Broken (Soldiers of Darkness MC Book 1) by Michelle Betham Page B

everything.’
    ‘What if this really isn’t worth what the consequences could be?’
    There’s another silence down the line that makes my stomach turn.
    ‘You know what you need to do, Izzi. But emotions, they cloud everything. So you need to focus, OK? Every second thought you’re experiencing, every tiny shred of doubt that creeps into your mind is to do with the way you’re feeling. So you need to focus on what happened to Aiden and your father. Remember that night, what you need to do in order for you to be able to move on. Do that, and everything will work out just the way you need it to.’
    I pull out a packet of cigarettes from my pocket and light up. I never used to smoke. Aiden hated it, and once my dad managed to stop he became one of those people who thought of it as a nasty, dirty habit. But after their deaths I turned to everything I could to help me blot out the pain – alcohol, cigarettes, even drugs. Oh, nothing major – some cannabis, the odd snort of coke, anything that could help numb the pain, or take it away completely. Even if it was just for a few hours, I’d take it. They’re addictions I need. And now I’m worried I might have found another one.
    ‘I’m going to ask you a question, Izzi, and I want you to answer it honestly. No bullshit, no telling me what you think I want to hear because this isn’t about me. I don’t care whether you go through with this or not, it was my duty to train you, not force you to do anything you don’t want to do. So, just tell me, honestly – do you really want to see these people dead?’
    I sink to the floor and throw my head back as I take a long, deep drag on my cigarette, blowing smoke up into the air. I picture Aiden’s smile, my dad’s beaming face as we told him we were engaged. I remember how happy I’d been; how ridiculously, unbelievably happy I’d been as I’d lain in bed the night before their senseless, timeless deaths, planning out our life. Kids’ names, garden designs, what color I wanted to paint the bedroom in our brand new house, I’d had it all planned. Until someone blew all that right of the water.
    ‘I want to see them dead. And I want to be the one who ends their pathetic, shit-filled lives.’
    ‘Then you know what you need to do.’
    He ends the call and I sigh quietly, slipping my phone into the pocket of my short denim skirt.
    ‘You planning on staying out here all night?’
    I look up, and he’s standing there, all tall and arrogant and sexy-as-hell. I hate him. I hate how he makes me feel; how he distracts me and frustrates me. I hate him.
    ‘You inviting me in?’
    He shrugs, and all I can think of is his cock ramming its way into me from behind, and I want to feel that again, so bad I’m wet just thinking about it. And again, I hate him. He’s doing this to me and I can’t stop it. ‘It’s a free country, darlin’. I ain’t stopping you from coming inside.’
    ‘How’d you know I was out here?’ I pull myself to my feet, while he makes no attempt to do the gentlemanly thing and offer me any help.
    ‘I didn’t. I just came out here to get my cigarettes. Left ‘em on the bike.’
    He jerks his head over to a line of Harley Davidsons all parked out front of the bar. ‘You telling me nobody in there had a cigarette they could offer you?’
    He smiles, and again all I can think about is how he felt inside me. I want him there again, but I need to focus first. I need to get my head straight. ‘What can I say? They’re all selfish bastards.’
    Our eyes lock for a couple of heady beats, and I know he wants me, too. I can see it. But I’m not here for that, not right now. Not until I know what I’m doing. And I really do have to focus, I have to think on my feet here. I need to begin a new and slightly revised plan, and keep my fingers crossed that Mack Slayer is a man who can be swayed by a pretty face and the promise of low-down dirty sex. I need to make him think I’ve had a change of heart. I