I haven’t heard from Verity once, since she took off the day Kellen was taken to the emergency room. I had Cage, as the club’s communication officer, look into it running some traces and checking out her bank accounts, but nothing raised any flags as to her whereabouts. It was like she’d dropped off the face of the Earth. Kellen didn’t seem worried by her disappearance. That in and of itself was something that caused me concern. It struck me as odd that a kid showed no outward signs he was worried about his mother up and leaving him without warning.
Bringing me back from those thoughts, which wouldn’t go anywhere healthy, Ronnie pats the hand that I have resting on her thigh and smiles at me.
“The safety deposit box had over two hundred thousand dollars in it, and account details for a trust that is held in Kellen’s name. The bank manager told me the terms of the trust are that Kellen is able to access it at eighteen-years-old, and not inclusive of interest earned between then and now it totals 3.5 million dollars, Nate.” I suck in a huge lungful of air to the point it makes them burn.
I don’t get it. Verity fucking takes off relinquishing her parental rights. Yeah, I found that shit out when I was notified, about a month back, by her lawyer saying the six months have elapsed. I have sole custody of Kellen, now. Then she leaves her sister, which she’s despised all her life, a chunk of change and a trust for my son. This shit makes no sense at all and has my fucking blood boiling. I’m not fucking pissed because Verity finally decided to do something past due for her sister. I’m not angry because she left money for my son. I’m fucking furious because her parting gesture is to ACT like she’s a good fucking person. I wouldn’t put it past her to do shit like this to take the sting out of her disappearance. That’s just the kind of bitch she is, after all. She deflects her shitty behaviour by doing anything she can to take the emphasis off her.
Before I get a chance to blow, Ronnie presses on with her explanation.
“I can see you’re angry, Nate, I was at first, too, but there’s something going on there. This isn’t like her. Verity hasn’t given me anything before. Not even a fucking candy bar. 200K? I mean, what the fuck? We’ll figure it out, eventually though. There has to be some kind of ulterior motive behind the gift. That’s not the part that’s going to make you lose your mind though, Nate. You have to listen to the whole story, and the reason why I did what I did next. Promise me.”
Her eyes are pleading with me, and there’s not a damn thing at this point that I would deny her.
“Yeah, Baby, I promise.”
Leaning down she places a chaste kiss on my lips and sits back.
“Before I left Dallas two weeks ago, I had a lawyer draw up some papers for me. The first set was an agreement that won’t hold up in court, but it was the only thing I could think to do. The second was a set of divorce papers.” My body tenses ready for detonation. I will my body to relax; it isn’t working though, so I wait patiently for her to finish, hoping this shit isn’t going in the same direction as my brain is, right now. “See, I got to thinking, we both have a lot of unfinished business. Stuff that neither of us knew how to fix when we were younger. There’s been a weight on your shoulders, for a long time now, Nate. Whether you’re conscious of it or not, it’s still there and it affects you daily. I wanted to be able to help, somehow. This was the only thing I could think of that might alleviate some of the burden on you.”
Rubbing her hands nervously over the sheet covering her body, she looks at me with tears swimming in her eyes. Fuck me. How many times is it going to look like my woman is going to cry today?
“I took the first hundred thousand and set up an account in your mom’s name. The second hundred thousand I got as a cheque that went along with the agreement I had drawn up, that I delivered to your Dad.” I can feel her tense as my hand grips her thigh hard.
I don’t speak though. I can’t. Words fail me. My eyes widen comically at the next part of her story, but I still don’t say a word.
“The agreement states that Jeff will have no contact with you, Kellen, or your mom, Cynthia, ever again. It says that he’ll sign the divorce papers immediately, allowing your mom to take any of her possessions, keepsakes, and the like, leaving without issue from him. In return, he gets a cheque for a hundred thousand dollars and goes about his life, however he wants. Your mom didn’t hesitate when I produced the divorce papers. She signed them and started packing in minutes. I had already hired a U-Haul truck, so it was pretty easy to load all her stuff and make the trip to Clearwater.”
Ronnie still looks as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. That has to be the worst of it. Doesn’t it?
“I didn’t want to bring her to Blackwater until she had herself sorted out. I explained to her that it would take time for you to rebuild a relationship with her, and that she should go about making a life for herself until I had the chance to talk to you, and let you know what I’d done. We rented her a little cottage in Clearwater. She found a job at the local restaurant there pretty quickly. She was worried because she had no experience, but Dan, the owner, seemed willing to take a chance on her. I stayed with her for the first week to make sure Cynthia settled in okay. I didn’t want to just up and leave her on her own, while she was coming to terms with actually BEING on her own for the first time ever. After the week was up I came straight back here. I didn’t stop anywhere else, Nate. I came straight to you.” Wringing her hands together she adds, “I understand if you’re an…”
Enough! I didn’t want or need to hear any more. What Ronnie has done for me, what she’s done for my mom, I could never repay her for. Deep down Ronnie knows me. She knows that no matter how little respect I have for my mom, I still love her and want her safe. For years I’ve worried whether my dad is taking his anger and frustration out on her. Is she being hit the same way he used to hit me? Is she terrified of him? Is she only staying with him because she couldn’t find a way out? All those questions and more swirled around in my head until they didn’t bear thinking on often, anymore. Ronnie gave her that, though. She gave my mom a way to escape the asshole and live free. For that alone, I’ll be forever grateful.
Not wasting another second, I stand tugging Ronnie by her ankles until she is sprawled on her back. I rip the sheet that’s covering the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, inside and out, from her body, and go about showing her just how grateful I really am for what she’s done, and the fact she came back to me.
After the third time I make love to my woman, this last time is slow and sweet, filled with light touches, whispered ‘I love you’s,’ tender kisses, and the gentle rise to climax, we fall exhausted on to the mattress wrapped in each other. I’ve never felt more at home. Whispering into her hair I say, “Thank you, Sunshine. I might never be able to repay you for what you did, but I’ll damn sure spend the rest of my fucking life trying to.” There is nothing else I need to say. In coming home, Ronnie brought with her a much-needed feeling of peace and serenity. Something I didn’t know I so desperately needed, until now. There were times in the past that I thought I’d never get a chance at this.
Watching Cage with Kendall, Lexi, and Wheels, I knew that was what I wanted. In all honesty, I’d always known that I wanted Ronnie to be mine. I’d just never envisioned what that future would look like. I knew we’d have one. The picture just hadn’t formed fully, yet. Now, there is nothing I want more than to have my woman with my rings on her finger, my leather on her back, her belly round with my baby, and my son happy with his aunt mothering him the way every boy should have the chance to be mothered.
Speaking of my son. Kellen will be fucking ecstatic Ronnie’s home. He doesn’t know that I hear him, night after night, praying to God to bring Ronnie home. The kid makes my heart hurt with the ferocity he demands Ronnie be brought back to us. I’ve never let on that I hear him, though. The kid would be embarrassed as fuck, if he knew I was watching silently at his doorway.
The other thing I know with certainty is Ronnie isn’t goi
ng fucking anywhere. I don’t give a shit what her intentions are. She’ll be moving her ass, and all her shit in with me before the day is out. That I can guarantee.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Veronica
Telling Nate about my visit back to Patterson, the money, the trust Verity left for Kellen, and the agreement between his dad, Jeff, and I; went a lot better than I expected. Where I expected Nate would get the tick in his jaw he only got when he was livid, possibly inflict some damage on his poor walls with his fists and lose his fucking mind, I was pleasantly surprised by his lack of reaction.
We talked in bed for over an hour before he had to go and collect Kellen. Mind you, this was after he thoroughly ravaged me four times. Yes. You heard correctly. Four fucking times. Or was it fucking four times. Either way, you get the idea.
I managed to explain why I left, without implicating Tank. Honestly, it wasn’t his fault; he was just a catalyst. By the end of the conversation, I think Nate understood why it was so important for me to make the agreement I did with his dad. Nate didn’t agree with my giving him the money and taking it upon myself to sort things, but he understood. That was all I could ask for.
Listening to Nate lay down the law in regards to me being his woman, coming to live with him and his son, and the fact that I’m to never leave again, regardless of what happens, I’ll admit gives me a little thrill. It also gives me the urge to punch him in the junk for trying to dictate to me what I can and can’t do. However, I mulled that option over, deciding I like his junk too much, especially what he can do with it; I proceeded to consider the viability of shaving one of his eyebrows off in his sleep, instead. No permanent damage, but it will give me a sense of satisfaction seeing his discomfort for a change, instead of my own.
From everything I’ve been told by Kendall, Lou, and Priss about MCs, the men in them, and the lifestyle; I can see Nate is no different than all the rest of them. Steel, Cage, Tank, Reaper, and even Nate, or Arrow, in all his caveman glory, are exactly the same. All of them are alpha males, dominating, overbearing, ridiculously protective, and love fiercely. Not that I’m complaining about the last one. Nope. That bit I’m supremely glad for. The rest? Yeah, I’m not loving that shit. Lou told me a story about when she was pregnant with Anna, and decided to go to the store, as a way of explaining what they can be like when pushed to their limits.
It was after eleven at night, Steel was passed out on the couch, and as you do when you’re pregnant, according to Lou anyway, you get a craving that makes it as essential as life or death to obtain said food stuff immediately. So, Lou takes Steel’s truck, heading to the store to buy of all things, pickles. That isn’t the disgusting part. No. The disgusting part is the fact that she intends to dip the pickles in peanut butter when she gets home. Gross. To each pregnant woman their own, though. You would think she knows better, by now. She should leave him a note; send a text letting him know where she’d gone, perhaps. Nope. Lou is solely focused on procuring pickles and nothing else.
The story deteriorates quickly from humorous and a bit icky, to what can only be described as mass hysteria. On waking up to find his pregnant wife missing, Steel calls in every member of Devil’s Spawn that isn’t currently drunk off their ass, making them incapable of riding, and set out to scour Blackwater to locate his wife.
In total, forty-eight men dressed in leather, packing enough weapons between them to stock a small battalion, riding loud chrome horses, converge on downtown Blackwater to locate ONE wayward female. Let’s just say Ronald, the night manager of the 24/7 gas station on the outskirts of town, almost had a massive coronary when his parking lot was filled with angry, confrontational bikers, past midnight on a weekday.
Lou, being dressed in only a pair of sweats, a tank top that barely covered her baby bump, at five months pregnant she was still only little, thank God, and a pair of flip flops nearly ‘shit herself.’ Her words not mine. She promptly dropped the jar of pickles she was holding on the floor, smashing it and burst into tears of mourning for her lost snack when they pulled in. Emotional pregnant women aren’t high on any man’s list of desirable people to deal with, so on seeing Lou was indeed safe, forty seven bikes pulled out of the parking lot, going on about the rest of their night. This left poor Steel to deal with his hysterically crying wife.
After receiving a fear driven lecture from Steel, Lou pouted until he bought her six jars of pickles, packed her safely back into the truck, sending her home immediately, following closely to make sure his runaway wife made it directly home.
The moral of the story isn’t that you should leave a note, text your man your whereabouts, or wake him before you leave. No. The moral of the story is when you forget to do all of those things, misjudge the impact of your actions, or make a decision that these men don’t agree with, be prepared to feel not only your man’s wrath, but for him to come with the backup of his club, too.
Doesn’t sound too bad right? WRONG! So very, very, wrong.
These men are like fucking steamrollers. They will literally bulldoze you until you comply with their wishes. If you don’t, they run right over the top of you, and make you do what they want, anyway. Kendall informed me the only way around it, well the only way she’s found so far, is to be mindful of their reactions, weigh up the consequences of doing whatever it is you intend to do, and then do it, anyway. Just make sure you do it when they’re not watching.
By the looks of it, Cage and Steel’s go to punishments for their women not following their rules is not really a deterrent, anyhow. Personally, sexually explicit consequences enforced by Nate would actually be a motivator not a detractor.
As I said, it isn’t that I don’t want to move in with Nate and Kellen. It also isn’t that I don’t agree that I’m most definitely his woman. Not at all. My sole issue lay with his decree it be done. He is leaving me no choice in the matter. Nate should know by now, I don’t react well to being told what to do. Needless to say, my handsome, sexy biker does not give one single fuck and lays down the law, anyway.
What started out as me nicely trying to explain that I have every intention of moving in with them and wearing his property patch, squee, yes, I did jump around like a school kid clapping my hands and all, when he asked, ends with me screaming at him that he isn’t the boss of me. I’ll concede that this isn’t my finest moment. Possibly even one of the more childish ones I’ve ever had. Not that I think those words will actually work or sway the argument in my favour, but I feel they need to be said. Nate finished it, though. In reality, I love the way he chose to finish it, too. I would never admit that to him. His ego is too big already.
When I stomp my foot, yelling my childish comment at him, we are in the bathroom after just finishing a very long, very intimate shower. Which only ends because the water has gone ice cold and my teeth begin chattering. I’ll give the man this; he’s fucking smart, starting the conversation about my living arrangements in the bathroom where I’m effectively trapped. There aren’t any heavy or moveable objects I can throw at him, other than the toothbrushes or toothpaste. I don’t think they’re going to cut it with the mood I’m in. With a smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow, Nate waits patiently for me to finish ranting at him. In an instant, he has me pushed against the door with his muscled, naked, still wet thigh between my legs, swiftly silencing any further protests.
Now, at this point I have to interject, and ask; when a man like Nate, who is a few inches over six foot tall, somewhere around two hundred and twenty pounds of deliciously ripped muscle, covered in tattoos, with a pierced cock the size of King Kong’s arm, has you pinned against a door while you’re both wet with nothing but a towel, mine, separating you what would you do?
I’ll answer for you. You’d do exactly the same thing I did. You give in. You would proceed to whore moan, the likes of which you think only exist in porn movies, beg for him to fuck you, and then readily agree to anything he asks in order to get off. Before you say it, NO. Pleading sexual coercion after t
he fact is NOT a valid excuse for agreeing to his demands. Later that night, after we put Kellen to bed, assuring ourselves that he is definitely out cold, Nate shows me exactly what he will do if I try to use the above excuse to renege on his requests. They are actually demands, but who’s worried about the specifics, right? Clearly, not Nate.
Having my hands tied to the headboard, my face down on the mattress, with my bare ass in the air, receiving a spanking from an alpha male that refuses to take no for an answer, most definitely cures me of all my illusions. I have to say again, not a motivator to ‘Obey.’ His choice of word, not mine. I want to kick him in the balls for using it, too. If I’m being honest, I decide right then and there, I will do my damnedest to disagree with him as often as humanly possible.
Reuniting with Kellen has been, I’m trying to find an appropriate word for what it is. Humbling is the best fit, I think.
When he arrives home from Kendall’s to see me sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee, Kellen launches himself into my arms; holding on for dear life. I look over his shoulder and see Nate leaning against the doorframe with a content smile on his face. I think at that point that life doesn’t get much better than this.
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