A coughed laugh interrupts us, “I think this is my cue to leave,” Horse tells us.
Wraith pulls away, but only very slightly, “Night, Horse.”
His mouth back on mine, I don’t even notice the door closing. Our tongues dance, but slowly. I give into his kiss, knowing it’s the last time I’ll be this close to him, knowing I’m going to have to hurt him. But I relish his touch for another few minutes, storing up memories for the lonely times to come.
My hands tighten around his. Oh God, what do I do? I want nothing more than for him to hold me, to make love to me again. Just one last time. But once more wouldn’t be enough. And that’s when I know it’s time, and that I have to tell him, have to explain and make him understand why I can’t risk it all again. Why I can’t do this.
Gently I put my hands on his chest and push him away.
Taking a deep breath I raise my eyes to his, “Wraith, I need to tell you something.”
He’s trying to pull me back to me, and his eyebrow raises as I press back, pushing him away. Something in my expression communicates he knows he’s not going to like it. His eyes narrow, “What you want to say have any bearin’ on us?”
Nodding, then using the words, I confirm it, “Yes. Everything.”
“Then tell me, darlin’.” A slight hardness has come into his voice as if somehow he already suspects what I’m going to say. “But if you’re gonna say you can’t stay because of some false notion that by going you’ll stop what’s been started, you’re wrong. And there’s no safer place for you to be than with me, babe. If you go, I’ll fuckin’ go with you. I’ve told you; you’re my ol’ lady.”
Breathing in sharply once again, I get it out there, “I can’t be your old lady. I don’t want to be claimed. We’ve got to stop this now, Wraith.”
“Fuck, woman. What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
“Us,” I point to him and then to me, “I’m finished with us, Wraith. I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s been great…”
Wraith stands, he kicks at the chair Horse had been sitting on and sends it crashing to the ground. “What the fuck are you sayin’? It’s been great?” He runs his fingers across his beard, “What have you done with the woman I’ve been fuckin’? Where is she? ‘Cos you obviously weren’t the one in bed with me. Great?” He stops, paces, then swings back, “What we had together was fuckin’ incredible! Once in a fuckin’ lifetime incredible!” Again he steps away, moving to the wall and putting his fist through the plasterboard. His head rolls up, then down to his chest, then again he comes over to me and his voice calms, “Am I pushin’ you too fast, darling? D‘you need a bit of time to think this through?”
How can I make him understand? “No, I don’t need time. I should never have let it go on this long,” I cry out, desperate for him to believe me, to go away and leave me alone to wallow in my misery. “I only wanted a one night stand. I didn’t want it to turn into anything more.”
“A one fuckin’ night stand?” His hands fist in his hair and his face reddens, “You only wanted one night? You wanted me to treat you like a fuckin’ sweet butt?”
I can feel tears leaking from my eyes; his rising anger is palpable, but I know he won’t hurt me. He doesn’t have to; I’m hurting myself.
“Wraith, I…”
He kicks the fallen chair again and stomps around the room. Returning to me he leans over, his hands on the bed either side of me, trapping me. When he speaks, it’s right into my face.
“I fuckin’ claimed you, woman. In front of my brothers. I went up against my president’s instructions. I went out on a limb for you and was prepared to take the consequences. I thought there was somethin’ special between us. Never dreamt all you wanted was another notch on your fuckin’ bedpost.”
He pushes away again, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, “One biker going to be enough for you? Or are you going to go through the rest of my brothers now? You want to become a club whore?”
His words are like arrows of pain shooting through me, I hurt, even though he’s not physically touched me. But how can I truthfully say it’s nothing like that? While I’m not going to be chasing after his brothers, one night was all I ever should have had with him. See what happens when you break your own rules.
“Wraith, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Hurt me? You think I’m fuckin’ hurt?” He spits the words at me, “Well, you were a good fuckin’ lay, bitch. Glad I found out what you really are before we got in any deeper.”
He turns and leaves, slamming the door hard behind him.
Chapter 21
Wraith
Stomping my way back down to the clubhouse I’m unable to understand what the fuck had just happened. For the first time in my life, I put my neck on the line for a woman, and this is how she fucking rewards me? Told me she just wanted a bit of fun and nothing serious. What the fuck? Wasn’t that my line?
I kick out at everything movable in my way and even some things that aren’t―at least my steel toed motorcycle boots are protecting my feet. Tension radiates through me and I’m lucky I don’t meet a brother on the way as just one word might mean he’d get my fist in his face. I can’t go inside like this. It’s late, or early whichever way you prefer to look at it, but there’ll still could be someone around, and right now I’m not in the mood for company. I circle the clubhouse, making my way to the picnic tables out back and sit on one. My fingers probe in my back pocket for the packet of smokes I used to keep there before I remember I’d given up two years ago. Fuck, I could kill for a cancer stick right now.
My head falls into my hands. How could I have read her so wrong? Thinking back, the signs were there, how she reacted any time I hinted this could be something more than just a few fucks between us. I’d assumed she’d been on the same page, how could I have been so mistaken?
Slowly my rage starts to fade, replaced by some other emotion that I’m reluctant to name. At first, I was attracted to her, but then different feelings began to grow, and I’d been certain they were reciprocated. Had I been wrong all the way along? Those little touches, those loving looks. Had she really just been using me for my body? Fuck, what a turnaround this is. Is this my punishment for the way I’d always push the club whores out of my bed after sex? What fucking payback to find she’s acting like a female me.
I lace my fingers behind my head. What a fucking day all round. Being shot at, losing Hank, the decision to go to war with the Demons. She’d clung to me during that madcap ride by to Tucson, and while the circumstances weren’t as I’d imagined for her first ride, I loved her being on the back of my bike. Her arms tight around me, her breasts squashed up against my back.
But she’d been scared, terrified. While I’d been running on the endorphins triggering my flight or fight response, pushing my bike to its limits, feeling the exhilaration which comes along with that, she’d been petrified, hanging on for dear life. Then she’d found out about Hank and Peg, and I’d laid on her the reason for the attack. While none of my brothers would put the blame at her door―they’d answer to me if they did that―the truth is, if it wasn’t for that fucking contract on her, Hank would still be alive. That’s one fuck of a lot of guilt for her to be saddled with. And I’d just thrown the old lady label it in there, as if it weren’t nothin’ at all.
Unlocking my hands, I wipe them over my tired eyes, then cup my cheeks. No wonder she doesn’t want to get more involved with an MC. Pushing her tonight was the worst fucking timing. My reasons? I could have seen her taken or killed today, and I didn’t want to waste a moment of our time together. But looking at it from her side, asking her to be my old lady when she’d watched one of my brothers die, might just have been a stupid fucking thing to do.
But she hadn’t said any of that. She’d told me she wanted me for nothing more than entertainment in bed. As I run over our conversation, although the night carries a chill I begin to sweat, my heart rate increases and my hands start to shake. How fuc
king dare she say the things to me that she did? My emotions tonight are swinging like a pendulum as rage sweeps through me once again.
As my teeth start to grind I know right now I could kill someone or fuck. My cock’s still rock hard, as I’d expected to be inside her by now. Expected to claim my old lady in every way I could. Getting to my feet, deciding I’ll find another whore to address my needs, with just a few paces I weave around the fire pits and enter the clubhouse. Which by now is fucking empty, not one single bitch is hanging around to scratch my itch. For Christ sake, this has been a total fuck-up of a day.
Briefly, I consider waking one of the sweet butts―it’s nothing more than they’d expect, they’re well compensated for their services―but suddenly it seems too much bother. Electing on a different solution, I reach behind the bar and grab a bottle of Jack not bothering to get a glass. Taking myself off to my room, I throw myself on the bed and lift the bottle to my lips, knowing the only thing left to do tonight is to seek oblivion.
The next thing I know I’m being woken by a banging on my door and the empty bottle falls off the bed. My head is throbbing, and I feel like shit, and immediately I regret the remedy I chose last night. Why does drowning your sorrows seem such a great fucking idea until you wake the next day?
The banging comes again, and then the door opens.
“The fuck you doing here? Thought you’d be with your ol’ lady? That was the first place I looked… What the fuck’s happened to you?”
Wishing he’d speak a bit more quietly, I answer Peg with a snarl, “Ain’t got no fuckin’ ol’ lady.”
Peg’s eyes widen, and he takes a step into the room. He gives me a long hard stare, “What happened? You fuck it up, brother?”
Right at this moment I can barely remember my name, let alone the details of last night. “Just leave me alone, Peg.”
But he doesn’t go. Instead, he steps closer, invading my personal space, “What did you say to her? You hurt her and I’ll…”
As his voice trails off, I realise how protective he is of her, bound as they are by a common disability.
A quick shake of my head, which I immediately regret, I get my rebuttal in quickly before he starts using the fists our sergeant-at-arms is famed for. “No, Peg. She wasn’t the one to get hurt.”
His mouth drops open as the penny finally drops, “She turned you down?”
“Yes.” Saying it is less painful than nodding.
His head cocks to one side as though shocked, and his hand comes up, cupping his chin, “Well, fuck me. You two were tight back in Utah. I thought she was into it as much as you. What did she say?”
“That she only wanted me for a one night stand.”
A laugh bursts out of him, “Thought that was your line.”
The bright light is hurting my eyes, “Seems all she wanted was a good fuckin’.”
“Jesus.” I know Peg will understand, offering to make her my old lady was a fucking big step for me to take. That she turned and threw it back in my face hurts. A lot. He glances around him, then grabs the chair and sits down. Leaning back he crosses his feet at the ankles and folds his arms. I sigh, he’s settling himself in for the long haul, and I don’t feel up to this right now.
“I’m sorry, Wraith.” He sounds sympathetic.
I believe he truly is, but I’m dreading the reaction of my other brothers, knowing they’ll be mocking me. The VP turned down by a woman―fodder for one heck of a lot of ragging.
After a moment Peg speaks again, “Yesterday must have been fuckin’ hard for her,” he starts, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have pressed so soon.”
That’s the hope I’m clinging too. What the fuck? As the thought hits me I realise at least one part of me is willing to go down on my fucking knees and beg if it meant I had the chance to be with her. And I don’t do that. Someone fucking rejects me, throws the biggest compliment I can ever pay them back in my face? I don’t go back for fucking seconds.
“Get yourself showered and dressed, and get a prospect to clean that puke off the floor.” Puke? Leaning over, I see the drying puddle on the carpet. Shit! My arm goes over my head; I really laid one on last night. Why the fuck won’t Peg just go and leave me to wallow? “I’ll keep my fuckin’ mouth shut until you go and have a fuckin’ conversation with Wheels. If you want her, don’t let your pride get in the way. Last night, fuck,” his hands run through his shortly shorn hair, “She might think differently now she’s slept on it. Losing Hank hit her hard. Give her another chance, man.”
Give her another chance to turn me down? I don’t fucking think so. “No, she’s made her choice. I don’t go back, Peg. Ever.” Uh uh.
He leans his head back, closing his eyes briefly before turning back, “If I’m readin’ her right, there’s somethin’ she’s not tellin’ you, somethin’ that’s behind her rejection. Find out what it is before you slam that door for good.”
“I don’t fuckin’ care what’s in her head. She’s made her choice.” I’m repeating myself, but he’s not getting the message.
Another long assessing stare, then he shrugs as if dismissing the subject, “Came to tell you fuckin’ Chrissy’s just turned up, sweet as pie and acting like normal. Drum wanted me to come get you.”
Shit! The last thing I want to deal with this morning is that fucking bitch. Or is it? My lips curl up into a parody of a smile that would make grown men turn and run. Perhaps dealing with a traitor is exactly what I need. I’m not in the mood to be forgiving.
Telling Peg, I’ll be there in a few he, at last, leaves me alone. Dragging myself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my head I grab a couple of ibuprofen from the bottle I keep in the drawer for just such occasions as this and swallow them dry. When I can cope with being vertical I stand, swaying, still slightly drunk. I run through the shower and dress, careful not to step in the pool of vomit on the floor.
My head finally clearer, I’m ready to deal with the business of the day. Fuckin’ Chrissy―if she’d been the one to betray my club, to betray my… no, not my, the woman, I’m not going to be merciful. Fuck knows how everything would have turned out if we hadn’t been ambushed if Hank hadn’t been killed, and if Wheels hadn’t become terrified of her association with the club.
The first sign for Chrissy that she might have fucked something up comes when Peg drags her with a tight hold on her arm, into the meeting room we use for church. Prospects are rarely invited in, club whores, never. He stands her at the end of the table, not offering her a seat and with a terse command to stay there, comes to take his seat on the opposite side of the prez from me, throwing a nod to Blade who’s already in his customary place. As I speculate how Drummer is going to play this, I watch her, my eyes cold. Any man would tremble being called in front of his prez, sergeant-at-arms, enforcer and VP. Chrissy’s gone from cocky to terrified.
“Sit down.” Drummer gives her the permission which Peg hadn’t. I keep my expression neutral but am surprised at the softness in Drum’s voice; he’s even dredged up a smile for her from somewhere. Peg raises his eyebrow at me.
“Sweetheart,” Drum starts, the endearment sounding strange but it seems to relax her, “We’d like your help with somethin’.”
Of course, he’s not the president for nothing. His welcoming approach and encouraging smile put her at ease. I’d have just interrogated the bitch, but taking the lead from him, I lean back, folding my arms and make every effort to gentle my features. I don’t think it’s working, but for once her focus isn’t on me.
“Of course, Drummer, anythin’,” she simpers in reply. She pulls her back up straighter, and her lips curl up. Stupid whore.
“Last night, Hank was killed.” Drummer frowns as he gives her the bad news.
Now her lips turn down, “I heard. What a shame. Still, he was only a prospect.”
My fingers are curling into fists, nails digging into my palms. Only a prospect? How dare she disrespect a man who gave his life for the club? It’s hard to keep my
temper under control. Throwing a look at Drummer I see his leg impatiently bouncing under the table, and realise he’s just as angry as me.
“He’ll be buried a fully patched member,” Drum informs her, still managing to keep his voice even.
“Oh. That’s good.” The inadequate statement shows she’s stumped for anything to say. “How I can help you?” The moronic bitch is puffing herself up with importance. Club whores do not get called into this room. If we need their input on anything, we’ll fuck it out of them.
Now Drum starts to get down to business, “It seems we’re up against the Rock Demons, and you might be able to help us with that. Heard they’ve been comin’ into our territory and you might have seen them. At the Running Horse?”
If I hadn’t been watching her carefully, I might have missed the flicker of fear that comes into her eyes for a second.
She takes a moment to respond, “I was there the other night. Yeah, saw some bikers there, but I didn’t know who they were. They weren’t wearin’ cuts.”
“You spoke to them?”
She shrugs, “One of them bought me a drink, so I sat with them a while.”
Drum leans forwards, “And what did you speak about?”
Another dismissive shrug, “We were just shootin’ the shit, you know? They were flirtin’ with me.”
Now we give her board, lodging and spending money for the services she provides to the brothers, but as long as she keeps herself clean, there’s nothing to say she can’t go with another man. But someone from another club?
Drummer’s face is growing dark, and I can see a vein twitching in his forehead. Familiar signs that any moment now he’s going to lose his shit and the whore will shortly find out what it means to be brought in front of the President of the Satan’s Devils. Both of his legs are bouncing furiously now as he leans further forwards.
“We know you were talkin’ to them about club business. Beef overheard some of it. Now you’ve got two choices now. Keep on pretendin’ you didn’t let anythin’ loose or fuckin’ fess up and tell us exactly what you told them.” As she goes to speak, Drum holds up his hand, “I’m tellin’ ya now, take the first route and you’ll get a fuckin’ bullet in your head.” To emphasise his point he takes out his gun from his shoulder holster and lays it on the table.
Turning Wheels (Satan's Devils MC #1): A Blood Brothers Spin off Page 24
