Beauty & The Biker: A Dark Fairytale Read online

  Beauty

  & The Biker

  A Dark Fairytale

  Glenna Maynard

  Beauty & The Biker Glenna Maynard ©2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Available Now

  Dedication

  For everyone who has ever dreamed of getting their happy ever after. The roads we travel may be winding and full of curves but the journey is beautiful. True love never dies.

  Acknowledgements

  A huge thank you to the girls in my group, Glenna’s Rebels, your encouragement and support is more than I could ever ask for.

  To my family, thank you isn’t enough, but I love you.

  Michelle Simm, you are simply the best. Thank you for putting up with my crazy.

  To my Shield Maidens- thank you for all of your amazeballness, I know Christa is cringing at the use of that word, hehe.

  Dawn, my bitch, my bestie you know I love you.

  To all of my author friends who continue to show me such amazing support, thank you for being there and being true, you guys know who you are. I could never list you all without fear of missing someone.

  Morgan, thank you for always being there. You are the best, the best!

  Chapter 1

  TRISTIAN

  “Get in here boy,” my bastard of a father bellows from his chamber. I can hear him hacking and coughing quietly as I draw near his door.

  “What do you want old man?”

  “Got a payment need you to collect for me. The Perez family, you remember them?”

  “What about them?” I ask taking the chair at his bedside. I remember them. The grandmother, Iris, used to be our housekeeper when I was a child. I played with her youngest granddaughter often. How could I ever forget her? Isabella is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She isn’t a girl anyone could easily forget.

  “Hector owes me a large sum. If he doesn’t pay up in full you are to collect his youngest child and bring her to me. She should be of age to give me a worthy heir.” He coughs and spits blood into a small trash can by the bed. “She is the rarest beauty I’ve ever seen. She will produce a strapping Vandacamp.”

  My father, if you can really call him that, doesn’t see me as a fit heir in his eyes. I was sickly as a child.

  When I was ten years old, walking became unbearable. I began walking on my tiptoes at first. It relieved some of the pain. A year and a half later after many tests, the doctors found that I had a mass pressing on my lower spine that was pinching my nerves, causing walking to be severely painful.

  The mass was so large they weren’t sure how to proceed. I was taken out of school and placed on homebound. I was wheelchair bound, sick, depressed, and lonely. Iris Perez arranged for her granddaughter Isabella to play with me a few days a week after school, she would bring the girl with her when she would clean.

  Isa was younger than I was but we had already become friends, she had come by with her Grandma on many occasions, we had been playmates for years. I would play the piano for her and she would read to me. Her favorite story was about The Pumpkin King. She had said I looked a lot like him, with the pale shade of my skin and the dark circles rimming my tired eyes.

  We became inseparable. She gave me a reason to get out of bed when I thought I was going to die. The doctors weren’t sure if I would ever walk again. My mother was crushed. My father had seen me as a stain on his perfect life. My parents fought a lot because of my tumor. My sperm donor would beat my mother if she tried to comfort me or take care of me. Father said if I were his son, I wouldn’t need help. I wouldn’t be sick. I’d be strong as an ox.

  But I was weak.

  I was sick.

  I was dying a slow death from the inside out.

  With all that I had going on, I was so dependent on Isa. She loved me and I loved her, even if we didn’t understand what our feelings meant at the time. She was mine and I was hers. She was my princess and I was her Pumpkin King.

  Isa was there when my father would do horrible things. My father tried to say I must not be his son. He couldn’t make a sick kid. No Vandacamp man would ever have legs that didn’t work. He said it must be because of my unfaithful mother and her soiled, white woman’s blood. My father said he should have married a purebred Spanish speaking woman, instead of his white whore.

  How soon he forgets he is the one who isn’t a true Vandacamp it’s my mother’s family name, it’s my mother’s family money too. She had to marry Angelo to come into her inheritance. The way the inheritance was written up, only a male Vandacamp can inherit, but if a daughter is the only living heir of age then she must marry a man to take her place. Fucking ridiculous. So my dick of a father took the family name and all that came with the title.

  I don’t resemble either of my parents. At least not anymore. I’m no longer that sick little boy that could barely hold his head up.

  It took some time, but the radiation treatments the physicians gave me were a success in shrinking the tumor enough to attempt removing the growth, and I was going to get my surgery that could save my life, and give me back my legs. The only catch was it meant going away and having to leave Isa, for a long time. But it also meant my mother and I escaping my father. He couldn’t be bothered to come with us. He had more important things to worry about, like his many mistresses.

  While I was away my father filed for legal separation from my mother. We stayed away and I remained in my mother’s care until she died in a fatal car accident when I was sixteen. I came home to my estranged father, a miserable man, who hated the very sight of me and a thirteen-year-old Isa, who didn’t remember me.

  My father laughed in my face when I told him I wanted to see Isa. He said, “boy, that girl don’t want nothing to do with you. She figured out what a loser you are. A girl as beautiful as her can’t be bothered with a waste like you. Go see her, I guarantee she snubs her nose at you.”

  So I did. I went to see her determined to prove him wrong. Isa would be happy to see me. When I said hello to her at the bookstore she scrunched her nose up and said, “who are you?” All the wind was knocked out of me. “Who are you?” Who am I? I was her best friend. I was the boy she said was her
forever.

  Sure we were too old for fairytales but I thought we had an unbreakable bond.

  Brokenhearted and stunned by her behavior, I returned home for my father to ignore me, like the piece of garbage he swore I was.

  Even though I was fully recovered and able to walk, Angelo wouldn’t accept me as his son. Rejected and lost I joined the Depraved Sinners MC, determined to make myself worthy of my old man’s approval. That sick little boy persevered and when all that I loved was lost to me, I turned into a man to be feared. For the past ten years I have suffered his insults and berating daily, waiting for him to die. Waiting for my chance to make him and Isa pay.

  Somewhere along the way I lost myself, but my love for Isa has haunted me, choking me in my bed at night, with memories of her, and dreams of what should have been. I’ll be damned if my father takes her for himself. I’ll make Isa remember and I’ll make damned sure she never forgets.

  Standing up, I tower over the man, who refused to help my mother raise me, the man who wished I were dead, the man who thought I’d never live past twelve years old and I lean in real close to his face. “Isa will never belong to you. She WAS and ALWAYS will be MINE. The only child she will ever bear will have my blood coursing through his veins.”

  Reaching for the pillow his head is resting on I want to smother him.

  “You gonna kill me, you ungrateful little bastard. Then get on with it, but if I die so does all of my money. It’s in my Will. If I die before I produce an heir, my money will be given to charity and the mansion will be sold at auction. You didn’t think I’d leave my legacy to you did you?”

  His legacy? I want to laugh in his face. That money should have belonged to my mother. “Was just adjusting it so you can sit up father. I know how you like to look out the window in the morning,” I say grinning at him. He thinks he is so fucking smart.

  “You never were much to look at and now you’ve gone and made yourself unbearable to tolerate the sight of. Go on and get gone and collect what’s owed. If you want that little cunt then bring her here and if she falls in love with you, and gives you a worthy child before I die, then you will inherit everything for your child. I don’t want to see you pussy footing and romancing her either Tristian. I’ll be watching you. She’ll never have you looking the way you do no how. She only ever felt sorry for you and was glad when you left. She couldn’t wait to be rid of you. You didn’t know what to do with that girl when I gave her to you the first time. Doubt you’ll know now.”

  **

  “Mr. Perez, my father intends to collect on the loan he gave you years ago. I am here on his behalf. Hector looks exhausted mentally and physically. His business is failing and he is drowning in debt.

  “I need more time. I have an appointment with my loan officer at the bank in a few weeks. Just give me until then.” Hector can’t pay the loan, the bank won’t give him any more money, I’ve already made sure of that. I’ve been watching him now for three years. Ever since I found out he owed a debt to my old man, I’ve been planning on how to use it to my gain. Now the opportunity is here and I intend on taking full advantage.

  “I can do that, but my father won’t be happy Mr. Perez. Do you have anything to pay to show good faith? I don’t need to remind you of the deal you made with my father,” I warn as his tan face falls ashen.

  “I’m well aware. I know the consequences.”

  “I’ll be back, one month,” I remind him when he doesn’t say anything else or offer any form of payment. One month should be enough time to accomplish everything I have planned. In a few weeks, I will have Isabella Perez indebted to me.

  I nod as he goes back to playing solitaire on his computer and I step out into the alley behind the bookstore that Hector and Rosa Perez opened with my father’s money, and pull out my cell. “Giovanni, you in your office today? Excellent, I’ll be by in a few.”

  Giovanni is the brother of an associate to my club. He’s the kind of man who would rather gouge out your eyes for looking at him cross eyed. He also has a lot of connections, connections that I need to bring me into my inheritance.

  But first I need to make a huge withdrawal from the bank. Giovanni won’t betray Angelo Vandacamp without heavy persuasion and I also need to make sure Mr. Perez’s appointment with the loan officer goes in my favor.

  **

  My trip to the bank went as expected. I have no worries that Hector will be near ready to panhandle to pay off his loan.

  Entering Giovanni’s office, I begin to have second thoughts. Do I really want to go through with this? My mind flashes to Isabella and I know I would do anything for her, even if she doesn’t remember me. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but I’m finding mine has grown colder. Matching my corpse appearance. I’ve been dead on the inside for a long time.

  “Tristian, what can I do for you? Business or pleasure bring you by?” he lights up a cigar and pours me a scotch.

  I lay a fat stack of bills on the table. “I need you to amend my father’s Last Will and Testament. His health is declining. I fear he won’t be with us much longer.”

  He picks up the stack of money. “Double this and I will do whatever you need.”

  I open up my duffel bag and toss another thick stack at him.

  “What’s wrong with the old devil?”

  “Pneumonia and his fever has made him delirious. Draw up the papers giving me power of attorney over the estate and make changes to give me everything upon his death. Consider it a wise business decision.”

  “Indeed.” He flashes a powerful smile puffing his smoke into my face.

  “Don’t get cocky, Gio. After you complete the paperwork and I get what I am owed, you’ll receive a generous bonus for never speaking of this. If you try to use it against me, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your wife,” I promise. With a man like Giovanni you have to be just as mean as he is. Being heartless earns you respect.

  “Understood.” He chokes on cigar smoke as he puts his payment inside his safe in the wall.

  We shake hands once I have given him his full instructions.

  Now for my bastard of a father...I have thought of a million different ways to end him and nothing seems right. Shooting him is too easy and too messy. Paying someone would take all the enjoyment out of it. I could push him down the stairs but that isn’t guaranteed to kill him. I have to be smart about it but I want him to suffer. I want him to pay by my hands. I want my face to be the last thing he sees before he finds eternal sleep.

  **

  “You better be interrupting my sponge bath to bring me my money or that cunt who is going to deliver my heir. Been waiting a week for you to report back.” He looks me over with disgust evident in his wrinkled features. He hasn’t aged well. Time hasn’t been kind to him. His skin looks like chewed up leather shoelaces, with deep pockets from his acne scars. “I know where you’ve been. You’ve been at that strip club with your flea infested whores.”

  I ignore his insults. If he only knew I’ve been planning his death. He’s never approved of any of my choices. I could have gone to an Ivy league school and pursued any career I wanted with the money our family has, but that’s not me. Angelo never groomed me for anything. I had to take it upon myself to choose a path and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I kick my duffel bag towards his bed, as his little bitch snitch of a nurse washes his back. The sight of him makes me sick. “I’ve got your money,” I tell father much to his disappointment.

  “Leave us, go on get gone girl. I’ll call for you when I need you to suck me off later.” He shoves her away knocking the bowl of water to the floor and hitting her in the side of the head with the sponge. The girl gathers her supplies, leaving quickly. She has been on the receiving end of my father’s temper many times. He pays her well enough not to care though. I’ve seen her leave the room covered in blood and bruises many times.

  I’ve suffered his wrath myself, but now he is too weak for much of anything. Raisin
g his head up enough to argue with me seems to deplete all of his strength.

  “Perez paid in full. Counted every dollar myself.”

  “Bullshit. That loser don’t have the equity”

  “You’re right, he doesn’t, but I do. I’m buying out his contract. Hector will answer to me now.”

  “The fuck he will,” he croaks, his voice raspy from years of heavy smoking and drinking. My father tries to raise from his bed but is too weak, falling back on his pillows. His dark eyes holding my gaze as I return his daggered dead stare.

  I smile thinking on my plans for him.

  While he may have paid Courtney well, he neglected to check her credentials outside of her ability to give head and wash his ass. She doesn’t bother to check any of his medications. She just puts the pills in his food. Right now she is probably in the kitchen preparing his soup and bread, not having a clue she is about to feed my dear old man a deadly cocktail. Valium and OxyContin aren’t supposed to be mixed, the combination is deadly. He has a prescription for both so it will appear accidental.

  I’ve made sure Courtney gets a nice little bonus in my father’s Will for when she loses her license. Her poor judgment will cost her, but we will both be free from him.

  In a few hours I’ll be at my club watching my girls shake their asses while my father drowns in his own vomit.

  He shakes his fist cursing under his breath.

  “Lay down old man, you don’t look so good. You should really get more sleep.” Reluctantly he lays back as I shove him down on his pillow. “Here, let me help you get comfortable.” I pull his blankets back up and tuck him in as he did me, before I grew ill, before he washed his hands of me. “Sweet dreams, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” It is what my mother would say after they had kissed my cheeks and turned out my light.

  The old bastard settles and all I want to do is wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until what little life is left drains out of him. All he is is a sorry excuse of a man—broken promises, shattered hopes, and my mother’s broken heart are on his hands.