Home > Forgotten & Found : A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset(5)

Forgotten & Found : A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset(5)
Author: Serena Akeroyd

As I stared at what had always been my second home, the front door opened, and in the backlighting from the hall, I saw two men appear. One was the Prospect, who was a little thin, a lot tall. Kind of reed-like. The other was the opposite. Tall, sure, but thick, every inch of his frame muscled. The two men approached the gate, and in the headlights, I saw the other guy’s cut. Enforcer, just like Hawk had predicted. Except, this wasn’t the same Enforcer as before. Buddy’s beer belly had exploded out of his cut, and he’d also been a good six inches shorter than this guy. He’d also had a kind of greasy comb-over.

This brother had short hair, about two inches long, all of it standing up like Bart Simpson, except he made it look good. At least, I thought he would when half the spikes weren’t sagging all over the place from what looked like him raking his hand through it too many times. In a cut and a Henley, he packed out both to full capacity, and his jeans clung to him like he’d been born with them on as they formed to his legs as if painted there.

He kind of reminded me of Luke Perry back in Beverly Hills 90210. Except Luke was skinnier, and this guy? Not a bit of him was skinny.

Especially not the log he was carrying between his legs, because, yup, the dude was sporting wood, and that wood looked like a fine piece of timber. Which told me exactly what we’d interrupted, and my nose curled at the thought. Fucking bikers. Their parties were a euphemism for a goddamn orgy.

Refusing to drool—over his face, body, and cock—because that’s what these brothers were used to, blind adulation from the club sluts, I stared right at him, aware that he was looking at me and not my brothers through the windscreen. Even as I wondered why, I soon had my answer. He tipped his head to the side, like he was reading me in the play of light and shadow from the dash, and I knew he was trying to see my mother in my face.

My throat closed at that, grief hitting me hard as it sucker punched me. I’d never get over her death, never get over the loss of what might have been. Reconciling wasn’t possible when you were fucking dead, which meant that was it. Our unfinished business would forever be that. And though, for these past few years, she’d been a bitch, before that, she’d been a good mom. A little hands-on when it came time to punishments when we were younger, but nothing like what had gone down between her and my father.

Still… Lizzie Fontaine was a good person. She’d have been the best if she hadn’t gotten knocked up by Dog, but that wasn’t something you could roll back the clock on, was it?

When the guy finally stopped studying me, he moved to the gate, which began moving now that the Prospect had pushed a button in a little shelter just off the driveway. The Enforcer rounded the cab to North’s side, and my brother rolled down the window, letting the hot air spread into the cab. Hawk reached up and clicked on the inner light too, and I squinted, the brightness painful after traveling in the dark all night long.

“You Dog’s kids?”

For a greeting, that was pretty polite. Especially since we’d interrupted something personal. His erection was proof enough of that.

“Yeah. Lizzie Fontaine was our mom,” I stated, giving my mother ownership of us and not that dumb fuck of a sperm donor.

His mouth tightened, and regret shaded his eyes. “I remember her. How did she die?”

“Heart attack,” I choked out, dipping my chin as I clenched my hands into fists.

“Fuck. She was only… what? In her late forties?” he exclaimed, sounding genuinely sad.

I cut him a look, surprised by his dejection, and whispered,

“Yeah, she was forty-five.”

“Too fucking young.”

North and Hawk didn’t reply, but then, they were taking Mom’s death weirdly. Honestly, I sometimes wondered how it was that they were the eldest siblings and I was the baby. They acted like toddlers most of the time, and the way they were grieving only backed up that theory.

“Yeah, she was,” I whispered, my pain ringing through each word.

“What brings you here?”

North cleared his throat and finally deigned to speak. “This is home, Nyx—”

My eyes widened at the name. Nyx? Sweet fuck, this was Nyx?

“You got a good memory on you, kid,” Nyx rumbled, his eyes darting over North’s face, searching for what, I had no idea.

“Helps that my dad writes me often, tells me some of the shit you get up to.”

Well, that was news to me.

Nyx’s eyes narrowed at my brother’s statement though. “That a threat?”

North stiffened, aware he’d put his foot in his mouth, as per fucking usual. “No! Not at all. I just mean, he told me about the crazy stunts you pull. Extreme sports shit, you know?”

The tension surged in the cab, and for a second, it combined with my fatigue, my grief, and the fact I hadn’t eaten properly since we’d set off, making me feel lightheaded. Reaching up to rub my forehead, I massaged my temples. Nyx caught the movement—fuck, I felt like he caught every movement—and murmured, “There’s a party going on at the moment. You’re welcome to sleep in the bunks until Rex can decide what to do with you.”

“Rex is the new Prez?” I asked, eyes widening, because I remembered him too. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not if I knew all the brothers and the Old Ladies.

“Yeah. He is. For the past four years. Why?” His mouth twisted. “You got a problem with that?” His tone told me he didn’t give a shit if I did or not.

In an effort to be polite, which wasn’t something I did often, I countered, “No! Of course not. I just remember when he was a Prospect, that’s all.” My smile was genuine. “He was nice.”

Nyx snorted. “Nice. Yeah. That’s Rex. All heart.” The Prospect was hovering by the gates, and as Nyx turned around and began to walk back, he told him, “Drive the truck into the nearest parking bay. I’ll take our guests to the bunks.” The word ‘guests’ didn’t sound all that cordial or hospitable to me, enough so that I frowned at it.

“Nyx?” I called, aware that there was a quiver in my voice, and hating myself for it because these bastards thrived on weakness.

Just because they were, essentially, family, didn’t mean I didn’t know how shit worked around here.

“Yeah. What?” he demanded impatiently, twisting back around to stare at me.

“You do know it’s us, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be letting you through the fucking gates if you weren’t the spitting image of your momma. Now, I don’t have all goddamn night. Do you want to come in, or stay out here until Rex wakes up tomorrow afternoon?”

 

 

Two

 

 

Nyx

 

 

IT HAD BEEN shitty of me to talk to Giulia like that, especially when, later on that night, I found out from her brothers that they’d been traveling from Utah, hadn’t stopped much on the journey, and that their mother had only just died a few weeks ago.

I felt like a cunt. But then, I usually felt that way.

No change there.

But I felt even worse than usual about it when I woke up the next morning.

Staring at the ceiling, I thought about the way her eyes had darkened at my gruffness, thought about the fact I might have hurt her feelings, and wondered why I gave a fuck.

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