Sicko(27)

Royce drags over the chair that’s tucked beneath an office desk, taking a seat and resting his elbows on his knees. “Told you, don’t give a fuck about you or that bullshit anymore. Do what you want, but don’t make waves that will have those same waters spilling into my clubhouse. For years, people thought I was an orphan, with no family. Now you’re in my city? You abide by my rules.”

“How tragic.” I drop the cigarette onto the carpet and squish it with the heel of my shoe. “You stole my life and I stole yours.”

“Stop testing my patience, Jade.”

I tilt my head. “Is there something that you know that I don’t? You come back into my life after four years.” I’m on my feet, walking around the room while touching pointless things. This isn’t his room. Well, it is, but he doesn’t live here. It’s too impersonal for it to be Royce’s full-time room.

“Duchess…” he mumbles my nickname, and my fingers momentarily pause over a stack of motorcycle magazines. “Dutch,” he repeats, and this time I spin to face him.

“Fucking what, Royce?”

He stands to his full height—six foot something—and takes the two steps he needed to reach me. His fingers flex around the tip of my chin, tilting my head up so that my eyes collide with his. “I’m not the same boy you knew before.” His touch is soft, yet his words harsh. “For one.” I hold my breath as his eyes search mine. So, so, blue. His tongue sneaks out and glides over his teeth. “I’m meaner.” He releases me, pushing me so hard that I fall back onto the bed. Before I can say anything else, he’s on top of me with his hand covering my mouth. Leather, cigarette, cologne. I can’t help it when the first tear sneaks out from the side of my eye, because he’s right. I don’t know who this man is staring down at me. The same vessel, different soul. The man standing in front of me right now haunts me with his resemblance of the boy I knew.

His eyes narrow on mine before he pushes off from my body and stands back to his feet. His jaw flexes. “You can fucking leave if you want. Think my point is made.” I’ve always been able to see when Royce is lying. His lies hang between the cracks that he keeps hidden from everyone.

Everyone but me.

So I see it. I see everything he hides. I stand back to my feet. Compose yourself. “Well, you’ve gotten theatrical with your tactics, I’ll give you that.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Sicko!” a young voice bellows through the old wood. “Yo, we got a problem.”

Royce studies my facial features, his eyes falling to my lips. “Don’t fucking do anything to piss me off. I’m not a kid anymore. I will fuck you up.” He reaches for the door handle and his face falls passive. As I make my way back down the wooden stairs, reacquainting myself with the stench of whiskey and cigarettes, I can’t stop thinking about how much he has changed. I would have rather been left with the memory I had of him, than be tormented with this stranger. He used to smile cheekily, now he scowls and guards. His walls don’t seem to shift around me anymore, and there’s something in his eyes that is screaming at me to stay away. Something undeniably savage. Strolling past him and another biker I haven’t met yet, I make my way back to find Sloane.

“Playa” by Tech N9ne is thumping through the speakers and before my eyes fly around the room in search of Sloane, her arm hooks in mine. “Okay, one, I can’t believe I’m going to say this…” She gestures me toward the leather sofa that’s hidden in the corner. The same one Royce pushed me into. This MC club isn’t at all what I expected, and I’m not too sure what I did expect. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all scary in their own right, but they’re also not unattractive. Even the old man I met, Lion, is good looking for his age.

“What are you going to say, Sloane?” I whisper, reaching for a bottle that’s sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Vodka. Perfect.

“Royce is way hotter than he was four years ago—okay!” she exhales, tipping her head back to swallow whatever is in her glass. At what point should I cut her off? “I can’t even deny it and I’m sorry.”

I ignore her, leaning back against the sofa while blowing out an exhausted breath of air.

“He said he’s not keeping us here. It was all some stupid test to see how gullible I am.” It was the exact moment Nellie came up, hiding her face behind a bottle of pre-mixer.

I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

Nellie shrugs, dropping down onto the sofa beside Sloane. “What Sicko wants, Sicko gets. That’s how it works around here.” Her focus floats over my shoulder, a smile creeping onto her mouth. “How do you know him anyway?” Nellie asks, her eyes cutting back to me. I’m trying to figure out her move. She’s probably sleeping with him. He has always had trouble keeping his dick dry, and Nellie is pretty. The fact that he’s still playing his usual games, only a different level shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

I glare at her. “He’s my brother, you dense bitch.” My face remains frozen, bored.

“Reow.” Nellie chuckles. “You guys don’t look similar. Like, at all.”

Sloane scoffs, shaking her head. She turns to face Nellie. “Question, do you and Royce have a little something going on?”

Nellie shakes her head. “No, but he does have a little whatever going on with someone else.” She leans back on the sofa, sipping on her drink. “Pretty sure she thinks she’s going to marry him or some shit.”