Not even Cannon knows about this place, so it’s the perfect place to bring Dana.
Dana stands in front of the doorway waiting while I wheel my motorcycle into the small, freestanding, outbuilding that I added to the property late last year. After finding my ride covered in bird shit on more than one occasion, it had been necessary to build some sort of cover to protect my lady’s paintwork because its unique, and one of my own designs.
Securing the door, I walk back to Dana, and notice that she looks dead on her feet.
“Let’s get you inside.” The cabin might not hold any expensive gear or be anything special to anyone else, but it is to me so, I’ve installed a secure locking system to ensure if anyone does happen to stumble on my property, they sure as hell won’t be able to get in without a struggle.
Even though its still light, the shutters at the windows are closed so when I push open the door to the cabin, it’s dark inside with limited visibility. Taking the duffle bag from her shoulders, I drop it inside the doorway, and I flick the light switch on. Placing my bunch of keys on the shelf just inside the entrance, I turn to look at Dana. She looks like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes wide open, her feet routed to the spot.
“Go inside, make yourself at home. I need to check the fuel level in the generator and pull back the shutters.” When she still stays standing statue like, staring up at me, mouth slightly parted, the thought of kissing her slips into my head. Dismissing it immediately, I quickly turn her until she’s facing inside and give her an encouraging push until she breaches the entrance. “I won’t be long.”
The generator sits in another outbuilding, this one attached to the cabin itself. Once I’ve topped the fuel level up, I make my way around the building, opening the shutters and securing them in place. Light filters into the rooms bringing a warmth to the inside of the cabin. A couple of times I catch sight of Dana, still standing near the doorway, her eyes moving around the room, taking it all in.
When I open the door and walk back in, she’s deep in thought. So much so, that she jumps at the sound of me closing the door behind me.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Wow, Mammoth, this place is amazing. Did you do all this yourself?” She waves her hand around the open space.
“More or less. It was a wreck when I bought it and it’s took me a few years to get it to how it is now, but it’s not bad even if I say so myself.”
“It’s incredible, but to be honest, the outside doesn’t do the inside justice.”
“That’s intentional. If anyone does happen to come across it, it just looks like an old shack, chances are they’ll walk on by. Here, let me tell you where everything is.”
Much of the cabin is open plan with the lounge area taking up most of the space, couch, coffee table and a large, thick fur rug in front of the focal point which is the log burner. Then to one side is the kitchen area that’s separated by a countertop and has all the usual. Solid wood cupboards, oven, hob, refrigerator, and a large, white porcelain sink. I walk towards the back of the cabin where there are two doors.
“The bathroom’s there if you need it.” I point with my thumb over my shoulder. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask moving over to the kitchen. “I have coffee, soda, tea.”
“Whiskey?”
“Technically, you’re not old enough but under the circumstances.” I get two short glasses from the cupboard, throw a couple of cubes of ice in each from the freezer then grab a bottle of Jameson’s from the bottle rack under the counter. “Take a seat,” I suggest as I hook the two glasses with my fingers and walk back around towards the couch.
Dana sits on the very edge at one end of my small couch, I place the glasses and bottle onto the coffee table in front of it before taking a seat at the other side. Because of my size, it leaves little space between us.
“So, tell me what happened?” I pour a small measure into each glass, enough to loosen us up but not too much that I won’t be able to ride out of here when needed. Before I’ve even had chance to put the bottle down, Dana leans forward, picks up one of the glasses, lifts it to her lips and with a quick tilt of her head, knocks it back in one. Her facial expression tells me that the dark, slightly bitter, malted liquid has left a burn in her throat, but I’m kinda impressed when she holds out her glass to me wanting more. I shake my head at her. “Not until you tell me what happened.”
Dropping her hands to her lap, she focuses on the glass that’s cradled within them. The silence has my mind conjuring up all kinds of possibilities, my ability to keep calm slowly being pushed to its limits. Then she speaks.
“Dad. He took my phone, saw the call log, the messages.”
“He knew they were from me?”
“Not at first.” I notice that her hands are shaking, so I lay my hand over one of hers in comfort while retrieving the glass from the other and return it to the table. “He kept asking me who Beast was and when I wouldn’t tell him he went crazy.”
“Did he touch you?” I cup the side of her face with the palm of my hand, running the edge of my thumb across her cheekbone while my eyes search for any signs of bruising, but all I see is the remnants of her tears. “Did he hurt you?” A slow nod of her head, a strangled sob from her lips and my already strained control is threatening to explode.
“He pushed me up against the wall,” her hand goes to her own throat. “His hand was so tight I could hardly breath.” Her eyes flick up to mine. Big fat tears spill from the eyelashes and down her cheeks and however much I try to wipe them away with my thumb, they just keep on coming. “I’m so sorry Mammoth, please forgive me, I had to tell him. I thought he was going to kill me.”
My inner animal is screaming to be let out, anger so consuming that it makes my whole-body tense, the pressure in my head about to burst. But despite all that pent-up anger, all I really want to do is take this beautiful girl in my arms and hold her.
Without hesitating any further, I bring her into my strong arms, removing every inch of space between us and replacing it with my body. Her hands cling on tight to the fabric of my T-shirt as if I’m her comfort and however inappropriate it may be, it doesn’t feel wrong, it feels fucking right.
I let her cry, and it’s not until her tears subside that I relax my hold on her.
“How you feeling?” I ask. A bit of a stupid question but I don’t have anything else.
“Hungry.” Tilting her head up to me, I can see a small glimmer of the happy go lucky Dana that I’ve come to know.
“Do you want to go freshen up,” I thumb over towards the bathroom, “and I’ll make you something to eat?”
“Yes, I must look a mess,” she puts her hands up to her face and sweeps them across her cheeks.
“You look fine.”
“Only fine?” she sniggers as she rises off the sofa and makes her way towards the door that leads to a small, but very usable bathroom. I watch her every move, unable to take my eyes away from her.
“OMG, it’s so clean and fresh,” she gasps once she’s entered the room. The door still open, her still in sight, I continue to watch her as she trails a red painted fingernail across the edge of the rolltop bath, then swishes the hanging shower curtain that falls into it.
“Why so surprised?” I laugh. “Just because I’m in a motorcycle club, doesn’t mean that I don’t take hygiene seriously.” Looking over her shoulder back at me, a soft smile plays on her face. “I thought you said you were going to feed me?” Contrary to the smile, I can still see the sadness seeped in her eyes.
“I’m on it,” I reply, pushing myself up off the couch.
“Jesus, thank goodness for that, because my stomach is growling like a bear and it’s embarrassing. I’ll just…” Her hand is holding onto the door handle, the other gesticulating that she’s about to close the door.
“Sure,” I wave at her to go ahead, realizing that I’m still staring at her. “I’ll get started.” Turning towards the kitchen, I hear the soft click of the bathro
om door.
“OMG look at the state of me,” she hollers. The urge to shout out and reassure her that she’s fucking beautiful, even with swollen eyes and lips, and black streaks down her cheeks from her mascara, I stop myself when I hear her laugh out “Can you make grilled cheese sandwiches, I love grilled cheese.”
I can’t help but smile when I shout back to her, “You’re in luck because that just happens to be my specialty.”
Grabbing all I need from the cupboards and refrigerator; I start to prepare the sandwiches. I’m not sure how hungry she is, and I could also eat, so I take out ten pieces of bread and slice up a good-sized block of cheese.
When the grill plate is nice and hot and the butter melted, I add the bread and cheese. When the last one is crisp and ready to come out of the pan, and Dana is still not out of the bathroom, I shout out that the foods is ready. I don’t get a response so, I turn off the heat, flip the last sandwich on to the plate in the oven that’s keeping the rest of them hot, and make my way over to the bathroom door.
“Dana?” I knock lightly. “Dana, are you okay?” I knock a little louder. When still I have no reply, I let out a warning. “I’m coming in.” I know the doors not locked, because it doesn’t have one. Never thought it was needed as I’m usually the only one here. Pushing open the door I find her sat on the floor, her shoulders are bare, apart from the straps of her bra. Her feet are flat on the floor, her jean clad, long legs folded and her head down, resting on her knees. Her shoulders hunched; her arms wrapped around herself as she tries to hold it together. By the looks of it, she’s not doing a great job of it.
“Hey, baby,” I soothe, crouching down in front of her.
Seeing her like this, makes my chest hurt but I’ll take it along with all the pain she has, if it makes things better for her.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly, wanting to give her some of my strength. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ have left you alone. I thought you were handling it, but… I’m so fucking sorry.”
She lifts her head and the smile on her face is anything but happy.
“I was checking out the damage,” she explains and the reason why she’s removed her top. “When I saw the bruising…”
As I begin to stand, I slide my hand to her waist and ease her to her feet.
“Show me.” Gently I take her wrists and pull her arms away from her body. My blood begins to boil when I see the reddish, purple marks that are already evident at the side of her ribcage. Her upper bicep is also coloured, the marking so clear that you can see the imprint of fingers that have bitten into the skin from being held too tightly.
“Did he punch you?” I feather my fingertips over the mark near her ribs.
“No, he had hold of me, was pulling me around. He let go suddenly and I fell against a cabinet.” She takes in a stuttering breath. When she shivers, I grab a large towel that’s hanging on the back of the door and drape it across her shoulders, wrap it around her until she’s covered. Grabbing the edges, she pulls it tighter under her chin and sniffs my scent that must be all over it.
“Come and sit down. I think we both need another drink.”
When we take our place back on the couch and I hand her a drink, she immediately opens up to me.
“He’s slapped me across the face before, but it left a mark and I wasn’t allowed out in public until it was gone. God forbid if someone saw it and the truth got out. It might tarnish his perfect reputation and his chance of being Mayor. Since then he’s been careful, clever even. He throws me around like a rag doll, purposely into things, against things, so my body takes on the impact and pain but so that any evidence is easily covered.”
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t get me wrong he’s not always been like this. I mean, he’s always been overprotective, even from being a little girl, but the last few years it’s escalated into him being violent. It’s almost possessive, obsessive even. He monitors my every move, vets where I’m going, who I’m going with and sets me an unrealistic curfew.”
Now it makes sense why she turned up at the club house that night, she was rebelling against her father and his restraints.
Our texts and calls since that night have been fairly regular, but not once has she asked to meet up. Maybe this is the reason why. Not that I ever thought it was such a bad thing at the time. It’s for the best because, however much I enjoyed the banter between the two of us, I can’t let myself get too attached to her. But now, I wish we had spent some time together. Then I might have seen the signs, that despite my thinking everything was okay in her life, in fact it was far from it.
I think back over the past few months, were there any obvious signs that something wasn’t quite right? Nothing comes to mind. Most of our conversations were light, even a little flirty at times but mostly we would tease one another, talk shit simply to get a rise out of each other. It was fun, a laugh. We seemed to have built an unusual bond, even a level of trust, or so I thought. Not once did she give me any sign that this was going on behind closed doors. I’ll admit that this revelation hurts, because despite everything, I would have hoped that she could have confided in me.
I’ve been brought up by an asshole father so I’m not naive when it comes to knowing how a parent isn’t necessarily the loving kind. I did, however, get to feel the deepest of love from my Mother, Colt and yes, Smith. Despite two of them now being absent from my life I still feel it in the deepest, warmest, center of my heart and soul. I know one thing for sure. If I do ever become a dad, uncle, even a god father, I could never stand by and watch them inflict pain on that child.
“I can understand that any father would want to protect their daughter, but this?”
“Not what you’d expect? He says he loves me but…” her last word comes out strangled and tears start to fall.
“It’s a fucking strange way of showing it,” I growl out between gritted teeth. I want to punch something hard, tear shit apart, channel my pent-up anger at someone, preferably her father. But the last thing Dana needs to see, is me losing it. So instead, once again I bring her into my embrace and let her cry.
“Do you know how much I want to go and kill the fucker right now,” I say resting my chin on the top of her head. “I’d be happy to do it if that’s what you want.”
“No, no. He might be a tyrant, but he’s still my dad. I just can’t be near him right now.”
The sudden laughter that escapes her surprises me, and I’m not sure if she genuinely thinks the situation is funny or she’s totally lost it. I pull back so I can see her face and try to judge what side of the crazy scale she’s sitting on. Her mouth is curled into an open smile, her puffy lips parted, the cute little gap between her straight white teeth on display. I look at her, still not sure what the hell is going on in her head.
“You’d kill for me?” Her big green, tantalizing eyes that are still shining from her wet tears look up at me and I find myself taking a deep, hard swallow. Jesus, this girl, or should I say young woman, gets more beautiful the more I see her and it’s getting harder and harder not to cross the invisible friend line. With my arms still loosely around her, looking down into her beautiful face, I find that, unconsciously, I’ve closed the gap between us, and we are merely inches apart.
“Maybe, it would depend on the crime.”
“Would you kill someone if they… broke my bones?”
“What?” Where the hell did that come from. “Are we still talking about your father?” I rear back a little but Dana tugs at my t-shirt, bringing me back to her. The towel has slipped and my eyes rake over the visible bare skin across her shoulders, her neck and come to rest on her mouth.
“No, I’m talking purely hypothetically.” I watch her lips move with every word she says, the soft wisp of her breath hitting my lips. “Would you?”
“That would depend on the circumstances. If it was intentional, yes. If an accident, then maybe not quite that severe.”
“How would you decide?”
“I would have to consider what the correct punishment would be to fit the crime.”
“Okay Judge Judy, so what penalty would you give for breaking my arms and legs for instance.”
“Then I would take great pleasure in inflicting the same affliction in return, possibly to a couple of their family members too, only to make sure they got the message.”
“And what message would that be?”
“Don’t fuck with someone I…” I stop myself, taking my time to choose the right word, something that I always do in life but find myself doing less so when I’m around her. “consider to be a friend.”
“Mmm.” Her expression changes for a nano-second, too quickly for me to get a chance to decipher it. “And what if someone stole something that I hold dear to me?”
“Then I’d take it back and return it to its rightful owner, but not before I’d taken from them tenfold.”
Without warning, Dana’s mouth crashes against mine.
As she climbs into my lap, her hands slide around my neck, fingers weave into my hair pulling me closer, holding me securely, giving me no chance but to take what she’s readily giving. Her lips are soft, yet firm and as she takes charge of my mouth with a punishing kiss any notion to put a stop to it, quickly evaporates. The feel of her, her touch, the way her body molds against mine at this moment, is incredible. What I can only explain as static electricity hits everywhere she touches, leaving my skin prickling with heat.
Just as I begin to let myself go and respond to her advances, her lips leave mine, fingers slip from my hair, her hands slowly descend, coming to rest on my chest.
“So, I stole a kiss,” She murmurs breathlessly. As she places her cheek against mine, I feel the wisp of her breath brush against the shell of my ear when she asks. “What’s my punishment?”
Cupping her face, holding it so our lips are back hovering dangerously close, I give her my verdict.
JUSTICE (YOUNG OUTLAWS MC Book 2) Page 6
