by Bella Jewel
“You two need to fuckin’ back down. We got shit goin’ down and your heads need to be in the game,” Granger barks, stepping in between us.
“Fuckin’ hearin’ ya, Granger,” Cade growls.
“Yeah, me too,” I hiss.
“Well, then you two need to fuckin’ stop bangin’ heads and maybe try puttin’ them together. We need to figure out how to approach Hogan and his gang lookin’ for drugs. If they get suspicious, fuck, if they even come close to getting suspicious, we’re fucked.”
“That’s why we’re sendin’ Cade’s boy in,” I say, taking a long pull of my cigarette.
“You found out how to contact him yet?” Granger asks.
“No, that’s where Cade’s guy comes in. We found some links to Hogan. Cade’s boy is going to approach him, lookin’ for the crack Hogan sells. He’ll get through eventually, and when he does, he’ll give us a location.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
I step up to Granger. “It’ll fuckin’ work.”
“You got protection for your girl while this shit is goin’ down?”
I flinch, and I see Cade’s eyes flare. Fuckin’ fuck. Cade doesn’t know about Ciara and I.
“No,” I grind out, “haven’t done that yet.”
“What girl?” Cade asks, his voice icy.
“That Ciara chick,” Granger says, completely unaware that he is digging my fuckin’ grave.
“What?” Cade snarls.
“None of your business, Cade,” I say, giving him a look filled with warning.
He’s in front of me before I can blink. His large hands wrap around my throat, and he squeezes. All the air leaves my lungs and I struggle to pull anymore in. The cigarette in my fingers drops to the ground.
“You piece of motherfuckin’ shit, you stay the fuck away from Ciara. She ain’t gonna end up some whore on your belt. She’s better than that, and fuck, she’s better than you. I won’t let you kill another woman because of your motherfuckin’ stupid mistakes.”
I deck him.
Hard.
My fist swings up, and hits him so hard in the jaw his head swings sideways. An almighty crack fills the area, and blood spurts from Cade’s lip. His hands leave my throat, and his fist finds my eye, which splits, and blood pours down my face. My head throbs and I roar in pain, gripping my face. I turn, lunging at Cade.
Granger jumps between us, and pulls out his gun, pointing it toward me. I skid to a halt and my eyes flare as I pant with anger, desperate to get my hands on Cade.
“Fuckin’ back down, Prez. Ain’t worth this shit. Walk away.”
“You fuckin’ piece of shit, Spike,” Cade bellows from behind Granger. “She’s too fuckin’ good for you.”
“She wanted it!” I snarl. “You hear me? She fuckin’ wanted it. She’s been chasin’ me!”
“I’ll fuckin’ gut you!”
Granger spins around, pointing the gun at Cade. “You’re on our territory now, and no one is goin’ to speak to Prez like that. Get on your fuckin’ Harley and leave, Cade. We’ll be in contact.”
Cade, who is panting, knows the rules when it comes to other MCs. His eyes meet mine, and so many things pass between us.
“You fuckin’ stay outta her life, Spike.”
Then he turns and storms out of the compound. I curse, and lift my fingers, swiping the blood from my busted eye. Granger turns to me, tucking his gun in his pants.
“He’s fuckin’ right. Seein’ her is a stupid mistake.”
“Yeah,” I growl, stepping closer and meeting his glare dead on. “Well, it’s my fuckin’ mistake, and I ain’t givin’ it up.”
Then I turn and walk off, leavin’ him standing in the dirt.
Fuck him.
Fuck Cade.
Fuck the lot of them.
~*~*~*~*
PRESENT - CIARA
“Open the fuckin’ door, Ciara!”
I blink, rubbing my eyes. What the hell? I glance at the clock on the wall above the television. It’s about midnight. I fell asleep on the couch after my shift tonight; I didn’t even make it to my bed. Now I have an angry biker at my door.
With a sigh, I slide off the couch and stand on wobbly legs. I walk to the front door and open it, to see a very angry Cade with one hell of a fat lip. His eyes are wild, and his expression tells me that I shouldn’t open my mouth and say a word to him, or I’ll risk getting my head torn clean off.
“Comin’ in,” he growls, shoving past me.
“How nice of you to visit me in the middle of the night,” I mumble, running my fingers through my hair to untangle it.
“Couldn’t find you, looked at the bar, they said you went home. So, I came here.”
“And to what do I owe this delightful visit?”
He spins, glaring at me; I actually take a few steps back.
“You and Spike,” he grates out. “That’s what I’m fuckin’ here for.”
Uh-oh.
“What about us?” I say as casually as possible.
“Don’t you fuckin’ play with me! You’re seein’ him, and you didn’t fuckin’ tell me.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” I point out.
He steps closer, anger rising to a level of no return. “Has everything to do with me. I told you he ain’t right for you, that right now he ain’t in a place to give you what you want, but you got stubborn and didn’t fuckin’ listen to me. He’s bad news, Ciara. He ain’t in a place to give you anything but a good fuck, and that’s all you’re gonna be, Tom Cat, a good time. You really want that? You really wanna be no more than a fuck?”
I want to slap him. I hate him right now. I hate him because he’s right, and I know it. Right now, Spike doesn’t want to give me anything more than a good time. I don’t doubt there’s lingering feelings between us, but I also know it’s not enough to make him see me as anything more than what I am. Cade bringing it up only makes it hurt that much more. It hurts, because for me it goes so much deeper. For me, Spike is my soul. He’s my reason to breathe. He’s what I fight for.
“I love him,” I yell, feeling my voice shake.
Cade’s face drops and he sighs deeply, losing his anger. “Fuck, Tom Cat, when will you see he ain’t ever gonna be what you need?”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper.
He steps forward, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “Do know that, ‘cause I’ve known Spike longer than anyone. He’s not going to break for anyone, or you...”
“How can you possibly know that?” I cry, walking over to the couch and dropping down. My legs are wobbly, and my body is shaking from the inside out.
“I told you, I know Spike and I know how fucked up he is. I was there, Ciara. I was in that car and I saw what it did to him. He ain’t ever gonna move on from Chey’s death, and he ain’t ever gonna be normal again. You need to find yourself a man to fuckin’ love you, not to just fuck you.”
Hot tears fill my eyes, and instead of breaking, I get angry. I’m sick of being second best. Sick of everyone telling me I’ll never compare. I’ll never be her! Fuck her! Fuck her and the rest of them. I look up at Cade, and the tears slide down my cheeks.
“Leave, now.”
His eyes widen a little. “Tom Cat, don’t go kickin’ me out ‘cause of what I said. Only tryin’ to look out for you.”
“I said leave!” I hiss, my voice full of venom.
He flinches. “All right. Ain’t gonna argue with a hurt woman.”
I look away as he walks toward the door. When he gets to it, he turns to me and stares for what seems like forever.
“You know I’m right, Tom Cat. That’s why it hurts so much. When you’re ready to talk to me, you call yeah?”
Then he’s gone.
I get off the couch, swiping angrily at my tears. I walk into the kitchen, open the cupboard, and pull out a full bottle of vodka. I pop the top, and bring it to my lips. The liquid burns so much I choke as it slides down my throat, but I don’t ca
re, I keep drinking. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of the inner fight to be something different, but most of all, I’m tired of always being Cheyenne’s shadow. Even though she’s gone, I still live behind her. Everything that she left behind affects me: Spike, my parents, my entire life...all broken because of her. I lean against the counter, heaving and coughing as I struggle to swallow more vodka. I want the pain gone, just for a fucking minute.
It goes away.
I find myself going through old photos, cursing and giggling all at the same time. I have a severe case of neglected child syndrome, if that’s even a real thing.
I was always the child behind the star - Cheyenne being the star, of course. She was perfect, happy, witty, smart, and everything I wasn’t. People noticed her, and if they didn’t, she made sure they did. More often than not, I lived with it; until she took the one thing I loved the most - Danny.
I come across the picture of the three of us, just before Spike slept with me. It was a party; I think it was the first party where they officially got together. I remember how much it hurt. God, it fucking hurt. Nothing in the world feels worse than loving someone who doesn’t love you back.
“Ciara!”
I flinch, and lift my hazy eyes to the front door. Spike. I don’t move, partly because I’m so drunk and I can’t. I don’t drink often, and it’s really not pretty when I do.
“You in there?” he yells again.
Yes, I’m in here. I’m not going to answer though.
“Fuckin’ hell, open up. I can hear the fuckin’ music.”
I still don’t move.
I hear him shuffling about, then I hear his boots crunching as he moves around to the window. Soon, it’s being lifted and he’s climbing in. I burst out into a fit of giggles, even though it’s really not funny. Someone just climbed through my window, with little to no effort. That’s safe.
Spike spins when he’s on his feet and stares down at me on the floor, clutching my bottle of vodka. He has a busted eye, and he looks like shit, but his eyes soften a touch when he sees what I’m doing—or maybe I just think they do because I’m so drunk. He walks over, his eyes scanning over the photo album in my lap.
“What’re you doin’, Tom Cat?”
“I had a visitor today,” I slur, sloshing my bottle around as I lift it.
“Give me that bottle,” he says, kneeling down in front of me.
I note how good he looks this evening. He’s wearing his leather jacket; fuck, I love that jacket. I love how it looks stretched across his broad back. He’s wearing a navy blue t-shirt underneath it, and I just bet it’s clinging to his hard body. His black jeans are old and ripped, and he has silver chains hanging off them. Fuck him for being so attractive. When he reaches for my bottle, I jerk it away.
“Ah-ah, mine.”
“You’re fuckin’ smashed. Give me the bottle.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” I wave, and the bottle sloshes about. “Cade came to visit me.”
Spike grinds his jaw. “Give me the fuckin’ bottle.”
“Make me,” I giggle.
He lunges forward, gripping the bottle with one hand and the back of my head with the other. I realize when my back hits the floor; he gripped the back of my head to stop it slamming down. His hard body lands on top of mine, and with a grunt, he tries to prop himself up. He manages to get the bottle standing upright beside us, before turning and glaring down at me.
“You fuckin’ finished?”
“Yeah,” I growl sarcastically. “I’m fuckin’ finished.”
“Smart mouthin’ me ain’t gonna save you, Ciara.”
I snort. “What will save me, biker?”
“Tellin’ me why the fuck you’re drunk as twenty men, yellin’ at photos of your sister.”
“Your wife, you mean?”
He flinches, and his face flashes with hurt and rage. “Enough.”
“Why?” I growl, getting in his face. “Why should I stop going on and on about princess Cheyenne?”
“You’re walkin’ a fine line, Ciara. Ain’t a good idea to talk about my dead wife to me right now, and it sure as shit ain’t a good idea to be smart mouthin’ me when I’m already fuckin’ pissed off.”
“I couldn’t care less how pissed off you are,” I snap. “You’re only here to fuck me, right?”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, and just as I think he’s about to, he lifts himself off me. He gets to his feet, leans down and hurls me up.
“Go and have a shower.”
“No,” I growl.
“You’re fuckin’ drunk, angry, and you need to shower and sleep.”
“Don’t tell me what I need!” I yell, shoving at his chest. “You don’t care what I need.”
“Ain’t discussing this with a drunken, rambling girl!”
“You wouldn’t discuss it with me anyway. You’ve already given me the lowdown! You’ll fuck me, keep me around, you won’t share me, but you’ll never fucking give yourself to me, either. I’m no more than an easy fuck you can keep around. Why bother, Spike? Why don’t you just walk away and never speak to me again?”
“I fuckin’ tried!” he yells, stepping close. “I fuckin’ tried, but you insisted on huntin’ me down and tryin’ to make it better. You wanted my forgiveness so you could move on and be happy again. You were the one who wanted to fuckin’ fix somethin’ that couldn’t be fixed!”
“Then why are you here?” I cry, stumbling backwards. “Why bother?”
“We’re not doin’ this now, Ciara,” he growls, his voice low and deep.
“Yes,” I yell. “We are. You won’t speak to me about this, you just keep shoving me away.”
“Nothin’ to fuckin’ talk about!” he hisses. “Past is the fuckin’ past.”
“Then leave, Spike. I’m done talking to you, and I’m sure as shit done trying to help someone who refuses to let me in.”
“Why do you fuckin’ think that is?” he barks.
I cross my arms, and glare at him. “Oh, now you’re going to talk!”
“You fuckin’ stood in that courtroom, and you fuckin’ brought me down with every scathing word. Then you wondered why I fuckin’ hated you—and fuck, Ciara, I did fuckin’ hate you.”
Ouch. That hurts. It hurts far more than I ever imagined it would. I reel back, and my hand presses to my heart. I struggle to fight with the pain inside me, and I struggle to push it aside to let the anger I know is there through. When it finally shows its face, it’s lethal, mean, and no doubt completely uncalled for.
“She was my fucking sister,” I screech. “She had her fucking brains blown out while she was driving YOU to safety. I hated you for that, and I had every right to.”
He jerks and his eyes flare. “You fuckin’ bitch,” he bellows. “You have no fuckin’ idea! I never wanted her in that fuckin’ car. NEVER. I wanted that fuckin’ bullet, and I’ve wanted it every day since. You didn’t stand in that courtroom to defend her, you did it to get back to me.”
I lunge forward, and I hit him so hard in the jaw that his head spins to the side. He growls, gripping my hands and shoving me up against the wall. My head spins, and I struggle to gather my bearings. We’re both panting, both having gone far and beyond normal retaliation. This is it. The moment we’ve needed to have for so many years now.
“I did hate her,” I scream, shaking. “I did, because she took you. I loved you, and she took you. She went out of her way to take what was mine, and then she rubbed it in my face every fucking day after it.
“Then you fucked me, and god, I thought there was a chance. There was never a chance. Then she died, and I was so angry. I was so angry that you had put her in that position. I was angry at you for even involving yourself in her life, and I was angry that she left behind something so fucking beautiful, broken. She left you broken. She left me broken. And I’ve paid for it ever since.
“I went into that courtroom so ready to make you pay for all the pain left in my life. I never fucking
said it was the right thing to do, and I tried to say sorry...”
“The damage was already done,” he growls, his face so close to mine I can smell him and oh, he smells amazing. “You came back, and you fuckin’ broke me. I was grieving, and you took Cade’s side. You took his fuckin’ side because of your anger toward me. You fuckin’ ripped my heart out, and then you fuckin’ stomped on it before shoving it back in my chest and expecting me to be okay with it. I’m not fuckin’ okay with it!”
“I made a mistake,” I throw back. “You, of all people, should understand that. You made a mistake too.”
“Yeah,” he barks. “And no fucker has forgiven me for it, so don’t you fuckin’ stand here wantin’ something that nobody was willin’ to give me when I needed it. You ain’t gettin’ my fuckin’ forgiveness, Ciara, because I don’t fuckin’ have yours.”
He pushes off the wall and turns, storming toward the open bottle of vodka. He grips it off the floor and brings it to his mouth, drinking in long, deep pulls until a good quarter of the bottle is gone.
“I do forgive you,” I say, my voice small and weak.
He spins around and meets my gaze, and my heart begins to thud.
“You forgive me for Cheyenne, but you don’t forgive me for puttin’ my cock inside you and takin’ your innocence.”
I flinch and he snorts. “Yeah, exactly.”
“You haven’t given me a chance to forgive you, because all you’ve done is push me away. Every time I’ve tried to get close, you shove me back.”
“He’s a useless, pathetic biker. He put her in that car. He put her in that position. He’s the reason she’s dead. He should pay, every day of his life for it.”
I jerk violently as he repeats the very words I said the day I stood up in court. Tears burn under my eyelids, and begin streaming down my face. My lip trembles, but I still manage to spit out my next words.
“I fucked up,” I rasp. “I can’t take those words back. I didn’t mean them; you know I didn’t mean them. I have fought to make that up to you, for years I have fought.”
