“Road. Get yourself over to Ella’s. I’ll explain when you get here.” I end the call, replace my phone, then turn to Tilly. “Prospect will make sure he only takes what’s his and gets the hell out.” I’ve taken an immediate disliking to the woman Ella lives with, apart from the fact that it’s clear she’s a slob. When Ella had been at the clubhouse, she had always kept my room tidy and helped the other women clean up. I have no doubt it’s this woman who’s responsible for most of the shit left lying around. The sooner I can get Ella out of here the better.
Tilly tries to stare me down. It doesn’t work. Unable to resist, I take the few steps down the short hallway and push open Ella’s door again, as if to impress the sight of her in my memory. Briefly I watch her sleeping, not missing the way she twitches as though she’s having a bad dream. The sight guts me. Now knowing the reason, I vow to do everything that’s humanly possible to erase those bad memories from her head—there won’t be enough that I can do to try to make things right. If it wasn’t going to wake her, I’d put my fist through the wall. Those fuckers raped her.
When I hear the loud pipes, I go out and brief Road, threatening his life if he lets any harm come to my girl. Then I swing my leg on my bike and ride back to the compound, thoughts of Ella going around my head every mile of the way.
Knowing he’ll be expecting an update, I go directly to Drum’s office, glad to find him alone.
He jerks his chin as I enter. “Heart has stabilised.”
I breathe a sigh of relief at the one good thing I’ve heard today.
“Take a load off.” He waves at one of the chairs in front of his desk. I do so, flicking my eyes toward the Satan’s Devils flag hanging on the wall behind him. A shadow of Lucifer hovering over three devils, the same as the patch on our cuts.
“How did you not know? That’s what I can’t understand.” Prez’s brow furrows. “They must have cut her up. You must have noticed how sore she was.”
Taking a deep breath, I let him in on my secret. “I never fucked her.”
His jaw drops and he blinks rapidly. “You took an ol’ lady without trying her out?”
I raise my shoulders. “I didn’t want any other fucker near her, brother or not. Seemed the best way to save her for me.” Somehow, I’d known we’d fit together like hand and glove. “I was giving her time, knew that they’d spooked her. But hell, my cock didn’t want to wait. I started to push her.”
“And that’s when she took off?”
“Yeah.” Running my hand over my head, I feel stubble coming through and know I’ll need to shave it off soon before it starts to irritate me. “I was so angry, Prez. She didn’t attempt to talk things over. I was convinced she couldn’t handle the life. You know, when Hargreaves turned up and tried to take Sophie?”
“I can understand that. Fuck, I thought that’s why she wanted to go. Mouse getting hurt, Adam killed. Her being drugged along with the other women. It made sense at the time. Fuck, who’d have thought she was keeping something like this quiet?”
“She was shocked, ashamed, hurt. Prez, I can’t stand thinking what those motherfuckers did to her.”
“We all know what pulling a train means.” I nod, we do. It’s not unheard of here. But only with the club whores when they’re in the mood and willing. All brothers queuing up and any hole fair game, and usually more than one at once. Our girls enjoy it, but even they wouldn’t want to be forced to do something they didn’t want to do. Particularly not if it got out of hand and became violent.
“I meant what I said about the club helping out. I don’t know what insurance she’s got.”
Thanking him, I take the opportunity to explain I’ve put Road on her, and the reason why. I don’t trust Tilly, and definitely not that no-good-fucker Bart. Road’s good with the women. He works part-time at the strip club and the girls love how he treats them with respect. He’s a reliable man to have around her, and competent when it comes to a fight.
Prez doesn’t hesitate to tell me he’s fine with the shit I arranged, and then he suggests a beer, which sounds fucking great.
Following him to the bar, I’m pleased the deathly silence which had descended last night seems to have broken. None of us have forgotten that Crystal and Heart are missing, and at least one of them won’t be coming back, but there’s only so much melancholy a body can take—it’s human nature to pick yourself up and get on with life. Both will remain in our thoughts, but continually hashing it out doesn’t move us along.
There’s one thing that bothers me. “How’s Amy doing?”
Drum looks down at the glass in his hand. “None of us have got any idea how to break this kind of news to a kid. Sam’s tried to explain that her mom’s gone to heaven, and that her dad’s in the hospital in bad shape, but fuck knows if she’s taken any of it in. It’s not easy, Brother. She’s hard to comfort, she just can’t understand. All she wants is for her mom and dad to be here.”
It’s difficult for any of us to cope with, but for a three-year-old, it must be crippling. Sam’s a fucking good woman to take it all on. I tell Drum so.
“Best fuckin’ day of my life when I met her,” he muses. And he should be proud. She’s stepping up as a president’s old lady. “I’ve spoken to the lawyer,” Prez continues, changing the subject. “Heart and Crystal left everything to each other. Doubt they ever imagined they could both be taken at once.”
“No provision for Amy?”
“Certainly no mention of anything being left to Crystal’s mom, and no mention of who would have custody.”
I narrow my eyes. “That woman really have a claim?”
“Not while Heart’s breathing,” Drummer growls, then reiterates, “Amy’s here on the compound and that’s where she’s staying. No one will be taking her away.”
“You got any say, Drum? Your being the executor and all?”
“Not officially, the lawyer’s told me. If the worst happens and we lose Heart, Amy’s future will be up to a judge.”
But even a judge wouldn’t give custody to such an unfit woman. Surely not.
Wraith steps up and get his prez’s attention. I move away to let them talk by themselves.
Inside I’m reeling. In just two days my life’s been turned upside down. I’ve lost a good friend and may lose a brother. On top of all that, all my assumptions about my old lady have done a one-eighty. There’s no way I’m not reclaiming that relationship now. I turn my back to the bar and see a couple of the sweet butts sitting ready and waiting—Allie and one of the new girls, Diva—and for the first time in months my cock doesn’t even stir. I’d been trying to fuck her out of my system. It hadn’t worked.
If I’m going to have a chance at winning her back, I’m going to have to be smart. She’s agreed to take things slow? I grin to myself. I can do that.
Chapter Ten
Ella…
So now it’s all come out and everyone will know my embarrassing secret, the one I’d kept buried deep, hoping no one would ever need to know, so ashamed of what I’d let happen to me.
Oh, I know I didn’t ask for it or encourage such debasement, but something I had done had to have encouraged them. Perhaps just the fact I walked into their club dressed as a slut. Notwithstanding, I put myself in that predicament in the first place. If I hadn’t had been so stupid to believe the rosy picture Jill had painted, been so taken in by the idea of sex with a biker, I’d never have met anyone from the club. It was my own out of character and shocking behaviour that caused me to get into the position I had. The Satan’s Devils might have been responsible for setting me up with the Demons, but I wouldn’t have been there had my mind not been fixated on my eagerness to sample good sex for the first time. Sex with a biker.
I’m no whore, and I should have known it, it’s not just the physical act with a man, but everything else that comes along with it. I might blame Jill, but really all I heard was that I’d have the chance to have one of the bikers as my own. Instead of really listening and thinking
things through, I pretended to be something I could never be, and jumped at the chance to escape my drab life. I got exactly what I was after, even though it wasn’t what I had wanted, and it ruined my chances with the one man I did desire.
Despite the comfort Slick had given me, and that he’d stayed until I was asleep, I’m perfectly aware he did so only out of guilt. What man would want me now, knowing I’d been violated in every way it was possible for a woman to be defiled? However many times I shower, I can never wash the stain off me. The thought of ever trusting a man and being intimate with him again causes me to panic. What man wants to be saddled with a broken woman like that?
He said he’d go slow. I don’t want him to get started. He’ll want sex eventually, and the idea of being touched, there, makes me cringe. Never again. I might as well go live in a convent, I’ll spend the rest of my life as a nun. I doubt the man I’m now coming to know would ever force me, but when I don’t put out, he’ll get bored and move on. He’s a man. He’s a biker.
I’ve cried enough tears. Splashing water over my face, I summon up the vision of Jayden. I have to be strong, if only for her. I’ve got to forget my rash and now much regretted disclosure and concentrate on her instead. What has she gotten herself into? Hoping Mouse will soon be able to find something out, idly wondering how he’ll go about it, I wander out into the living room.
“Wondered when you were going to show your face.” Tilly’s standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in her hands. “Your fucking boyfriend had no right kicking Bart out.”
I sigh. I could really do without this now. “Tilly, Bart came onto me—”
She interrupts and shrugs off my attempt at an explanation. “He said you were flirting.”
There’s no point reasoning with her, not now that he’s gotten his side in first. I’ve wanted to get out of here for ages, but where else could I afford?
“And another thing—”
This time it’s her who’s forced to break off by a commotion at the door which swings open, banging hard against the wall. Bart comes inside, along with one of his vicious looking friends. When Tilly’s boyfriend’s eyes fall on me, he leers, and I step back, poised to escape into my room.
“Get what you came for then get out.”
The unexpected deep and authoritative voice has me spinning. I see a man in a Satan’s Devils’ cut, standing lazily by the doorway. He throws me a wink, then presumably interpreting the look on my face as one of concern, he comes inside, putting himself protectively between me and Bart and his friend. He’s tall and well built, and as he crosses his arms over his chest, he exudes confidence that he could handle anything they would throw at him. His back turned toward me, I can see the patch saying he’s a prospect.
He speaks to me over his shoulder without taking his eyes off any possible threat. “Go to your room, Ella, and make yourself pretty. I’ll handle things here. Slick’s on his way over and he’s taking you on a date.”
What? He meant it?
The prospect risks a quick glance over his shoulder. “I’m Road, by the way. Slick put me here to watch out for you.”
Slick’s keeping me safe?
The scene playing out in front of me, Bart and his friends now pretending they’re just here to get his things and not cause trouble, is no longer threatening, but amusing, and I linger for a moment to watch. Despite Bart coming with backup, no one wants to take Road on. Pretending that’s what they came for, and not to cause trouble, they’re busying themselves carrying out Bart’s possessions, armfuls of clothing and then the TV. Wait. What? But Tilly steps forward, she’s having none of that. Her vocal objection accompanied by her frown showing she’s starting to monitor what they’re taking more closely.
Realising all my possessions are safely stored in my room, and that Road’s not going to be allowing them anywhere near my domain, I decide to do what the prospect’s suggested and leave them to it. Slick’s going to take me on a date? Tonight? Still unable to compute what that might mean for a rough biker, I sort through my clothes. Hang on. Why didn’t he tell me himself? I pause. Perhaps I should refuse to go. Yeah, and if he’d asked me, that’s what I would have told him. The reason for his message being passed on by Road becomes clear. Sneaky man.
It might be nice to go out—so long as he’s been honest, and he’s got no expectations. Since I was injured, I’ve had to live off my meagre savings and, even now I’m back at work, it’s hard to get by. Going out has been a luxury I haven’t been able to afford. What’s the alternative? Spending the evening with Tilly moaning about Bart?
It’s that thought that makes up my mind. I restart going through my clothes, realising I have no idea what to wear for an evening on the town with someone like Slick, finding it difficult to imagine where he might take me. In the end, I settle for jeans and a pretty enough floral shirt. I open the bag of makeup I haven’t touched in four months, but then pull the zip closed once again. Clean and tidy will do. I’m doing nothing that might encourage him.
By the time I’ve made myself presentable, Tilly’s shouting out, and I go into the living room, noticing the TV is back in its rightful place, and find Slick at the door. He’s wearing smart black jeans and a button-down shirt under his cut. His head’s freshly shaven and gleams under the light. He’s looking so good it makes me want to turn and run in the opposite direction.
Ignoring the other woman, he swiftly steps up beside me, the flare in his eyes shows me he likes what he sees, even though I’ve done nothing to enhance what nature gave me.
“I—”
“Before you fuckin’ say you don’t think this is a good idea, just listen to me.” My eyes open wide, realising he’s read my mind. “I’m takin’ you out, woman. We’ll go have some dinner like normal folks do, and then I’ll bring you straight home.” As he stares intently at my face, he challenges me. “Has there been one fuckin’ time I’ve given you a reason not to trust me?”
My heart’s beating fast, but I know that he’s right. He’s never given me cause to distrust him, why should he now? Those two weeks I’d stayed in the clubhouse, in his room and in his bed, he never pushed me—well, not until the end. Even then, it was only a verbal suggestion.
He holds out his hand, I move forward and take it. Swallowing down my panic before it can take hold, I put my fingers in his and take a step toward my future.
As I expected, no car waits outside, just a sleek motorcycle. He opens one of the side boxes and gets out two helmets and passes me a pair of clear safety glasses. He pauses. “Had to borrow this lid from one of my brothers.” He puts it on my head and does up the chin strap. “Never had a bitch on the back of my bike before.” Patting the passenger seat, he continues, “This spot’s for you, darlin’. Only for you.”
That he’s told me something significant is obvious, and a little warm feeling inside starts to glow. With an ease of long practice, he steps astride the bike, taking it off the stand and holding it steady. This time he holds out his hand to help me get my balance and climb on. Tentatively, I place my hands on the little handles which seem to be made for that purpose and place my feet on the pegs. He reaches back, taking hold of my wrists and pulling my arms tight around him.
“First time?” My trembling body gives him the answer. “Hold on tight and just go with me, okay? Keep your feet on the pegs, lean when I do, don’t fight the bike.”
Without giving me a chance to have second thoughts, he starts the engine and we’re moving along the road. Suppressing a yelp, I press up against him, needing no further encouragement to hold onto him tight. But as he goes so smoothly, soon I feel more confident that he knows what he’s doing, quickly finding the experience of riding through the warm late summer evening with the wind rushing past liberating. Surprisingly I’m starting to enjoy myself and regretting we’ve only gone a short distance when he pulls into a parking lot.
Tapping my leg, I realise he wants me to get off. After taking a second to unlock my hands,
I place one on his shoulder and swing my leg around, stumbling a little as I hit a ground which isn’t vibrating. He backs into a parking spot and switches the engine off.
“Alright?” His eyes question me, his head tilted.
“Loved it.” My truthful answer seems to bring him relief as his face splits into a smile.
I look around. I’ve walked past often enough but have never been inside. Slick notices me eyeing it up and gives a little laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing, darlin’. Never taken anyone on a date before. I suppose I should have thought of somewhere else to take you, but fuck, I don’t know what you like.”
Hurrying to reassure him, I shake my head. “No, here’s fine, Slick.”
With the faintest of touches, he leads me inside and I enter the Wheel Inn for the very first time. It doesn’t look like a restaurant owned by bikers, and the clientele look like normal folks, just like me.
As soon as we enter a woman rushes over. “Got a booth in the corner reserved for you, Slick.” I notice she’s giving me an appraising look.
“Thanks Marsha.” He doesn’t say more, just leads me on over.
Slick might not have dated before but I certainly have, so at least I have something to measure it by. In my estimation, up to this point he’s doing alright. As we’re seated and drinks ordered, I steal a glance at him over the top of my menu. He’s studying his, though I suspect he probably knows it by heart. Suddenly his eyes meet mine and he grins a little sheepishly.
“Know what you’re gonna have?”
I fold the menu and put it down. With all the butterflies swirling in my stomach, I don’t know what to choose. “What do you recommend?”
“Steak here is excellent.”
“I’ll have that then.”
The waitress comes over and fusses around with the silverware, then takes our order. One rare, one medium.
Slick leans forward, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped. “We never did do much talking.”
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