I jerk my hand away from her pussy as if it’s on goddamn fire. I wouldn’t. Not ever. I feel so fucking confused. “Dimples…” I start.
“I’ll be good to you, Houston. Swear to shit, I’ll be the best you could ever imagine. No limits, no rules, no boundaries,” she exhales.
“Why?” It’s the only word that I can say aloud.
Why.
Not only why would I say what I did, would I do what I did. But why would I pick some whore? Never would I make a whore my Old Lady, not fucking ever. Nothing makes sense, absolutely nothing.
“Let me show you,” she smiles.
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I gently pick her up and shove her off of me. Too quickly, I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. Fuck. This is so fucked up. Where is Roxanne? Did I really make a whore my Old Lady out of anger?
Shaking my head, I place my palm on my forehead. No way. No fucking way would I do that, no matter how angry, I wouldn’t do that. I remember looking for Roxanne, trying to find her last night.
Dimples presses her tits against my back, her mouth touches my shoulder and I’m instantly repulsed. I shrug away from her, not wishing to have any part of her touching any part of me. I don’t know what makes me so disgusted by her, but I am.
“You need to go,” I grunt.
She hums, slowly slipping out of the bed. I watch her stretch, arching her back and pressing her tits forward. The act would be sexy if the sight of her didn’t make me sick. I’m so goddamn confused, I don’t even know which way is up right now. My stupid dick twitches as I watch her, right now if I could cut the thing off, I just might, I’m that disgusted.
“I don’t think that I do,” she announces, her gaze focused between my legs.
I snort. “Bitch, take your fuckin’ ass outta my room. You don’t, and you’ll find yourself escorted out of my room and this club.” My voice thunders, but she doesn’t even flinch.
She leans forward, making sure that our eyes are connected. “I could be pregnant with your child. I won’t be going anywhere, Houston.”
Her words are like a slap to my face. I could never get Roxie back here, with me, if Dimples was knocked up with my kid. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want children of my own, never did, it would make Roxie think that I lied to her, that I was willing to give something up that I truly wanted, for her. Which isn’t the case, wasn’t the case, and never could be the case.
Standing to my feet, I dip my chin and stare down at this little bitch who thinks she has me by the balls. “Wouldn’t want a kid if you were knocked up. Wouldn’t even know if it was mine, you’ve fucked so many men in this clubhouse.”
My blow is a direct hit. Dimples actually flinches, but then something changes. She squares her shoulders on me, that evil gaze slices straight through me and my stomach twists.
“Roxanne isn’t coming back, Houston. She’s gone and you’ll never see her again. I want you, I’ve had your cum fill me, and baby I’m going to make you happy if you let me. But, that bitch is not coming back, no matter how much you want her to.”
Dimples turns and walks out of my room leaving me alone and naked. Glancing down at my now flaccid cock, I curse. Hurrying to the shower, I clean up and dress. I’m going to find out just what happened last night.
I still feel sick, and I know that something is wrong when it comes to Dimples, but I can’t remember a goddamn thing past walking into the clubhouse and talking to a prospect about looking for Roxanne. Everything else about last night is just—blank.
ROXANNE
I sit in the corner of the room, my back propped against the concrete wall. My eyes focus on the drain in the center of the room. It’s the only thing that I can actually focus on at the moment. Anytime I try to think about Houston, about the Notorious Devils, Carson, or Maîtriser, my mind starts to spin out of control.
The drain is my only focus point at the moment. I’ve gone to the bathroom a dozen times, just to stretch my legs, for something to do. It’s been less than forty-eight hours and I can already feel myself deteriorating. I’m unfocused and beyond restless. I don’t know what comes next, maybe mania, maybe depression, maybe delusions or hallucinations. It’s a fucking crapshoot.
There’s a noise at the door and I lift my gaze, wondering if Maîtriser will be coming back. I haven’t seen him since he told me about Melodie. I refuse to think of her. She betrayed me, but it wasn’t purposely, she probably just didn’t want to lose me. If I lived at the compound with her, then we could still be friends. I understand that. I would have wanted her to be with me at the Devils’ clubhouse if I could have.
The door opens, light spills in and I wince, my eyes already unused to the brightness. I’ve been in this dim, dank concrete room for at least two days, maybe three. Time isn’t important down here, or ever again, for me.
“You look tired, Roxanne,” Maîtriser points out.
I’m exhausted, not tired, downright exhausted. I haven’t slept even for a moment since I was brought here. I’ll probably never sleep again, which will make everything in my head a million times worse. I’m lucky that I’m coherent enough still that I know what will come next. Therapy has helped with that, with being able to identify my feelings, and my body’s reactions—for now.
“I am,” I admit.
There’s no reason to be nasty to this man. Being here, with him, it was my choice. My life for the lives of all the people that I love. It’s a small price to pay, and I’m willing to hand over my life and my sanity for them.
“It’s time you get up now, shower and then come back here to me,” he gently instructs.
Lifting my gaze from the drain, I look up to him and I’m surprised to see that he’s changed out of his leather cut, jeans, and t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of slacks, a button-down crisp white shirt and his hair is combed and slicked back. He doesn’t look like the biker he once did. He looks different, scarier even.
“You changed,” I mention, lifting my hand toward him.
He hums with a nod. “A leader of my stature doesn’t wear jeans and cotton t-shirts,” he informs me.
Slowly, I stand on shaky legs. My hair is dirty, my body even more so. I do need a shower, desperately. If I’m not forced, hygiene is not the top of my priority when I’m not medicated. I’ll go days, because I don’t sleep, and I don’t realize when one day has ended and another begins.
He doesn’t follow me into the bathroom, but he doesn’t leave either. I can feel his eyes on me as I undress and turn the water on in the small shower.
I take my time, washing, shaving, and rinsing off the past few days. I expect Maîtriser to join me, but he doesn’t leave his spot in the middle of the room, nor do his eyes leave my body.
There is something very wrong about this man. This isn’t what I thought it would be, and I know that he’s playing mindfuck games with me, but I wonder what his end result is. He’s said he wants to break me, but in actuality, I will break myself if given enough time, there is no need for him to do anything at all to aide in that.
“Come, Roxanne. I have something I would like to show you,” he calls out after I’ve wrapped myself in a towel.
Turning to him, I notice that he has some fabric in his hand. It’s gold, I hate gold. Slowly, I walk toward him, barefoot and naked beneath the towel. I reach for the fabric and frown. It’s a completely sheer gold gown.
“The gold is because you are mine. Each man in this organization will have a color. His women will always be clothed like this, in that color.”
Slipping the completely see-through fabric over my body, I shiver as the cool air hits my skin. Modesty is apparently not something that is part of this organization. The gown is floor length, giving the illusion of modesty, but it’s a lie, just like everything else in this life—all lies.
“Is that the way it used to be?” I ask.
Maîtriser shakes his head. “No. Things are different now. Every man has a color for his family. The free women have color
s as well. I find it will be easier for everyone once our numbers grow, to differentiate who belongs to whom, and which females are available to fuck, breed, or just play with. And which ones are untouchable for the moment.”
“This whole organization is about sex, then?”
He laughs, shaking his head as if he finds me cute. He reaches for me, his hand wrapping around the side of my neck. His fingers squeeze me uncomfortably tight, his eyes cold and narrowed as he watches me attempt to struggle.
He leans forward before he speaks. “Sex is the most important thing in the world, aside from money. Sex, money, and control, they go hand-in-hand, and I will have my hand in them all.”
There is no room for further discussion. I only nod, he lets his hand fall and wraps his fingers around my own before tugging me gently behind him. I take a few hesitant steps, afraid of what awaits me on the other side of the concrete room door.
Nothing good can come from being in this place, with this man as the leader. Nothing good at all. Yet, I’m here by free will, by choice, and there’s nothing that can be done about that. All I can do is try to make my time left here on earth a bit more pleasant or at least bearable.
HOUSTON
I feel her slam against my body before I hear her. “You fucking piece of shit,” she screams.
My eyes close, my head still pounds, but I can’t tell her to stop. I deserve everything she throws at me. Carson. She’s pissed, pregnant, and exhausted. “I’m at the hospital, praying that my husband lives and you let her go straight to the goddamn devil himself,” she growls.
“I didn’t let her do shit,” I snap.
The bar is quiet as she reams my ass. There are people all around us, but you could hear a pin drop. Her chest is moving quickly with her heavy breaths. Her eyes are bright, full of hatred and fire. I don’t blame her. I hate myself too, today more than I ever have.
“You let her walk out of that door. You let her go somewhere and nobody knows where she is.” Carson sobs on her last word and that is when the woman completely falls apart.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her against my chest. Her hands ball into fists while I hold her. She falls apart in my arms, the way that I wish I could. “I’m going to get her back, I swear to fuck,” I promise.
“You better, you fucking asshole,” she cries.
I can’t help but chuckle at her words. We stay like that, holding onto one another for far too long. I promise her over and over that I will get Roxanne back. It’s not only a promise to her, but to myself as well. I don’t just want her back, I need her back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HOUSTON
Three weeks pass, I’ve heard nothing about Roxanne, no terms or ransom demands—nothing. Keys is home and resting. The clubhouse is no longer on lockdown. Everyone has gone back to their daily routines, and yet, Roxanne is nowhere to be seen, or heard from.
Carson continues to badger me, but I have absolutely nothing to update her on. Keys is working on the attack, on La Foule, with help from Lea, but those fucks have also disappeared. It’s all too fucking neat and tidy, too many unanswered questions. This could not have all simply been orchestrated just to take Roxie.
Dimples walks over to me, I’m packing up to go on another run. It’s time for me to go again. It’s the last thing that I want to do, but with or without Roxanne, I still have a responsibility to this club, I still have my duties. Dimples has pushed her way into my life, and my bed. Although I only fuck her with a condom, I take out all of my frustration on her. She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, I think she fucking likes it.
I’m aware it makes me a special kind of asshole. Pining after my woman who has been kidnapped, and fucking a whore. It makes me sick to think about, but I can’t lie in bed at night staring at the ceiling imagining what she could or could not be going through. Dimples is a distraction that saves me from losing my mind.
“When will you be back,” she pouts.
“Couple weeks. You take that test?” I ask.
It’s been several weeks since I fucked her bareback. I want to know if she’s knocked up or not. If she is, I’ll do right by her, pending a paternity test. I’m not stupid enough to accept that any baby inside of her is without a doubt actually mine.
“Next week is when I would need to take it,” she shrugs.
Lifting my hand, I scrub my palm down my face. I can’t believe that this is my life. Not since laying my eyes on Roxanne, in Carson’s old house, in the middle of nowhere Texas, did I think I would have to possibly live without her.
I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that she would be mine. The thought scared the shit out of me, at first. I tried to put distance between us, but that didn’t last long. She was always meant to be mine—only mine.
Dimples feels wrong. Her touch, her kiss, her cunt. All wrong. I am filled with disgust every time she’s near me, but I’m so goddamn lost and angry. Roxanne willingly handed herself to someone else. She didn’t wait until we could monitor and find out who the fuck was behind everything. No, she just walked out into the dark and away from me.
No man in this club would have allowed her to just leave, to be taken. We would have waged war for her, I would have waged war for her.
Fuck her. Fucking shit. Fuck her.
“Text me when you know the answer,” I say, shoving the last of my shit in my bag.
Dimples looks at her feet, then back up at me. “I’ll miss you,” she breathes. It dawns on me that I don’t even know this bitch’s real name, and the fucker of it all is that I don’t want to know it either.
“See you when I get back,” I announce, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
Walking out of the bedroom, I leave her standing there. I don’t give much of a fuck if she hates me, loves me, or whatever she feels. I feel indifferent toward her for the most part, minus the moments that I feel disgust toward her.
Snake is waiting next to my truck when I arrive to throw my shit inside. “Brother,” I nod.
He reaches out, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving me a squeeze. “I never meant her to leave the way she did. I was never really going to allow anything to happen to her. I had a fucking plan, she didn’t wait,” he says. He’s told me the same thing over and over the past couple of weeks.
“I know,” I repeat my words, again.
“We’ll find her,” he promises.
I shrug. “If Dimples is pregnant, wouldn’t matter if you found Roxie or not,” I sigh. “Everything makes me want to leave it all behind. All my brothers that died by my side, I used to feel so fucking guilty that I survived and they didn’t…” My words trail off, but the meaning is clear.
I don’t feel guilty anymore, I feel goddamn envious. This is not the life that I want, not today, not ever. I can’t see myself ever being happy, not without Roxanne.
“You don’t know what the future brings, Houston. Don’t do anything stupid. Take this time to breathe, to relax. Let your brothers get to work and bring your woman home.”
“And Dimples?” I ask.
Snake shrugs. “Plenty of clubwhores have popped out brother’s kids, and not become Old Ladies. She wouldn’t be the first.”
“Thought you liked her?” I ask, lifting a brow.
Snake shrugs. “Like her well enough. Thought you’d complement one another. Both been through the wringer with your pasts. She ain’t Roxie though, and that’s who you need.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he doesn’t allow me. He turns and walks away, leaving me standing at the truck, just watching. A throat clears, I lift my eyes to the man standing across from me.
“You ready?” he asks.
Lifting my chin, I open the truck door and climb inside. Baby jogs over to the passenger side and hoists himself inside. Starting the truck, I glance in the rearview mirror and have to keep the bile from rising in my throat. Dimples is standing there, waving, a huge smile on her face.
“You gonna wave back to your girl?” Baby asks.
Baby chuckles. “Brother, you are cold.”
Shrugging, I don’t verbally respond. Maybe I am, but there is something not right with the bitch. There’s something not right with me either since I keep using her to fuck Roxanne off of my mind. I can’t stop. She won’t leave me alone, and goddamn I’m so lonely and angry, and just fucking pissed.
ROXANNE
Maîtriser watches me. He’s always watching me. He doesn’t say much anymore, he used to tell me all about his compound, his followers and his women, but he’s stopped. Instead, he regards me in complete silence and has for the past month. I only know how long I’ve been here because I’ve been keeping a tally on the concrete floor with a small stick that I found during one of my walks with him.
He forces me to shower every day, whether I want to or not. It doesn’t matter my desires. He lifts his chin and waits for me to clean myself, then he hands me a new gold gown.
I’m lost.
I don’t sleep, I hardly eat, and all I can do is think about Houston. Think about the pain that I’ve no doubt caused him. Though each day his memory fades a bit more. I’m starting to lose the ability to remember his features. He’s just a tall man in a leather cut to my mind now.
Maîtriser lifts two fingers, flicking them toward the door. My instruction to follow behind him. It’s not my normal time of day to go outside, I’m confused. Following behind him, I tip my head and mumble to myself, as I usually do.
Ramblings of the insane.
I can’t control it, I need to hear something other than silence. I need to try to keep the voices at bay. They’ve been louder lately, crueler too. Last night they tried to talk me into taking a bath and seeing how long I could stay beneath the water. Maybe see if I could kill myself, I’d finally feel peace. I almost did it, I had the water filling the tub, one toe inside, before I forced myself to drain the contents.
Twisted with Chaos: A CASH BAR NOVEL Page 15
