Cleo's Rage (Devil's Riot MC Book 4)

by E. C. Land

  “Izzy, I haven’t danced in a really long time, let alone sung. I really don’t do know if I could do that,” I mutter.

  “Oh, please, Cleo, you’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen. Hell, you’re the one that helped me put the choreography together for the waitresses. You could do it,” Kenny says. Well, shoot a duck in the head, why don’t you. Of course, she’d throw that out there.

  “Izzy has all of us doing something to help out. I’m working on organizing vendors for the carnival. This event is going to be huge with all the help this woman has recruited. She’s not only got the brothers from this club, but Stoney and Hammer’s clubs are in on helping as well as the guys from SoCo Security,” Lynsdey says, throwing her arms up dramatically.

  “Well, what can I say? I want this to be perfect and we only have three months left. We have everything working out great except for the concert part. I feel like there’s something missing from it. Something that would make it even more meaningful,” Izzy mutters almost as if she were talking to herself.

  For the better of an hour, we talk and joke, and everything seems to be going great even when the clubwhores keep eyeballin’ me. It isn’t until Cristy comes in that the atmosphere changes. She is pissed from the look on her face.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asks with enough venom in her voice you can taste it.

  “Excuse me?” I say in confusion. Looking at the rest of the girls, none of them meet my eyes.

  “Excuse me? Seriously? Are you going to sit there and think you can just waltz right back into town and everything will go back to normal?” Cristy yells, placing her hands on her hips. I’ve never seen her as angry as she is right now.

  “Cristy, if I’ve done something to you, I’m sorry, but you have no right to act like this toward me. I left for a reason. Now I’m back and I’m happy to see everyone, including you,” I tell her as I stand. I’ve never been one to allow anyone to yell or scream in my face. I’m not about to let it start now.

  “That’s a good one. If you’re so happy to see me along with everyone else, why didn’t you call or even text? We’re supposed to be your friends and you pushed us all aside like we're nothing but a sack of flour. You selfish bitch, you should be sorry,” Cristy continues to rant.

  “That’s enough, Cristy,” Kenny says from behind me. I didn’t even realize I’d moved in front of the table.

  “Oh, please, you can’t tell me you’re not pissed about her up and leaving without even giving you notice at the bar,” Cristy snaps.

  “Cristy, stop being a bitch,” Lynsdey snaps. “You’re just pissed over the fact Rage never gave you the time of day even while Cleo was gone.”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “This has nothing to do with Rage. This is about the fact my supposedly good friend just ups and leaves us all without even a fuck you,” Cristy says, getting in my face. “As for Rage, I’m sure he would have come around eventually. There’s only so long a man can go without getting his dick wet.”

  I barely let Cristy finish her words before I’m on her, slamming my fist in her face over and over. Tears fill my eyes as I take all my aggression out on her. Punch after punch, I slam my fist into her until someone lifts me backward off of her.

  “You bitch. You have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about. You say we were friends. We never were if you talk shit like that to anyone. I left because I couldn’t stand being around here seeing all my friends happy when I wasn’t. I couldn’t stand to see my own best friends living happily with newborn babies when I’d lost mine. I left to get better. Am I? No, I’m not, but I’m fucking trying. I don’t need your shit.

  “You want a man that doesn’t want you, not my fuckin’ fault. Just like it’s not my fault that I was targeted, raped, tortured, and you don’t want to know what else that sick bastard did to me. You want to call me selfish, that’s okay, I’ll be selfish for attempting to take my life. But I didn’t because Stoney stopped me. However, it wasn’t as simple as Stoney taking the knife from my hand. It was his words. So, I’m selfish for needing time. Now go fuck yourself. I don’t want or need you to be my friend,” I scream, not realizing the audience around the room or the fact I’m being held against a brick wall of a chest.

  “I’m sorry, Cleo, I am,” Cristy says, standing up with the help of one of the prospects. She may say the words, but I honestly don’t believe her. No one says hateful things without meaning them. No, she’s merely apologizing to save her ass from Rage and other club members.

  “I think you need to leave, Cristy, and take some time off at the bar. Get your head on right,” Rage says from behind me. I watch as Ace helps Cristy out the door.

  Closing my eyes, I turn in his arms laying my head against his chest. “Please tell me I didn’t just have a full-blown meltdown in front of the entire club,” I murmur.

  “Can’t tell you that, babe,” Rage mutters, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Let me see your hands.”

  Shaking my head, I pull back enough to look at him. At the tight lines on his face, I don’t have to take a guess at him being pissed.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper before turning to face the rest of the room. My eyes landing on one of my three best friends, seeing exactly what I didn’t want. Pity. Unable to say anything to them or even turn back to Rage, I look down. “Can you take me home now, Rage?” I ask.

  “Yeah, baby, let’s get you home,” Rage says, taking my hand.

  There’s a saying— one step forward, two steps back. And tonight, I not only took that first step forward, but I also took ten steps back. I feel emotionally drained. I never intended for any of that to happen. At least now I don’t have to worry about them ever finding out or asking me to tell them. They already know.

  13

  Rage

  Fuckin’ hell, I never expected to walk into the main room of the clubhouse to find my woman beating the shit out of another woman. Especially a woman who was supposed to be her friend. Lifting her off of Cristy, I wonder what set Cleo off. Didn’t take long to find out when she started screaming, yelling at Cristy, pretty much informing the entire club of what happened that night. Good thing I’d already told my brothers about the baby. I wish I could erase the agony that filled my woman’s voice as she spoke of that night and how it wasn’t her fault.

  I wanted nothing more than to strangle Cristy. She’s a nice woman for the most part, even if a little infatuated with me.

  The moment we got home, Cleo walked upstairs without saying a word. I don’t want to give her too much time alone, afraid she’ll sink back into her own head, after only just having her start to open up. I make sure the house is locked up before heading upstairs.

  Walking into the bedroom, the sound of water running in the en suite bathroom grabs my attention. The thought of her in there alone hits me right in the chest. Without thinking, I open the door to find her sitting in the tub, rocking back and forth. Stripping out of my clothes, I climb in the scalding hot water, sitting behind her. I turn the water off before it can fill more than a couple inches. The last thing she needs is to fuck up the tattoo she got yesterday. Neither of us says a word as I pull her against my chest. Running my fingers along her arms, I wait for her to speak up.

  “I’m sorry,” Cleo whispers.

  “Babe, you got nothing to be sorry about. Want to tell me what happened to set you off?”

  “Not really, it’s childish thinking about it now.”

  “For you to have gone off the way you did tonight, Lave, it had to have been something more than childish,” I say, kissing the top of Cleo’s head, hoping for her to tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what happened. I hate seeing her in pain, emotionally or physically.

  “Cristy came in pissed, calling me selfish for taking off the way I did and not staying in touch. She didn’t even let me explain. I’m sure she doesn’t know everything or she did and wanted to give me a hard time. We’ve all been friends for
a long time even though the past few years, she’s pulled away from all of us,” Cleo says, pausing to take a breath. “What set me off though was when she said you wouldn’t be able to go forever without getting your dick wet. It was like something took over my body and I went off on her. I mean, I get you’re a man. Men have needs, just like women do. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you couldn’t be with me and me alone knowing I might not be able to give you everything you need.”

  I don’t have to see her face to know she’s crying; the trembling of her body says it all.

  The fact is Cleo’s own friend, whether she knows what happened or not, should never have attacked my woman. As much as it makes me damn proud to know she can defend herself when it comes to someone verbally abusing her, it never should’ve come to that. I don’t give a flying fuck what I gotta do but Cristy isn’t getting close to my woman again. Not fuckin’ happenin’.

  “Babe, when it comes to me and you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re solid, always have been. Since I first laid eyes on you, I haven’t touched another woman or even wanted to. My dick doesn’t get wet unless it’s by you. In my eyes, Cleo, you are all I see,” I murmur ,placing kisses on top of her head.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be the woman you first met again. She died the day our baby died,” she says in a hushed whisper.

  Turning her in my arms, I lift her chin so she has no choice but to look in my eyes. “Cleo, you are the woman I first met. You might not feel like it right now, but you are. She didn’t die that day, she’s simply in pain at the loss of something she couldn’t control. You are my beautiful Lavender, don’t forget it. Day by day, you will realize it for yourself as you heal.” Her eyes are shimmering with tears as they fall down her cheeks. “Stop crying, babe, it kills me seeing you like this,” I say, wiping her tears away.

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, Lave, you know that. Now, let’s get out of the tub and dry off so I can put you to bed,” I tell her at the same time I begin to stand, bringing her with me.

  Stepping out of the tub, I grab one of the towels hanging on the back of the door. Seeing Cleo for the first time naked in months, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Taking my time, I dry her, soaking in every inch of her body. When I get to her stomach and thighs, I suck in a deep breath at the sight of scars there. Fuck, these look worse than the ones on her back.

  Cleo attempts to turn away, but I stop her. Leaning forward, I place a kiss on each scar, gently letting her know they’re nothing to be ashamed of. When she’s ready and if she wants to, I’ll take her to get them covered as well. With everything she’s been through, she shouldn’t have to suffer looking at these every day. To me, they mean she survived hell but I never want her to have to think of what happened to her ever again.

  Standing back up, I pull her into our room, leading her to the bed and not bothering to put clothes on. I don’t want any clothes between us right now. I need to hold her in my arms with nothing between us. No barriers to keep her body from touching mine. I’m thankful she doesn’t protest my unspoken request. Cleo might not realize it right now, but even though she’s hurting, she’s still in tune with me. Same as she’s always been. Always will be.

  My woman’s stronger than she realizes and I intend to show her.

  Day by day.

  14

  Cleo

  Over the last few weeks, I like to believe I’ve made some major improvements in moving on with my life. After the meltdown at the clubhouse, I didn’t know how I’d be able to face any of them again. I’d tried to hole-up in the house, refusing to leave. However, that didn’t stop everyone from coming to me. My friends along with different members of the club. The only one who didn’t come by the house was Cristy. Which I’m grateful for, I’m not ready to face her yet.

  Two days after the shitshow, Izzy came over carrying a bottle of my all-time favorite— apple pie moonshine. You can’t get anything like this at the liquor store. Nope, we go through one of the regulars at the bar to get this. He makes it himself and it’s the best damn moonshine in the area.

  That day, Izzy confided in me everything she’d been through, let me know I’m not alone when it comes to grief. My heart broke for Izzy when she told me how she’d blamed herself for the death of her brother and how she attempted to take her own life. The only reason she’s still here is because of Twister. He saved her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

  Shortly after Izzy and I started talking, both Kenny and Lynsdey showed up, bringing even more moonshine.

  “We figured after the other night you could really use some of Bobby Joe’s good stuff.” Kenny smiled handing me the jar in her hand. I couldn’t help but smile back. As humiliated as I’d been, these three women know me almost as well as Rage does.

  The three of us spent the rest of the day sitting in the living room where Kenny and Lynsdey both shared everything that they’d been through in detail just as Izzy did. When they were done, I poured my heart out, telling them every gory detail. Telling my best friends, knowing they won’t judge me, feels free.

  Rage and I seemed to get into a routine as well. Especially when I started working at the garage. I didn’t think I’d like working around a bunch of men considering everything, however, everyone has been nothing but nice toward me. The first couple of days in the garage, I spent the entire time organizing the haphazard stacks of papers mixed together with parts strewn around the office. How anyone could find anything amazes me still.

  With each day, I’ve begun to feel like myself again, other than I still refuse to look in a mirror. Yesterday, the girls came into the shop looking like they were on a mission. I didn’t know what they were up to until I was being dragged out of the office and into a car where they declared enough was enough. We spent the entire afternoon at our friend Emerson’s salon. She’s the only one I’ve ever trusted to do my hair and when she saw the state of it, you would’ve thought I was wearing a clown mask the way she screeched, demanding that I never abandon my scared duty in keeping my hair done properly.

  After apologizing and promising to take better care of my hair, she finally went to work on fixing the color and even gave me a hairstyle. I’d always worn my hair long, well past my shoulder blades, but I needed a change. Emerson ended up giving me a long bob which I think looks amazing. I didn’t want to look in the mirror but when I did, I’d been amazed at the transformation. Rage even seemed to like my hair considering the look he gave me when I got home last night.

  Rage has been nothing but supportive, encouraging me to do what makes me happy. Every day after work, we’ve spent the time together talking, whether it is something simple or not. He’s listened and responded in ways I never imagined he would. Rage has shown me affection with each light touch and kiss to my forehead. With each gentle caress, I long for more. I don’t know if I’m ready for sex just yet though at the same time, my body yearns for Rage’s touch. Lying in bed with him holding me close every night doesn’t seem to help either— especially considering when I wake up in the morning with his dick pressed into my ass. You’d think I’d shrink away from him not push closer, enjoying the feel of his entire body close to mine.

  This morning was no different, well, all except for the fact I woke up alone. Usually, I wake up before him. Always have. Running my hand along his side of the bed, the sheets are cool to touch. Weird.

  Getting out of bed, I do my thing in the bathroom before going to look for Rage. As I make my way past the guest room, the sound of a groan catches my attention, and the door is still partially opened. Curiosity beats me as I peek inside, finding Rage. I cover my mouth to keep him from hearing me gasp at what he’s going. His eyes are closed as his hand slides up and down his dick. I lick my lips nervously as I can’t seem to tear my eyes from him masturbating. My eyes widen as he groans my name, pumping his hand even harder, spraying his stomach with cum. On one hand, I feel li
ke an intruder for watching him, but at the same time, I’m completely aroused at knowing I’m the one he is thinking about.

  I quickly step away not wanting to be caught watching him only to back right into the wall behind me. At the thud of my head hitting the wall, Rage appears in front of me standing there in nothing but his boxers. At least he had enough time to pull his boxers up, I think to myself. Oh God, if he realizes I caught him taking care of himself, I don’t think I could face him. Hell, it’s hard enough right this minute standing in front of him when all I want to do is take care of my own needs or better yet, have Rage help me.

  “You okay, babe?” he says, coming closer.

  “Umm yeah, I’m okay, sorry, I’m just heading to the kitchen,” I mutter, not making eye contact.

  “You sure?” Rage lifts my face up to look at him.

  From the smirk on his face, I say there’s no denying the fact he knows I’d seen him.

  I’m busted. Damn, llama spit on a stick.

  “Umm yeah, I could really use some coffee. Then I think I might go outside and work on the flowerbeds, they’re a mess. We could really do with a new border and mulch in them,” I spout on trying to change the direction of our conversation.

  “We can do that, babe,” Rage says, smiling.

  “Oh, you don’t have to help, I can do it. I’m sure you have plenty that needs to get done.”

  “Cleo, you’re not doing shit outside by yourself. Not when you have to use tools or shit like that.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him in irritation.

  “Babe, I don’t care what you do around the house except for if tools are needed, that’s my department. I don’t go fucking with shit in the kitchen cause that’s your domain and you told me a long time ago to stay out of your way, otherwise, you’d deny me dessert. Well, I’ll tell you the same thing. Fuck with shit that needs tools, you won’t get dessert,” Rage grumbles as he pulls me flush against his chest. “And when I say dessert, I’m not talking about chocolate cake.”