Dark Temptation (Dark Saints MC Book 2)(47)

My mother’s only advice to me about survival was to look the other way. She said she didn’t want to know more and advised me to take the same stance. Play dumb about Devil’s Hawks she said. And I did. A teenage girl can easily only concern herself with her own problems. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was my real life.

That ignorance was now costing my freedom. I had no argument to make. I had no escape plan. My life was Daddy’s to use as he wanted just as much as the men who wore the Hawk’s cut.

Fuck. That.

I wasn’t going to sacrifice my freedom or my life for my Daddy’s evil group of bastard bikers.

It was my life, and I wasn’t going to be a slave to Daddy’s club.

For the last few days, I’d been playing along until I could figure something out.

I wore the dress Daddy said to wear. I let David kiss me on the cheek at the rehearsal dinner. Thank God he wasn’t ballsy enough to kiss me on the lips in front of Daddy.

And here it was my “wedding day.”

I was fluffed, blow dried, curled, and glossed. They had waxed stuff, plucked stuff, moisturized me, and deemed me picture perfect.

I was a perfectly groomed caged animal.

Daddy had a couple of members drag me into the church.

If I had a thought of running, Boone and Headlock were there to stop me.

“You are the ugliest bridesmaids I ever saw.” I mouthed off. I probably shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it.

Headlock carried my bag and didn’t respond to my dig. I’d stuffed my bag with shit that had nothing to do with being on a honeymoon. I hope he didn’t think to look inside.

“Just get in the fucking church.” Boone was cold. They were both there to intimidate me. But something about Boone did the trick. Headlock looked like a wild animal but Boone, he was a mass of muscle. He wore his hair and his beard long but not a hair on his head was out of place. He had his hair pulled tight, and his mouth pulled tighter.

“Is that any way to talk to a bride?” I said, but I moved it along. I wasn’t sure if Boone or Headlock would hurt me. I supposed they would hurt me, but just not so you could see the bruises.

Had to have those wedding pictures you know.

We were nowhere near Southwood, Daddy’s territory. I knew that much. But I had no idea what town we were in.

Daddy wanted it to be picture perfect. He also wanted it to be in a place that was totally unfamiliar to me so the remotest chance of me having a friend or a lifeline was extinguished. My bridesmaids were Devil’s Hawks for God’s sake he wasn’t about to risk me having a girlfriend or an old teacher help me out of pity.

I knew we were an almost a two-hour drive away from Southwood. But I didn’t know where the hell this church was. Daddy had also seen to it that the limo had tinted windows. Just another way to keep control over me. To keep me off balance. Were we still in Michigan?

I wondered who would marry David Wexler and me. What did this church owe the club? Or did Daddy give them a generous donation to ignore the fact that unholy matrimony was about to go down?

The limo stopped, and I looked up. We had arrived. It was a pretty church, I had to admit, and it was in the country.

With each step up into the building, the urge to scream became stronger. I wanted to stamp my foot or claw at the lace of my dress, anything to release the frustration of being trapped.

Because trapped I was. Daddy hadn’t left me alone for one moment since he’d set me down this path. I’d been with him, or Uncle Cheech, and now Boone and Headlock. They were there to babysit me. No question about it. Whatever freedom I had in the last four years at college was ripped away. If I really ever had it at all. I was a prisoner to Daddy’s orders. To the needs of the Devil's Hawks.

Nothing had changed. Daddy was in charge, and everyone around him did what he said. That included me above all. I was the good girl daughter of a bad man. And I did what I was told.

“They’re here to keep you safe. We’re having trouble with Great Wolves.” That was Daddy’s excuse for keeping me under lock and key.

Daddy had isolated me since I’d gotten back from college. He knew he was going to do this. He’d planned it perfectly.

Other than my initial session of begging to get out of it, I was a mostly passive and compliant daughter. It was my only play. I needed to make Daddy think I was okay and had agreed.

It worked well enough. Because now, moments before I was supposed to walk down the aisle Boone and Headlock handed me off to Ross.

The fact that only one person stood between my escape was the best opening I would have.

“Ross?”

“Yeah, that’s my name for now.”

“Ah, well nice to know you Ross, before you become Hammer or Knuckles or whatever tough guy name they give you.”

The club gave you a nickname once you were patched in, but now they called him "Probie".

Ross was skinny, he was smaller than Boone and Headlock by at least 20 pounds, and now he was stuck with the job of standing outside the powder room of a church.

“Well, I hope it’s not Knuckles. I would always forget the K.” I laughed for the first time in a while.

“Well, Ross, I’m sorry you got stuck with handmaiden to the bride duties.”

“It’s okay Jules. Protecting you is an honor.” He was so out of place, with his leather, and scruff, in a church, and as a bridesmaid, it would have been funny if I even had one ounce of humor about the situation.