Chased with Strength_Notorious Devils

by Hayley Faiman

  I lift one of my hands from his chest and wrap it around the front of my throat. I feel like I’m being suffocated. I don’t even know if I like Baby or not. Hell, I don’t even know his real name. Now he’s asking me to be his girl, whatever the hell that means.

  “Your girl?” I choke.

  He places his palm on the center of my back and pulls me against him a little closer. My breasts press against his chest and I suck in a sharp breath. “We don’t have to define anything, yet, Hayden. I want you, and I’m not afraid to tell you that, but I know you might not be ready yet. I’m willing to wait for you,” he states.

  I hold my breath for a second, hoping that my heart will flutter, or that my stomach will swoop with his words, but nothing happens. Absolutely nothing. I want to scream at myself. I open my mouth to say something, but Baby shifts me around and steps in front of me, in a flash.

  “Why aren’t you at home?” Crooner’s voice calls out.

  I gasp, looking around Baby’s body to see him standing in front of us. His whore is all but forgotten, and his eyes are blazing with a fire I’ve never seen before from him.

  “Go back to the party, Crooner,” Baby growls.

  Crooner completely ignores him, his eyes finding mine and he pins me with his gaze. “Gracie invited me,” I say, my voice softer than I would prefer. Then again, it’s always soft when I talk to Crooner.

  “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t a place for you,” he states.

  My spine straightens, and I step out from behind Baby, ignoring his grunt of displeasure at my move. “Why not? Why isn’t this a place for me? I was practically raised in club life,” I state, crossing my arms under my breasts.

  Crooner shakes his head before he snorts. “Your past is exactly why you shouldn’t be here. You aren’t claimed, and you know what could happen to you. Haven’t you been through enough? Why in the fuck would you want to hang out in a place like this?” he asks. I don’t know if he’s asking to know the answer, or if there’s more to his questions.

  I step up closer to him, his body stiffens when I’m close enough to touch him. I don’t, no matter how badly I want to. “You don’t know my past, Ward. Not really. You think you know, but you don’t. If you would talk to me instead of running from me, maybe I would tell you about myself. But, you’d rather get blowjobs from whores. Don’t try and dick me around, I won’t stand for it,” I hiss, using his real name.

  His brows knit together, and he lets out a low growl before he wraps his fingers around my wrist to keep me from walking away from him. “Don’t play with me, Hayden. You think you know what you want, but you don’t. You’re not old enough to understand the repercussions of what it means to be mine.”

  Leaning forward, my lips so close to his that I can feel his breath fanning my face, I speak just loud enough for him to hear me. “I’m a big girl, Ward. I know how to play with the big boys. If you want to find out then I suggest you stop being an asshole,” I snap.

  He blinks once, then shakes his head. “Go home, Hayden. Go home to your son,” he grumbles.

  I take a step back, refusing to give in to him, to show him how his rejection has hurt me, yet again. I know in number, I’m young. However, I also know that in experience, I’m a hell of a lot older than he is. I’m more mature too, by leaps and bounds.

  “You know what? You’re not in charge of me anymore, Crooner,” I state. “I’m an adult, and I can do as I please.”

  “Baby is who you’re choosing?” he asks on a whispered growl.

  I close my eyes slowly, then reopen them. “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away, then get pissed off at me.”

  Crooner clenches his jaw, and I watch as a muscle twitches in his cheek. Without a word, he turns on his heels and stomps away from me. I can’t watch him go, not again. It seems like the past year I’ve just been watching him turn away from me, over and over again.

  I want him to realize that he has feelings for me, that he wants only me and to be a knight in leather and pick me up, brand me, and claim me. Maybe there’s something wrong with me that I would want to be his Old Lady, after the life I’ve lived, but it doesn’t make that desire any less. He’s the only man that makes my heart pound and my belly flip. He’s the only man that I wish would touch me.

  “Hayden?” Baby asks from behind me.

  Turning around, I meet his eyes and I flinch. He looks sad, but it doesn’t last long, he shakes it off and gives me a grin. “I know you have feelings for him. But like I said, I’ll wait. You need someone who will stand by your side, by Easton’s side, and I know that’s me,” he announces.

  I wonder why he wants me so badly when obviously I have feelings for someone else. I don’t ask him. I just give him a small smile. Baby wraps his hand around mine and guides me over toward Gracie and Fish. They’re sitting by the bonfire now, talking with Snake and Ginger.

  We spend the rest of the evening with the two couples, and by the time I go home, I’m more comfortable around Baby, even if I’m still not attracted to him. It could come in time though, maybe once my stupid body realizes that Crooner doesn’t want me, then maybe I’ll be able to have feelings for someone else.

  CROONER

  I watch her from afar for the rest of the evening. She’s smiling at Baby, then Snake and Fish, and their women. I hate all of them because her smile is aimed at them, and not at me. I fucked up, again. However, I don’t want to fix it. She should hate me, hating me makes this shit so much easier.

  Baby is a good kid, closer to her age, and doesn’t have the hang-ups that I do. Obviously, I have fucking issues, especially sexual ones. I can’t put Hayden through any other shit, she’s had more than enough in her life. Being with Baby will be a good thing. Plus, he’d be a good role model for Easton.

  My decision is made. No matter how much it hurts, it’s a decision that I can live with. My life won’t change, but Hayden’s will. Hers will get better while I continue to rot.

  “You’re a dick,” Free mutters from next to me.

  I don’t even look over at him. “How is any of this shit your concern?” I snap.

  I don’t know why Motorhead, and now Free, have any fucking say in my love life, or why they’re butting in at all. It’s not their goddamn business. None of it is.

  “Hayden came to us a scared little girl. She’s not that anymore, Croon.”

  Glancing over in her direction, I look directly at her face. She’s saying something and using her hands to make a point. She’s got a bright smile playing on her lips, and I can see the firelight dancing in her eyes, even from so far away. No, she’s certainly not the little girl those Nomads dropped off at our front gate with the little bundle in her arms.

  “Your point?” I ask.

  He checks my shoulder with his own, and I finally turn away from Hayden to look over at him. “My point is. If you like her, don’t let someone else lay claim to her. Everybody here knows she has feelings for you, brother. Don’t let Baby claim your woman. We all know she’s yours, don’t try to deny it,” he states.

  I shake my head. “She’s nineteen. I’m thirty-five. I could practically be her father. It isn’t healthy, especially with her background. Baby is closer to her own age,” I shrug.

  Free grunts. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he states.

  “Oh yeah, because I want her to have a healthy future?” I bark. “I’m fucked up, brother. She doesn’t need more shit shoveled her way. I think she’s had enough of that,” I shout.

  Free spits on the ground, planting his fists on his hips as he levels me with a glare. “We’re all fucked up. Every single one of us. It’s why we’re here, in this club, and not doctors and lawyers and shit. Don’t be a martyr. You got a good girl, one who cares about you. We all watched her fall apart when you were shot. We watched her lose sleep nursing you back to health. We all watched her sadness takeover when you didn’t claim her. Don’t be a dick, brother.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he just turns around a
nd walks off. I don’t know what I would say anyway, so it’s better. I want to tell him not to be a martyr as well. He can’t bring back his girl who died, so why go through life barely breathing? Wouldn’t that be the pot calling the kettle black though? I know everything he said was so I wouldn’t end up like him, a shell of a man.

  Glancing back at Hayden, I flinch. Fuck, I want her. He’s not wrong. I’ve been a dick, but I know that I’m right too. She deserves to have a healthy future, and I’m not sure that I can be the man who offers that to her.

  I run my hand through my hair, closing my eyes. I’ve never been so at odds before. Usually, when I want something, I take it. With Hayden it’s different. She comes with baggage, a truckload, and if I fuck it up, it’s not just me and her, it’s Easton too. It would need to be forever, and I’ve never completely committed to anyone before, not like that. I want to try, but I don’t want to fail at the same time.

  “You need company?” DD asks, walking up beside me.

  I don’t want the company. I only want Hayden. Tearing my eyes from her, I look up at DD. She’s topless, only wearing a pair of cut-off shorts. She sways slightly, and I shake my head. “You can call me Hayden if you want to, I wouldn’t mind,” she shrugs.

  My brows shoot up in surprise. “Go back to the party, DD,” I grumble.

  Her cool hand touches my shoulder and I feel her fingers squeeze. “I understand, Crooner. It wouldn’t bother me, I promise.”

  “Go inside,” I grind out.

  Her hand falls from my shoulder and she does as I’ve demanded. It would be easy, to call DD, Hayden. To pretend that she’s her, just like I did with Jizzy. It would be easy, but it’s not right. It isn’t right of me to use their bodies, and not even see them. Not when the woman I really want is right in front of me and practically begging for me.

  The party has lost all of its excitement. Heading inside, I bypass everyone and everything and go directly to my room. Locking the door behind me, I strip down and fall into bed. I want this day to be over. In fact, I want to be on the road and finding out how to fuck up the Aryan’s compound, the distraction would be nice right about now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HAYDEN

  “Mom, mom,” Easton’s voice calls. I open my eyes and jump slightly. His nose is almost touching my own as he stares at me. “Mom,” he whisper-shouts, then giggles.

  “Good morning, sweet boy,” I murmur. Sitting up, I reach down for him and drag him onto the bed with me.

  I came home too late last night. I should have been home around eleven, but Gracie didn’t drop me off until after two in the morning. Now it’s six and with only four hours of sleep, I’m going to have to wake up and get on with the day. Easton doesn’t understand sleeping in quite yet. He’s an early riser, and refuses his afternoon naps, no matter what.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask before I yawn.

  He curls up next to me, nuzzling his little face in my neck but doesn’t say anything. I don’t mind it, I have a feeling he won’t always be so cuddly. We stay in each other’s arms for a few minutes, then he scrambles down off of the bed and yells for food.

  I slip out of bed with a smile, grabbing a hairband from my nightstand as I make my way toward my tiny kitchen. I pull my hair out of my face and put it up in a messy knot before I start rummaging through the cabinets for all of the ingredients to make Easton his favorite breakfast, pancakes.

  “Cancakes,” he cries as soon as he watches me pull out the griddle.

  With a smile, I nod and take my mixing bowl out. It doesn’t take me long to whip up the pancakes. I add vanilla and a little brown sugar to the batter for taste. Just as I’m getting ready to pour the first ones onto the hot griddle, there’s a knock on the front door.

  Easton doesn’t even hear it, he’s consumed by his morning cartoon. Wiping my hands on a towel, I make my way to the door and look through the peephole. My breath hitches at who is on the other side. I halfway expected it to be Baby, but it isn’t.

  It’s Crooner.

  Slowly, I open the door. “Can I help you, Ward?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice in an even tone.

  “Can I come in?” he asks, his voice gentle.

  I look down at my feet, then up into his eyes. “Sure. I’m making pancakes, do you want any?” I sigh, stepping to the side.

  I don’t wait for him to answer, I make my way back into the kitchen and continue cooking. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  Nervously, I continue to make breakfast. I want to ask him why he’s here, or what he wants, but I don’t. In fact, I don’t even make eye contact with him as I flip the cakes, then plate them. I start to doctor Easton’s up, but Crooner gently tugs his plate away from me.

  My eyes lift and meet his. “I’ll make his, you finish what you’re doing. He does butter and syrup, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I breathe.

  I stare in awe for a second, then go back to my task. When I’m finished, Crooner calls Easton to the table. I watch as he effortlessly picks him up and sets him in his highchair, placing the plate on his tray with his kid fork.

  Then, I stare a little longer when he takes my plate, and his to the table. He sits down and looks over at me as if waiting for me to join him. I hurry over, but I’m in a complete daze. I shift from side to side in my seat while I watch him slather his pancakes in butter, then pour an insane amount of syrup on them.

  “Babe,” he grunts.

  My eyes lift to his. “You’re going to be a diabetic if you eat like that,” I snap.

  He grins, giving me a wink. “I’ll work it off, don’t worry about me.”

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out.

  He uses his fork to cut his cakes and stabs the top one but doesn’t lift it. Instead, his eyes meet mine. They’re so dark blue, they glitter when the sunlight catches them, and it makes my heart skip a beat inside of my chest.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  His answer isn’t what I expect, and it isn’t what I want to hear, but I don’t push him or demand more from him. I like that he’s here at my place, sitting at my table again. It feels like it was a lifetime ago where he practically lived here. We spent every waking moment together, and then when the threat on our lives was gone, so was he.

  I start to eat, unsure of what else to say. He came here, to my place, so I figure he should be the one to speak. Easton breaks up the silence by making humming sounds with each bite he takes, obviously enjoying his favorite breakfast food.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Crooner finally says.

  I press my lips together and look into his dark blue gaze. “Which part?” I ask.

  He clears his throat, leaning back in his chair slightly. “All of it. You had every right to be there. I shouldn’t have acted like you didn’t. I’m sorry for Jizzy, and what I did in front of you. It wasn’t nice and I’m a fucking asshole for it.”

  I blink, then turn my nose up. “Jizzy?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Nickname. I don’t know her real name,” he shrugs.

  It doesn’t surprise me, that he doesn’t know a whore’s real name, none of them ever do. What does surprise me is that he’s apologizing to me, at all let alone for his own actions. He doesn’t have to, the rules of the club are pretty plain, and he can do as he wishes, especially at the clubhouse.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” I say.

  He shakes his head, lifting his hand and runs his fingers through his long hair. I watch, wishing that I could touch his long curls. When he was unconscious from his gunshot wounds, I ran my fingers through his hair a million times. I love how thick it is, and how it curls naturally.

  “I want to be the right man for you, Hayden. Deep down, I want that more than anything, but the sad reality is that I’m not,” he explains.

  My heart pounds in my chest, it’s so loud that I can hardly hear anything else around me. My eyes are glued to his, and I find it hard to even breathe. He wants me, he’s admitting it, even if
he’s saying that it can’t happen, I’m not alone in my attraction and that feels, overwhelming.

  “Why aren’t you the right man for me?” I croak.

  I need to know why. I feel like I deserve to know why. If he tells me it’s solely because of age, I’ll scream. He clears his throat, looking down at his plate then back up at me. “I’m not a good man for you and Easton. You deserve someone who is good, and it’s not me.”

  “Good,” I repeat, not liking the way the word tastes on my tongue. “I didn’t think there were really any good people in our world, Ward?”

  He chuckles, his eyes dancing as they meet mine. “Baby is mostly good,” he rasps.

  I press my lips together again, rolling them a few times to keep from screaming in his face. “Baby isn’t who I want. Baby isn’t who helped me with Easton when I was scared and alone and didn’t know what I was doing. Baby isn’t who I held in my arms while he bled out. Baby isn’t you,” I say as tears fill my eyes.

  Crooner nods. “I know, Hayden. Nobody else is you, either. I’m not the right one for you, though.”

  Reaching for him, I wrap my fingers around his forearm and squeeze. “If you really feel that way then you need to go. You need to stay away from me, from us. Because I fell in love with you, Ward Bouchard. I fell in love hard, and I’m not sure I can just turn that off. But, I know that I won’t be able to if you keep coming around, if you keep showing up like this, and keep watching me,” I whisper through trembling lips.

  He stands, without saying a single word, and walks out of my trailer. I glance down at his plate and notice that half of his pancakes are still there. That sight is what finally causes my tears to fall.

  Fuck him.

  The fucking asshole.

  I cry, silently of course, so I don’t upset Easton. When I hear his motorcycle engine rev, and then fade away, I cry a little harder. Whatever we had, it’s over before it ever truly began, and it makes me sad. I don’t eat, I can’t, so I clean up then get Easton cleaned and dressed for the day. I need to do laundry and pick up around the house. Maybe that will be enough to keep my mind off of everything that’s just happened, not likely, but maybe.