Wicked Warden: Vicious Vipers MC 1

1. Shaun

1

Shaun

I finally had my freedom—from Dad, from his goons, and the two babysitters he’d sent off to college with me. PITA one and PITA two followed me everywhere, never allowing me a chance to breathe, thus the pain in the a*s nicknames. I also left my cell phone behind since I knew the damn thing had a tracker tucked inside, thanks to Dad’s anxiety about keeping me safe.

Not that I’d hear my phone where we were headed anyway.

The cool fall air nipped at my nose, and stomach fluttering, I hurried down the sidewalk, arm in arm with my best friend Krystal. We’d been giggling like kids rather than juniors in college ever since losing the two PITAs a half hour earlier.

She’d recently turned twenty-one, and although I had a few months before joining the legal drinking crowd, I’d jumped aboard the chance to live it up at a dance club that had recently opened in Boston’s downtown—a place owned by her oldest cousin who’d promised me entrance without an ID.

Score.

Rather than wait in the line of scantily clad girls hoping to get past the huge-a*s bouncer checking names off a list by the front door, we skirted down the alleyway alongside the old brick building.

Her cousin stood outside the back door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his shoulders hunched against the cold air. “f*****g cold as balls out here,” he growled as we clattered toward him in our heels and short skirts. “Hurry the f**k up.”

“Sorry, Buddy,” Krystal said, breathless as me from laughing and trying not to trip in our Jimmy Choos.

He frowned while dropping his butt and steeping on it, but kissed her cheek. “Shaun,” he said, dipping his head toward me, knowing better than to get in my personal space.

Laughing, I grabbed him and planted a smooch on his cheek, holding my breath against the stench of stale cigarettes. “I gave my babysitters the slip, so PDA won’t get your hand or d**k lobbed off for touching me.”

“Good for you. Enjoy it while you can, love.” Buddy pecked me back with a big grin and turned toward the door.

I’d been to enough of their family gatherings that he knew my shadows followed in the shadows at all times. Unless I got lucky like I did that night.

The thump of bass and warm air blasted us when we entered the private area of Buddy’s club, the heavy door shutting with a clank behind us as we scurried after him. Thick carpet hushed our footfalls, and we passed a few closed doors on our way before stopping at his office to drop off our coats and purses.

A shorter trek down another hall brought us to a metal, windowless door.

“After you, ladies,” Buddy said, pulling it open and gesturing us into the lounge.

Strobe lights flashed in the dark area, lighting up a sea of writhing bodies. The music, something techno and loud as hell, thumped through my body, making my feet itch to move with the beat. I couldn’t stop smiling as warmth radiated throughout my entire body.

This is what freedom feels like…

“Drinks first!” Buddy shouted over the music, and Krystal and I both nodded, scurrying after him as he headed toward the bar on our right.

People crushed three-deep, waving cash as though it would get the attention of one of the five bartenders scrambling to serve them all, but the crowd parted like the Red Sea for Buddy.

He pulled us forward and leaned in close. “Get whatever you want—on me—and when you’re ready to head home, meet me in the office. I’ll grab an Uber to get you back to your apartment safe and sound just like the PITAs would.”

“Thanks!” we both shouted, grinning like a couple of idiots, Krystal’s cheeks flushed from excitement.

Free booze. Dancing. Maybe finding someone to sneak into my apartment—bed—for the night… If I could stay off the PITAs radar.

Buddy waved down a bartender and pointed at the two of us.

The bartender nodded, smiling yet frazzled-looking from the patrons clamoring for alcohol. “What can I get you?” she hollered, leaning over the bar toward us, her huge t**s nearly spilling out of her tight as f**k shirt.

“Something fruity!” Krystal hollered back, holding up two fingers.

Minutes later, both of us gripping red, frothy drinks, we made our way to the dance floor. The liquor burned as I gulped a big swig, but I reveled in the rush, the thrill of not having anyone watch my every move. We bumped and ground our way into the thick of the crowd, and I got so damn caught up in my elation, I didn’t care more than one person grabbed a handful of my a*s.

Krystal and I ended up back to back, a couple of hotties grinding on our fronts as we danced, our drinks held high in the air. Sweat soon beaded on my forehead and trickled between my cleavage and down my back, but the night had just begun.

An hour and two drinks later, we stood breathless at the crowd’s edge, still shimmying away. My smile plastered to my face as the guy I’d been dancing with most of the night approached, two bottles of beer in hand.

His dark eyes drank me in with the type of l**t I’d been hoping to find that night. Getting laid was a sure bet with the guy, whatever his name was, and about time, too. It had been months since I’d gotten any thanks to the damn PITAs lurking in the shadows every minute of the damn day.

The cutie crowded in close, handing me one of the cold bottles, and I willingly pressed against him as he curled his free arm around my waist. Our mouths fused, and I pressed against his hard c**k digging into my belly.

My head floated with a more than decent buzz, and even though he wasn’t the greatest kisser in the world, my body hopped aboard the “let’s f**k” train, growing all warm inside.

He palmed my a*s as his lips trailed to my ear. “I want you,” he said into my ear, and I wiggled in his grasp, moaning agreement even though he wouldn’t hear above the music.

“Shaun!”

Krystal’s shriek jerked my eyelids open. She focused on the door we’d entered through, and I pulled back enough from my lay of the night to get a better look through the crowd.

Dad.

“Oh, f**k!” The blood drained from my face, and I jerked out of my holder’s arms completely, yanking my skirt back into place, suddenly wishing the damn thing was a good foot longer.

Dad had found me, and although he hadn’t yet made eye contact with me while scanning the lounge, I knew there was no slipping away without notice. He was going to f*****g kill me for giving my bodyguards the slip—or at least take my credit cards and car away for a while.

“Goddamnit!” Adrenaline coursed through my body, shaking my legs and hands, urging me to run, but I knew better.

Freedom … gone. Better to face the damn music and get it over with.

I grabbed Krystal’s hand and started toward Dad rather than the front door to make an attempted escape. Without a doubt, he had his goons surrounding the damn place anyway.

I caught a glimpse of his rumpled suit and loosened tie—neither of which he ever allowed in public—as Krystal and I jostled through the crowd.

What the…

Dad turned our way, and our gazes collided, his wide eyes full of an emotion I hadn’t seen since I was ten—fear.

My breath caught, my stomach cramping, and I forced my feet to move faster, stumbling in my heels, desperate to get to him as I fought to keep my buzzed head focused.

Shaun, I saw his mouth move, but couldn’t hear past the thumping music. Lips in a thin line, he hurried toward us, scanning the room, and my chest tightened, an ache growing in the back of my throat as desperation to reach him rolled over me.

“Dad!” I half sobbed the second he grabbed my upper arms and leaned in close without holding me like I’d hoped—without giving me the comfort I needed.

“We have to get out of here!” he said in my ear, and I didn’t have a chance to respond before he yanked me toward the doorway leading to the office area.

My fingers ripped from Krystal’s, but I didn’t look back as fear and chills raced over my skin, bringing flashes of memories I’d attempted to bury over the past decade.

Mom in our kidnapper’s hold.

Dad’s screams.

Gunshots.

Another sob caught in my throat as Dad approached Buddy, who held the door open for us.

“Where’s Krystal?” Buddy hollered as we rushed into the hallway.

I glanced over my shoulder, pointing but quickly jerked back around to keep from tripping after Dad, who held my other hand in a vise grip.

The door slammed shut behind us, my ears ringing at the loss of thumping music. Without a word, we sprinted down the hallway, my heels catching more than twice.

“Arturo,” Dad finally said the second time I almost face-planted, his voice loud over the muffled thumps of bass emanating from the club.

One word—and the entire world as I’d known it, my life, screeched to a crashing halt.

Arturo.

The memory of dark eyes and black hair slicked into a ponytail flitted through my mind. He’d called me princess the handful of times he’d come to our house before Mom’s death, and even then, I knew the man was evil as the devil himself.

“Did he get to my bodyguards?” I asked as we bypassed Buddy’s office without stopping for my coat and purse.

“I don’t know,” Dad replied, his voice low and shaky. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

His hair being mussed to hell was another no-no, and I quickly glanced down over his wrinkled suit coat to the askew hem caught up in the pistol shoved in his waistband. It wasn’t the first I’d seen him carry, and with my dad’s lifestyle, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

A smear of blood lay along the side of his neck. Even though a peace of sorts had been reached between Arturo and Dad, unrest had run rampant in our house the ten years since Mom’s death.

“Are you injured?” My whisper sounded loud in my ears.

“No.” He clipped the word and pulled up abruptly at the exit, turning to face me. He clasped my shoulders, and I peered up into his hazel eyes, fighting off the thickness in my throat at the emotions in his eyes that he usually held under tight rein. “He tried once before and took Joanna from me—he isn’t going to take you, too.”

A keening sounded deep in my throat, and Dad’s lips thinned. “I need you to be strong, Shaun.”

Trembling in his grasp, I fought like hell to keep hold of myself as the past crashed against me from all sides. I’d been ten and innocent, free from life’s cares, ignorant of Dad being a kingpin, and the men who hated him.

“We have to go.” Dad tugged me toward the exit once more even though I hadn’t got anywhere near hold of myself as I’d have liked. “Stick to my heels—don’t look at anyone, don’t speak to anyone.”

I nodded dumbly, using my free hand to swipe tears from my cheeks in an attempt to be the strong woman he wanted. If only he’d have offered a quick hug—the thing I always longed for and never received—the fortifying sense of having firm ground to stand upon, to depend upon outside of monetary means.

“The car’s at the end of the alleyway. You’ll get in the back, lay down, and stay down until I say.”

I nodded again, knowing to never argue with Dad’s commands.

One last quick scan of my face and he turned, grasping the exit door’s handle. Dad peeked out head moving left then right. “Stay close,” he whispered, pulling the door open far enough for us to slip through.

I stepped out into the dark after him, my breath loud in my ears as cold bit at my exposed, over-heated skin. Dad’s dress shoes slapped on the sidewalk, my heels clicking as we hurried up the alleyway.

A crowd still stood at the front of the club, but Dad pushed through, people closing back in behind us as we fought to get to the car.

I kept my focus on his tense shoulders rather than scan the crowd for faces I might recognize—my guards, or his men from the compound I’d called home. Every muscle inside me trembled, shaking my limbs. The second we escaped the throng, he headed toward a tan car I didn’t recognize, his head in constant motion as he scanned the immediate area.

Dad grasped the car’s back door handle.

Pop!

“Get in!” he shouted as people began screaming behind us.

He yanked open the door, and I dove in headfirst, my heart in my throat.

Oh f**k, oh f**k, oh f**k…

I curled up on the cloth seat, hugging my knees to my chest, trembling from fear as much as the cold.

Another gunshot sounded, and Dad slammed the door behind me.

Please be okay… I clenched my eyelids shut.

A third shot sounded through the ringing in my ears, and I bit my lip to keep from shrieking, curling even tighter into myself. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I held my breath … waiting. Needing Dad to be okay. Needing him to get in the car and take me far away from the s**t.

The driver door tore open, and a quick peek revealed Dad hopping in.

“f**k!” He pulled away from the curb like a bat out of hell, tires squealing beneath us, and I clenched my eyes shut again, trying to still my breathing and calm the f**k down. Rather than spew a million questions and distract Dad as he muttered curses and sped down one road after another, I kept quiet except for sniffles when my nose threatened to drip.

Violence came with Dad’s line of business. I’d learned that first hand, and the aftermath of that war had left me without a mother, left my father broken and shut down toward his only living relative—me.

The only daughter.

The only heir to the fortune and empire he’d built from running drugs with a cartel I wished I didn’t know anything about.

“Shaun!” Dad barked. “Get your seat belt on. Now.”

He swerved, and a car sped alongside us as I sat up. Two men sat in the front, neither of which I recognized.

The one in the passenger seat raised a g*n.

“g*n!” I shrieked, and Dad slammed on the brakes.

Lower lip between my teeth, I slid out of the shoulder strap and laid back down, curling up as tight as I could.

Dad stomped on the gas again.

Metal scraped—the car shifted.

Dad cursed low and long…

We sped up. He slammed the brakes again enough to tumble me off the seat had I not had the belt across my lap. More speed, more metal screeching—tears and snot mingled on my face, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.

I’d always thought keeping my eyes closed as a child meant no one could see me, that I hid in my own little world. Untouchable. Invincible.

I’d learned the day Mom died, the closing of one’s eyes couldn’t shield one from the horrors in life.

The car suddenly shifted—spun.

I bit my lip, tasting blood as I whimpered.

Sounds of screeching—metal smashing—a loud explosion.

Our car came to a standstill, silence engulfing the air around us.

I peeked to find Dad’s face illuminated by bright, flashing light. He stared for all of two seconds before stomping on the gas and yanking the steering wheel.

Breath held, I watched him drive us away from whatever had happened, his head turning, non-stop scanning whatever lay around us. He let out a heavy exhale, and I did the same, knowing the threat of whoever had tried to run us off the road no longer pursued us.

My bladder somehow managed to hold onto the liquor I’d drunk while dancing my free night away. It twinged with discomfort, but I had bigger issues to focus on.

My old life is gone; I knew with us on the run. Not that I’d ever had plans of continuing the business Dad had begun as a teenager when he found out he would become a father at age sixteen. Already broke and living on the streets, he had no family to turn to and had chosen a path that would provide for his small family.

A horrible choice, one that shattered and broke other families, but he’d claimed it was just business.

I knew Dad had secreted money away over the years, so we wouldn’t go without, but the thought of where we would go gnawed at my mind. In hiding, of that, I had no doubt. If he couldn’t trust his men, he couldn’t trust the two pilots that had spirited us around the country. He couldn’t trust the captain of his yacht sitting in Boston’s harbor.

He had no other family to hide us. My mother’s parents had shunned my father after her death, and in retaliation, he’d kept me from seeing them. Not that I’d ever minded—they always used to put Dad down and talk s**t about him to my face.

He might be a stern prick at times, pushed off my attempts for affection until I learned to leave him alone, but he was still my daddy.

“You okay?” he finally asked after a good fifteen minutes of stifling quietness.

“Yes.”

“Sit up and fix your seatbelt.”

I made myself as small as possible in the corner of the backseat while taking note of the towering Hilltop sign glowing in Saugus’s lights as we sped up Route 1. “Where are we going?”

“Topsfield.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “What the hell is in Topsfield?”

“The Vicious Vipers, and watch your language.”

I blinked, processing. I didn’t know Dad had connections with the biker g**g, but if the rumors I’d heard about the Vipers were true, we would at least be safely tucked away where no one would attempt to get their hands on us. The Vipers held a violent reputation, one built from long before I’d been born, before Dad, even. No one messed with them, not even the law.

Messing with one, or anyone under their protection, meant a quiet disappearance of the i***t who thought himself untouchable and an unsolved case that would be boxed up and forgotten.

My breath finally evened out, and I slumped against the seat, my head still floating from my buzz, the massive adrenaline rush leaving me depleted of energy.

“How’d you know where to find me tonight, Dad?”

“I have my connections.”

I sighed. His usual answer kept me in the dark, but even though I loved having the money his business provided, I didn’t want to know the business.

Fifteen minutes later, we approached a gated driveway, its fence reaching away on both sides until disappearing into the dark. A compound—more or less a cage to keep us safe.

Dad hated to be confined.

“You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?” I asked as that truth slipped through my brain.

“Yes.”

“And where are you going?” I asked, a ripple of unease causing goosebumps to break out across my skin.

Dad put the car into park and returned both hands to the steering wheel as a bulk of a man approached from the guardhouse. “To end this once and for all.”

That tone meant nothing would stop him from doing what he planned, so I didn’t even bother trying, even though the thought of his going after Arturo churned my stomach.

“You’d better return to get me,” I whispered as the hulking man cut off the floodlight atop the guardhouse and tapped on the driver window.

Dad lowered the window rather than respond to me, and a heavy shadow slipped through my thoughts, tightening my chest once more.