There’s something about the way he speaks, the conviction he puts into his tone that has me believing someone for the first time since my accident. I feel I have to say something to him. “Peg, I…”
But he’s moved away again, his posture one of dismissal. “Now fuckin’ turn yourself around and walk back again.”
Sergeant-at-arms? He ought to be a bloody sergeant major!
He keeps me going until my muscles are screaming out in protest. Only when the sweat’s pouring off my brow and my lungs are heaving does he relent, helping me off the bars and back into my chair.
Waving at the equipment he tells me, “The boys put these in for me after I came back from Afghanistan. I know what you’re going through, darlin’. And it’s gonna be the hardest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever done in your life. But just promise me one thing?”
Still breathing heavily, I glance up at him curiously when he doesn’t continue and prompt him, “What?”
“You’ll have your first fuckin’ dance with me!”
A laugh bursts out of me. It was the last thing I’d expected him to say.
And I’m still grinning when he pushes me―I haven’t the strength or energy to propel myself―back to the clubroom. Wraith jumps off his bar stool and comes over, anxiety in his gaze, which goes between Peg and me before he stares intently into my eyes, then checks me from head to toe. I know he can see I’m still flushing red and sweat is still beading on my brow from the effort Peg made me put in.
“You alright?” He’s still checking me over.
Peg snarls an answer for me, “Of course she’s fuckin’ alright.”
My reaction might have called him a liar, as involuntarily I let loose the tears which have been threatening all day. But instead of being those of frustration or self-pity, I can feel the difference. They’re of hope.
As Wraith moves closer, I reach out my hand to reassure him. “I’m fine.” Then looking him straight in the eyes, and although my words are punctuated with sobs, I manage to stammer out, “Peg’s going to get me walking again.”
Wraith’s face beams as he hears the elation in my voice, and he slaps Peg on the back.
The unaccustomed exercise has awakened my appetite, so when my biker protector suggests we join the others for dinner, I quickly agree. All the old ladies are there—Carmen, Sandy, as well as Crystal, and I’m amazed to see how gently the rugged bikers treat little Amy, even curtailing their colourful language at the fierce glares from her mother. Surprisingly, I have a good time, joining in with laughing at inappropriate jokes and innuendoes, and even find I’m getting used to responding to the tag, Wheels. And perhaps, with Peg’s help, I can rid myself of that name.
I’m surprised when Carmen walks past me and seems to ruffle my hair. Now I might be in a wheelchair, but I’m not a bloody child. I glare up at her.
“Whoops, sorry. Occupational habit.” She takes the seat beside me and sits down, her eyes examining my bob. “I’m a hairdresser.”
Ah, that makes sense now.
“That your natural colour?” She’s staring at my roots.
“Yes.” I’m lucky to have been born the colour blonde most people get out of a bottle.
“Well, if you want a trim or try something different, just give me a shout.”
“I’ll do that,” I agree. I didn’t expect the club to have a resident hairdresser on-site, and I must admit, I could probably use her services soon.
I lean a little closer to her, and while I’ve got her attention, I decide to take advantage. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course!”
“The girls that hover around the clubroom, who are they?” I ask quietly, having noticed they don’t join the rest of us for meals, and I’ve come to the conclusion they’re probably not old ladies at all.
She laughs. “They’re sweet butts, or club whores.”
Dart’s overheard, though I tried to be quiet about it. “They’re here to provide their services to us.”
My eyebrows rise. “Do you pay them?”
“No.” He grins. “They get food and lodging for taking care of us.”
“And by that, I don’t suppose you mean cooking and cleaning.”
Now he laughs. “Not sure their talents would run to that.”
“Nah, they’ve got other talents, like sucking dick,” Slick butts in.
Well, he’s made their services quite clear. “How many of them are there?”
“Four who live here—Jill, Chrissy, Allie, and Pussy. And on the weekends, we have girls up from Tucson too. We’re well taken care of.” Dart takes over the conversation again.
What the hell kind of name is Pussy? I don’t ask as I really don’t want to know, but at least I’ve a better understanding of their place in the club now.
When Wraith finally takes me back to my room, I enter feeling tired, but for the first time in months, with optimistic thoughts of the future. Perhaps I could have gotten back on my feet again if I’d kept up with my physiotherapy, but it had all seemed so pointless. But I didn’t have someone with the determination and the understanding of Peg to give me the kick I needed. I go to bed even looking forward to the day ahead.
Over the next week, I start to get used to living at the club. Being alone was no hardship for me. I’d learned to amuse myself back home reading and keeping my own company, but here I’m not given much chance to be on my own. Wraith would drag me out of my room, and there was always someone around in the clubhouse. I started to get to know the brothers, some more approachable than others but, with the exception of Buster, all treated me with respect. I grew particularly fond of Dart, who’s always giving me a cheeky wink, and also Rock, though it takes me longer to get used to his habit of constantly cleaning his gun. At first, the sight of the weapon made me shudder, but somehow, seeing how the brothers openly carry arms gives me a feeling of safety. If somehow Hargreaves turned up here, he’d certainly meet his match. One constant who seems to live in the clubroom is a biker named Adam. Once I really examined him and noticed the huge bulge in this throat that certainly looked like he’d swallowed a real apple, no one had to explain how he got his name. Not that I have much to do with him, he spends his time glued to one of the arcade machines.
I fast become friends with the old ladies and, feeling guilty about eating their cooking, soon start to try helping them out in the kitchen, though being in a wheelchair I’m limited as to how far I can assist. I never thought I’d be envious of someone lifting pots and pans off the cookers before, but now I certainly am. But something’s different now, I’m not looking at things thinking I’ll never be able to do that. No, I watch them knowing that with Peg’s encouragement and grueling exercise regimen, I’m gradually getting strength back into my injured leg. I’m starting to believe one day I’ll actually walk.
When Horse returns, he only stays a few days before he’s off again, full of apologies for leaving me again. But he goes off with a lighter heart as I’m able to convince him I’m fine here among my new biker friends. It sets a pattern for the next few weeks. Whenever Horse is away, Wraith steps in to keep me company, but I know it’s only because Horse has asked him to. Otherwise he keeps his distance, I suspect grateful to be rid of me as a burden. And if my heart beats a little faster when I’m in his presence, I’ll be keeping that little fact entirely to myself.
With regard to the contract, I don’t become complacent, but the gentle giant, Mouse, is keeping tabs on things and making sure I’m updated. As the days pass, I stop looking over my shoulder, as there’s nothing to suggest anyone is any closer to finding me.
I only have two problems with staying in the compound—one is quite obviously Buster, who makes crude gestures at me when no one else is looking, suggesting his ‘invitation’ is obviously still on his mind. I could have told Wraith, but I didn’t want to get Buster into any more trouble than he’s in already. And Wraith, as VP, must surely have better things to do with his time than worry about me.
; The other issue is the club whores.
I’m sitting alone in the clubhouse, engrossed in a great novel on my iPad, when I become aware that someone’s taken the seat opposite me. Glancing up I’m surprised to see it’s Chrissy, one of the sweet butts who have, up to this point, avoided talking to me. She’s staring at me, waiting to get my attention. Deciding I don’t need any more enemies, I greet her with a smile, still unable to get my head around how they can let any man who wants to, touch them. Sure, I used to enjoy sex, but who I did it with and when was always my choice. I couldn’t imagine anyone submitting willingly to Buster, but I’ve seen enough now to know that’s what they have to do. And sometimes to multiple men on the same night, or even at the same time. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother them, so to each their own.
“Hi, it’s Chrissy, isn’t it?” I’ve had the dubious pleasure of seeing Viper’s cock disappearing into her mouth while Beef’s hammering into her from behind. I left the clubhouse pretty quickly that afternoon. I’m not a prude, far from it, but some performances, in my opinion, should take place behind closed doors. Like in a broom cupboard, for example. A grin comes to my face at the memory.
She acknowledges her name with a dip of her head, then gets down to what she’s come here for. “You’re not anyone’s ol’ lady.”
She’s telling me what I already know. “No, I’m not,” I agree pleasantly.
“Only women in the club are either ol’ ladies or sweet butts,” she tells me. “Don’t understand what you think your place is here.”
“Well, I’m not a sweet butt,” I cough out.
“Nah, none of the brothers would want you like that.” She points to my leg, the one with the prosthesis.
She’s right, but I don’t appreciate her pointing it out to me. I shrug. “Your point?”
She shakes her head. “We don’t know what you’re doing here.”
“As far as I’m aware, the club has given me protection.”
“Only because of Horse, and he’s not even a full member. You better watch yourself, sweetheart. And don’t get too friendly with Wraith. He’s mine, you feel me?”
Is she threatening me? And I don’t recall Wraith even passing the time of day with her in the time I’ve been here.
“Me and the others, we take care of the brothers, you understand? Don’t need another bitch here.”
Seeing as she’s just said that none of them would want me anyway, I don’t understand why she’s bothering to talk to me. I’m saved when Slick approaches our table. His eyes go cold as he sees her talking to me.
“Get lost, Chrissy,” he rasps out. “Wheels isn’t one of your kind.”
“She’s not an ol’ lady neither.” Her face scrunches in disdain.
Slick grabs ahold of her long dark hair, wrapping it around his fist and pulling her head back so she’s forced to look up at him. “She’s more akin to them than your whore ass,” he says in a voice that would brook no argument. “So get back and don’t forget your place. Reckon Tongue’s looking a bit lonely over there.”
His voice isn’t quiet, and the man he’s just suggested looks up with a leer. His tongue comes out and waggles suggestively as he crooks his finger toward Chrissy. She looks aghast at the suggestion, which I don’t understand. Isn’t her job to service any of the men? As he releases his hold, she gets to her feet, and with an unhappy look on her face, gives a final sneer in my direction and goes off toward Tongue.
Slick stares at me for a moment. “You okay, Wheels?”
I nod and reassure him, “I’m fine, thanks.”
“You don’t want to get in with the likes of them.”
I’ve realised that. There’s a hierarchy to the club women—old ladies are at the top, club whores at the bottom, and never the twain shall meet. Me, on the other hand, as Chrissy pointed out, I’ve no freaking idea where I belong.
Slick or someone must have had a word with the sweet butts because they leave me alone after my conversation with Chrissy. But that doesn’t stop them from glaring at me when they think no one is looking.
Chapter Eight
Wraith…
Peg’s a good man, and I’m pleased he’s taken Wheels under his wing—kindred spirits I expect. Out of all of us, he understands her best. When he’s not out on business, every day for the last couple of months he’s worked with her helping her to build up her strength, but what’s even better to see is that she works with him too, putting in so much effort that even he’s surprised with her progress. While she still uses her chair, particularly when she’s tired, he’s encouraging her to use her crutches, and the more she does, the more she smiles.
Peg explained the amount of damage in her one whole leg resulted in such muscle deterioration it will take some time to build the strength in it up to where it should be, but in time he expects her to be able to throw her crutches away. And I can’t fucking wait.
There was such a visible difference in her mood from the first time Peg started helping her, that before Horse set off on his second trip away from the compound, he returned her medication to her. I saw him do it and couldn’t miss the way her mouth broadened into a grateful grin when she realised he trusted her again.
I can’t forget that day when I saw her wobbling into the clubroom on those crutches and not using the chair. Damn, if I didn’t grow harder than steel as I saw my first glimpse of her fine ass. Even out of the chair she’s not tall, probably around five-foot-two or so, but even so, her legs go on for miles, and did I mention that ass? Christ, I just want to hold my hands around it, squeeze it, and pull it down over my eager cock. She’s got an hourglass figure, just the kind I like. And I wasn’t the only one staring. A small growl came from my throat when I realised my brothers weren’t immune either.
We’ve no issues about continuing to give her our protection. It doesn’t take much to keep her amused and happy—most of the time she’s with the old ladies for that. Mouse has found no indication that anyone knows where she is, and we’ve all taken a liking to her. When she lets herself go, she’s got a wicked sense of humour and isn’t shy in coming forward. But something tells me she’s still fighting her mental battles as well as her physical ones.
And me? Well, I’m fighting myself. I want her like I’ve never wanted a woman before, only with her it wouldn’t be a one-time fling. A woman like Wheels would expect more than that. I don’t know if I’m ready to take an old lady. But the thought of sinking my cock into her… Fuck it. She only has to walk into the room and I’m hard again. I can’t deny the day may be coming soon when I’ll have to step up and mark my territory and to hell with the consequences. Sessions in the shower aren’t doing it for me anymore, I need the real thing. Drum would kill me if he knew what I was thinking!
“Hey, Wheels!” Dart calls out. “Over here, sweetheart.”
As she gives him a little wave and slowly makes her way across to the table he’s sitting at with Rock and Beef, I notice Chrissy staring at her, contempt written all over her face. The sweet butt nudges Jill, who’s sitting beside her and whispers into her ear. Jill also turns and sneers. My lips tighten. Slick had a word with them some time ago, but they’re getting increasingly envious over her comfortable relationship with the boys, and the fact she’s on her own two feet today has made them worse than ever. I’ve got to shut that shit down fast. This is a landmark day for Wheels, having the confidence to leave her wheelchair behind, and I’m not having jealous bitches spoiling it.
As I stomp toward them, they look up, the artful smile on Chrissy’s face fading once she sees the expression on my own. I pause before speaking, folding my arms across my chest, letting them see my distaste. “Don’t think I don’t know what you whores are bitching about. And if I hear you say one fuckin’ disrespectful word about Wheels, you’ll be out of this club before you can fuckin’ blink. D’you feel me?”
“But Wraith, we weren’t—”
“Yes, you fuckin’ were Chrissy. Don’t bother fuckin’ denying it.”
I look down at the hand touching me with disgust. Yes, I used to go there, but fuck knows why. And I know I have absolutely no desire to go there again. The longer my stare rests on her skin, the lighter her touch becomes until she gets the message and pulls it away. I decide to lay it on the line. “Yes, we fucked. But I don’t wanna fuck you again. Got it?”
If I thought it was possible, I’d have sworn there were tears in her eyes. But I had to be wrong. Sweet butts should know better than to think they can get involved with members—no one’s going to take an old lady that all the other brothers have sunk their dicks in.
I have one last thing to say before I go. “Lay off Wheels,” I growl, and then look between the four of them until I see the resignation in their faces, letting me know they’ve got the message.
A roar of laughter from across the room draws my attention. Wheels, now seated with a drink in front of her, is grinning broadly. Bullet and Blade have joined them, and Peg’s hovering behind. Dart’s tapping a cigarette out of a pack and lighting up. Wanting to find out what’s going on, I make my way over.
“What’s the joke?” I ask to the table in general.
Dart’s still smirking. “Blade just asked for a cancer stick,” he starts, and I know that’s not unusual. He’s apparently given up, or at least has given up buying his own.
“Okay…” I encourage, knowing that can’t be the end of it.
Laughing again, and causing sniggers around the table, Dart continues, “So Wheels asks if he always bums fags.”
Bullet’s now doubling up.
“It’s not that funny,” Wheels says, though she’s giggling too.
“I didn’t believe English people really said that shit!” Blade manages to stammer out.
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