Hell on Wheels (Kings of Mayhem MC Book 4) by Penny Dee

Author:Penny Dee [Dee, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-15T18:30:00+00:00

CASSIDY

We sat on the porch. It was our second night out under the stars. Relaxing on the deck chairs, we ate leftovers from the diner while the pink dusk darkened into an indigo twilight.

When we finished eating, Chance took our plates inside and turned on some music. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Texas Flood” cruised out of the speakers.

Chance reappeared on the deck with a couple of beers.

“Molly mentioned you were a SEAL,” I said, accepting a beer from him.

He sat down slowly, his dark eyebrows drawn in. For a moment he didn’t say anything, and I saw the muscle in his jaw begin to flex. This was obviously something he didn’t like talking about. He took a gulp from the bottle before he spoke.

“Yeah, I was,” he said. “Got medically discharged last year.”

I wanted to ask what happened but didn’t want to upset him. In the end, I didn’t have to ask. Before I changed the subject, Chance offered me an explanation.

“An RPG was fired into the building where my team and I were conducting a surveillance mission. I was the only survivor.” He drew on his beer. “Got me put in hospital for some time. Got me medically discharged.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

He looked at me, wearing his poker face, but I could see the pain in his eyes. I got it. You could mask the pain on your expression and in your body language, but in your eyes? Not a chance.

I wasn’t going to push him. Just like he didn’t push me.

Inside, Stevie Ray Vaughan changed to Katey Sagal’s “Strange Fruit.”

I put down the beer bottle. It was time to have the conversation I had avoided for days. It was time to bring down my walls and tell him everything.

“When my parents fostered me and brought me home, they let Barrett name me,” I said, drawing my knees up to my chest and looking up at the stars.

Surprised, Chance turned his head to look at me. “They did?”

I nodded. “My foster mom said later that it was to help him cope with the change. A way to include him. Unfortunately for me he didn’t see it that way. He saw it as ownership of me. Because in his warped mind, giving me my name made me his. I wasn’t his foster sister. I was his toy. His plaything.”

Chance was silent but his face was rigid, his eyes intense as he listened.

“When I was twelve and he was fifteen, he took me to an abandoned shack in the woods. He held me down and branded me with a branding rod he made in workshop at school.” I slid the hem of my dress up so Chance could see the dark scar seared into my hip. It was in the shape of a B.

B for Barrett.

“Motherfucker.” He exhaled, his eyes black.

“Like I said, he thinks I’m his.” My heart started to thud in my neck when I thought about what came next. I paused, choosing my words carefully. “A few weeks later, just after my thirteenth birthday, he forced me to return with him to that shack.

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