I want him and to know about him, but it feels like it’s all going just as fast as it did when I was eighteen. That scares the shit out of me at the same time.
He releases me and takes a step back, his eyes focused on mine. He doesn’t, or can’t, hide the pain that slices through his features before he arranges himself so that it’s hidden again.
“You’re the only one that does know me, Clee. You’ll learn more as time goes, but what you know is more than anybody else in my life,” he says.
“If you really want there to be an us, I have to be able to trust you, Paxton. In order to trust you, I need you to be open and honest with me. I’m not the starry-eyed girl I was, willing to jump into anything head first. I have to know that I won’t be abandoned again,” I whisper, my eyes connecting with his.
“No guarantees in life, sweetheart. This could go south, for you or for me. You could abandon me, too, you know.”
“I could, but we both know that I’m not that kind of person,” I say, watching as he flinches with my well delivered blow.
“When do you work again?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow. I have to be there at ten,” I state.
“Let’s go,” he grunts, walking over to the passenger side. Opening the car door, he waits for me to slide inside.
I let him have his silence and allow the conversation we were having to come to an abrupt end. He probably had no idea the adult version of me wasn’t going to be exactly like the girl I was. I’ve been hurt, and he’s the main person who hurt me.
I’ve had years to think about those hurts, and it’s going to take more than a few empty promises to be anything other than two people who are married but estranged.
TORCH
I glance at her, sitting next to me as I drive us back to the clubhouse. Fuck. I fucked her up. She’s still naïve, innocent, and shy, but there’s a piece of her spirit that’s been broken; her trust in anyone, too. I did that, just me, and I hate myself a little more for it.
I don’t know how to fix it, though, and I’m sure as fuck not going to be an open book for her. She doesn’t need to know about my entire childhood, about the horrors I’ve seen in the military, or a damn thing I’ve done or could do for my club. I don’t want to erase that little bit of innocence she so obviously still has inside of her. I love that part of her. I always have.
“Got some shit to do today. Stay in my room,” I say as I pull up to the clubhouse gate.
“You’re leaving me alone?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Yeah, but you’ll be safe in there. Just stay away from everyone.”
“Why?” she breathes. Goddamn, it’s so fuckin’ sexy.
I throw the Ranchero in park and turn to face her.
“You don’t have a brand, babe, which means someone could think you’re fair game. I’m still new here, and though I know all the brothers, I don’t know all of them real well—not like my brothers in Idaho. That bein’ said, I don’t know who would take it upon themselves to take you and not give much of a shit if you say no. You’re not claimed, so it’s a possibility,” I explain.
“Are you telling me that someone in there might rape me? And what’s a brand?” she asks. I start to get annoyed, forgetting that she’s never been a part of this life.
“You aren’t branded with a tattoo of my name, which means you’re not claimed and you’re fair game,” I explain.
“So, you’re actually saying that unless I have your name permanently tattooed onto my body, your brothers think that they can rape me?” she says, sneering.
“That’s the life, babe,” I shrug.
“I’m not comfortable being here without you, Paxton. Can’t you just take me with you?” she asks, biting her plump bottom lip.
“Sorry, sweetheart, can’t take you,” I say. I am sorry. She looks fucking terrified.
“Paxton,” she whispers with a trembling lip.
“I’ll lock you in my room,” I shrug.
I step out of the front seat and walk over to her side, helping her out. She looks up at me with teary eyes, and though they pull at my heartstrings, I’m going on club business and she can’t come, even if I wanted her to.
Plus, this is something she’s going to have to get used to—my life, my club, and my brothers. I don’t think anyone here would hurt her, but the fact is that I don’t know all of them that well.
I take her to my room, telling her that I’ll be back in a bit before locking her inside. I can’t look at the way her lips tremble, the way her eyes are scared and wide. I have shit to do, and I need to get going on it. On my way out of the clubhouse, I run into Camo.
“Hey, brother, Cleo’s locked up in my room. Here’s my key. She need anything, can you handle her?” I ask.
“Sure, I’ll be around for a while.”
“She isn’t branded,” I murmur.
“Got an Old Lady,” he grunts.
“Know that, trust you, that’s why I’m talking to you. I haven’t claimed her, and I don’t know all the brothers well enough to know if she’ll be safe…”
“I got you, brother. I’ll take care of her,” he offers.
“She get’s hurt…” I trail off.
“No problem. I got sisters and a woman. Not into allowing women to get hurt on my watch,” he grins.
“Thanks, brother.”
I leave Cleo in Camo’s care and hope that she’ll be all right while I’m gone. I hope it isn’t too long, but it’s club business, and it could very well take the rest of the evening.
Chapter Eleven
CLEO
I stare at the closed door, wondering not for the first time, what in the actual hell I’m doing here. I feel like this is some alternate universe, and nothing makes sense. Not a single damn thing. Brandings, tattoos, brothers, rape, and whores, it’s all a completely different language to me.
I knew after seeing Paxton for the first time in years, dressed in faded jeans and leather, that he was different, but I didn’t expect him to be this different. It just further reiterates the fact that I don’t know him.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and I jump, afraid to walk over to it. Then it slowly opens. I suck in a breath when I see the man who drove Paxton and me here from Redding standing in the doorway.
He’s tall, with a full beard, and shaggy hair. He’s young, but no less good looking as he takes me in, then grins, showing off his straight white teeth.
“Torch said he warned you, but it’s all good. I got an Old Lady, she’ll be here in a few. Thought maybe you’d like a drink and to relax a bit,” he offers with a shrug.
“Umm.”
“Won’t hurt you, Cleo. Won’t let anybody else hurt you, either,” he says gently.
“Who’s Torch?” I ask with confusion.
“Your man,” he murmurs, lifting a brow.
“You mean Paxton?”
“If that’s his name, then yeah. Gotta tell ya, babe, I only know him as Torch,” he states. “It’s his road name.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I whisper.
“Come down to the bar, have a drink, and the women will explain,” he says.
“What women?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“Figured you had no fuckin’ clue about the life, so I called my Old Lady and had her gather up some of the others. They can tell you about it,” he offers.
I tentatively take a step toward him and he slides to the side to let me walk through door. Together, we walk to the bar, and he tells the man behind it to grab me whatever I want.
I look around at the shelves and see a bunch of tequila and whiskey, so I decide to ask for a beer, thinking they won’t have a white riesling wine like I’m used to when I drink with Lisandro and Theo.
Taking the bottle of beer from the man behind the bar top, I follow Camo, over to an empty table.
I suck in a breath when a mountain of a man walks up beside us and sits down across from me. Camo doesn’t leave me, and I�
�m grateful.
Maxfield, from the jewelry store, stares at me. He’s intimidating. He’s big, and the way he’s watching me makes me feel as though he can see through me.
“Don’t know much about Torch, but not sure you do either, do you?” he mutters, lifting a brow as he leans back in his chair.
“I thought I knew him, once,” I admit, looking down at my beer bottle as I tug at the corner of the label.
“You probably know more than anybody,” he murmurs.
“I don’t know anything about his life, about this world he lives in,” I say with a wave of my hand.
“Only thing I can do is tell you about the life of the club, not his personal life. Don’t know much about the shit he’s been through, but I can tell you about the club life,” Maxfield offers.
“What does Torch mean?” I ask, taking a swig of the cold beer.
“Torch is his road name, what we all call him. We don’t use our first names here. We’re all given a road name, and some of them have deeper meanings than others. I’m the president, and I’m called Pres or MadDog. Torch was an EOD in the Air Force, so when we need to blow shit up, he’s the guy we call,” he explains and I gasp.
“EOD? Blow shit up?” I mutter in surprise.
“Explosive Ordinance Disposal. You didn’t know what he did in the military?” Maxfield, or MadDog as he’s called, asks, his brows drawn together in confusion.
“He never told me what he did, just that he was in the Air Force,” I explain. “So, that’s what he meant when he said he watched his friends being blown up,” I mutter to myself.
“I’m sure he has seen that,” MadDog rumbles.
“I don’t know anything about him, not a single thing,” I mutter, looking down at the table.
“Good news is you’re married, and you got time to learn,” MadDog booms causing me to jump slightly.
I press my lips together, refusing to talk about my marriage, or whatever the hell it’s called. I lift my eyes to see MadDog staring at me, studying me, and then he stands and leaves without saying a word.
“Did I make him mad?” I ask, turning my head slightly to watch him walk away.
I try really hard not to admire his ass encased perfectly in his jeans. He’s old enough to be my dad, and very engaged to a stunning woman, but he’s built.
“Pres? Nah, not at all, babe,” Camo shrugs.
A few moments later, a pretty blonde, a brunette in her forties, and a petite redhead make their way over and sit down while smiling widely at me. They don’t say anything. They just stare, and I squirm under their scrutiny.
“This is Ivy, my woman, and some other Old Ladies. It’s my cue to jet. I’ll be at the bar if you need me,” Camo announces as he stands and walks away from us.
“So, you’re Torch’s Old Lady?” the brunette in her forties asks with an arched brow.
“I’m technically his wife, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say as my eyes shift from one woman to the next.
“West told me that you don’t know anything about this life?” the young blonde murmurs. “I’m Ivy, by the way,” she smiles.
“Oh, I’m Cleo,” I say. “No, I don’t know anything at all,” I admit.
“But you’re married to Torch?” the petite redhead mutters. “I’m Teeny, Mammoth’s Old Lady.”
I blink in surprise, thinking about this tiny little thing with a man named Mammoth.
“Uhh, yeah, Torch and I have been married for twelve years, technically speaking,” I say.
“I’m Colleen, and I’ve been around this club my whole life, married my Old Man, Texas, when I was sixteen. You want to support your man, be his partner and not someone he just comes home to every now and then, you stick with us and we’ll help you,” she offers with a kind smile.
“Honestly, I don’t know what Paxton and I are,” I say, sucking down some more beer.
“Do you want him?” Colleen asks, her intelligent gaze honed in on me.
“I always have, but that doesn’t mean that he’s good for me, or me for him,” I admit.
I swear, my heart aches at the admission, the admission that this really could be what’s in store for us, nothing but an ending.
“The fact that you even said that, that you think that, it proves to me you have the makings of an Old Lady,” Colleen announces.
“He told me a little about brandings, and that the other men could force themselves on me if I don’t have one. That doesn’t sound like something I could really be part of,” I whisper.
“Oh, god,” Teeny says, rolling her eyes. “That shit only happens at big parties, and it doesn’t really go down like that. Most of these guys are gentle giants and wouldn’t hurt a woman in this building, especially one who is on the arm of one of their brothers, branded or not,” she says. “Granted, I’m sure he’s still unsure of all the men, since he just moved here a couple months ago from his original club,” she explains.
“I don’t understand why he’s even part of this club,” I sigh.
“We can only help you with the club stuff,” Teeny explains. I nod.
“Whores, what’s that?” I blurt out.
All three women cough and cringe at the same time.
“Umm, well, they’re these girls,” Ivy says, flicking her wrist to the women on the other side of the room.
“Their purpose being?” I ask, lifting a brow. I’m not stupid, and I think I have it figured out, but I want to know for certain.
“They live here, for free, and pay rent with their bodies. They’re available to any man wearing a Notorious Devils patch, no matter what club they come in from,” Teeny explains in her soft, small, voice.
“So they really are just that, whores?” I ask with wide eyes.
“Yeah,” Ivy says, nodding.
“You take care of your man, you give him what he needs, and he won’t go looking elsewhere,” Colleen announces. My face blanches.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I mutter.
“It’s part of the life, sweetie, you have to understand that,” Colleen coos.
“My husband has been out fucking whores for over a decade. I knew he’d been with women, I’m not stupid, but whores? And he wants something with me? Of course, because when he’s had what he wants from me he, can just trot on down here and fuck whoever he wants,” I ramble, my eyes shifting from one woman to the other.
I wrench my head around and look at the girl I know, without a doubt, that he was with not very long ago—a whore.
“Cleo,” Ivy says, reaching out to take my arm. I quickly stand and let my chair topple to the floor.
“No, no I can’t be okay with any of this,” I whisper, horrified as I start to back away from them, visions of whores and Paxton running rampant through my head.
“Cleo, you need to calm down,” Colleen says as she reaches out for me.
I can’t take anymore lessons on how to live this life. This isn’t something I want—ever. It’s rude, I know that it is, but I turn and leave the three women who have been nothing but nice to me, and I run back to Paxton’s room.
I have nowhere to go, but I know that I can lock myself inside and the only person who can come in is Camo, but I doubt that he will.
Slamming the door behind me, I flip the lock and press my back to it, sinking to the floor and drawing my knees up, my eyes filling with tears as I think about the sad state of affairs my life has become in the matter of just a few weeks.
I miss Lisandro and Theo. I miss my boring, predictable life. I miss not knowing where my husband was, and more importantly, I miss not knowing what or who he was doing.
TORCH
My phone buzzes in my pocket, a-fuckin-gain, but I ignore it—I’m working. Tonight, I’m overseeing the loading up of the guns and dope that will be driven to Denver in just a few days.
Thank fuck it’s not my turn to drive that long ass fuckin’ drive. Not only do I not feel like it, I still have Cleo to deal with. I’m on the next rotation, so by
then, shit between us should be all good.
The buzzing starts again and I angrily pull it out of my pocket, punching the green button on the screen to accept the call.
“What?” I bark.
“She totally freaked the fuck out, brother,” Camo mutters on the other end of the line.
“About what?” I ask.
“Old Ladies were talkin’ to her, I thought it might help. Thought she’d want to get to know them, have a couple beers, hang out. She freaked out, and she’s locked herself in your room. I haven’t bothered her, but I don’t know, man, she looked rattled,” he explains.
No telling what those women told her; shit she probably didn’t want to hear. Knowing our conversation earlier, it probably has to do with whores. I haven’t fully explained that to her, hoping she’d just let it go.
“I got a coupla hours here still. She’ll have to wait,” I grunt, feeling like an ass the second the words spill from my lips.
“Right. I’ll keep an eye out if she ventures out again, but I doubt she will,” Camo mutters before he ends the call.
I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. Fuck. I thought I had her closer to working on this shit. Closer to understanding me, my life, and what our future could be.
Watching the shit being taken off of the freight ship and put into the waiting truck, I let my mind wander, I let myself think. Maybe we’re just way too different? Maybe I should just let her go.
Goddammit.
“You good?” Soar asks.
“Nope,” I admit.
“Need to talk about it?” he asks, his usually jovial demeanor gone.
“Don’t have a pussy, so no, I’m good.”
“Don’t have to have a pussy to talk about shit, especially with a brother,” he murmurs.
“Wanna talk about why you’re high all the time and you fuck everybody but your hot as shit wife?”
“Nope,” he grinds out.
“Didn’t fuckin’ think so.”
It takes another hour to finish loading the truck, and Soar and I drive back to the clubhouse in silence, the whole four hours. By the time we pull into the parking lot and back the truck into the warehouse, it’s after four in the morning.
The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet Page 122
