FORGIVE ME FATHER

  REBEL KINGS MC

  GARRETT LEIGH

  CONTENTS

  Foreword

  Playlist

  The Rebel Kings MC

  1. Embry

  2. Mateo

  3. Embry

  4. Embry

  5. Mateo

  6. Embry

  7. Mateo

  8. Embry

  9. Mateo

  10. Mateo

  11. Embry

  12. Mateo

  13. Embry

  14. Mateo

  15. Mateo

  16. Embry

  17. Mateo

  18. Embry

  19. Mateo

  20. Mateo

  21. Embry

  22. Mateo

  23. Embry

  24. Mateo

  25. Mateo

  26. Embry

  27. Mateo

  28. Embry

  29. Mateo

  Epilogue

  Love Thy Brother - Prequel Scene

  About the Author

  Also by Garrett Leigh

  FOREWORD

  This is a dark romance, featuring characters caught up in the world of MC gangs and all that comes with it. These characters are not always nice and they do things that are not nice. It is a romance, so the sweet moments we crave do come, but bear these words in mind before you dive in.

  This is the third book in the Rebel Kings MC series.

  Mateo is British-Spanish. Embry is from the Carter family, like Joe from the Skins series. He shares Joe’s Romani heritage on that side, and his mother is from the Showman community. In the UK, this is a cultural community of no particular ethnicity, bound together by the fairground industry.

  Unending thanks to Packy, my sensitivity reader, and my husband for sharing his family history with me. And to Pipey, who I’m still trying to persuade to let me fall off the back of his Harley sometime.

  Also, because this came up in the wake of Devil’s Dance and I forgot to include it then: the same fluid principles of street language I explained in my Darkest Skies series apply here. In particular, the word fed is a well-known term in the UK underworld used to describe the police/authorities of any kind. It has nothing to do the American FBI, I promise.

  Content warnings: violence, drug use, past sexual trauma/abuse, historical and implied self-harm and suicidal ideation, historical death of a parent.

  PLAYLIST

  RAVE - Dxrk

  lovely (with Khalid) - Billy Eilish

  Wicked Game - Daisy Gray

  Don’t Walk Away - Mohican Sun

  Let Me See - Morcheeba

  Dark Doo Wop - MS MR

  Love For the Fallen - BCee, Charlotte Haining, DRS

  Teardrop - José González

  Blood Like Lemonade - Morcheeba

  LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

  THE REBEL KINGS MC

  The Rebel Kings MC

  President: Cam O’Brian (33)

  Vice President: Nash McGovern (32)

  Sergeant-at-Arms: Saint Malone (30)

  Enforcer: Mateo Romano (27)

  Treasurer: Alexei Ivanov (30)

  Secretary: Seth “Decoy” Greene (31)

  Chaplain: “Father” Embry Carter (25)

  Road Captain: Rubi Matherson (32)

  Brothers

  Lots

  Crows

  Rocco St John

  Folk

  Ranger

  Locke Halliwell (38)

  Club associates

  Orla O’Brian (Cam’s sister)

  River O’Brian (Cam’s brother)

  Skylar Buchanan (A&E nurse)

  Sol Bosanko (Porth Luck fisherman)

  Ivy Greene (Decoy’s daughter)

  “You’re not real.” His shoulders collapsed in defeat. “I gave my darkest fucking secrets to a man who doesn’t exist.”

  1

  EMBRY

  Six Months Ago . . .

  I’m losing my mind.

  Everyone else had gone. I watched Mateo pace my room, anger seeping from him in hot waves, and all I could think of was how good his clenched fists would feel pressed against my chest as we fucked.

  How hot his skin would be against mine.

  How deep his groans would be.

  Damn you, Alexei. He’d warned me that the drugs he’d injected into my veins would make me feel strange, but he’d said nothing about the charge they’d bring to my blood.

  It made no sense that I could be in this much physical pain, and yet the forefront of my thoughts centred around a different ache entirely. One I’d carried every day since this surly, sweet, and savage man had entered my life.

  Technically, you entered his. He was here first, remember?

  Truth. But my head wasn’t screwed on enough for technicalities. And Mateo was moving too fast for me to keep up. Back and forth, up and down. I couldn’t take it. Motion sickness hit hard. Nausea rolled in my ruined stomach and I doubled over.

  Then it evaporated so fast a sharp, surprised sound escaped me.

  I think.

  Or maybe it was him.

  Mateo stopped moving, his tall frame blocking the light from the window, casting me in the shadow he believed himself to be. “What is it?”

  I couldn’t give it a voice.

  I won’t.

  There were inches between us. Mateo closed them and gripped my elbows, easing me upright. “Lie down.”

  No.

  I mean, I wanted to, but I was sick of that bed. Sick of rotting in it alone and fucking wretched while the world kept turning without me. “I can’t.”

  Mateo dug his fingers into my flesh, his emotions as brutal and bruising as they always were. “Why not? Because Rubi ain’t here to make you feel better?”

  “Why . . . would you think that?”

  The words slurred out and I gritted my teeth against the wave of—fuck, I didn’t even know what—that came with the effort. Found purchase in his bigger arms, using him like I had for days and days and days now to hold myself up.

  I can’t do this without him.

  How could he not know?

  Because you haven’t told him and he’s pig-headed enough to never figure it out on his own.

  Or answer my question. I let go of his arm and braced my hand on the window. “I don’t want Rubi.”

  A deep sound rumbled from Mateo’s chest. Disbelief or discontent, I couldn’t tell. All I knew for sure was that he was profoundly unhappy.

  And that it was my fault.

  Tell him the truth.

  But I couldn’t find the words to admit that the blurred lines we’d danced along for three fucking years hurt me as much as they hurt him. That no comfort I ever sought from anyone else could stand beside what he gave me without even trying.

  Shit, even when his mood was a hellfire, he was everything to me. “Mateo.”

  “What?”

  “I—” What if you’re wrong? Kiss him and see.

  Flashbacks of every moment I’d had that misplaced confidence before invaded my brain. Other men. Women. The memories weren’t ours, but they drove us apart all the same.

  I stumbled free of his hold and he let me go.

  “Sit down,” he growled. “Before you fucking fall.”

  Pretty sure he meant the bed, but my knees found the floor before I got there.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Mateo crouched in front of me, arm looping under my shoulders. “What did that crazy fucking Russian give you?”

  “Muscle relaxants. I can’t feel my legs, man.”

  Didn’t need to. Mateo propelled me to the bed as if I weighed nothing and sat me down on the edge. “You want water? Something else?”

  I wanted him. I let my head drop as the vice around my heart squeezed the life out of me.

  “Em.” Mateo edged closer, hands on my knees, a rare intimacy I’d have enjoyed if his gaze hadn’t been molten with the kind of concern that made my skin itch. “I’m sorry, okay? That I was a cunt about Rubi. It ain’t my business.”

  “I’m not with Rubi.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if you were.”

  “Wouldn’t it?”

  “You give a fuck when I hook up with other people?”

  Yes. But I lied because he needed me to. Because if I didn’t, he’d stay entangled in this mess between us forever. “No.”

  Mateo dipped his chin. “Exactly. I’m just fucking tired, you know?”

  “I know.” Without the holes in my belly, I’d be coaxing him to rest. Talking him down from whatever convolution was keeping him awake.

  But I was an untethered certified wreck right now, and he knew it.

  Everyone did.

  I hate this bed. Ignoring Mateo’s hard stare, I stood and drifted to the window. Dizziness set in, but I ignored it and pressed my forehead to the glass.

  Rubi was outside, pacing like Mateo had been, but for different reasons. Orla flitted out of the bar to join him, poking at his chest as he shook his head, her frustration as palpable as Mateo’s. She wanted to know Nash was safe. That her brother and Saint were too.

  But Rubi couldn’t promise her that.

  No one could, and guilt gnawed at my ruined guts. Pre-shanking, I’d have been downstairs before Rubi could tell his white lies. I’d have told them for him. I was better at it, and I didn’t owe Orla the lifetime of memories that he did.

  I didn’t mean as much to her. A shitty reas
on to tell lies, but in times of war, it was all we had.

  “Hey.” Mateo came up behind me, not touching, but hovering close enough that his body heat made me sway on my feet.

  I tore my gaze from the window and turned to face him. I was a mess of contradiction. So fucked up and broken I could hardly stand, but as his amber eyes burned me alive, the energy I’d felt ten minutes ago returned.

  The heat.

  Mother of Christ. He had oil on his hands and a tiny smear of it on his high cheekbone. His jaw was covered in days of chocolate-brown scruff and his hair was long enough that it was starting to curl behind his ears.

  What if you’re wrong?

  I wanted to be wrong.

  So fucking much.

  Mateo took another step forward, his hands coming to my shoulders to steady me.

  I gripped his wrists. It felt like a do-over of five minutes ago, but everything was different. We were different, even though nothing had changed.

  I feel so fucking weird.

  “Embry.”

  He didn’t say my whole name much. And I only shortened his if I was out of my mind drunk. Mats. I liked it. But to me, he would always be Mateo. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  Like you want to eat me whole, you love me so. I took a breath. “Just stop.”

  Mateo frowned. “You’re gonna have to be clearer, chaparrito. Unless you want me to let go. In which case, get the fuck off your feet. I don’t care what you say, I’m not letting you fall.”

  “You didn’t let me die, either.”

  “That was Alexei.”

  More technicalities. And factually, he was right. Alexei had scraped me out of the dirt by the boundary fence, bundled me into a car, and told me I wasn’t going to meet my maker. But I hadn’t believed him. Until I’d come round to Mateo holding my hand and whispering Spanish in my ear, I’d figured I was already gone. “You stayed with me.”

  Mateo wrapped an arm around my waist, adding stability to my equilibrium. “I’m with you now.”

  He was so close. A week ago, I’d have danced away, petrified of the guttural desire I had for him.

  Right now, I couldn’t move.

  I didn’t want to.

  What if you’re wrong?

  I leaned into him. Mateo was big and strong. Rangier than Cam and Rubi, but just as solid. My battered, aching abdomen touched his. Warmth ricocheted through me. Dark warmth that was so uniquely him. So fucking soothing. Why am I scared of this? Somewhere in the mess of my brain, I knew the answer, but I couldn’t find it.

  And I didn’t look that hard.

  He was taller than me. Wider. It was easy to sink into his embrace. Comfortable, despite the fire burning bright in my heart.

  The good fire.

  The best.

  I tilted my head to look at him.

  He gazed down, confused. “Are you oka—”

  I kissed him. Just once. A slow, soft brush of my lips against his.

  Featherlight.

  Sweet.

  Nowhere near enough.

  I moved to kiss him again, but he beat me to it, gripping my chin and claiming my mouth with a kiss every bit as gentle, but a thousand times less cautious.

  Motherfucker, it slayed me. Mateo smelt of lemon and tasted of mint. His scruff was heaven against my jaw, and for a long, blissful moment, it was everything I’d ever wanted.

  Then it was everything I’d feared. The room was lit by lamps, but in my head, shadows swamped us and the walls closed in on me. Mateo’s lemon-mint scent became something else. Something sour and old. His velvet beard thinned to an itchy five o’clock shadow, and his hands, his healing fucking hands, were acid on my skin.

  No.

  I fought it, but my mind was sluggish, my instincts dulled by whatever the fuck was coursing through my veins.

  My body reacted, more visceral than the desire that had slammed us together.

  More violent.

  I ripped my mouth from Mateo, tore free of his embrace, and shoved him away, knocking us both off balance.

  I staggered.

  He caught me, but I pushed him again, lashing out until he let me go.

  I slid down the window, the pain in my abdomen dulled by the roar of panic in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear, my pulse was so loud. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Mateo crouched, cheekbone marked red from my flailing fist. His hands shook as he extended them, then changed his mind and snatched them back, eyes wild, olive skin ashen. “What did I do? Did I hurt you?”

  I choked on a bitter laugh, nausea tearing up my throat. “It wasn’t you—” Old hands pulled the sheet back. A heavy weight settled over me, pinning me to the hard single mattress—I screwed my eyes shut, forcing the memory down. Swallowing the bile in my mouth. “You don’t understand.”

  “Help me then.”

  “No.”

  “Em—”

  “No.”

  Mateo growled and punched the window above my head. The glass cracked and I welcomed the savagery of it. Hated his muttered apology. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Em.”

  I opened my eyes and found turmoil in his that matched the carnage inside me. “No. No. You don’t understand.”

  Mateo lowered himself to sit, still vibrating with the need to fix me, the way he always did. “Then tell me. Explain it like I’m the simplest fucking idiot you’ve ever met.”

  I can’t. I’d never told anyone. Not the judge, the jury, or the legal aid barrister who’d written me off before she’d ever met me. But as I drowned in Mateo’s affection, in a love I’d done nothing to deserve, the words came tumbling out.

  Bad words.

  Dark words.

  Darker than sin.

  Darker, even, than Mateo’s battered soul.

  I thought those words would shatter me. Shatter us. But Mateo absorbed them all and moved as close as he could without touching me. “Tell me his name and I’ll kill him.”

  I shook my head, slow and dazed. “You can’t.”

  “Why not, cielito?”

  “Because I already did.”

  2

  MATEO

  Present Day

  She had amber eyes. And long black hair that curled at the ends. I watched as it flew behind her, blowing free of her riding hat, her laughter the sunshine to my shadows, tinkling in the wind.

  Before her, I’d never known giggles could glitter in a soft summer breeze. In my hidden spot behind an ancient oak tree, I lifted a hand as if I could catch the sound and pocket it for later, when I needed a hit of sweet joy to combat the grime and violence of my day-to-day life.

  I had two addictions, and they both had hair darker than the blackest ink.

  My first love rounded a bend on her big grey horse, still laughing as he danced on the rain-damp grass, shaking his fancy head.

  His name was Chapi. Her choice, not mine. And a coincidence, but for once, one that warmed my bitter heart as much as his shorter than average legs did. He trotted closer, slowing as if he knew I was there. I smelt hay and earth, mixed with her scent of bubble gum and the charcoal crayons she carried in her pocket. He didn’t stop, but her smile told me she knew I was there, like I always was, in spirit if nothing else.

  Some days it felt like all I’d ever have.

  Chapi bustled on, past the old oak and up the gentle slope, chasing the sun. On the brow of the hill, he stopped and she looked back, her bright gaze sweeping the horizon below, face framed by golden light.

  Of course, she looked like an angel. She always had, since the day she’d been born into my arms, red and screaming, the only time she’d ever cried in my presence. Sometimes I thought I was the unluckiest man in the world. Then I remembered the smiles she saved for me and I knew I wasn’t.