Jaded: (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series), page 4
I told him to stand down and he refused to listen. Since I’m patched and Bront isn’t, he’s now on probation for refusing orders. Though if I knew that’d happen I would not have told him to stand down and wouldn’t have admitted to anyone that he ignored my orders.
Deacon showed up halfway through said ass-whooping and stood with me watching for a minute before asking me what was up. Then getting from me that Bront wasn’t listening to my order to stand down, Deacon got my help and pulled them apart. The brother wasn’t just good with his gun, he was evidently also good with his fists.
But no, Gianna Jones probably wouldn’t pick Pudge or Bronto as a first choice or even a fourth, though then again, the Sioux Falls clubhouse often had good-looking women crawling all over older or uglier bikers. Some chicks got wet at the mere sight of a motorcycle club patch on leather. Some of them wanted a rough guy to take care of their pussy and show them attention for a while. I didn’t know yet what Gianna Jones’s story was, and I might never know. I did know one thing – that towel barely covered her and I wasn’t the only one who noticed the water droplets on her skin and suspected all three of us were feeling like thirsty men after a days’ long trek across the desert dunes.
This joint wasn’t as rowdy as I knew the Sioux Falls clubhouse to be when I started out prospecting. There were a lot more people there, plenty of guests coming and going and though it’d only been a couple weeks easing into prospecting there before we made the move here, it was enough for me to see that some of those club sweet butts had daddy issues. Some of them had no place to go. Other ones were more selective and went after specific guys. Though there are older, rougher bikers there, there are also plenty of guys my age who take care of their bodies and gave a shit what they look like. What we all had in common was favoring the lifestyle the brotherhood subscribes to.
I slipped into my room with a plate of scrambled eggs and a dish of grapes along with a banana.
As the door snicked shut, she had her back to me, still in her towel.
Just her head turned. She smiled.
I did not return it.
“This was the best I could do. We’ll get in some supplies tomorrow. Make a list for me of what you want, and it’ll get picked up.”
“Thanks,” she said, pulling a pink tank top over her head and then shimmying the towel down to her waist. “I’m starved.”
I put the bowl and plate on the dresser with the banana and a bottle of water and kicked my boots off. I then reached over and lifted the cuffs.
“So, eat up quick. I’m tired,” I said.
It was obvious she wasn’t taking her clothes to the bathroom to put them on, so I did my best to ignore her.
I failed.
While shimmying something up under her towel, she eyeballed the cuffs with unconcealed horror.
“Told ya,” I muttered, twirling them without making eye contact. “I wasn’t bullshitting. You didn’t get up, so here we are.”
“I’m not gonna do anything. Not gonna go anywhere. This is the safest place for me. That’s probably why I slept so long. Haven’t felt this safe in a while.”
She then pulled the towel away and started rubbing her hair with it revealing booty shorts that were barely more than underwear.
I did not reply. This chick needed to get me and part of that was getting that I didn’t typically repeat myself. Was she doing her stealthy dressing routine putting on next to nothing trying to make my cock twitch, figuring the tease along with the chosen outfit would get her what she wanted?
“A long while,” she added, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, eyes on me with a plea in them.
Immune to it, I adjusted a pillow and leaned back, lifting another beaten-up paperback from the bedside table, reading the first half a page before deciding I wasn’t feeling it, so putting it down and grabbing the next one in the stack. Bag of Bones. It’d been a few years since I read it.
“No TV in here,” she muttered a minute later from the end of the bed where she was surveying the food. “Too bad.”
“Don’t watch much TV,” I said, flipping a page.
“Might be nice to drown out the noise of me eating.”
I could feel her eyes on me, but I kept mine on the page.
“People make noise when they eat.” I shrugged. “That’s how it works.”
“I guess,” she muttered and reached for the fork.
And she was eating so quietly, so daintily to avoid me hearing her chew or swallow, that I knew it’d take her all fucking night to eat if I sat where I was, so to resist the urge to bark out orders to just eat her fucking food so I could go to sleep already, I dropped my book and stepped out.
“All good?” I asked Pudge, who was peering between blind slats on the door leading out of the clubhouse.
“Chick just pulled in. Usin’ her phone, so she’s either here realizing Deke’s Roadhouse ain’t open and changing her plans or she’s lookin’ for someone up here. If she’s not gone in twenty seconds, I’m heading down.”
I looked out the window. “She’s here for me.”
My phone buzzed against my thigh. I reached into my pocket.
Dina: Hey. I’m outside Deke’s Roadhouse. Cool to come up?
Pudge moved, so I stepped out and headed to her car.
She smiled brightly as her window rolled down.
“Figured I’d pop by and give you this back.” She slipped me my Zippo. “Somehow it wound up in my pocket.”
“Thanks,” I said and slipped it into my pocket, knowing she wasn’t here this late to return my lighter. She wanted another helping of cock.
“You wanna grab a drink?” she asked.
“Roadhouse is closed, number one.”
“Doesn’t have to be here.” She smiled brighter, shaking her head, red curls bouncing.
“I’m on duty tonight.”
“Oh.” She pouted. “What’s that mean? Duty?”
“Club business.”
“Club business? That code for none of my business?”
When I said nothing in reply, she tried, “Tomorrow?”
“Busy for the foreseeable.”
Her back straightened as her eyes narrowed. “The foreseeable? Is this a… a brush-off?”
I shrugged. “Made things clear, babe. Told you I wasn’t lookin’ for serious. I’m not sayin’ I won’t wanna hook up again some time, what I’m sayin’ is I’m busy for the foreseeable. Call before you pop by, so you don’t waste your time and gas.”
“Oh.” She looked at me like I was holding a carton of sour milk under her nose.
I’ve banged her four times. First time, in my room after meeting her downstairs in The Roadhouse. Second time at her place. Third, the other night when she showed at Deke’s Roadhouse. Again last night telling me she cabbed it due to car problems, asking me to drive her home. I did that, thinking I’d stay for a while and take what she was offering, but got called to help out with the Pippa’s ex situation and then magically, her car was available to bring her back here. Game player, which I have no use for. And while she was a decent enough lay, beyond being a warm body there was nothing worth exploring. Though that’s not a surprise. Haven’t felt anything real with anybody in a while. Not since Chelsea, who taught me a lesson I won’t forget.
Chelsea didn’t wait for me while I did two years for assault on her behalf. Defending her was the right thing to do; the shithead I beat to within an inch of his life deserved it, so I never wanted to take it back, but I wanted to erase how it felt when after swearing she would wait twenty if need be – she loved me that much, appreciated what I did for her that much and swore she was all mine, forever, then she didn’t even wait two months before movin’ on, doing so with a buddy of mine. And then not long later the truth about what a manipulating liar she was left me regretting everything about my time with her.
My lesson gleaned was that I needed to adjust my expectations after that. Not to mention pick my friends as carefully as my battles. I’ve been selective about women and friends since then.
“See ya,” I dismissed, giving the hood of Dina’s ride a slap before backing up.
Irritation flashed in her eyes before she rolled her window up and backed her car out.
2
“Must be nice,” Pudge razzed from the barstool when I got back upstairs. “Chasin’ ‘em off with a stick.”
“It’s the stick they want,” I fired back.
He snickered, then threw back a shot of whisky.
“Not gonna pass out on watch, are ya?” I slapped his arm jokingly.
But I was only half-joking and by the way Pudge went rigid, he knew that.
“Not a fuckin’ chance,” he clipped, glaring at me from under his bushy eyebrows. When I didn’t react, he tacked on, “Deke Valentine is the reason I’m here.”
I jerked my chin up, so he stated, “In other words, no way would I let my fuckin’ prez down.”
“My bad,” was my answer.
He stared, so I continued with, “Saw you throw back more than half a dozen shots a few hours ago, brother.”
“Yeah, brother,” he emphasized the brother to let me know he didn’t appreciate a fellow MC brother questioning him. “At least.”
“Just making sure you’re good. You’re not, I’ll wake Bront and we’ll split your watch; that’s all.”
“Didn’t know you were countin’ my shots, Jesse James,” he replied acidly. “Pretty sure I had three or four when you weren’t lookin’, so best mark those down, too.” He poured a double, then tossed it back and slammed the glass on the bar.
I waited, knowing he had more to say.
“Not just here in this clubhouse, here on this planet,” he continued, “Would not be here period if it weren’t for Deke and I would not fuckin’ pay him back for that by shittin’ on our club.” He pointed at me. “This needs to be the first and last time you ever fuckin’ call my character into question, kid. You read me?”
“Copy that,” I said, knowing Pudge used the kid as condescension, payback for the perceived dis. “’Night, Pudge.”
He grunted in response, obviously pissed.
He’d have to get over it. Or not. I really didn’t give a fuck. We don’t know one another real well yet and all our asses are on the line if things go sideways on our watch here. If I threw back half as much as he drank today before my turn to stand sentry and kept drinking after my shift started I wouldn’t be surprised if someone questioned that with not knowing if I can hold my liquor.
The sound of Bront snoring filled the hallway. Opening my door, I found her scrawling in one of her leather books, teeth embedded into her bottom lip. Her pen sped up when the door clicked shut before she stopped, snapped the book closed, and quickly slipped it into her bag on the floor.
My eyebrows jutted up at the action. She looked my way, then quickly looked away, chewing on her thumbnail.
Fuck. This room has never felt smaller. It’s already a tight fit, and I’ve been looking forward to moving to the new clubhouse being built out back. My room will double in size, and I’ll have two windows and a closet. In here, it was a tiny box with just one small window – better than nothing. I had a dresser against the wall to the left of the door, the rack on wheels on the opposite wall straight ahead holding the rest of my clothes since this room didn’t have a closet. The double bed with the headboard sat in the middle, headboard against the wall to my left with the small window overhead. Beyond the bed, dresser, and metal rack my only other furniture was an old table with a drawer beside my bed and an even older recliner in the corner beside the rack of clothes. That recliner was currently buried under a whack of laundry.
Seein’ as I’m here full time, I rated getting a window. I wouldn’t have been able to live here otherwise. I chose the window versus the closet, having the choice of two rooms. Most of the other rooms belong to members with their own pad, but the larger rooms or rooms with windows and closets are for those of us here full-time.
I dragged the curtain across the rod and singed her with a dark look. “Drapes stay open. Always. Understand?”
Her eyes widened. She nodded. “Sorry.”
I dropped my lighter on top of the dresser and fished through my top drawer for the bag of weed I wanted along with some rolling papers and my bud grinder before sitting on the corner of the bed and rolling a joint on the dresser, my back to her.
“Where are your dishes?” I asked.
“In the kitchen. I washed ‘em. Thanks for the food. Eggs were good. Actually, I-”
She stopped talking because I turned and scorched her with another dark look, before I stated, “You don’t leave this room without my permission. Not unless the place is on fire. You hear me, hostage?”
She reared back and her blue eyes narrowed. “You wanna maybe just put a bucket in the corner by that ratty old chair?” She waved in that direction. “Then I never have to leave. Or maybe pop out and buy me some Pampers so I don’t gotta bother you to empty the bucket.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.
“Looks like you’ve got a little sass after all.” I cracked a smile, thinking her sass was kinda cute. “But you’d be emptying your own bucket.” I licked the gummy part of the paper and rolled it up tight, then sparked up.
She’d startled at my smile like I was a shark about to bite her.
“You’re joking with me?” she asked.
“About the cuffin’? About not leaving this room without my permission? Not at all,” I replied.
Frown lines appeared over the bridge of her nose.
“Hostages don’t have free run of the joint.” I took another haul.
“Please don’t handcuff me,” she requested softly, eyes bouncing toward me briefly before darting away like I was medusa who’d turn her to stone if she kept looking. “I’ll stay here. I’ll read or listen to music on my phone while you sleep. I have earbuds and I’ll be as quiet as a–”
“Shoulda listened,” I cut her off, took two more quick hauls, then butted the joint in the ashtray on my dresser.
“But, I was tired,” she returned.
“And nice try on the phone for listenin’ to music. You’re not gettin’ that back. You think I’m an idiot?”
She huffed, keeping her eyes pointed away from me. “Dunno about an idiot; though do suspect you’re a bit of a salty ogre.”
“Guess it’ll be a long night for you in the swamp.” I lifted the cuffs and waited.
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“You told Prez you’d cooperate. This ain’t seemin’ like cooperatin’, woman, so –”
“So, what?” she asked, gaze meeting mine with a bit of fire. “What are you gonna do if I refuse?”
She was throwing sparks, but she was also trembling. The trembling didn’t affect me. She could be a great actress and a fucking liar. And bottom line – if she wanted safe haven, she’d have to deal.
“You wanna be turned out? I suspect if I call Prez and say you’re not listenin’, he finds out you’re makin’ life hard here when we’ve got to be on the ball, watching shit to make sure the enemy doesn’t pull anything-”
“Deke won’t turn me out when the Wyld Jackals could scoop me up!” she exclaimed.
“You wanna test that theory?” I stood and reached into my pocket for my phone. “I interrupt him to tell him you’re being a pain in my ass, you think he’ll be happy with you?”
“He’s not like that. He’s not Mantis.” She folded her arms stubbornly.
“No, he’s absolutely not Mantis. But, ya think he’ll be happy? Let’s find out.”
I tapped Deke’s name on my call list while she kept that glare aimed at me.
It rang until it went to a voicemail box that wasn’t set up. I ended the call and met her gaze. She looked freaked out. She wasn’t sure if Prez would turn her away and she was terrified he might.
“With his daughter’s life at stake? You think he’ll give a shit you’re not happy about the way I handle things? You were there weren’t you, when he told you my word was law?”
She whispered, “Please.”
“Guess I could send a text to some other brothers to find Deke. Deacon, Rider, or Sp-”
“Wait. I’ll…” She swallowed hard. “I’ll cooperate.” She shakily held out her right wrist.
She looked a little green around the gills, wincing with her eyes shut like I was about to give her a jab with a needle or touch her with a red-hot branding iron.
“You’re brainless if you think Deke’d pick anybody over the safety of his daughter, let alone a stray who dips between multiple clubs,” I muttered as I clicked the cuff into place.
“I do not dip between clubs,” she stated fiercely. “The only MC I ever hung around the last few years has been this one. Or I did before Kailey’s bullshit got me uninvited. She dips. I don’t.”
“All I care about is that you do what I tell you to do. You gonna listen or do I call Prez back?”
“I’ll listen,” she said, then jolted at the ratchet sound of the cuffs as I clicked the other end around a headboard slat.
My phone rang. Deke calling.
I answered.
“Hey Prez.”
“Yo, Jesse.”
“Can you do me a quick favor? Sorry to interrupt, but need you to remind this bunny how you said my word is law.”
“Hand the phone over and I’ll do that,” he replied.
She launched into an apology instead of saying hello. She said, “Sorry, Deke. I’m not tryin’ to cause problems. I just… I’m not tryin’ to be a pain in anyone’s ass, it’s just…” She stopped and listened for a moment and then said, “I understand. Okay. Yeah, I will. You want him back? Okay. Bye.” She ended the call before passing the phone to me without making eye contact.
I tossed it onto the bedside table, then went for the light switch, and slapped it, leaving us in lamplight.
After getting undressed from the waist up, feeling like her eyes were on my back, I reached for the lamp switch, plunging us into darkness.
