Capturing Cree (Kings Reapers MC Book 2)

by Nicola Jane

  “Most people are these days.”

  “We’re talking about underground stuff. Dark stuff.”

  “Fuck, Riggs, spit it out. I’m tired and my bed is calling,” I snap.

  “Use your imagination,” says Riggs. “Think sex, girls, unwilling girls.”

  I sit up slightly, intrigued. “Eva mentioned he invited her to some kind of sex club.”

  “I’m not sure this is the kinda place you’d invite someone for a quick fuck, Cree. He wouldn’t be inviting her—he’d be forcing her.”

  “Well, it’s damn lucky she kicked him in the balls then.” I stand and place my glass on his desk. “We’ll go over this tomorrow. I’ve not slept well in days, and for once, I feel tired. I’m gonna take that as a good sign. I’m seeing the shrink first thing tomorrow, so I’ll meet with you after that.”

  I get a good three hours sleep and then go for a run to work off the energy that I seem to have in abundance lately. I shower and then head off for my shrink appointment.

  Doctor Eleanor Chapman is sitting with her legs tucked under her and her usual notepad resting in her lap. She always looks relaxed and comfortable. This time, instead of pacing, I take a seat, and she arches her brow but chooses not to comment. “I don’t like being touched,” I begin. “And I want to be touched. So how do I make that happen?”

  Chapman chews on her pen, her expression thoughtful. “In what way don’t you like being touched?”

  I shrug. “I dunno. I just avoid it whenever possible.”

  “Give an example.”

  I huff and let my head fall back before levelling her with a hard stare. It doesn’t faze her. She doesn’t care if her probing questions annoy me. “I won’t let women touch me. Like my chest and shit.”

  “You don’t like intimacy? Can they touch you while kissing?”

  “I don’t kiss,” I mutter. Apart from last night with Eva, but I don’t mention that. Before her, I hadn’t kissed anyone. Ever. “I have sex, but I tie women up or hold their hands so they can’t touch me.”

  She makes some notes, and then, without looking up, she says, “Thinking back to when you were younger, do you remember your parents hugging you, kissing you, usual parental love? Was your mum maternal?”

  Images of my mum passed out on the floor fill my head and I close my eyes briefly. “Not really. Not that I remember.”

  “Mum and dad, or just mum, just dad?” she probes.

  “Mum.”

  “Do you still see her now that you’re an adult?”

  I shake my head and she waits patiently for me to elaborate. “She’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How old were you when she died?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “You grew up in care?”

  I shake my head again and her brow furrows. “I stayed in the house. Grew up by myself.”

  “How?”

  “My story was all over the news when I hit sixteen.” I take a deep breath and she gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Elijah, you can talk to me. It won’t ever leave this room. I’m bound by client confidentiality, and the only time I am at liberty to break that is if I become concerned for your safety or the safety of those around you. And even then, I don’t have to divulge the details.”

  “Like I said, it was all over the news. The social services and the local council where I grew up were sued on my behalf. I mean, I didn’t want any money or a fucked up, half-hearted apology, but the lawyers said that’s what I deserved.” I run my hand over my head. “When my mum was found dead, no one checked on me. My mum’s pimp told cops he was my dad. They passed it to Social Services to check out and they didn’t. They were busy and they didn’t give a fuck as long as someone was claiming responsibility for me.”

  “So, you lived with your mum’s boyfriend?”

  “No, I lived in my mum’s house. I paid the rent each month and no one checked. I managed. I’d had to for years before she died.”

  “What did you do for money?”

  “Whatever I had to—sex, drugs.” I shrug my shoulders. “Mum’s pimp told the school I was moving to another school. Instead, I became a dealer for him.”

  “And you had sex for money?” she asks, writing down her notes. I nod my head.

  “Just like her,” I add, and she looks up. “My mum. She was a prostitute, he was her pimp, and when she died, he saw an opportunity to carry on making money.” We fall silent. This is the most I’ve talked, probably to anyone. Eventually, she closes her notebook.

  “How old were you when you first had sex?”

  I smirk at the memory of fourteen-year-old Sarah Lees. “I was eleven. It was in the school field during a P.E lesson.”

  “A good experience?” she asks, and I nod. I was just a kid and so was she, but apart from the awkwardness, it wasn’t a bad experience. Every boy in my year group wanted to have sex with Sarah.

  “When was your first bad experience?”

  I think over the question. “I don’t think I’ve had a bad one. I don’t enjoy it. I never have. I remember women, like adults, and having sex with them after Mum died. I didn’t want to, but it was an urge and I knew I needed the money.”

  “You still don’t enjoy sex? In the last session, you said you had sex to help you sleep?”

  “Yeah. As I said, I get an urge. I don’t like the women I fuck,” I mutter. “I’ve never had sex with anyone that I actually wanted to since my first”

  “Have you tried to have sex with someone you like?” she asks thoughtfully.

  I shake my head. “I avoid it. I don’t like talking, especially to women I like.”

  “Maybe you should try. There must be someone you like in your life, someone who’s caught your eye and you could talk to? Try small talk.”

  I laugh and shake my head. The last time I tried small talk, it led to me kissing Eva. “I’m not sure that would work out well.”

  “Try. Before you come back next week. Try and talk to a woman you like the look of. We can go from there. I think that maybe you associate sex and touching with those unwanted experiences before. Move away from sex with women you don’t like.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I say. I check my watch. “Time’s up,” I say, standing.

  “I’m supposed to tell you when the clock runs out, yet you’re always eagerly waiting to run the hell outta here.” She smiles. “You did really well today, Elijah. I think we might be getting somewhere.”

  I don’t see how telling this shrink all my shit will help, but whatever.

  Chapter Five

  Eva

  “You did what?” screeches Anna.

  Kyle clinks his wine glass against my own. “Good for you,” he says with a grin.

  “I’m so tired of men looking at me like I’m a desperate fuck. I must ooze a scent that tells men I’m easy and undatable. Am I just good for a quick fuck?”

  “No,” chorus Anna and Kyle.

  “Then why can’t I find a nice man who wants to date me and sweep me off my feet?”

  “Come on, Eva. I hate seeing you like this.” Anna sighs, rubbing her hand over mine. “I thought you didn’t need a man.”

  “I don’t, but I want one. There’s a difference.”

  “Your prince is out there somewhere, Cinders,” says Kyle.

  I look around the slim pickings in the Copper Trap bar, where we decided to meet for a few drinks. Trying to find my prince will never happen if I keep drinking in these local hovels. “Do you think Lake is in The Windsor?” I ask. The Kings Reapers own the bar and are usually there.

  “That’s not a good idea,” says Anna. “Besides, I’m not speaking to Riggs.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” asks Kyle.

  “No, not really. I want a baby.” We both gasp like she’s lost her mind. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve not been with him very long, granted, but I think it’s the right time and now that he’s claimed me as his ol’ lady, what’s the point in waiting? He’s vowed to sp
end forever with me.”

  “I think you need a talk with Esther,” I say. My mum is good at talking sense and Anna needs a good talking to if she thinks now is the right time to have a baby. “What are you rushing for? You scared he’ll change his mind?”

  Anna shrugs her shoulders. “I love the club. I love being there,” she mutters.

  “And you feel like you need a reason to stay there? To keep him?” asks Kyle and she nods.

  “Christ, Anna, what’s got into you?” I hiss. “You wanna try and trap him? What are you, a teenager?”

  “No,” she snaps defensively. “I love him.”

  “So, wait. He wants to wait, and you should respect that. I’m totally telling Esther tomorrow,” I add as I stand. “Let’s go to The Windsor before I bitch slap you.”

  I stand in the doorway of The Windsor and survey the room. There’s no sign of Lake, so I turn to head back out and crash into a hard chest. I know that smell—cigarettes, oil, and a hint of bourbon. I suck in a breath and look up into the eyes of Cree.

  “Back that way,” he mutters, turning me around and gently guiding me through the throngs of bikers. We stop at a table for two at the back of the room. “Sit.” I take a seat and Cree sits opposite me. He clasps his hands together, staring down at them. A few minutes pass before I flop back in my seat and sigh loudly. He looks up and frowns like he’s surprised I’m sitting here. “Show me,” he mutters.

  “Show you what?” I ask coldly. “And if you say something crude, I will kick your ass.”

  “How to be so . . . ” He puffs out a breath of air and waves his hand around in a circle in front of me. “You.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but if it’s another insult, then you can fu—”

  He cuts me off by slamming his hand on the table. I blink at him a few times, pressing my lips closed in shock.

  “Do you ever stop talking?” he asks. He brushes his hand over his face. “I see a shrink.”

  “Okayyy,” I say, dragging the word out.

  “She told me I had to try and talk to . . . ” He pauses. “Women.”

  “Michelle is a great talker,” I say sarcastically. “Run along to your mistress.”

  “You make everything such hard work,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You have an answer for everything. You piss me off all the goddamn time, and the only time you were quiet for more than a fuckin’ second was when I stuck my tongue down your throat.”

  I widen my eyes at his sudden outburst. “Seems you have no problem talking.”

  “I’m going to spend the day with you tomorrow. I’m going to talk to you. You’re gonna show me how to be normal.”

  I frown. “Why me?”

  “Because you annoy me the most, Sprinkles,” he says, and I frown at the odd nickname. “They’re annoying little candy bits that spill everywhere and make a mess. Crazy little fuckers that brighten shit up.” He mutters the explanation as he stands, scraping his chair back. I bite on my lip to hide the smile on my face. I think that might be the nicest thing Elijah Cree has ever said to me.

  I join Anna and Kyle at the bar. Riggs is standing at Anna’s side, growling words into her ear, and she stands with her head down, listening. When she tries to speak, he puts a finger up to hush her and I smile to myself. It takes a brave man to shut Anna up.

  “What did the beast want?” asks Kyle. I glance over to Cree, who is staring at me unashamedly.

  “My help,” I say.

  I wake to a bang and sit up looking around for the source of the noise. It’s only nine in the morning. The banging gets louder and I realise it’s knocking at the front door. I groan as I grab Cree’s shirt, pull it on, and head downstairs.

  Cree stands before me at the door, looking freshly showered and smelling amazing. He holds up a brown paper bag and two takeout cups of coffee. “Breakfast,” he says, and I open the door wider.

  “It’s early,” I mutter and yawn.

  “Not when you’ve been up since four,” he says, handing me a coffee.

  “So, what do you want to do today?” I ask.

  “What do you usually do on a Sunday?”

  “Watch a film. Laze around. I have dinner with my mum.”

  “Right, well, let’s just do that.”

  I stare for a second. “You just wanna hang out here?”

  “I’ve never done it before, so yeah,” he says. “I don’t know the last time I watched a film.”

  “You get weirder by the second,” I mutter. “I’ll get dressed.”

  Cree eyes the shirt and shakes his head. “No, I like that shirt on you.” I don’t understand him when he’s nice like this. It confuses me.

  I choose the film Top Gun, mainly because Cree doesn’t know what sort of films he likes. He stares at the screen from start to finish, completely wrapped up in the story. When I try to ask him a question, he shushes me. The credits roll and he turns to me. “I liked that,” he said.

  “It’s been out for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it. Don’t you like watching films?”

  “I just never thought about it. I’m always doing something.”

  “Everyone should relax and have some chill time. Didn’t you ever have a girlfriend who just wanted to cuddle up and watch something?” He shakes his head. “Wow,” I add. “Let’s try something else.”

  We’re ten minutes into Pretty Woman when he turns the television off. “I don’t like that,” he mutters. “It’s not real. Prostitutes don’t look or act like that,” he adds.

  “It’s just a film. It’s romance in the end. She falls in love with Richard Gere.”

  “Exactly, bullshit.”

  I shrug. “Fine. I’ll get dressed and then we’ll take a walk over to my mum’s. She cooks a mean roast dinner.”

  Mum cooks enough food for an army, so she doesn’t look fazed when I turn up with Cree. I take my usual spot at the breakfast bar and motion for Cree to do the same. Mum goes straight into details about her friend Annie, who lost her cat. It’s a pointless story, but she loves to chat and I love to hear her. When I was a kid, I’d sit in this exact spot and she’d tell me other stories. I didn’t care as long as I heard her voice. “You like chicken, Cree?” she asks. He nods his head. “Good. You look like the kind of man who eats meat.” I snigger. “Big and strong,” she carries on.

  “Mum, you sound like you’re hitting on him. Stop.” I wail with laughter.

  She blushes. “I’m being friendly.”

  “You’re flirting.” We all laugh.

  “When Evalyn was little, she sat there and listened to me chat while I cooked dinner,” she tells Cree.

  “She talks a lot,” I say playfully.

  “You’re a good listener,” she says and smiles. “So how come you two are hanging out today?”

  “Cree wants to lighten up,” I say, and he scowls at me. “I’m the happiest person he knows,” I add proudly. “So, he begged me to hang out and show him how to be bright and colourful.”

  “It’s not what I said,” he grumbles, and I laugh again.

  “Take him around the area,” suggests Mum. “You could show him where you had your first kiss with . . . what’s his name again?” She thinks for a second before continuing. “Oh, I remember—Tommy. Oh, and go to the community centre. Introduce him to the kids there.” I’m already shaking my head. “Yes, he’ll love it there,” she insists.

  “Mum, he doesn’t wanna meet the kids.” She really doesn’t know him well despite staying at the clubhouse for those few weeks.

  “I wanna meet the kids,” Cree says, his eyes sparkling. So, after lunch, that’s where we head—to the community centre where I volunteer.

  Cree

  Eva is swept up in hugs. A few teenage girls are delighted at her arrival, and I watch on from beside her. A teenage boy, probably around twelve, heads over and fist bumps Eva. A well-built man steps from an office, then smiles wide when he spots her and heads our way. His dark skin is littered with tattoos and his d
readlocks swing idly as he shakes hands with us both.

  “Marcus, this is Cree,” she introduces me.

  “I know him,” says Marcus. “I know the club at least,” he corrects. “Riggs puts money into this place. I wasn’t expecting you today, Eva.”

  “I’m just showing Cree around.” She shrugs. “I’ll be in after work tomorrow as normal. Everyone okay?”

  He nods and looks around the room at the groups of teenagers. “Emily is a little quiet. Not sure what’s going on, but she won’t talk to me.” That name is known to me, and as I look around, my eyes connect to the dull grey eyes of the only Emily I know. She sees me and runs over excitedly. She throws herself into my arms and I feel the eyes of Marcus and Eva burning into me with questions of how I know this girl. Emily remembers that I don’t like physical contact and quickly untangles herself from me, apologising.

  “This is him, Eva. How did you know?” asks Emily as Eva stares at her blankly. “The guy I told you about—Eli. He helped me.”

  Eva’s mouth opens and closes, and then she croaks out a sound similar to a frog. “Oh.”

  “I’m so happy to see you. I tried to call, but my phone got cut off and—” Emily is blabbering as she points to a table. “Coffee?” she asks and I nod, following her. I haven’t seen Emily for a couple of weeks. I never told the police about her, well, not her identity because she didn’t want anyone knowing. But since we met, I’ve grown to like the kid.

  “My dad was so grateful for the money,” she says, and I glance around the place. Eva is talking with Marcus and I’m relieved because everything coming out of Emily’s mouth sounds dodgy.

  “How have you been?” I ask.

  “Good. Really good,” she says with a smile. “Thanks to you.”

  “Happy to help,” I mutter. We drink our coffee and she tells me what she’s been up to. Eventually, Eva heads over.

  “Ready?” Eva asks. I nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emily.”

  “Will you come back, Eli?” she asks hopefully.