The dog, p.1
The Dog, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2021 Jade Marshall
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0478-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Audrey Bobak
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To all those that feel broken and unworthy sometimes.
It’s okay to be a little broken, it makes you who you are.
Everybody’s broken at some point.
THE DOG
Gypsy Bastards MC, 3
Jade Marshall
Copyright © 2021
Prologue
Bohdi
The first time I saw Kaiya Walsh, two things happened.
First, a murderous rage overtook me at seeing a man handle her that way. I didn’t know her at this moment, but it would have been a pretty standard reaction for me in that situation no matter the woman.
I hate men who think they can do whatever they want to a woman without their consent. Any form of abuse always gets my hackles up and will have me stepping in. But rape? I don’t ask questions, I simply take the assholes out. End of story.
As a member of the Gypsy Bastard MC, I take pride in the fact my club doesn’t hurt women or children. We are adamant about keeping our families and our town safe. This man had signed his death warranty. Rapists, abusers, and generally shitty motherfuckers have no place in society. Even someone as fucked up as me can see that.
So when I whispered the last words he would ever hear in his ear before I slit his throat, not knowing his name or caring, an immense calmness swept through me. Seeing his blood flow from the wound in his neck had me feeling like the anger was flowing out of me as well.
The members of the Gypsy Bastards MC call me Mad Dog and I suppose it’s for a reason. Madness flows through my veins. I have absolutely no problem wreaking havoc on someone who deserves it. But as I watched this predator’s blood pool on the floor, I felt the madness in me calm.
Lifting my gaze, I watched as Kaiya scrambled from his grasp and crawled beneath the table he just had her pinned to, then pulled her knees to her chest. She looked like a frightened little animal hiding from a predator. And although I would have liked to say I’d never been in that situation, it simply wasn’t true. I’d had to step in on situations like this before, and I knew how to handle a woman who had been put through this kind of trauma.
Gradually, I lowered myself beneath the table and showed her my hands, palms up. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She shook her head, making her red curls fly through the air. Slowly, I removed my cut and then my t-shirt before handing it to her and slipping my cut back on.
“Here, you can wear this. I know it’s not much, but at least you can cover up.” I was trying to offer her any semblance of comfort.
Haltingly, she extended her arm and took it from me, quickly pulling her hand away. Somewhere in this god-forsaken, dirty, little farmhouse, a gunshot went off, causing her eyes to widen in fear. She turned her head toward Wolf, our enforcer, and spoke, but I didn’t hear a word coming from her mouth because the second thing just happened.
I felt like a complete and utter asshole as I stared at her. Even bruised, raped, and probably traumatized, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. Protective instincts roared through me, and I immediately knew I would do anything to protect her. I would go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe, and my new life’s mission was to make sure tears never rolled down her cheeks again.
I never believed in love at first sight.
I never believed I would love another woman again.
I had never been more wrong in my life.
Chapter One
Kaiya
One year later…
I think I may have made a mistake. I never should have offered to drive Storm halfway across the damn country. Mad Dog has his gaze fixed on me, and I know he has a ton to say about this. So I act like I don’t see that he wants to say something and move toward my room. Upstairs in the Gypsy Bastards’ clubhouse, I pack a bag. Nothing big, just a couple of jeans, some shirts, and my toiletries. My bedroom door closes with a bang as I make my way out of the bathroom.
Standing there with fire in his eyes is Mad Dog.
“What do you want, Mad Dog?” I don’t stop moving around the room. My bag is packed, but I need to keep moving. If I stand still for too long, he will corner me.
“What do you think you’re doing? You have never driven further than the store, and now you want to drive across county lines? And what were you thinking, getting involved in Pope and Storm’s business?” His voice is all low and growly. I try to suppress the shiver that wants to make its way through my body. I always have this reaction to hIm.
“I was thinking that she is my friend. That she needs help. That if I let them speak for a moment longer, they could cause irreparable damage to a relationship that is already strained.” I huff out a breath. “Now tell me what you’re thinking. What gives you the right to come in here and lecture me?”
I need to remain strong. I need to be a hardass and a bitch if I want to get away. Mad Dog can always see right through me, but this time, I just need him to leave it be.
“Nothing,” he all but growls at me. “I have no right except for the fact that we are friends.”
“Urgh.” I stop moving around my room and place my hands on my hips as I stare at him. “You need to stop playing the friend card. You can’t just say because we are friends every time you want to put your nose in my business. Yes, we are friends. Yes, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But you can’t use that as an excuse every time I do something you don’t agree with.”
“Okay.” Mad Dog relaxes his stance. “I may play up our friendship some days, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You know I’m right.” He doesn’t move his gaze from me. Boring holes into me as he continues. “Because we are friends. And as your friend, I am obligated to help you when you are making a huge mistake.”
“Such as?”
“Going with Storm. You have found a home here with the club, and the surest way to lose that is to piss off Pope. Do you remember him? Big redhead with an Irish accent, president of the club? He can kick you out of here so fast your head would spin.”
Taking a seat on the bed, I stare at him. “Pope would never do that. He knows me well enough by now to know that I didn’t mean any disrespect for what I did. Storm is going to Louisiana whether I offer to take her or not. This is just the safest option.”
Mad Dog makes his way over to where I am seated, lowering to his haunches before he speaks.
“I know that you had the best of intentions, but you can’t just insert yourself into other people’s conflicts.”
“Well.” I rise from my spot and grab my bag. “I already have.”
Leaving the room, I don’t look back as I head downstairs. Outside, I get into the little blue hatchback Mad Dog bought for me when I got my license. I start her up and drive away.
Chapter Two
Mad Dog
Kaiya has been gone for twelve hours and I’m already itching. My skin feels tight, like it might squeeze me to death. I hate not knowing where she is, what she’s doing, and who she is with. How the fuck am I supposed to keep her safe and protected if I can’t reach her? She’s miles away from me, in another county, and if anything happens, I won’t be there to help her.
I roam around the clubhouse, waiting for a call or a message from her. Every so often, I find myself holding my cell phone, which only pisses me off because I won’t be the first one to make contact. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I head outside. Inside the workshop situated across from the clubhouse, Viking throws a wrench out the door.
“Piece of fucking shit!” he roars, bringing his left foot up and kicking the motorcycle over.
“Damn, Viking. What did the old girl do to deserve that?”
“Fuck off, Mad Dog. I don’t have the time or the patience for your shit today.” Viking turns his back on me and heads deeper into the garage.
“Come on, old man, tell me what the problem is. Maybe I can help you out?” I might be poking at a bear at this moment, but I’m hoping he will take a swing at me.
If he hits me, I can get rid of all the pent-up frustration I’m carrying around. It definitely isn’t the best or the healthiest way to deal with my problems, but it’s who I am. To my marrow, I am a fighter. I fought for my country. I fought for my marriage. I fight for my club. I have no idea how to do anything else.
Viking stares at me for a moment before laughing. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to swing at you. All you want to do is pick a fight so you can get out your frustrations. I may be old, but I’m not stupid.”
He walks to the fridge under the counter and removes two beers, tossing one to me.
After opening the beer, I drink down half of it. The coolness of the liquid coats my throat.
“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” I glare at him.
“How the fuck should I know? I don’t even know what has your panties a ll in a twist. Maybe you need to get laid, brother.” Viking slaps me on the back as he passes me. He picks up the old motorcycle he was working on and gets back to it, effectively ending our conversation.
The old man is an asshole, but maybe he has a point. God only knows what the fuck Kaiya is doing. She isn’t my woman or my old lady. I’m not tied down to anyone.
Making my way past Viking, I have but one mission in mind. Find one of the club girls and fuck her brains out.
Entering the clubhouse, I give my eyes a moment to adjust to the lighting. Even at noon, there are people around doing all kinds of shit. Beast stands with a pool cue in his hand while Sara, one of the club girls, is down on her knees sucking his cock like there’s no tomorrow. Pope sits at the bar, nursing a drink and putting off an angry air. More people mill around, drinking and talking, but I don’t care about any of that.
My gaze zeros in on Skye. She sees me moving toward her and smiles. Skye used to be my go-to girl. She knows what I like and how I like it and never complains. But I haven’t been with her in a year, maybe more.
When I reach her, she takes my hand in hers and leads me to a large brown sofa. She pushes me down onto the couch. Then she takes my near-empty beer from my hand and finishes it before putting the bottle on a table. She sways her hips as she moves back to me.
I track her every move with my eyes. I know what’s waiting for me. This girl fucks like it may be her last time. By the end of the night, I will be well fucked and all my pent-up energy will be spent. She lowers herself over my lap, placing her legs on either side of me. She does this on purpose, placing her pussy directly above my cock.
My hands automatically go to her hips. She leans down to whisper in my ear while rubbing her barely covered breasts across my chest.
“Miss me?” she purrs.
I don’t answer. I keep waiting for my dick to react. There isn’t even a twitch. I don’t know if Skye doesn’t realize it or if she doesn’t care. Maybe she finds it a challenge. She sucks my earlobe into her mouth and grinds her pussy against me in a move that would have previously had me hard in seconds. But this isn’t like old times and it’s starting to piss me off.
Wrapping my hands around her ass, I stand and walk toward the pool table. I lay her flat on the table and tear her shirt down the middle. Her breasts spill out into view.
Usually, her breasts would have me longing to suck a nipple into my mouth, but today, I can see how fake they are. Fuck, I can see how fake she is and it’s killing me. She grinds her pussy against me again, in the hopes of getting me hard, but that isn’t going to happen.
This is wrong. She is wrong. Her brown hair and eyes, her fake tits, her overwhelming perfume. It’s all fucking wrong, and I can’t take it anymore. Ripping my cell from my back pocket, I hold it to my ear.
“What?” I growl. I wait for a moment before continuing, “Fine. But you owe me.”
I slip my phone back into my pocket. “Sorry, doll. Gotta go,” I say to Skye.
“What?” she yells. “Are you really just going to leave me all wet and needy?”
“One of the guys can sort you out. I gotta go.”
With that, I’m out the door. I jump on my bike and drive home. There wasn’t a call, but how do I explain to a club whore that I can’t get my dick up because she’s the wrong girl? My brothers would never let me live that shit down.
Instead, I gun my bike, heading home.
Chapter Three
Kaiya
Louisiana is beautiful. I have never been out of Gypsy Falls, and I have to admit I’m loving this beyond words. The food, the people, hell, even the smell of the water rushing past me as I watch the river is intoxicating.
We have been here for the better part of two weeks, and I think if it weren’t for Storm, I probably wouldn’t head back to Gypsy Falls. There’s nothing back there for me. Any memory after the death of my parents is tainted by my brother and his damn club. Places that I used to love have the capability to bring me down to my knees with the hurtful memories that have replaced the good ones.
I may have physical marks on my body from my time living with Sam and his friends, but it can’t even compare to the damage no one gets to see. The damage to my heart, mind, and soul is far worse than what is on the surface.
“Is this seat taken?”
A small scream escapes me at the sound of Irene’s voice. I wasn’t expecting anyone to look for me down by the river. With my hand clutched to my chest where my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest, I nod.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me.” She smiles at me.
Neither of us speaks, just taking in the sounds of the rushing water, watching the sunset on the horizon.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I turn toward her and watch her carefully. Irene, the best friend of Storm’s deceased sister, is watching me too. Long black hair frames her face. Her eyes are a color that reminds me of a bird, almost yellow, like a crow, and they have the same intensity. Clear skin and naturally stained pink lips complete her look. She really is what I would consider beautiful.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Irene sighs. “You have been here for two weeks. I know we don’t know each other, and you can tell me to take a hike, but I know that you’re putting on a mask every day.”
I stare at her, wondering who the hell she thinks she is, judging me.
“Sorry, a force of habit. I work at a women’s shelter.”
“Great,” I mumble. Another person who thinks they know what I have been through and that they can fix me. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
Neither of us speaks for a long time, just watching the water. Thoughts run on a loop in my head. I don’t want to discuss my past. It hurts to just think about it. But there are those who believe if you talk it out, if you put your thoughts—or in my case, nightmares—into words, that it helps the healing process. I don’t want to be broken for the rest of my life. I want to be able to heal and move forward. There isn’t much I can do about the scars I have on the outside, but maybe, just maybe, I can help heal my soul. Even my heart.
“How do I do this?” I ask Irene without looking her way.
“There isn’t a specific way to do this. I’m not going to sit here and ask you a million invasive questions. Tell me whatever you want. You can start with what has you sitting out here alone, or why you don’t like being touched, or anything you want.”
There isn’t any order to the chaos in my mind. I don’t know where to start and how much I want to tell her, but I do know I need to get this off my chest. I think about Hadley and Storm, and why I have never tried to talk to them about this, and a tightness wraps around my chest. I know exactly why. They are my friends, and I don’t want them to look at me like I’m broken. Like something that needs to be fixed. But Irene? She’s a stranger. And when I leave to return to Gypsy Falls or wherever I may be headed, she will remain here. She won’t judge me or pity me, and she sure as shit won’t look at me with sadness in her eyes every time she sees me.
Taking a deep breath, I bare my soul to this woman as we sit on the grass, watching the river.
“My parents died when I was twelve. I didn’t have any other family, and my brother was given custody of me. Since I can remember, I knew my brother wasn’t a good man, but he was my brother, you know.” After taking a deep breath, I push through. “At the age of sixteen, I was raped for the first time. When I went to him, my clothes were torn and tears running down my face, he laughed. Told me to shut up and spread my legs. He wasn’t looking after me anymore and I needed to earn my keep. This continued every day for three years until the Gypsy Bastards took me in.”
