voice broke up the tension in the room, and Axel sighed before he finally closed his burner phone and looked up at him.

  “Esme destroyed her room. Tango said the place looks like a bomb went off.”

  Prettyboy and a few others swore under their breath.

  “I don't know what to do. I don't know what the fuck she needs. I thought sending her here would make things better. I thought it would help her heal, move on,” Axel said sadly.

  “I’ll never understand women,” Slayer said.

  “I don't know how to help her either,” Ox said truthfully.

  “She has to want to move on,” Fury said.

  Axel looked at him questioningly.

  “When I was spiraling, Ox and everybody else tried everything to knock some sense into me. It wasn’t until I found something else worth living for, that I finally found the strength to move on from Lizzie’s death. I know exactly what Esme's going through,” Fury said as he smoked a cigarette.

  “She doesn't have anyone else?,” Torch asked from the corner of the room.

&n
bsp; Axel shook his head.

  “She’s a loose cannon, yeah, but I can’t even imagine losing someone the way she did,” Green said sadly.

  “Eventually, she has to move on, right?,” Slayer asked.

  “Yeah, but it sounds like she's not quite there yet,” Rider said.

  Prettyboy glanced at him.

  “You’re right.”

  Rider had his tablet in his hands as he looked at the men around the table.

  “We’re having a party here tonight. Do you think she can handle that many people being around?”

  Axel grunted as he too lit a square and parked it between his straight teeth.

  “Esme can handle just about anything. She didn't do this shit when she was in my clubhouse. She drank too much, slept a lot, and cried incessantly. She didn't destroy things.”

  “Yeah, because she got to hide away from the truth in that tiny fucking room she shared with Chris. It was easier for her to survive that way, surrounded by their things,” Prettyboy rasped.

  Everyone looked at him then, obviously surprised.

  “What?”

  “You sound like you care about what happens to her,” Fury said.

  “Of course I fuckin’ care. But, it doesn't matter what I want,” He said.

  “What you want? What, you want Esme?”

  Axel’s gritty voice sounded defensive, but Prettyboy had no idea why.

  He wouldn't hurt her, not on purpose.

  “And what if I do?”

  “Esme’s not a tagalong. She’s a ride or die, Prettyboy. She’s fuckin’ fragile right now. I don't want to see her get hurt,” Axel said.

  His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes were filled with steely determination.

  “You think I would hurt her?”

  “I think you’re too fucked up with your own shit to know what’s good for her.”

  The honesty in Axel’s voice, the truth of his words hit Prettyboy right where Axel wanted them to: his heart.

  “Wow, calm down. Prettyboy wouldn't hurt a lady,” Green said as he glanced back and forth at the two.

  Axel shifted in his seat, sending a glare Green’s way. The irishman didn't even flinch.

  “I didn't say he would, did I?”