by Erin Osborne
Pulling myself from my memories, I see I’m standing outside of Blazing Ink. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and turn to face the door to the shop. I walk on shaking legs into the parlor and paste a fake as hell smile on my face. My eyes adjust to the interior's dimness, and I find my eyes glued to the magnificent form of Tags. Our eyes never waver as he takes in my appearance.
Tags is a large man standing well over six-feet tall. His head is shaved while he has a beard that’s light brown. Eyes the color of warm chocolate take in my appearance and narrow as he looks at my clothing. The weird thing about Tags is even though he’s a tattoo artist, he’s got no visible tattoos showing on his body. There is the club tat on his back and his thick tree trunk like legs are covered in ink. One leg is covered in black and gray tats while the other is covered in color. I’ve never had a chance to explore them in depth while we’ve been together. We’ve always spent our naked time enjoying one another, but he cuts me off when I go to explore his body. Tags won’t give me a reason for doing it either.
“Vic, are you sure you’re ready to work today?” Tags asks me, walking closer to my body.
The second he smells the alcohol on me, Tags steps back. He waves the air in front of his body and lets his gaze peruse my body once again. When his eyes get to the bottom of my skirt, I see the shift in his gaze. He’s turned on by seeing so much of my legs bared to him and everyone else I happen to see today. Unfortunately, Tags isn’t going to let the influence of my naked flesh sway his mind this time. This time, we’re talking about his business and he’s always serious as hell when it comes to that.
“I don’t think today is the day for you to start,” Tags informs me. “Maybe we should try to do this another day.”
“Tags, there’s nothing wrong with me,” I retort, sticking my hip out and placing my hand on it.
“You’re drunk. If you didn’t drink this mornin’, you’re still drunk from last night. When you got into town and we moved your shit in, you pulled out a bottle and it was half gone in the time we got your shit upstairs,” he states. “I don’t know what the fuck is goin’ on with you. Take today and figure it the fuck out.”
“You can’t fucking do this to me, Tags. I didn’t drink this morning. Yeah, I drank a little too much last night. It’s not a big deal and nothing is going on. I’m not your problem to figure out, Tags,” I shout at the man standing in front of me.
“Never said you were a project I needed to work on. I’m sayin’ you’re not gonna work in my shop today. Come back tomorrow,” he restates as he walks until his body is pressed against mine.
Immediately my body responds to the closeness of his. I’m already getting wet and my nipples are poking through the shirt I’m wearing. Since I’m not wearing a bra, I’m sure Tags can see how hard they are. Instead of kissing me or pulling my body against his, Tags turns my body and places his hand on my lower back. He pushes me gently through the door. Once I’m outside, he looks at me with pain filling his eyes. Tags wants to know what’s bothering me to the point I need to drink, and I won’t confide in him. I won’t let him in on how much I’m drinking either.
“Fine, Tags. I can the damn hint. You don’t want me here; I won’t be here. Who knows, maybe I won’t show up tomorrow either,” I spew at Tags as he just stands there staring at me with a new emotion filling his eyes; distrust and shame.
Turning around, I almost fall on my ass. Tags jumps to help me get steady. Instead of accepting his help, I pull from his arms and collapse against the windows in his shop. He shakes his head at me while crossing his massive arms over his chest. I close my eyes, so I don’t have to see the pitiful look in his eyes. It’s the same look I see when I look at myself in the mirror on a daily basis. Well, what used to be a daily basis. Now, I try to avoid the mirror as much as possible.
Getting my bearings finally, I walk away from the tattoo parlor and back toward my apartment. Well, I guess it’s my brothers’ apartment because they’re the ones who paid for it. They’re going to keep paying for it until I’m back on my feet and ready to take over the bills from them. Just one more reason I’m nothing more than a fucking joke and my life means absolutely nothing.
I’m twenty-one years old and my older brothers have to take care of me. First, our parents were paying for me to go to college to get my degree in business. I wanted to be my own boss and open something the town I lived in needed. Then, I met Scott and when we moved in together, he paid for everything and wasn’t allowed to get a job. He convinced me the only thing I needed to concentrate on was going to school and getting my degree.
After leaving Scott’s house, I got a job bartending. I was allowed to drink while working if the customers bought me a drink. I firmly believe that’s what started me drinking so much. That’s when I found drinking numbed the constant pain. I could laugh and act like I was having a good time. My mind forgot about the baby and the shit Scott was doing to me.
His friends came into the bar I was working at several times a week and would tell everyone how I couldn’t carry a baby, I was shit as a girlfriend, and there’s nothing for anyone in the place to flirt with. They would assume every single guy talking to me was someone I was fucking. In reality, I hadn’t had sex until Tags started coming around. He’s the only man I’ve been with other than Scott.
Tags came in the bar once and when Scott’s friends ran their mouths, he set them straight. He was obviously wearing his cut, which scared the shit out of Scott’s friends. They’re nothing except a bunch of pussies who follow Scott. That’s what they’ll always be.
When I get back to my apartment, I pull my keys out and open the door. A wicked stench hits me as I walk inside. Holding my breath, I walk to the freezer and pull out my bottle of vodka. Without worrying about a glass, I remove the cap and drink it straight from the brand-new bottle. I relish the burning feeling going down my throat and resting in my stomach. My stomach is empty as always because I can’t find it in me to eat anything.
Walking to the couch, I push the papers, boxes, and trash from the sofa onto the floor. Instead of caring about the bigger mess I’m creating, I sink down into the cushions. I let myself be sucked in while continuing to tip the bottle up to my lips and swallow my pain away. This is my life now and I shouldn’t have bothered to come to Willow Creek. Now, I have to walk on eggshells and keep my drinking under control before my brothers start asking me questions and butt into my life even more than they’re already trying to.
Chapter Two
Tags
VICTORIA HAS BEEN on my mind constantly for months. Since the first time she let me into her body and life. I know she’s got major shit going on; something pulling her into the darkness I’ve seen in my own life more than once. My Mom became an alcoholic once my Dad left her. Nothing else, including me, mattered to her. It was only about her drinking until she found drugs. Drinking and drugs ultimately killed her because she stopped eating or taking care of herself.
That’s the same thing I’m watching Vicky go through now. When we first started sleeping together, she had more curves than the women I see at the clubhouse. Her tits were more than a handful for me, and Vicky had a body made for pounding into. Now, she’s nothing except for skin and bones. I didn’t really notice until she came in for her first day of work. The shirt she was wearing hung from her body and showcased her collarbone sticking out further than it should. Her legs were smaller than I’ve ever seen them. They could barely support her weight as she wobbled into the shop.
I watched her walk away from me, lost in her own misery and personal hell. Part of me wanted to rush to her and make her spill all of her secrets. Instead, I stood on the sidewalk and did nothing. When Torch and Pyro came in to see her, I had to make up and excuse about why she wasn’t here.
“Where’s Vic?” Torch asks, walking in the shop and searching it as if I were hiding her.
“She went home. Got here and wasn’t in any shape to work,” I lie, trying to protect her.
&nbs
p; “Let’s go check on her,” Pyro says, turning to leave the shop.
“I would wait,” I call out, trying to stall them. “She was goin’ home to take a nap. See if that would calm her stomach down some. Said she didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Torch looks at me as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying to them. I don’t know if this is the right move to make in this instance. Until I know what’s going on with Victoria, I have to protect her. She’s the only woman I want to protect and make mine. I’m not sure when it happened— when our situation went from just fucking to me caring about her more than I should. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone other than the members of Blazing Outlaws. Now, I’m betraying two of my brothers by lying about their sister.
“Are you sure that’s all that’s goin’ on with her?” Torch questions me. “Or are you hidin’ shit?”
“I’m not hidin’ anythin’. I don’t know what made her sick, but she’s not feelin’ good,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest because I feel like he’s getting ready to attack me.
“If she’s not here when I get back from my run so I can finally lay eyes on my baby sister, you’re gonna have to answer about your lies,” he states, not leaving any room for me to say anything else to him.
Nodding my head, I watch as the brothers storm out of the shop. They’re not going to listen to me, Torch is stubborn as hell. He’ll make his way to Vicky’s apartment and see what I saw for the few minutes she was here. Pulling my phone out, I send a message to her, letting her know to expect her brothers.
It’s now been two days since I last saw Vicky. She hasn’t shown up to work. When I’ve gone by her apartment, she hasn’t answered the door either. Nothing new there. Vicky hasn’t answered the door to anyone since she got back into town. Today, I open the shop up and don’t expect her to show up again. I’ll have to hire a new office girl so I can stop worrying about the front desk.
As I turn on the computer, the bell above the shop door rings. Looking up, I see Victoria standing there. She’s shifting from one foot to the other as she stares at me. Her eyes are bloodshot. When I go to open my mouth, she holds her hand up to stop me.
“I’m sorry for the other day. It’s been a rough couple of months. I’ll do better,” she says, not fully looking me in the eyes as she speaks.
“Vic, you know I care about you. More than I ever thought possible. I see you headin’ down a dangerous path. You don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. Torch and Pyro aren’t me. They’re not gonna accept you hidin’ out on them and not talkin’ to them. Until you’re ready for help, there’s nothin’ I can do for you. So, sit down, answer the phone, and make sure you take the payments for work bein’ done. Can you handle that?” I question her, keeping my voice harsh because I can’t let her in further.
If I keep pretending there’s nothing wrong with Vic, then I’m just enabling her. I’ve been there before with my Mom and I won’t do it again. This time, I’d rather take myself out of the situation permanently no matter how I feel about her. It’s going to hurt like a bitch. I won’t watch her destroy herself. It will kill me to watch her go through the same shit my mother did. Victoria is on a dark and dangerous path. Torch and Pyro will find out before too long and they’ll deal with it. At least that’s my hope.
“I can handle that,” Vic finally murmurs, walking into the shop so she can sit down at the desk.
She’s already been through the program and knows how everything works. Hopefully she remembers what she learned. Otherwise, I’ll have to talk to her brothers sooner rather than later. That’s not a conversation I want to have with them. Ever. It’s bad enough I’ve been lying to them for months about seeing her behind their back.
Victoria is off limits simply because she’s the sister of not only one member, but of two members. She’s family of the club because of her brothers. The first time I saw her, she captured my attention and I haven’t thought of anyone else since then. No one has come near my cock even when it’s been weeks between times that I’ve seen her. Now, she’s going to push me away along with everyone else.
Today has been crazy. I’ve been busy as hell with scheduled clients along with walk-ins. I wanted to watch Victoria to see how she was doing through the day, I just didn’t have a chance to do so. We’ll see tomorrow when Hollie comes in to balance the drawer and take the books from me. The guys have been dropping them off to me throughout the day so she can stop in one shop to grab them. She doesn’t want to go to the strip club, none of us blame her after what she’s been through.
I noticed Vicky’s car wasn’t outside when I took a break earlier, so I’m going to take her home whether she likes it or not. My hope is I can get inside and see how bad she’s gotten into her self-destruction. Walking out of my room where I tattoo, I see Vicky closing up the shop. She’s got the computer off, the door is locked, and she’s grabbing her purse from under the desk.
“Ready to go?” I question her, leaning against the wall.
“Yeah,” she responds.
“Takin’ you home tonight,” I inform her, grabbing her hand and walking toward the back door.
“You don’t need to do that,” she stutters, trying to pull from me.
“Not gonna happen,” I order. “You’re on my bike and I’m takin’ you home. Not gettin’ out of it.”
Victoria drags her heels as we walk through the door. I stop long enough to listen for the alarm to set. Again, Vicky tries to pull away from me. Holding her hand tighter, I wait for her to offer me another excuse about me not going to her place. We head to my bike and I pause long enough to put my helmet on her head before locking the strap in place. Straddling my bike, I hold out my hand for her to get on behind me. Once she’s in place with her thighs on either side of me and her arms wrapped tight around me, I take a minute to savor the feeling of her body pressed close to my own.
“Ready?” I question her, not waiting for her to answer as I start the bike.
It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to get from the shop to her apartment on my bike. When I pull in behind the building, I shut my bike off. Victoria gets off the bike and removes the helmet from her head. When she hands it back to me, I place it on the handlebars and get off behind her.
“Um, what are you doing?” she questions me.
“Walkin’ upstairs with you. Why can’t I come in?” I turn around on her.
“Oh, um, no reason,” she responds, turning away from me and rushing toward the stairs.
I follow her at a slower pace, making sure no one is hanging around that shouldn’t be. When I get to the top of the stairs, she’s already in the door and waiting to shut it in my face. That’s not gonna happen.
Pushing my way past her, I step in the apartment and a foul smell hits me head on. Looking around, I see the pizza box sitting on the counter, her boxes are still packed and all over the apartment. Empty liquor bottles fill the floor, counter, sink, and every other available surface. This is so much worse than I thought it’d be. Victoria is so lost in something tragic she can’t see a way out. It’s the same way my mother was. I just wish she trusted me enough to confide in me.
“Sorry about the mess. It’s been a rough two weeks,” she informs me, not meeting my eyes.
Turning to look at her, Vicky is sitting on the couch. She’s half asleep with her eyes closed and her bag still across her body. There’s no point in talking to her because in less than a minute, she’ll be passed the hell out for a little while at least. It all depends on how long it’s been since she actually slept.
Pulling out my phone, I message a Prospect to grab me some cleaning supplies. I’m not sure what she has, but I want all brand-new shit to make her place shine and possibly feel like a home for her. Once that’s done, I find a garbage bag to begin cleaning up the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I pull out all of the takeout containers and stuff them in the bag. That’s literally the only food in the refrigerator so I know it’s been a while since Vicky
has eaten. When the Prospect gets here, I’ll send him to get groceries for her place.
I slide my cut off and lay it across the back of a chair. My shirt is next as I lay it on top of my cut. I’m not going to get hot as fuck while cleaning this place up. By the time the Prospect shows up, I’ve cleaned up all the empty bottles and the rest of the garbage. It’s all been carted to the dumpster so no one else sees her secret. As I unpack the boxes marked for the kitchen, I lay the dishes on the counter so they can be washed. That’s something the Prospect will be doing for me.
There’s a knock on the door. Looking at Vicky on the couch, she doesn’t even stir. Opening the door, I see Larson. He’s a new Prospect for the club and eager to earn his patch. Even though he still has just under a year to go in his prospecting period. Whenever anything needs to be done, he’s the first one to volunteer. That will fade as time goes on, for now, I’ll take it.
“Get in here,” I tell him, opening the door wider. “Need your help.”
Larson gets inside and I point to the dishes stacked on the counter. He places the bags on the floor while rolling up his sleeves to get started on the dishes. Before starting, he pulls out sponges and dish soap, setting the items on the counter. While he’s doing the dishes, I move around the rest of the living room picking up things and unpacking boxes.
When Vicky stirs on the couch, I lift her and carry her to the bedroom. Her bed is covered in clothes and shoes. Laying her on one corner of the bed, I push everything to the floor for now. There are no blankets on the bed, so I find one in a box and place it on her. Unfortunately, I don’t find any pillows, so she’ll have to make do without one. Grabbing an armload of clothes on my way out, I toss them in the washing machine. Larson got detergent while he was at the store, so once that’s added, I move on to the next task.
Larson and I work nonstop until his yawns are becoming non-stop. He’s been right there with me from the second he stepped through the door. Other than getting groceries and making us something to eat, Larson hasn’t stopped busting his ass.
