My Darling Mayhem
: Chapter 8

There was a certain peace in leaving the city and venturing into the country.

With the wind in my face and my club at my back, I finally felt at peace, like my mind had found a way to stop throwing the look on Wren’s face when she said I wasn’t safe back into focus. It had been a week since I spoke to or even saw her. She was good to drive the day after our little moment, and from then on, I hadn’t interacted with her or Cruz.

Which was tough, because I liked the little guy. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to have Kane over, so it didn’t make sense to have Cruz hang out. Which was fine; this was better. Wren was right; we didn’t need to act civil or hang out just because the boys wanted to.

The sound of roaring engines brought me back to the present. My VP, Thistle, twisted his hand over the throttle while watching me from behind his riding goggles. He was essentially asking if I was good. I gave him a slight nod as we increased speed and continued back toward New York City.

We’d just returned from a rival club’s funeral, which wasn’t my favorite way to pass the time, especially when I was in the middle of a custody situation. But for this particular president, most of the clubs along the East Coast arrived, and while everyone was pledging peace, there were glares, glances, and murderous undertones that promised violence. We had all shown up, smiled, and played pretend…but we also were taking fucking notes on who showed up and who was talking to who.

The Stone Riders was the club Simon Stone had left behind. While I wouldn’t be against allying with them, we had a long way to go before any declarations were made, especially with the new crew that had been assembled from various clubs that shouldn’t even be in the same room, much less the same club. It made them dangerous.

I knew it was something I needed to bring my club in on and make a plan. Perhaps even try and take advantage of the fact that the Stone Riders would be weak right now, as would Sons of Speed with the loss of their president. But I just couldn’t seem to think past all the shit that was currently clouding my mind.

Now, heading home, my entire club was on high alert.

The ruthless edge I’d ridden my whole life dared me to do it. To send my men out and hit them under the guise of peace. Take their shit, build my own…but then I’d remembered the way one of the Stone Riders, Wes Ryan, had glared at me, and I’d think back to when we’d nearly killed one another a few years back.

All because of the patches we’d been loyal to.

Wes Ryan was just trying to protect his girlfriend or at least someone who had once been his girlfriend, and I was just trying to fulfill a deal made with her father. It was one of the few times in my life I felt remorse…only because it was senseless and stupid. We’d nearly shot him for interfering…he’d almost shot me for following her.

Now, years later, Callie Stone’s dad was dead. She’d become Wes’s wife, a mother, and all because, for one second, I chose peace instead of war.

That decision was a defining moment in my life, making me reflect on my place in the club and what we stood for. That was why I continued to ride back to New York instead of turning toward Virginia, where these other clubs were currently set up.

I hated that there was a tiny voice in the back of my mind that said it wasn’t just Wes Ryan or Simon Stone as to why I was choosing to get back home. I’d never admit it out loud, but it was also her that was driving me back.

Maybe I shouldn’t have helped Wren after she’d been so fucking blunt…maybe I should have just accepted the fuck off vibe she was giving me, and not pushed. Either way, it seemed we’d end up right back here, where we were both avoiding each other. Maybe in the week that I’d been gone, she had started fucking that Brian guy again. Maybe her name really was Wren, and there was no mystery to that tattoo on her arm.

She probably didn’t want me in the neighborhood at all. Fuck, I knew she didn’t.

Thistle’s engine revved in a way that had him creeping up next to me. He gestured with his head for us to pull into a local gas station that doubled as a chicken shack. Maybe we’d been riding longer than I thought, and the men were starving.

We pulled off the road and into the dirt lot, parking our bikes in rows. Most of the men took off toward the restaurant, while a few stopped in to get gas. I remained on my bike and tugged my cell phone free right as my vice president approached.

“The guys want to know if you’re going to head back to Atlas or come back to the city with us.”

The sky was overcast, and the trees were already yellow and orange, filling in the scene around us like a photograph. The gas station was older, with few cars, just dirt—the cracked asphalt in the parking lot and the dirt in the lot next to it. My boot found a clump of it to kick at while I scanned the area, my answer already on the tip of my tongue.

I wanted to get back.

Thistle’s beard twitched as he watched, then beat me to the punch.

“The club needs to see you outside of a run and attending a funeral. We’re all on edge.”

But heading all the way back to the city and then back to Atlas would be too much of a trip, especially after the ride we’d just done.

Thistle grabbed water from inside his saddle bag and took a long swig. The leather around his shoulders revealed just as many patches as mine did, save for a few.

He swiped at his mouth and then dropped his voice. “What if we do something small at your place? Let the men see where you live and be a part of your new life. You need them to be aware of where you live anyway for those who do safety sweeps of the area.”

Something small…a small gathering.

“How many?” I asked, ensuring I hadn’t missed any notifications from my lawyer, case worker, or Kane. He used his foster parents’ phone to contact me sometimes. Mostly just to ask what I was doing, but I wanted to be available if he needed me.

Thistle glanced at the bikes. We had about fifty with us, and the other fifty or so took a different route back.

“We can keep it low-key.”

I tossed the idea back and forth. It would have to be low-key; otherwise, I’d get in trouble with the HOA. But…the idea of getting under Wren’s skin wasn’t such a bad thought either. I could have something safe, small and still piss her off enough that it told her I was still upset over our last interaction. Maybe give her a reason to talk to me.

Suddenly, the idea held even more merit.

“Okay, yeah…let’s do it. But it stays small,” I warned my VP, pointing my finger at him before heading toward the restaurant. I wanted some chicken, and then I wanted to go home and hopefully see my new neighbor get all hot and bothered over my little gang.

This was a terrible idea. Even with a happy buzz going, which made me feel nice and relaxed, I knew this wouldn’t end well.

Thistle had managed to get his motorcycle into the backyard and had set up a ramp. Just from that information alone, I knew this would be something I had to fix. There were members in the house, drinking, probably fucking, and a few had even started fighting. Last time I walked inside, a few bunk bunnies and sweetbutts had shown up, fuck if I knew from where, but I was focused on the mess outside because my neighbor’s yard was so close to where all the commotion was taking place.

I may have wanted to get under her skin, but this wasn’t what I had in mind. I pictured the rumble of engines outside of her house agitating her. I pictured some laughter being a little too loud, but this? Fuck, this was not what I had envisioned. It was exactly what she had said: mayhem. I was doing what she’d assumed I would, creating a dangerous environment for Cruz, and while I was in charge and knew everyone here would listen to my word, I was still being reckless by ever saying yes to Thistle.

She was right about me. Why did I even think for a second that I could be a good role model for Kane? Why did I think I could do this?

The happy buzz I was feeling had started to wane, and I wondered if I needed something stronger. I didn’t like how tight my chest felt or that my skin seemed stretched too thin like I needed to escape all this.

No, it was deeper than that. It was fear.

I was afraid Thistle would do something that would hit her fence or somehow hurt Cruz. I’d never forgive myself if either happened.

I started toward Thistle to tell him to take down the ramp when there was a commotion behind me. A few members started cat-calling and whistling.

I turned around and found Wren walking through the throng of members gathered near the sliding glass door. She gave one of my men a slight shove as he got too close, and then she continued toward me like none of this mayhem scared her at all. I took a moment to register that she’d come in through the house…which meant she probably saw all sorts of shit.

Shame crept into my stomach, settling like a rock. It was too dark to make out that shimmer in her amber eyes, but I saw her dark brows dipped in worry, her mouth flat, and her arms tucked across her chest, holding her sweater closed.

She wore sweats that hung low on her hips and flip-flops, showing her red toenails and cute feet. I liked her feet, her legs, and that hair. I wanted to let out a groan. Her hair was down, bouncing in loose curls against her back. It was so thick that all I wanted was to bury my hands in it.

Damn, how buzzed was I?

“Archer?” Her questioning tone finally hit me like an arrow as she stepped closer. Thistle waved from where he sat in the middle of the yard, and the rest of the men surrounding him burst into laughter.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I leaned toward her. “What are you doin’ here?”

Her eyes grew, as did her mouth, as if I’d said something that shocked her.

“I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here. You’re gone for a week, then suddenly you’re back and throwing a massive party, like you’re some college kid. Do you know how loud you’re being, or how many text messages have come through on the neighborhood app?”

“You miss me, Wren?” I winked at her, feeling that burning sensation return to my chest. She noticed how long I was gone. That had to mean something, right? But also, what the hell was a neighborhood app?

She leaned back with a scoff. “Doesn’t matter. Why is your club here?”

“It’s only half of my club.” I waved my hand as if that would make anything better. I hated that my voice felt too loud and not quite loud enough at the same time. She was going to notice that I wasn’t completely sober.

Wren watched the people behind us with a scowl before shaking her head.

“This is stupid, Archer. What about Kane?”

“What about him?” I snapped back.

Her mouth turned down again as if I’d silenced her with my tone. I didn’t like how her silence made me feel or how she’d seemed to curl in on herself like she’d just realized she was out of her depth.

“I just thought you were trying to get cus—” she started, but I pulled her arm until we were heading toward the side of the house where we’d be completely alone. She couldn’t talk about custody or anything Kane-related in front of my club. Not when there were a few members who would leak information to my old man.

“What the hell, Archer?”

I let her go once we were halfway to the side gate, the noise a bit more muted.

“My business regarding my brother is private, and honestly, you know shit about it…why are you trying to stir up drama?”

She spun on her heel, glaring at me, but she’d let her sweater go. My eyes immediately dropped to the way her chest heaved and her tits strained against the thin fabric of her tank top.

“Stir up drama?” Her voice cracked, her eyes roaming my face as if I’d suddenly poked a monster, and she was ready to reveal all her teeth and claws.

“At the moment, I am trying to prevent you from going to jail. I don’t know why, though, it’s a complete and utter mystery to me now, but I figured you’d need a little reminder of what’s at stake. You’re right though, I don’t know shit about your situation, but it was clear to me that you were trying to do something for Kane. I don’t exactly know what, but this…” She waved her hands around. “Isn’t good for whatever you were doing for him.”

My anger flared to life, not at her but myself because she was right. I knew that even before I agreed to host this stupid party, but there was some part of me that just fucking needed a break from being the loser older brother who couldn’t seem to get ahead with the courts, and the loser neighbor who couldn’t seem to get the girl he was crushing on to give a flying shit that he was even alive.

“Again, you know nothing about my situation.”

She crossed her arms again but didn’t drag the sweater with her, so her tits pushed up. My eyes remained on them, and I openly stared, not giving a shit. She had a fucking fantastic set of tits, almost as glorious as her ass.

“Then tell me, Archer. We were supposed to do five questions.”

I started laughing and shaking my head.

“Now you want to know about me?”

“I never said I didn’t want to talk,” she argued, shaking her head.

“You did. You said just because the boys were friends didn’t mean we needed to be, and cherry on fucking top, you said I was unsafe for Cruz…so, please do me a favor and go home.”

Her face looked like I’d slapped her. Red filled in the space under her eyes and across her nose. Her lashes fluttered as if she were about to go for another argument, but she stopped and shook her head before turning toward the gate.

“For what it’s worth, I know I’m messed up.” She pointed at her chest as the wind picked up pieces of her hair, and her voice caught. “I’m broken and can’t be fixed. There’s this wall around my heart and practically every part of my life. I guard what I can for my sake and for Cruz because I can’t let someone in that might hurt us. What I consider safe where you’re concerned has nothing to do with physical safety. I think you’re dangerous for us because of how much we both like you…or could have liked you…but⁠—”

I stepped closer, erasing the space between us. I wanted to tell her she wasn’t broken. I wanted to say I understood why she was so guarded, but I knew she wouldn’t really hear it from me. Not right now. Instead, I focused on the last part of her sentence. “The idea of liking me scares you?”

She searched my face, tipping her head back.

“It terrifies me.”

“Why?” I held her elbow lightly because I didn’t want her to leave even though I’d just told her to.

Her pink lips parted as she pulled her arm free. “Because…you could just—” She blinked as if she wanted to say one thing but decided on another. “I just don’t want that in my life right now.”

My hand returned to her elbow, pulling her close again as I whispered, “What do you want?”

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, searched the ground, and then shifted on her feet. “You’re drunk.”

I smirked, tugging her again. “I’m buzzed. Now tell me.”

She scrunched her nose with a sigh, looking off to the side. “I want…a fairy tale. Something that doesn’t exist.”

“Why doesn’t it exist?”

She shrugged, shifting again. Her eyes flicked over to the fence, and I knew she wanted out of the conversation, but my mind was churning with ideas about why this woman, hard and rough around the edges, seemed to only want a fairy tale.

“That’s the point of a fairy tale, isn’t it? To dream up Prince Charming coming in and sweeping you off your feet, of being called darling and other ridiculous things. To have someone obsessed with you so they say things that feel like midnight against your skin. Like all the stars exist just for you, and they were the one to put them there. That’s not realistic…it doesn’t exist.”

I tilted my head, seeing her in an entirely new light.

“So you settle for hookups with colleagues?”

Her amber eyes held my gaze, steady and unfaltering. “I settle for human touch; I just need some sort of connection in any way I can get it.”

“But the idea of settling on friendship with me was too much?” I raised my brow at her in challenge.

“Archer.”

“No, tell me because you made an assumption based on my club, and it’s not fair. I can be more than that, I can be⁠—”

I stood staring at her dark lashes, her pink lips, unsure what else I wanted to say…maybe that I could be charming. I could be the fairy tale she wanted, but I had to stop myself. She didn’t want me, and I shouldn’t want her. She was more than a fling or a one-night stand. She was the complete package, one I didn’t and wouldn’t have access to at any point in my life. Still, I had to say something. She was so close to me; her breaths were shallow, her lashes dark, and her hair silky. My mouth parted right as the sound of someone smashing through a fence had us both snapping our heads to the side. Thistle had driven his motorcycle through Wren’s fence.

“Fuck.”

Wren pulled her elbow out of my hold and glared at me. “Right, and this is supposed to be safe for my son?”

With a shake of her head, she darted toward the fence and ran back to her house.