Brandon is altogether another story. He doesn't share overly personal information. I know what his favorite colors and food are, but I don’t know if he has kids or a wife or even just a girlfriend. I look at the ink on his body and see a story. But I don’t have all the information so it’s an incomplete story. He’s funny when he wants to be but most of the time he is focused and serious.
He likes to cook although I was forbidden to tell any of the guys. He has a house about fifteen minutes away and a custom paint shop that specializes mostly in motorcycles.
Every day, I speak to him and still feel like I don't know him. Every day, he leaves for two hours and when he comes back, there’s an anger radiating from him. He doesn’t tell me where he goes or why he’s so pissed off. Club business is the only answer I get out of him.
I know the rules. No club business discussed with women and outsiders. No women in church. The list goes on and on.
Kaiya and I have bonded through our traumatic experience. We have talked through what happened to me from the moment I got to the house until the moment I woke up. She offers a lot of details nobody else is willing or able to offer and for that I am grateful. We always make sure the door is closed and to speak softly, both knowing that Brandon would lose it if he ever heard us. She has also told me about her history. We sat for hours, crying together and the only thought repeating in my mind is that it’s unfair to know her story and she doesn’t know mine.
Sitting with Kaiya outside at a picnic table, we watch as Sparrow plays with his little boy. The sun is setting over the horizon and it makes the moment they have together even more beautiful.
“I don’t know if you realize this, Hadley, but the Gypsy Bastards are a completely different club from my brother and his idiot friends.”
Kaiya doesn’t turn to me as she speaks, but I know this is important to her. Guilt slams into me. If she knew my story, she would be aware that I know this just as well as she does.
“I know the difference, Kaiya.”
Exhaling sharply, I ask the question before I can lose my nerve. “Do you know who the Iron Disciples are?”
Kaiya turns to me with a look of pure fear on her face.
Chuckling, I continue. “I grew up on their compound. My daddy was their vice president for many years and one day, he lost control of his bike on a run. He broke almost every bone in his body and died from internal injuries on the way to the hospital. I was ten years old. My mom, my brother, and I then became property of the club. Lucas was seven years older than me and although it would have broken my dad’s heart, he was prospecting before the funeral.”
Feeling the tears track down my cheek, I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
“My mom was made to cook and clean the clubhouse and offer her services as needed. Around the time I turned sixteen, the guys started noticing me. My brother was always there to keep them at bay and to get shit back under control. By then, he was a full member and could pull a little rank. But when their president, King, set his sights on me, there was no escape.”
Breathing deeply to get my emotions under control and to keep the memories at bay, I stop talking. I want to tell Kaiya this, I want her to know that she can survive and that she can have a normal life again. She sits beside me, not moving, not speaking, and just giving me the time I need to finish my story.
“On my seventeenth birthday, King came into my room. It was dark out and there was a party going on somewhere in the clubhouse. He pushed me down into the bed using his massive size and covered my mouth with his hand. All the fighting in the world wasn’t going to stop him, but that didn’t stop me from trying. He had torn my pajamas from my body and just as he was undoing his belt, my brother came into the room. He grabbed King and ripped him away from me. They were fighting and shouting and my brother pulled a knife and stabbed King. The next moment, a gunshot went off and my brother was on the floor with a hole in his head.”
Kaiya sobs beside me and her whole body is wracked with the emotions she must be feeling. I know without a doubt her story is similar to mine. Wrapping my arm around her, I pull her close. The sun has set completely and now we’re just two women sitting in the dark, sharing secrets.
“Shh, don’t cry, girl. My story isn’t over yet. I don’t know what happened after or how I managed to get away, but I know that I did. I lived on the street for about two of the longest weeks of my life before James found me. I was huddled up behind a trash dumpster, trying to find something to eat when the door across the alley opens and out comes this huge guy. I mean, he was bigger than Viking, with tattoos from his head to his toe. He gave me one look and turned to go back inside. Thinking he would leave me alone, I continued on my nightly routine. But James didn’t leave me alone, he sent Devon to fetch me.”
Laughing, I recall the memory… “She is tiny. Smaller than Luna, with this neon-pink hair and full sleeve tattoos and had a baby bump that made her look like she was going to topple forward at any moment. She walked right up to me and held out her hand. ‘Come on,’ she said to me, ‘I have food inside and we will sort you out. We won’t hurt you.’ I remember thinking at that moment that she looked like some kind of rocker angel and gave her my hand. For four years, I lived with James and Devon. They finished putting me through school, their little girl Casey calls me her sister, and James taught me everything I know about how to defend myself, how to cook, how to work with finances, and even how to be a truly great tattoo artist. Those people saved my life and they didn’t even know me. These people saved your life because the first thing they knew about you was the kindness of your heart.”
Kaiya holds me close to her and mumbles, “Thank you for telling me all that.”
Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I see Brandon standing there. He looks furious and heartbroken at the same time. Knowing he was within hearing distance of our entire conversation and not knowing what he heard has fear coursing through my veins. Patting Kaiya on the leg, I get up and move over to where he’s standing. He takes my hand and leads me into the club up to the bedroom I have been using and closes the door behind us. He doesn’t say a word, simply lifts me off the ground and places me on the bed. He climbs in behind me and pulls my back to his front and holds me until we fall asleep.
****
When I wake, it’s still dark out. Sitting upright in bed, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Brandon isn’t in the room with me anymore. I don’t know when he left but I do know that I don’t want to be alone tonight. The memories are clawing at the surface of my mind and being alone will only make it worse. Anxiousness flows through me. Standing, I slowly make my way to the door, open it, and peer down the hall. Rock music can be heard from somewhere inside the clubhouse. Re-entering the room, I switch on the light and look around for some clothes as I’m yet again only dressed in one of his shirts. I find a pair of leggings and a clean shirt folded on the chair beside the bed.
Opting to keep on my current shirt and just add the leggings, I leave the room and make a slow trek down the hall. The closer to the end of the hallway, the louder the music. The music is not overly loud and it sweeps over my bruised and battered body to soothe my soul. Music has always had this effect on me. Looking around the large room the guys use as a get-together area for the club, my gaze drifts over the bar where three people are seated in a conversation, couches where two women are staring daggers at me, and empty pool tables. When I turn back around, at the foot of the stairs, Viking stands, staring at me with a look of horror on his face. I feel dirty and unwelcome and turn to make my way back to the room. Clearly, this wasn’t one of my better ideas.
“Girl.” The word comes from behind me and freezes me in my tracks. Frozen, I stand there, waiting for more to be said.
“Come here.” His voice is raspy and I don’t remember it having that quality the times we spoke before. He moves over to the bar and pulls out a chair for me and then one for himself.
“Viking.” His name is the only thing I
can get out of my mouth as I take my seat. He nods at me and taps the bar. A woman with bleached-blonde hair and overly large fake breasts sidles over to us. Her smile is huge as she leans forward, presenting her breasts to Viking and anger surges through me. What the fuck? Am I suddenly invisible? I might look like shit but I’m still sitting here right next to the man. Perhaps, overreacting a little.
“Get me a bottle of tequila and two glasses and then fuck off. I need to talk to my girl.” He says all this while not taking his eyes off me. I stare back at him and offer a slight smile.
The woman huffs and marches off to do what she was told.
“Don’t worry about Tessa. She’s one of the club girls. Just a little pissed at me, I suppose. Doesn’t like not being the center of attention.”
He talks as he pours us each a shot. I raise an eyebrow and he leans in closer. “You and I are friends, right?”
I nod as he hands me a shot. He clicks his glass against mine and we swallow down the shots. The tequila burns going down my throat. Slamming my glass down, I look at Viking.
“Okay.” He looks me in the eye as he explains. “You and I are going to have a chat. I will answer your questions and you will answer mine, and neither of us will lie to each other. If a question is something we can’t or don’t want to answer, we can just tell the other person. Do you agree?”
Silence stretches between us as I consider what Viking could ask. Looking around, I see that most people are watching us but trying to hide the fact that we have their full attention. I nod, and conversation flows from both of us. There has always been a bond between me and Viking. It’s not something weird or something sexual, it’s just comfortable. We chat like we’ve known each other forever but all the questions are meaningless information.
“So.” Viking eyes me closely. “You clearly have experience with bikes and club life. Want to tell me about it?”
His question catches me off guard. People usually find me hard to read, but Viking is able to see right through me. Taking a deep breath, I look straight into his eyes as I lay out my past. “My dad was the VP for the Iron Disciples. Spent a lot of time around the guys growing up.”
Viking watches me closely before asking his next question. “What’s your dad’s name?”
Pain slams into me with the memory of my father. Lowering my gaze to the empty shot glass in my hand, I take a deep breath before looking back into his eyes. “Phillip Freeman.”
“You’re Juice’s little girl? Damn.” Viking pours us each another shot of tequila which we quickly slam down. “I saw you at the funeral, although you couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. How are your mother and bother doing?”
“No idea on my mom but my brother is dead.”
Taking the bottle, I pour us each another shot. If this line of questioning is going to continue, I’m going to need some serious liquid courage.
“Shit.” Viking scrubs a hand down his face. “This conversation is way too heavy. How about we play twenty questions again?”
The pity he feels for me is written clearly on his face and it pisses me off to an extent. But I’m happy for the change in subject. Slamming down the shot of tequila, I nod at him.
“You start.”
“Favourite color?” he shoots right away. I roll my eyes at him. He always starts with the same question.
“Blue. Favorite food?” I return with a smile.
“Pasta. Especially Alfredo. Favorite drink?”
“Bourbon. Always.”
The questions and answers continue way past twenty with shots of tequila flowing in between.
“We might need a breather from all this tequila, Viking. I can’t drink the way you all do.” Feeling myself listing to the side, I put my hand out to steady myself, only realizing too late that I’ve placed it on Viking’s denim-clad thigh. Quickly removing my hand, I look away, so he won't be able to see the blush on my cheeks. My eye catches someone at the door and I do a double-take. Brandon stands there with murder in his eyes. About the exact moment I lay eyes on him, so does Viking.
Viking rises from his spot at the bar and holds out his hands in a placating manner. “Now, boy, you need to calm down and lose that look in your eyes. Nothing untoward is going on here. Just having some tequila.”
Viking sways on his feet and if I’m not mistaken, he’s just as drunk as I am. Before I can focus my gaze on Brandon again, he has Viking by the throat and has pushed him against the wall. He slams Viking’s head against the wall before pulling back and slamming his fist straight into Viking’s face. I hear the crack of his nose breaking as crimson blood spurts everywhere.
“Jesus,” I shriek at Brandon.
Jumping up, I grab the arm that’s holding Viking to the wall. All this bullshit has sobered me up considerably. “Wolf, what the fuck is wrong with you? Let him go!”
The grip he has on Viking is unbreakable and I watch in horror as he hits him again. Looking around, I see that no one else is going to intervene. Ducking underneath Wolf’s arm, I place myself directly between Viking and the fist flying at him for a third time.
Time seems to slow as the fist comes flying at my face, but at the last instant, Brandon redirects and hits the wall beside me. He’s panting and watching me through crazed eyes. His nostrils flare as he looks over my shoulder. He turns and stomps away up the flight of stairs. A door slams and can be heard all through the compound before the cursing starts, which is shortly followed by items being thrown around.
Turning, I look at Viking only to find him smiling like a maniac. Blood runs down his face and discolors his teeth. Frowning, I turn away from him. This night has been too much for me and I’m going to bed. He takes hold of my arm until I turn to face him.
“Go see the boy. He needs to talk this out with you.” He then proceeds to take a huge swig of tequila from the bottle and swaggers away like none of this shit ever happened.
Crazy old man.
Chapter Twenty
Wolf
I have lost my motherfucking mind. I just attacked one of the original founders of this club. I attacked him in front of most of the club, in the clubhouse. Because of what?
Because the fucking asshole has been grating on my nerves for the last two weeks. It’s not enough that he already knew Hadley before I did, no. He had to know her better than I did. He knew her favorite chocolate and what kind of books she liked and what her favorite food was. The fucker kept rubbing it in my face. Always showing up to her room just as I was leaving.
He was doing it on fucking purpose and I knew it.
Picking up the desk chair, I sling it across the room I’m currently pacing. It hits the wall with an unsatisfying thud. Glaring at the offending piece of furniture at my feet, I wonder what it will take for it to break. Pacing the room from side to side, I feel like a caged animal.
The room is small and square with a single window. The walls are painted a generic beige color and a double bed stands in the middle, pushed against the wall with a bedside table on each side. One side has a lamp with a black shade and an ashtray beneath it. The bed has a blue bedspread covering it and against the wall beside the door is a chest of drawers. It’s simple but it’s all I need. I have a house but I use this room when I’ve had too much to drink or when the party starts to stretch for days. Currently, the only use for this room is Hadley. Everything around me smells like her and that only serves to amp me up further.
Amber hated the club. She never came out for a party or a BBQ or any other club event, and I was willing to offer up anything for her, but I could never give up my club. Often, I’ve wondered if she had survived if I would have given up the club. The answer is always yes. I think if she survived, I would have given up anything for her and my little girl. Lost in my own mind and the anger swirling around me, I almost miss the soft knock.
Glaring at the door I roar, “Go the fuck away,” and fume at the person on the other side.
“Wolf?” There’s hesitation in Hadley�
��s voice, and it shreds my insides.
After striding to the door, I fling it open. The momentum causes her to fall forward into me. The realization hits me that she was resting her forehead on the door. She places her palm on my chest to create some distance and I allow it.
Blue eyes stare up at me, filled with apprehension. “Can we talk?”
Turning away allows her space to enter the room. She looks around and sees the turned-over chair. Leaving it on the floor, she moves over to the bed and takes a seat in the middle. She crosses her legs and looks at me expectantly but says nothing.
“What did you want to talk about, Hadley?”
“I was hoping you would just talk to me. I mean, maybe you could explain what just happened downstairs.” Again, she leaves me with that look that says she’s waiting for me to say something.
“Well, I don’t want to talk about it. You were there and you saw what the fuck happened so what more could there possibly be to say?”
Pacing the room again, I run my hand through my hair. I need her to leave. I need her out of my space before I do something irrational that I can’t take back.
“Yeah.” The sarcasm drips from her voice. “I was there. You attacked Viking without provocation, broke his damn nose, and wouldn’t fucking stop.”
Her spine is ramrod straight as she glares at me. “What I want to know is why the fuck you would do that.”
As we glare at each other, my hold on reality finally snaps. I lose my shit and she’s the person I spew my venom at. “It really doesn’t fucking matter, does it? I just need you to get the fuck out of my room, out of my goddamn head, and out of my fucking life.”
Raging at her, I watch as her temper spikes. Being an asshole isn’t something I do often. I should be ashamed of myself but I really can’t find it in me to give a shit.
She unfolds her legs and smirks at me. This fuels the fire running through my veins. Leaning back on her elbows, she watches me patiently. “Want me out, huh? Well, I’ll make you a deal. Tell me why you’re being an asshole and I’ll leave your room. Tell me the truth, hell, I’ll be out of your life in the next five minutes.”
The Wolf Page 10
