by Chiah Wilder
“Who doesn’t want kids? I’m so happy my Paisey’s in my life,” Cherri said softly.
“Paisley’s adorable, and so are Harley, Braxton, Isa, James, and all the other kids, but we just don’t want them. Maybe when we’re in our late thirties we may change our minds, but we’re good the way we are.”
“Just because you don’t want kids doesn’t mean you’re not pregnant,” Belle said.
“And the pill isn’t foolproof. You’re one of the two percent like I was,” Addie added.
All of a sudden, a wave of nausea washed over Baylee. She covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom, hoping she could make it in time and not embarrass the hell out of herself.
Twenty minutes later, she splashed cold water on her face and finger-combed her hair. Dread wove through her as she tried to remember the last time she’d had her period. It seemed that she was a little late, but she was never regular like most of her friends were.
“I’ve just got the flu. That’s all,” she said to her reflection. Drying her face, she fought down the nausea as she decided to call it quits and go home to get under the covers.
The knowing looks on the old ladies’ faces irked her. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to come today. I’m going to go home and get into bed. This flu is the shits. Call me and update me about the fundraiser, Belle. I’ll talk to you all later.”
“If you need Dr. Neely’s phone number, let me know,” Clotille said as she left.
Baylee looked over her shoulder and mustered a smile. “Thanks, but a few days of rest, soda crackers, and chicken soup will do wonders.”
I can’t be pregnant.
And with that thought in her mind, she stepped out into the sunshine and breathed in the frosty air.
Chapter Four
Sofia
Sofia swayed over to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Cupping the cool water in her hands, she rinsed her beaten face, wincing when her fingers touched the skin. Drying the water gently from her face with a towel, dread wove through her as she assessed what Tigger’s recent tantrum had done to her. There was a cut above her right eye, the blood already dried and brown, and bruises were beginning to form on both cheeks. She glanced down, noting the grip marks on her arms were pronounced; he loved to keep her from running as he raged and screamed.
She hung the towel up and walked slowly to the couch in the living room. When she sat down, a small yelp escaped her lips. She placed her hands on her belly and pressed down, hoping the pain would subside. It felt like her guts were on fire.
She glanced over at the small china cabinet they’d purchased together when Tigger had first been released from prison. How happy she’d been back then. She’d waited four long years for his release, marking each day off her calendar with a black marker. Twice a month, she’d drive two hundred miles to Canon City to see him, then turn around and drive back to Pinewood Springs. Back then, she’d thought she’d die from missing him so much. The whole reason he had done time was because he was protecting her from some jerk who was coming on to her and saying nasty things. Tigger flipped out and had practically beaten the man to death. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t love me, would he? She asked herself that question a lot.
The first six months after Tigger had been released on parole, they couldn’t get enough of each other. They fucked, made love, watched silly movies, went for long rides on his Harley, and ate tons of pizza. It had been romantic and magical, and she couldn’t remember a time in her life that she’d been happier.
And then it had ended.
If she had to pinpoint the exact time it’d stopped, it was when they went to Steelers with the rest of the Insurgents and she was sitting with Cara, Addie, Cherri, and Kimber, laughing and talking with them. Tigger was with his brothers, but she’d noticed he kept looking at her, and each time she’d glanced at him, his gaze grew more hostile and ominous. Not knowing what was going on with him, she presumed something had come up with one of the rival clubs and he was super pissed about it. A lot of the Insurgent men wore perpetual scowls or menacing looks on their faces, so she’d grown used to it.
When they’d said their goodbyes and went to the parking lot, he turned her toward him and smacked her full force across the face. Her teeth had rattled and she’d been so surprised by it that she simply stood there gaping. He then grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against his Harley. People had started milling out of the bar by that point, so he walked her over to the bushes and threw her into them, then started choking her. She’d clawed at his hands, but the rage and anger flashing in his eyes made her think she was going to die. Not sure what had provoked such a reaction in him, she helplessly tried to push him away. And then he’d let go.
“Find your own fuckin’ way home. Next time you ignore me or look at another man, I’ll beat the shit outta you!” He’d stomped away, leaving a sobbing, confused woman to fend for herself.
From that day on, he lived with anger in his heart. Of course, she’d been too ashamed to ask Cara or Cherri for help, so she waited in the bushes until they’d all left, then walked the four miles to her home. By the time she’d arrived at the house, the rage had been replaced by professions of love in his quiet moments of regret. She’d forgiven him, believing his words that it would never happen again. And now, three years later, he still professed love and his regret, but the abuse had become more frequent.
I’ve become my mother. The irony touched her deeply as she remembered how she’d sworn to herself that she’d never let a man place an angry hand on her like her mother had.
Sofia swung her legs up and leaned back, her head on the couch arm, her legs stretched out. The bruises would slowly vanish and the broken bones would heal, but what about her battered emotions? She was torn inside and those tears remained open wounds, never healing or scarring. The man she loved did that to her, and how could he? He left her a ghost of a person, living but not alive. She stifled a sob with the scuffed palm of her hand and turned her face into the pillow, her salty tears clinging to the cracks on her lips.
The chime of the doorbell made her heart race. What time is it? I haven’t made dinner or anything. Don’t let it be him. Not yet. She pushed herself up and shuffled over to the door while smoothing her hair down. He’s going to be mad that I don’t have any makeup on. I didn’t know it was so late! With trembling fingers, she undid the locks and opened the door, her stomach in knots and her heart in her throat.
“Hiya, Sofia. I was in the neighborhood.” Wheelie’s gray eyes smiled.
“Uh… what time is it?” she whispered.
“Two o’clock.”
Relief washed over her and she giggled from giddiness. She had time to clean up, put herself together, and get dinner on the table before he came home. If he’s coming home. The thought of him with one of the club girls made her eyes water, but she wouldn’t call or text him to see if he’d be home. That would only make him angry, and she couldn’t withstand another of his rages in the same day.
“Can I come in?”
She darted her eyes around the street, making sure no one was watching. She was positive Tigger had people informing him of everything she did.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just for a minute? Tigger’s at the club. He’ll be there for a while. The club’s got some shit going on that we have to figure out.”
Wanting the company, but afraid Tigger would find out she had a man in the house, she started to close the door. “I don’t think Tigger would want you in here without him being home.”
“We’re brothers. It’s cool. Besides, he didn’t mind when I’d take you to the pen to see him when your car broke down.”
She smiled, then winced from the pain. Wheelie had been a good friend to Tigger and to her while he was locked up. He’d been at the biker bar the night Tigger had gone ballistic and been arrested. A bond had formed between the three of them that night, only to grow stronger when Wheelie had helped her out so many tim
es during Tigger’s incarceration.
Moving aside, she opened the door wider, trying to hide her face behind her hair as he slid past her. “Have a seat. Do you want a beer?”
Wheelie sank down on the couch. “Sure. Do you think you can open some of these drapes? It’s dark as hell in here.”
“I like it dark. The light gives me a headache, and I feel one coming on.” She took out a can of Coors for Wheelie and a Pepsi for her. “Here you go.” She handed it to him.
He popped open the top and took a long drink, tilting his head back. His dark brown hair fell just below his collar and the silver earring he wore in his right ear dangled. Placing the beer down on the table, he smiled at her and she turned away.
When she’d first met Wheelie, she’d thought he was a heartbreaker in leather. He was good-looking and he knew it, but he wasn’t stuck-up about it; he just knew he was handsome the way a person knew he had two ears, a nose, and a mouth. His square jaw, full lips, and perfectly shaped brows over gray eyes the same color of the ocean during a storm made her give him a once-over. Tigger was nice-looking, but Wheelie was ruggedly gorgeous in a way that drove women wild. He was buff, though not like Tigger’s body builder’s physique; Wheelie’s body was toned, taut, and perfection. And the perpetual scruff he wore made her want to touch his face. When Tigger had scruff, he’d always shave it when she told him she liked it. That was his way of showing her that her opinions, likes, and dislikes didn’t mean shit to him. It was his way of controlling her. One of many.
“The women missed you at the meeting today.”
She crossed and uncrossed her legs. “I wasn’t feeling well.” He must see the shape my face is in. She pulled her hair over the right side, trying to cover what she could. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. You don’t have to hide your face. I’ve already seen what that sonofabitch did to you. I saw it when you opened the door. Is that the real reason you didn’t come?”
Looking down, her insides quivered and her eyelid twitched. “You know it is. I don’t want to hear anything about it. I already know how you feel about it. You’ve made all that perfectly clear before. I’m just not in the mood, okay?”
Wheelie stared at her, his eyes soft and kind, and then he nodded and picked up his beer. “You wanna go out for dinner when Tigger goes on the poker run over the weekend?”
Fear that they’d be spotted assaulted her. “No. I can’t. Please don’t ask again.”
He ran his eyes over her. “Okay. What about me bringing dinner to you? We can eat here, talk, and watch a movie.”
Excitement coursed through her as she pictured them having a pleasant night without any fear, incriminations, or insults. She missed companionship with other people. Tigger had made sure that her friends and family didn’t call or come over anymore, and the contact she had with the old ladies was only for club purposes. After she kept telling them no for happy hour get-togethers, dinners, and movies, they’d stopped asking. She missed having a friend. But what if Tigger finds out? He’d kill me for sure.
“It wouldn’t be a big deal. We’re friends, right?”
We are friends and it shouldn’t be a big deal. She rubbed her cheek and winced, forgetting it was sore from her earlier beating. If Tigger had hurt her just for not washing his favorite pair of jeans, she could only imagine what he’d do if she had Wheelie over for dinner when he was out of town. Back and forth she wrestled with what she should do, her mind a scramble of fear, excitement, disgust, and defiance. I’m so fucking tired of being afraid. I’m even more tired of being isolated. She couldn’t remember when she’d spent time with someone other than Tigger. She was desperate for a pleasant interaction with someone.
“So what do you say?” Wheelie asked.
I want to. Can I do this? Am I willing to suffer the consequences if Tigger finds out? “I’m not sure. I’d like to, but I don’t know,” she said softly.
He put his hand on hers, and his cool touch calmed her, parting the reeling emotions and chaotic thoughts. She glanced up at him and his kind eyes pulled her in, and an inner strength surged inside her. Enough was enough. She’d deal with the fallout when it came, but she wanted to spend time with Wheelie. He’d always been a good friend to her. She breathed out a ragged breath. “You coming over would be good.”
“Then it’s a plan. Saturday night good?”
Any night would be fine since she never had any plans. She nodded. “I can’t have Tigger find out.”
“Tigger actually suggested that me, Bear, Chas, and Jax look in on you while he’s gone to make sure you’re safe.”
“Oh.”
“I told the others I’d keep an eye on you, so we have the whole weekend. If the roads aren’t too icy, we can go for a short ride on Sunday if you like.”
Sofia loved being on the back of a motorcycle. It was freeing and it felt like she was soaring high in the sky. Tigger knew how much she loved it, so he took it away from her. They hadn’t gone on bike rides for the past two years, but what really hurt her was knowing he’d taken some of the club girls and a couple of hoodrats on the rides she’d loved so much.
“I’d really love that. It’s been a while since I was on a Harley.” It’d been a long time since she’d looked forward to anything, but anticipation weaved around her nerves and spine at the idea of riding once more, and she had to will herself to calm down. Tigger had taught her that the more she wanted something, longed for it, the less she’d get it. She wouldn’t put it past him to fuck this up for her.
An icy fear grabbed hold of her spine. What if Tigger’s setting me up? What if this is a test?
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Are you sure Tigger told you this was cool?”
“He said to keep my eye on you. I didn’t tell him how I was going to do that. Pizza, a movie, and a bike ride can just be between us. You know how he overreacts.”
Thrumming her fingers against her mouth, she nodded.
“Then I’ll come by at around six on Saturday. I better get going.”
“Yeah, I should get this place cleaned up and get dinner going.”
“Do you need help cleaning up?” He placed his hand on her forearm.
She jerked it away as though it were on fire. “No, I’m good. The place is clean. I mean, that’s all I do is clean it every day. I just need to straighten out the clutter.”
Looking around, he said, “There’s no clutter.”
“Yeah… well, Tigger likes things to be in their own place. Like the magazine on the table. He’ll go ballistic if he sees it. It needs to go in the magazine rack. I mean, I can see his point. He bought the magazine rack for a reason and that’s where magazines are supposed to go, so I can see why he’d be mad about that.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. He thinks I’m a nut. I can see the way he’s looking at me, but he doesn’t live with Tigger. Everything has to be in its place.
Wheelie cupped her chin and tilted her head back, his gaze locking with hers. “If you need me, call me. You remember my number, right?” She blinked rapidly. “I mean it. You don’t need to put up with this shit from him. You deserve a whole lot better. If I knew you were ready to walk out on this fucker, I’d go to the club right now and beat the shit outta him for what he’s done to you.” Tears slid down her swollen cheeks and over his fingers. “I care what happens to you.” Then he bent down and softly brushed his lips over hers. “Watch yourself.”
The lump in her throat grew larger as she watched him ride away. She closed the door, then picked up the magazine from the table. Hugging it to her, she let out all the anguish she’d felt for the past several years, her wails and sobs filling the small house.
Chapter Five
Throttle
“Did you read this article in the paper?” Kimber asked as she thumbed through the Pinewood Springs Tribune.
Throttle came up behind her and gave her ass a quick smack. “Which one?”
“It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever hea
rd of. Someone’s breaking into people’s houses and destroying their Christmas decorations. What the fuck’s up with that? And the paper’s coined him ‘The Crazed Grinch.’”
Throttle laughed and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Is that all that’s going on around here?”
“It’s serious. I mean, the person does a lot of damage like breaking toys, taking expensive gifts, and cutting wires. He’s done several thousands of dollars in damages, and he’s hit ten houses so far. What a fucking lunatic. This town seems to be filled with them.”
“You being the biggest nut of all, but I love you.” He spun her around and kissed her, slipping his hand inside her panties. “You feel nice and wet.”
“It’s probably from early this morning.” She laughed when he nuzzled her neck.
“What can I say, babe? I can’t get enough of you.” He picked her up and placed her on top of the table. Glancing down, he saw a picture of a destroyed Christmas tree and shoved the newspaper off the table.
“I have to get to the shop,” she murmured. “Hawk’s in Silverton buying parts and I have to open up.”
“No one’s gonna be lining up to get their Harleys fixed in this damn cold.” He pulled down her black panties and unzipped his jeans, then bent down and captured her lips. He was so addicted to the way she tasted, smelled, looked, and fucked. Everything about her always kept his dick on high alert, and he could never get his fill. He loved her more than he ever thought it possible for a man to love a woman; he was intoxicated by her very essence.
Spreading her legs farther apart, he swiped his tongue across her clit, and her ass jumped off the table. He chuckled and continued licking her, locking his gaze on hers as he sucked her sweet nub into his mouth, savoring her juices. A moan broke from her and her breath came in rapid pants.
“Kiss me,” she rasped as she gripped his hair and pulled hard.
He slid up her body, forging a wet trail along the way until he covered her mouth. His lips were glistening as he kissed her hard. “Do you like the way you taste?” he said against her mouth before plunging his tongue inside. She writhed beneath him, pulling even harder on his free-flowing hair while her tongue twirled around his in a sensuous dance.
