by Kayce Kyle
“Let him go, Justice,” Burkes says casually. Leaning down, he hands me a big cup of water that I begin to nearly drown myself in as I drink it all up swiftly.
“Slow down,” Burkes orders, but it’s too late. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
I look up at Justice who slowly, but steadily, releases Littlejohn, never letting his eyes break free of the small stocky man who he is looking down at.
I surmise that I must be hallucinating. I mean, I just got arrested on bogus charges. Basically kidnapped and held in a jail cell that smelled of urine and deprived of water, a basic human necessity.
Justice stampedes in here and physically assaults an officer, which I’m not complaining about, that asshole was more than deserving. I’m pretty sure what Justice has done could also be considered attempted murder in some states and Burkes tells him to “let him go” as if he’s a child who’s held a puppy he cannot have for too long.
Littlejohn brushes himself off and looks Justice up and down as if he could even intimidate him. “This isn’t over, Paine.”
With his gun still in his hand, Justice rears his arm back and a pistol whipping is imminent. “Justice!” My hoarse voice manages to catch his attention, and he stops.
Littlejohn smirks and walks off.
“Get her to the club. She needs rest and more fluids. Have Clarke check her over maybe,” Burkes suggests as he follows the same path that Littlejohn took.
“Water and a shower. That’s all I need,” I manage to voice.
Not even looking at me, I can tell from his profile that he is still staring coldly at the cell bars. Through a clenched jaw he asks, “You okay?” as if it’s an obligation to even do so.
My eyes turn to slits and I try to stand. “Yes,” I answer grudgingly then feel my legs have deceived me, and start to wobble as I lose my balance.
Justice quickly grabs a hold of me, steadying my balance and breaking my inevitable crash against the concrete floor. “Easy.”
Looking up at him, I notice he’s still denying eye contact. “I’m fine, now. Thanks again for taking care of officer dick-face.”
“You good enough to ride? I really need to get you back to the clubhouse. Your Pops’ orders.” Still depriving me of actual eye contact.
Already feeling stronger now, the water must be doing its job to correct my electrolytes, I confront him. “Honestly Justice, you can’t even look at me. Just have Savanna or somebody drive here to get me. I have luggage at my dad’s I need to get and this is obviously awkward for both of us.”
“Not an option Jenalyn.” Finally giving me the eye contact he’s been desperately avoiding. “First of all, Savanna’s at my grandma’s. Second, we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Your choice. I have zero problems at this point tying your ass to my bike if I have to. I came prepared.”
“Wait. When did Vanna go to your gram’s?” I ask shocked as nobody bothered telling me.
He just looks at me callously. “Not too long after you disappeared. Long story and one she can fucking tell you if she wants.”
“Fine,” I manage to huff out. I’m too exhausted for a verbal battle just yet. My heart sinks as the reality of what I’d done and its repercussions pound inside my chest.
We walk outside and I am struck by the tremendous heat, yet again. My clothes still not completely dry from my first near death experience, “Who’s getting my luggage, then?” I question.
“Ace.”
“So why couldn’t Ace just get me, too?” I push further.
Justice reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a roll of duct tape. “I told you, I came prepared,” he says feigning a smile.
“Is this gonna be necessary, or not?” he asks while the sound of him tugging a strip away from the roll grabs my attention.
Appalled at his insinuation I look at him and say, “You would never.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He dares me. Then lifts me up and sets me down on the back of his bike, plopping a helmet on the top of my head. “Now for the love of God, shut up and just let me get your ass back to your daddy, Princess.” He mocks.
I make sure he notices the visual daggers I’m shooting as I cross my other leg over his bike.
Unbothered, he taunts me. “Hold on tight. Just like you used to.” He gets on and before I know it, his bike comes to life pulsating through my entire body.
Those words form an ache in the pit of my stomach. He’s trying his hardest to hurt me, and it starts to grate on my nerves. What’s left of them anyway. I reach around to his front, grabbing a hold of his waist. I lift the hem of his shirt, driving my nails into his now bare chiseled stomach. “Like this?” Doing my best to make him feel it back.
It only causes him to laugh and mock me over the roaring engine. “Ah, you’re gonna have to do better than that sweetheart if you wanna hurt me.”
Pursing my lips in utter defeat, I say, “Oh yeah. You don’t know shit about hurt.”
Justice
Back at the clubhouse, Jenalyn immediately retreated to Pres’ office with her mom, Lorna. Happy fucking reunion to them.
What a fucking day. Making my way over to the bar I notice my brother has already made it back and is playing a round of pool with Pops. He struts his way over to me, and I really don’t wanna deal with his bullshit right now. “What?” I ask, just daring him to say one wrong word.
A smirk envelops his face. “So, how’d it go?” he pries. “I want all the fucking details. Is she still like us, or is she really little miss prissy pants? By the looks of all that fucking luggage, I hauled back, I’d bet on the latter,” he states, leaning against the bar sipping on a beer.
Pinching the bridge of my nose I tell him, “I really don’t wanna have this fucking conversation right now, bro.”
I crack open a beer, drinking it more than half gone in one attempt. I’m not a heavy drinker, but this beer is just the solution I need right now.
“Damn, bro. That bad, huh?”
Not even bothering to answer him as he further pries, I take my beer and head upstairs to my room before I become even angrier and take it out on my brother.
I’m more upset with myself than anything. Seeing Jenalyn crouched in that corner, drenched in sweat and obviously vulnerable. It enraged me seeing that slimy cock sucker Littlejohn taking advantage of that, of her. I thought I had mentally prepared myself for this, but it was like instinct took over. I’m trying to convince myself that I only reacted that way because that’s Pres’ daughter, but as I mentally replay that moment on loop, those familiar feelings ignited once I caved in and looked into her eyes. I pushed them back down, but they were there and I hate myself for it.
I take off my cut and shirt, then plop down on my bed. Laying there sipping my beer, wondering what in the hell she meant when she suggested I didn’t know shit about hurt. She fucking left me. I know more about both love, and hurt far more than I care to admit. Especially from her. I’ve fought too hard not to let her or anyone else have that sort of control over me ever again.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear something that resembles crying, or some shit coming from the other side of my bed on the floor. Sitting up, I hear a bit more of that annoying fucking sound.
Leaning over I see the top of a very familiar red head. “Roxie?” I question getting up and making my way to that side of the bed where she is sitting on my floor next to what looks like a billion tiny pieces of paper.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room without permission? And what is all of this shit?” I question while picking up some of the fragmented leftovers. Immediately I notice she’s shredded that picture I had of Jenalyn. “Get the fuck out, Roxie. Never and I mean never, come back to this fucking room. You’re psychotic.”
“I knew it,” she blurts out as she stands.
“You still fucking love her, don’t ya, Justice?” Prodding her finger into my chest challenging me.
I never hit women, but this bitch is triggering every button imag
inable to provoke that, and I need her out of my sight immediately.
“Justice Paine, what are you doing?” Jenalyn’s voice cuts through the thick air like a sharp knife.
“Your fists are clenched. I dunno what I’ve walked in on, but I know you weren’t about to get physical toward Roxie?” she says with a single arched brow, drawing my attention to those translucent, icy blue-green eyes I’d been trying to avoid since she came back. If I were fucking Superman, those eyes would be my kryptonite.
Looking down, I realize I was clenching my fists, but I’d never actually punch Roxie or any other woman. Hell, I don’t even know in this moment what I’m capable of anymore. I haven’t had enough time to process any of this shit since I was bombarded with Jenalyn’s return.
Still crying, Roxie averts her attention to Jenalyn who’s now standing in my doorway and makes her way toward it, taking a jab at Jenalyn on her way by. “Oh, he gets physical with me all right. Keep that in mind when you’re sucking his dick. My pussy is all over it.”
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Jenalyn snatches the back of Roxie’s hair, twists her around punching her in the face, and busting her nose as blood droplets land on Jenalyn’s white top.
“You bitch!” Roxie swings back and misses, as Jenalyn quickly maneuvers her way out of the path of impact.
I jump over my bed as I can hear footsteps start running upstairs. This certainly escalated quickly. Interjecting myself between the two wasn’t a hard task and I now had help from my brother Ace who was holding Roxie as I held Jenalyn back.
Still fired up, Jenalyn cannot help herself. She’s hot tempered and quick witted. “You dumb club skank,” Jenalyn says through a menacing laugh. “Have you forgotten whose pussy was wrapped firmly around his dick first? You silly little slut. Swallow that.”
Each of them continue kicking and screaming trying to pry themselves free. “Get her the fuck out of here, and take her to Clarke if needed. She fucked up,” I tell Ace. He nods, with a still kicking and screaming Roxie, escorting her away until the cursing finally fades with it.
“Let go of me, Jus.”
“Not until your ass has calmed down some more.”
She stills in my arms in her attempt to prove she’s calmed, but I know her better than that. Her back to my chest, my arms are fully wrapped around her. My forearms now become the resting place for her large breasts. With every breath she takes, they graze up and down my forearm jolting memories of our past. Those same knots begin to form from earlier, along with my dick now beginning to betray me. God dammit, I will not let her do this to me. Not again. Quickly I release her.
“About damn time,” she says turning around now facing me. “Look, I don’t give a shit who you’ve been fucking, Jus. I do hope you’re wrapping that thing up, though.” Her eyes avert momentarily to my dick, then back up at me.
“Just keep your whores away from me. Now where are all of my things? Daddy said they were in your room for some reason. I’ll just take them and head to my room and be out of your hair.” As she begins to search my room, she stumbles on the shredded pieces of her picture.
For some reason unknown to me I feel a desire to explain myself. “I’ve never fucked anyone without protection…except well, you. Wait. Why the fuck am I explaining myself to you?” More of a puzzled question to myself really.
Why the fuck is her stuff in my room? I didn’t see it when I came in, then again, I barely had time to do anything before I was dealing with two different kinds of crazy. “I dunno where your stuff is. This is the first I’ve heard of it, but on that note, you should know…” I pause because I can’t believe Pres didn’t tell her. “Your room isn’t exactly your room anymore.”
Holding several of the torn pieces of her picture, her eyes widen, then narrow as you can see the anger building inside, “What did you say?” Still holding the pieces in her hand she approaches me.
“Don’t get all pissy with me, Jen. I didn’t give your room away,” I snap back at her. “Your dad gave it to one of the newer guys. He’s patched now. Name is Ty.”
Tilting her head, I can sense she’s absorbing all this in. “And this?” She holds out the few pieces she’s discovered on my floor that is now resting in her palm.
Even torn, you can make out exactly what it once was and by the tone in her question, she knows it’s her.
I rub my face with both hands. Begging inside for someone, anyone, to wake me from this hellish nightmare. She hasn’t even been back a full day and it’s already a fucking circus around here. “I stumbled upon it earlier today. Forgot I even had it. I was interrupted, otherwise, I’d have done that my-damn-self,” I say arching an eyebrow.
Sarcastically she lets a small huff escape. “Lies…and you know it. I’ll talk to my dad about my room. That shit pisses me off,” she says agitated and opens my closet door.
“Ah-ha,” she says excitedly, hugging a piece of luggage.
This…her…is annoying me. The girl I know or knew never had pink anything. All her damn luggage is pink and looks ridiculous. So does she as she hugs it as if its contents are so damn valuable. It’s probably frilly fucking dresses and designer shoes and shit.
My agitation only grows stronger as her suggestion of me lying hits me hard. Sending me full throttle into an emotional roller coaster lashing out at her. “Lies? You sure seem so confident Miss Fucking Priss. Or have you forgotten you left me…and all of this? So don’t come prancing back in here with your girly bullshit. Hell, you’ve probably got a miniature dog or some shit stashed away that you fucking play dress up, and take selfies with. Don’t act all surprised either that after five motherfucking years Jen, five…”
My lashing out continues as I hold my hand up, each finger the representation of years passed, “That your dad finally gave your room away.”
I begin taking her luggage, tossing it to the opening of my doorway. “Take your luggage and your self-righteous ass somewhere else. Anywhere but my room.”
“What in the absolute fuck, Son?” Pops interrupts my fit of rage.
“Have you not checked your damn phone? Pres has sent you several texts calling for a quick meeting.” He even narrows his eyes as if I’ve done something wrong, then turns his attention toward Jenalyn. “Oh, and Jenalyn, you come down here too. Ty’s gonna keep an eye on you. It’ll take five minutes.”
Pops’ interruption puts an abrupt end to my verbal assault. Unintentionally I shove him out of my way with my shoulder as I step over that pink luggage now resting half in my room and halfway into the hall. “Perfect timing. I need the fuck outta here anyway.”
Chapter 4
Jenalyn
Well, this hasn’t exactly turned out to be the welcoming home excitement I was aiming for. In a few hours I’ve managed to get myself arrested, forced to not only face Justice first thing but have him escort me to the clubhouse on my father’s orders. Oh, and find out I’m stuck here for at least another two days, get into a fight with Roxie, and sit there while Justice unleashes his anger on me.
As I replay the day’s events over in my head on a loop, I look over and up at this new guy Ty who happens to be apparently standing guard over me as I sit at the round table outside my daddy’s office. He, too, is watching me but doing everything in his power to avoid actual eye contact. I don’t know what everyone’s deal is with looking me in the eyes. First Justice, now this guy.
I look back down and begin to pick at my nails in frustration. “So, what’s your story?” I inquire to this dark mysterious handsome man.
Never looking back up, I’m hoping maybe he’ll actually respond if he doesn’t have to fucking look at me. He’s African American, his skin shaded somewhere between milk chocolate and caramel. I notice his green almost familiar, eyes immediately.
“I met Joker at Dark Soulz Ink one day, loved his work so I kept letting him ink me. Long story short, that was three years ago, and here I am,” he says stoically. Almost robotic. Like he regurgitated a rehearsed
line.
“Of course,” I remark. Dark Soulz is one of the club's many businesses.
“Well, what an unlucky day for you that was,” I sneer.
I feel his eyes shift onto me, so I look up, this time, to finally judge his features for myself. Aside from the fact that he’s super tall like Justice, he’s very muscular and defined. Lots of tattoos. If he’s patched, he’s got the Soul Shifterz logo on the back of his neck. His squared jawline accentuates his nice full lips. He’s very clean cut. Short dark hair, and zero facial hair. I would describe him as almost having a baby face. Not a man you typically see in these clubs.
“Actually,” he begins. “That, and every day since then has been worth every sacrifice and blood that’s been shed.” His squared jaw line clenches naturally as he talks.
Startled by Justice’s outburst yet again as he’s the first one out of the office, I jump up. He walks up to me aggressively and glares down at me. Feeling challenged by him, and definitely not letting him lash out at me again, I glare right back. My lips form the thinnest line they can and I narrow my eyes to almost complete slits. “What?” I question ready for any fight he’s willing to put up.
“You’re coming upstairs back to my room for…I dunno, until Pres says you can fucking leave.”
Not at all what I was expecting and I will have no part of this nonsense. “Like hell I am. The only thing I’m going back up there for is my luggage you abused earlier. Daddy,” I begin calling out and my father steps out of his office into the door frame and he looks at me as if I’m a child needing discipline and this is my consequence.
Noticing the brief exchange of looks between my daddy and Justice, he just nods to Justice in approval.
“What the hell?” I look at my daddy begging with my eyes. He leans into Ty’s ear, whispers something and they all begin to retreat in different directions.
