Desertion

by River Savage

  “I’m taking you to the clubhouse. I’ll send Hunter for your car.” He takes my bag from my hands and moves to tuck me under his arm.

  “I should just go home.” Not wanting to make a huge fuss, I pull back.

  “I’m not letting you drive tonight.”

  “Jesse, it’s not—” I start to argue that my mom is expecting me but his finger moves to my mouth, silencing me.

  “Didn’t ask for your permission, sweetheart.” He squeezes me against his side and moves us to where his bike is parked.

  “Thank you.” I stop and look up at him. “If you weren’t here…” I trail off, not needing to continue. He leans down and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss that in one breath soothes my burden, and manages to make me lose my fight.

  “I would have killed that fucker, Bell.” He pulls back and places the helmet on my head.

  “I think you managed to get your point across without committing a felony.” I straddle the seat, remembering how fired up he was seeing another man touch me.

  “Don’t act cute. I’m still pissed.” He climbs on in front of me. Scooting forward, I place my arms around his middle and wait for him to start his bike.

  “What? It was kind of hot.” I smile into his back waiting for his reaction.

  “Yeah? Well, hold on to that thought, baby. My head might be calm, but my dick is still fucking seething from that cock sucker having his hands on you.”

  I roll my eyes, but don’t stop my grin from growing. “Do you ever not think about your cock?”

  “When I eat? Don’t like thinking about my cock then,” he jokes, and I let out a sharp laugh.

  “I lo—” I start to say, the word becoming strangled when I realize what I started to blurt. Jesse stays quiet, the night air crackling between us.

  “You do know I’m trying right, Bell?” He breaks the silence, without turning around.

  I want to tell him maybe it’s not enough for me. Maybe I am selfish and I need more, but I don’t, because deep down I know it is.

  I might never have all of Jesse, and maybe that wouldn’t be enough for someone else, but for me, it always would be. I would hold onto it with everything I had because it was more than he ever thought he could give.

  “I do, Jesse.” A sigh moves past my lips as I rest my cheek to his back. He doesn’t say another word, the rumble of his pipes ending the conversation. And instead of worrying I’m going to run him away, I settle in against him knowing he’s trying.

  ‘Cause that is all I can ask for.

  * * *

  “Oh, God, fuck yeah.” Jesse groans, rolling his hips deeper. I keep my hands above my head in the same position he ordered me in.

  “Who do you belong to?” he asks, setting my heart on fire.

  “You,” I answer, giving him what he wants.

  “And this tight little pussy?” He continues to deliver his questions with a roll of his hips, each one pushing me back into my own personal Jesse fog.

  “You.”

  “Damn fucking straight.” His grin turns wicked, possessive.

  “Ahhhh!” I close my eyes when his thumb finds my clit, working it harder.

  “Look at me, sweetheart. Need to see it.” I open my eyes and watch a wild look wash over his face. My orgasm claws at me, begging me to let go, but I hold on to it, waiting for the moment. “Fuck, sooo good. So fucking good.” He repeats, each confession burns a memory into my soul.

  “Jesse.” I’m unable to hold on any longer.

  “I have you, baby, always,” he encourages, and it’s all I need to tip me over. My hands move from over my head, breaking his order and up into his hair. Spreading my fingers wide, I pull hard enough to push him over the edge. He loses his composure, a pained shout erupts from him, and then he’s falling apart.

  “Fuckkkkk!” He pumps his hips over and over, and I become undone. Body slick with sweat, he lowers himself to me. We stay like this for what feels like hours, days, hell, weeks could have passed for all I knew. When our breathing returns to normal, he rolls off me, takes care of the condom, and then comes back to bed.

  I turn over and without a word, he pulls me to his front, then tucks me under his arm in a protective hold.

  Yeah, I was okay with him trying.

  “What’s going to happen to Danger?” I ask after a moment. When we got back to the clubhouse, Jesse left me and went straight to Nix and Beau. No doubt filling them in on the shit Danger just put himself in.

  “You don’t need to worry about the fucker, Bell. In fact don’t even say that bastard’s name in my bed.”

  “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” I push, needing to know. I’ve come to learn Jesse and his club are the good guys, but I still wouldn’t put it past them.

  He laughs to himself, before pulling me tighter against him.

  “The weasel isn’t worth the bullet. He’ll get what’s coming to him. We just have to let it play out.” The statement is cryptic so I don’t bother pushing it anymore.

  “Just don’t get arrested. We’ve already established you won’t be able to handle prison.” I joke remembering our first date.

  “I know I’m too fucking good-looking.” He laughs as my phone beeps from the bedside table. Reaching over I quickly check it then place it on silent.

  “Your mom?”

  “Yeah, she’s worried. But I told her I’m fine. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” I close my eyes not letting my parents and their needs dictate to me anymore.

  “They’re going to think I’m a bad influence.” He chuckles, the sound rumbling against my back.

  “Please, they’ve met Lissy.”

  “Shit, you’re right.” He laughs harder. “You should have seen your mom’s face when she opened the door.”

  “Oh, God. Was it bad?” I hide my face, trying not to think about Mom and Jesse meeting.

  “Nah, she was fine.” His chuckle doesn’t make me believe him, but I don’t push.

  “They’re good people, Jesse. Just dealing the best way they know how.” I defend them knowing I’m probably not making it easier on them.

  “I hear you, baby. I know all too well the things we do to survive.” He holds me tighter. “Just promise me, find out who you are, Bell. Not who they want you to be.” I let his words wash over me, and for the first time, I realize I don’t really know what I want anymore. I’ve become lost in their grief and my need to make everything better.

  I’m not going to do that anymore.

  Twenty-Nine

  JESSE

  When I was seven years old, I had this toy car, a Christmas present from my parents. It was my most prized toy because it belonged wholly to me. Not a hand-me-down from Jackson or a toy I had to share with Jay. It was just mine. I would play with this car every day, searching for new surfaces to glide it along, often annoying my mom by using household items to set up my very own racetrack. One afternoon, just like any other day, I sat and played with this car. My dad had been home for a few minutes. Like always, he grunted his hello and took a seat in his favorite chair in front of the TV. My mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Jackson was off playing with the kids on our street and Jay was asleep in his crib. Even though I was seven years old, I still remember the events of that day. I remember the house shaking from the force of my dad’s footsteps as he came for me. The quiver in my mom’s cries as he grabbed me around the neck and threw me to the floor for the noise I had been making. The kick to my stomach and the burning that came with it.

  At an early age, I knew what my father was capable of. We lived in a strict and structured household. When we failed to deliver to his standards, it wasn’t uncommon to get slapped or receive a rough hand around the back of your neck.

  But that day was different.

  “Can’t you just shut the fuck up for once, you little fucking shit.” His rage coiled above me, his fists opening and closing at his sides. The kick to my stomach had winded me, but instead of crying out, I remember struggling
for a breath.

  “John, please.” Mom cried in the corner, but didn’t come to my defense.

  “It’s your fucking fault. I told you to take that fucking toy from him.” He turned to face her, his rage still boiling over a tiny Matchbox car.

  He bent at the waist, picked the car up, and walked to where she stood cowering.

  “Next time do as I fucking say.” He pulled his arm back and smashed the car into the side of her face. She went down like a sack of potatoes, blood pouring from the gash on her cheek. It was the first time he had hit her. The first time he had hit me.

  It wasn’t the last.

  I never got my car back.

  * * *

  “Did you hear me? He wants to see you,” Jackson repeats, pulling me out of my thoughts. I don’t know why hearing the news that my father was on his deathbed took me back to that day, but it did.

  “Yeah.” I shake my head clearing my thoughts.

  “So, are you coming then?” he asks, still waiting.

  “I thought he had months?” The knot in my stomach tightens when I think about the last few weeks and my reluctance to see him.

  “Well, these things, they can move quickly, Jesse. I told you this.” I look up at Bell, and some of my brothers standing around. An understanding in her eyes almost has me coming apart but I hold it together. The proud man in me doesn’t want her to see me crack.

  “Listen, I’ll call you back.” I click off the line and place my phone back in my pocket.

  “Everything all right?” Bell whispers, coming around the pool table to stand in front of me. We were having a lazy day before my shift at Liquid tonight. A few rounds of pool with Bell and some of the guys. The last thing I was expecting was this phone call.

  “My dad’s dying. Jackson wants me to go say my goodbye.” I shrug, still reeling from the news.

  “Fuck, man. Sorry.” Beau shakes his head but I don’t reply, just keep my eyes on Bell.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Jesse.” Her hands move to my face, but I don’t want her to touch me. I can’t handle her comfort right now.

  “Don’t fucking touch me right now.” I shake her off and step away from her. Her body stiffens at my tone; the soft understanding on her face freezes in confusion. I don’t mean to be an asshole, especially in front of everyone; in fact, things between us have been good. Ever since the night I found Danger with his hands on her, a newfound protectiveness has taken over me. She is mine and no asshole is going to touch her.

  “So are you going over now?” Her hands fidget in front of her and I watch how her body language hides her insecurity. Fuck, I’m an asshole.

  “Don’t know why I should. The last time I saw him he was still a cockhead, not prepared to relive that anytime soon.” I focus my attention back to our game of pool. “Who’s up?” I look up to Beau and Sy but they just shrug, so I turn back to Bell.

  “Just wait a second, maybe you should.” She holds my stare, encouraging me to engage. I’m not in the mood to get into it with her, but I know she’s going to push.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Bell. So don’t give me some bullshit spiel on hope and forgiveness. Life isn’t a straight line that you have to follow according to a set of rules.” I deliver it to her harshly, knowing it’s the only way to drop this fast. Expecting her to back down, I decide it’s our turn so I take my next shot.

  “You’re right, but your father dying is a huge issue.” She shocks me, walking up into my space and calling me out. The room becomes silent, pissing me off. This shit doesn’t need to be aired, especially by Bell.

  “And like I’ve told you before, I’m not going there with you. Or anyone for that matter.” I keep my eyes on Bell, but point my finger to Sy and Beau. “That door closed a long time ago, sweetheart.” I lower my chin waiting for her to agree but she doesn’t.

  “Is that what you really believe, or is it what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better? ‘Cause what I see is a lost man, searching for something he’s not going to get unless he addresses it.”

  I ignore the twist in my gut at her assessment of me and keep my stare cold. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Jesse,” Sy warns, but it’s Bell who keeps pushing.

  “You’re right. I don’t know, because you don’t open up to me and I get it. That’s how you cope but, Jesse, I care about you and I can’t sit by and watch you make a mistake. Wouldn’t you want to give yourself peace? Give him peace?”

  “THAT MAN DOESN’T DESERVE PEACE!” I kick one of the table legs. Pain radiates in my fucked up foot, but it’s not enough for me. I kick it again, finding pleasure in the pain. She steps back at my outburst, but doesn’t cave.

  “He’s your father. Does that count for anything?” The quiver in her voice takes me back to the same tone my mother used to make excuses and brush away what he did.

  “No, it doesn’t, Bell. Unlike you, I don’t carry my DNA around like a ball and chain, hoping to please my parents. I gave up feeling obligated and responsible a long time ago.” I drop the stick on the table and walk out, leaving her standing there with my brothers.

  Yeah, like father like son.

  I don’t give a fuck.

  Thirty

  BELL

  “Bell?” he whispers three hours and twenty-five minutes later. Unsure what he needs from me, I keep my body still and feign sleep. I listen to him toe off his boots and drop his cut on the chair; executing the same routine he does every night before bed.

  Part of me wasn’t expecting him to come back, the other part counting down the seconds he was away. I thought about leaving, retreating to the comfort of my own home, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. I know he’s hurting and it wasn’t easy to walk away from him, so I stayed and decided we would work it out when he calmed down. I know I shouldn’t have pushed him earlier. I don’t know why I did. After he left, Sy and Beau told me not to worry, but how could I not? I needed him to know I didn’t want to put a wedge between us. Not now.

  “Bell?” Jesse calls my name again as he climbs into bed.

  “Yeah?” I give up feigning sleep and turn over. My stomach drops at the sight of him. Dark circles under his eyes, his drained features stare back at me. I know he’s suffering, I just wish he would open up to me, instead of internalizing it all.

  “You okay?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

  “Yeah.” He sighs, resting his arm over his face.

  “What’s happening? Talk to me.” I move closer, pressing my cheek to his naked chest.

  “You were right.” I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t say anything.

  “No, Jesse, I wasn’t.” I sit up, my hands aching to hold him, to ignite hope back into him. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.” The tears fall freely and I don’t know if I’m crying for us, for him, or for a man I barely know.

  “Never apologize for being honest, Bell. Always honesty.” He tugs me back down, tucking my back to his front. “I’m fighting a battle I’m not gonna win. I go to him and give him the peace everyone except me thinks he deserves, or I don’t and then I’m left with guilt. Either way, he wins.”

  “No one wins, Jesse. Not when it comes to love and death. You just have to choose what’s going to hurt you less.” He’s quiet in his thoughts, only holding me tighter.

  “Sleep,” he finally says, shifting us to our sides.

  “I love you, Jesse,” I whisper, not caring if I say it. The man needs to know what love is, even if it frightens him.

  I don’t know how we are going to get through what is coming, but I know if he doesn’t push me away, I’ll be there.

  * * *

  “Fucking stay with me. I’m not going to let you die,” Jesse mumbles in his sleep later that night. “Noooo!” he shouts louder, thrashing harder. I react immediately, attempting to soothe him.

  “Jesse, wake up. You’re dreaming,” I whisper, waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t so I turn and rea
ch for the bedside light.

  I know last time he told me not to touch him, but looking down at him now, I can’t help reaching out to comfort him. After our fight earlier, I need to know he’s okay.

  “The fuck,” he barks, rolling me to my back while his hand wraps around my neck and restricts my airway. At first I’m frozen, unsure what to do. Is he still dreaming?

  “Jesse,” I squeak, struggling against his hold, kicking out and fighting to escape. The bedside lamp knocks to the floor, the glass of water I took to bed smashing beside it. His grip grows stronger the more I fight. Changing my tactic, I reach out and scratch his face, the small amount of air I am getting is not enough and black dots flicker in front of my face. I try to hold on, but darkness starts to blanket me, dragging me down to a place I don’t deserve.

  “It’s me,” I manage to groan as I push my fingers into his eyes. I don’t think of hurting him. My need to survive takes over because Jesse is no longer the man I love, he’s the man who’s trying to kill me.

  Suddenly, Jesse is pulled off me and I manage to drag much-needed air down my throat.

  “What the fuck?” Jesse grunts from the floor beside the bed.

  “Bell!” Holly’s anguished cry moves my gaze from a disorientated Jesse.

  “The fuck is wrong with you?” Sy stands between Jesse and I. His chest rises and falls as he assumes a stance that says don’t fucking think about going to her.

  I’m still finding it hard to catch my breath and my neck is throbbing so hard I’m worried Jesse has done some serious damage.

  “Ggg.” I struggle to move the words past my throat, and the tears start to fall.

  “Holly, get her out of here,” Sy orders. Holly doesn’t think twice, takes my hand and helps me out of the room. I look down at Jesse still on the floor. His eyes come to me, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I freely see the pain behind his eyes.