Seven Sons

Chapter Nine

I grew up next to the ocean. Until I was fifteen years old, I had no idea that some people could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing the sea.

And then, one night, I was forced to flee from it, ripped from its beauty forever.

I didn't see a beach for six years. Landlocked and bitter, surrounded by dirt and storms and nightmares of Dornan Ross's face.

So when I wake up, after barely sleeping, to see his unshaven face peering down at me, it is all I can do not to scream.

"Whoa," he says, grinning like the cat that got the motherfucking cream. "Bad dream?"

I sit up, pushing the sheets off me to discover I am completely naked, my tattoo angry and red and burning. Elliot warned me about this. But instead of trying to avoid thinking about the pain, I relish it. The burn helps me to remember why I am here.

It makes me remember how good it feels to be alive.

"Good morning," I say, rubbing my eyes. I lean back, letting my breasts jut out in full view so that he can see them. "Oh Jesus," he says, groaning loudly. I can see the bulge in his pants. The man is literally ready to go any time of the day.

"Wish I could stay, baby girl," he says, handing me a mug of hot black coffee. "But I gotta go run a job with my boys."

"That's okay," I say, arranging the sheets around myself. "I've got to go and get this tattoo finished, anyway."

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," he says. I almost choke on my coffee.

"P-pardon?" I ask, wiping coffee from my chin.

"Severe storm warning's in place," he says, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I've got about ten minutes before this motherfucking weather outside becomes damn near impossible to drive in. Lucky we weren't planning to ride."

"So, you want me to stay here?" I ask. "By myself?"

He drains his own coffee cup. "Nope. My son's gonna be here. Jase. He's staying behind with you." He looks at me oddly for a moment, and I can't tell what he's thinking. "Besides, little runt is the only one of the lot that I'd trust to take care of your fine ass." He leans closer and smiles conspiratorially. "I'm eighty percent sure he's gay. Don't tell anyone, though. Little fucker'd be beaten to death by his brothers if anyone else knew."

Jase. Fuck.

I just smile vacantly, my mind going a million miles an hour. I'm essentially trapped, without a phone or a way out. I memorized Elliot's number, but that doesn't actually matter if I haven't got a way of calling him. And I don't want to raise any suspicions by making a big deal of contacting him.

I just pray he doesn't get impatient and report me missing. Especially since, technically, I'm already dead.

"Okay," I say brightly. "Where are you going?"

Dornan chuckles as he pulls his leather cut on over his black t-shirt. My throat gets tight as I see the club colors adorning the black leather, the President badge unmissable. It is exactly like the jacket my father used to wear.

"It's a surprise, babe. You'll see soon enough."

A surprise. I wonder what the fuck that could possibly be. I have to strain forcibly to stop my eyes from rolling violently back into my head.

"I like your jacket," I say softly. "It looks comfy."

He puffs his chest out and studies himself in the mirror next to the bed. "I got it when I became president of this club," he says, and something inside of me dies a little. So it is my father's jacket.