I barely recognize the woman in the mirror. It’s been ages since I’ve actually stared at my reflection. I don’t want to look like this, like this thin, desperate woman who’s a shell of the person she once was.
Taking one hand from the sink, I run it behind my neck and breathe in deeply, trying to calm my anxiety creeping up. It’s been horrible for the last couple of hours. My heart’s been beating fast and paranoia comes crashing in. I feel the need to constantly look over my shoulder and my mouth is dry like I haven’t taken a drink in ages. I have, though. Ravage has a plastic cup of water right next to his bed.
Hell, he stayed on the alternate side of it, giving me some space. He doesn’t have another place to sleep in here, and I wasn’t going to make him sleep on the floor. At some point, I remember he got so close to me and I told him I didn’t want him getting closer, so he backed off, respecting my decision.
There’s a towel on a rack hanging over the toilet, so I grab it and place it on the sink. I should be able to reach it from the shower. I pull back the curtain slightly and step inside, immediately sitting down on the ground. The hot water hitting my back burns just the way I want, a harsh reminder I’m here. I’m living and I’m breathing.
Even so, dark thoughts fill my head and combined with my anxiety, I’ve never felt more alone. My sister left me here to ride out the cravings and Ravage literally walked out. I know I don’t have to do this. I could walk out of this shower, dry off, put on some of his clothes, and sneak out of here. I might even be able to find my way to the nearest town and come in contact with someone who has something. It might not be dope, but right now, I couldn’t care less. Anything would make me feel better than I do right now, right?
My stomach continues to churn and I think I might vomit, but somehow, I don’t. It’s one of the worst side effects of withdrawal, if not the worst. I wrap my arms around myself and continue to sit here, internally telling myself I can do this.
I don’t need anyone.
I can get through this, even if I think I can’t.
Sucking in a deep breath, I speak out loud. “I’m stronger than I think.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ravage
I’m trying my best to be a good man, hell, maybe even a halfway decent one. The only problem is I’ve never been one. No one would even believe the shit that goes on inside my head. I was an okay guy when I was with Marisole, but after she threw me out of her life, I became something else. It’s only natural, I guess. The rug was pulled out from underneath me and I didn’t know how to cope.
The only way I did was by goin’ to the bar to get drunk. I’d get in a few bar fights and some dude who ran some underground fights saw me. He talked me into takin’ part in a few and long story short, that’s how I eventually got to be part of the biker lifestyle.
I’m walking across the lane, hopin’ Gamble’s in the clubhouse, but it’s late. She’s probably in her house with Hart and Ace. Any sane man wouldn’t leave an addict in his room with a way to get out. I already know she has more than one way to get out. She could climb out the window in my bathroom, or head straight out my door and walk out of the house where all the brothers in the club sleep.
Here I am hopin’ she won’t walk out, that she’s smart enough to realize what we’re doin’ is only gonna help her in the end. I step up on the porch and place my hand on the door to the club, pushin’ it open.
A few of the guys are still hangin’ around, havin’ a drink, or chattin’ with the others. Butcher and Needles are even shootin’ a round of pool right now. “You seen Gamble?” I question Butcher, and he nods to the back. Good. I need to talk with her before shit starts to get a bit more intense. Marisole is still comin’ down from the high, she may think she’s goin’ through complete withdrawal already, but she isn’t. That shit stays in your system for a couple days before it gets really bad and it’s only been about twelve hours since her last hit.
I head through the club and walk down the hallway. Passing the kitchen, I spot Jugs on her knees in front of Judge. She bobs her head back and forth while I continue headin’ down the hall. I go to the second to last door on the right and knock.
“Come on in,” Gamble calls from the other side.
I put my hand on the knob and push it open, walk inside, and shut the door behind me. She’s sittin’ at her desk, scannin’ over some sort of red book. “What’s that?” I’ve never seen this in my life.
“A register. I’m keepin’ track of everythin’ we’re spending to keep up with the bar here at the compound, and the new stuff we’re doin’ up the road,” she murmurs, lookin’ over the document.
“New stuff?”
“Mhm,” Gamble murmurs, and I take a seat in front of her. “I bought the piece of property down the road, the little abandoned strip mall sort of thing.” It looks more like a rundown outlet, but okay.
“What’re you plannin’ to do with that?”
Gamble looks up at me and laughs. “What a question. I’m still figuring it out. I know I’ll fix up the structure, get new blacktop down, fix the parking area, so it’s up to par, but I don’t know if I’m going to funnel more club cash into startin’ other businesses or if I’ll rent them out to locals. Renting could be good, easy income, but we could start somethin’ else up and launder cash through the guise of a nail salon or something.”
“You really think we have the sorta location where people will come to get their nails done?” I cock a brow, tryin’ my best not to laugh at her.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe a hair and nail salon, like a small sort of spa set up. I’m only mulling over ideas, Ravage. Now I know you didn’t come in here for no reason. What’s up?”
I swallow hard and suck in a sharp breath. “Rosa’s sister, the one she brought from the Beasts of Brutality’s clubhouse,” I pause, not sure how to break it down for my Prez.
“Yeah, what about her?” Gamble questions.
“She’s my ex-girlfriend, on top of bein’ addicted to dope and all that.”
Gamble blinks a few times and I know she thinks I’m pullin’ her fuckin’ leg. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you noticed how the Reapers Rejects all rolled outta here.”
“I did,” Gamble comments.
“Rosa asked me to watch Marisole, and I told her I would. She didn’t give me much of a choice, but I’m not gonna let the woman hurt herself anymore. She’s addicted to dope, obviously, but I know she used it to cope with her fuckin’ life.”
Gamble gives me a sympathetic smile. She knows all about being trapped in a life that she didn’t want. “Poor woman.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “I need to get her through this next week ‘cause you know it’s gonna be rough as hell for her.”
“Understandable,” Gamble replies. “Are you two together, or?”
“No. I’m helpin’ her get clean. There’s nothin’ more to this than a man helpin’ a woman he loves out.”
Gamble blinks a few times and clears her throat. “A woman you love?”
“No, a woman I used to love. She needs a friend right now, Gamble.”
“That isn’t what you said.” She smirks, teasing me.
“It’s what I meant. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m bein’ a selfish bastard when I’m tryin’ to make sure she doesn’t get high. The first week is always the hardest and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do. So, what’s the story between you two anyway?” She crosses her arms and leans back in her office chair, not paying a lick of attention to the ledger in front of her.
“You really want me to dive into that shit?” She can’t be serious. Then again, I’ve never been close to any women other than Gamble. Nothing outside the occasional fuck with one of the clubwhores.
“I am losing my VP for a week or so. Don’t you think I deserve to know?” Gamble asks, cocking a brow. It’s like she’s asking me to say no and see where it gets me, but I won’t fall into the
trap.
“I’ll sum it up for you. I dated her when we were kids, teenagers. When I was nineteen, we went to Mexico to meet her dad. I was going to propose on that trip and she broke up with me. I stormed off back to our room at the resort, packed my shit, and caught the first flight back to the States. I hadn’t seen her again until . . .” I don’t bother saying anymore. She can put the pieces together.
“Fuck, you haven’t seen this chick in ten years, and the first time you do, she’s trying to get clean?”
“Not really her, more like us makin’ her, but yeah.”
“Damn, that’s some intense shit.”
“You’re tellin’ me.” I sigh and run a hand over my head.
“Take as much time as you need with her, but she was pulled from that club we’ve been seein’ around, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, from what I know, she’s married to the Prez. His name is Scar. I remember the name, so I thought about it long and hard. I remembered Scar was the dude who Rage would go around tellin’ everyone was his protégé.”
“Shit, the guy’s bad news.” Gamble’s assumption is more of a declaration.
“You got that right.”
“And she’s married to him?” She uncrosses her arms and cocks a brow. I know all the things that could go wrong are running through her mind. How do I know it? ‘Cause I already did the same thing.
“Yep,” I murmur, waitin’ for Gamble to say somethin’ else.
“Well, I know this won’t be somethin’ easy we’re gonna deal with, but she’s important to you. Therefore, she’s important to us.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I state as I rise from the chair, but Gamble’s concerned gaze is still locked on me.
“Ravage . . . I’m all for protecting who needs it, but are you sure she’s not . . . are you sure she’s not someone you’re going to claim? If so, I’ll go hard to keep her protected forever, but if not, she’ll be safe as long as she’s with us and then she’s on her own.”
My heart practically stops in my chest. “Gamble, I’m not gonna make the same mistake again. She destroyed me and I’m not lookin’ to get a repeat of the same feelin’ ever again.”
Gamble nods in understanding. “Okay, just wanted to make sure. I’ll have church and explain to everyone why you’re absent. You do what you need to and get her clean. Know you’re in my thoughts, and so is she. The next few days aren’t going to be easy for either of you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate this more than you know,” I tell Gamble while I walk to her office door, open it and leave. I make sure to shut the door behind me and make my way out of the clubhouse. Once the air hits my face, I let out a pent-up breath.
I told Gamble I won’t make the same mistake again, but I don’t know if I have that much control. The only thing I wanna do is wrap my arms around Marisole and tell her everything will be okay, even if I’m unsure of the outcome.
I lost her once, and fuck, but I don’t wanna lose her again. This is another chance to make things right and her droppin’ in like this. Fuck, it’s like hangin’ a hot dog in front of a Doberman on a treadmill.
Chapter Seventeen
Marisole
Three days. It’s been three days since I took my last hit, and I’m on Ravage’s bed, clutching his deep blue sheets under my hands. Sweat beads across my body and emotions filter through me like I’m someone who should be in a looney house. One minute I’m depressed, then I’m angry, and then I’m pissed. If the mood swings aren’t enough, add in the fact I can’t sleep, anything I eat comes up within a couple hours, and my gut’s cramping like I’m having the worst period of my life. I’m just a bucket of joy over here, obviously. God, my sarcasm is ridiculous. It’s the only way I’m coping with this all.
Ravage has since changed out the locks on his room and I can’t get out through the door that leads into the hallway. He even added an outside lock on the window in the bathroom and I’m starting to feel like I’m a prisoner here. He’s been with me pretty much twenty-four hours a day and left a little while ago. I didn’t think he’d actually do it, lock the door and window, I mean. He kept commenting how he would if he had to leave but said the club knew he’d be sticking to his room for the next week or two.
I’m not an idiot. I know he’s babysitting me like I’m a child. Hell, he wants me to get clean and while I understand why in some aspects but in others, I don’t. He hasn’t seen me in years and yet wants me to improve my life and make it better? Who is he to preach about what I should and shouldn’t be doing?
My cramps intensify, feeling like someone has a knife in my gut and is slowly twisting it. I white-knuckle the comforter and groan out lowly, clenching my teeth as the pain surges through me. “Fuck, when will this end?” I practically cry to the ceiling and sure enough, tears start to leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Give it time. All pain ends at some point.” Ravage’s voice fills the room, and I shoot up, glaring at him while I now have my hands over my stomach.
“Where’d you find that saying, a fucking fortune cookie?” I snap and throw the most attitude I can in his direction.
He smirks for a second and shakes his head, holding a bag with the Devil’s chicken and a cupholder with two large drinks. Chick-fil-A is my favorite . . . and the fact he remembered is astonishing.
“I’m hopin’ your bitchy ass attitude is ‘cause you’re hungry as fuck, or should I say hangry?” He comes to the edge of his bed and pulls out a sandwich, large waffle fry, and a brownie, then hands me the soda.
As much as I’d love to take a bite into some of this food, I can’t for two reasons. One being my stomach cramps. They’re horrible, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, and two, I don’t like his attitude. Not in the least bit. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be putting myself through this hell. Fuck, if I was, maybe I’d be tranquilized the entire time, so I don’t feel everything if that’s even possible in the first place. I don’t know if it is, but I’m sure it would feel a lot better than this.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him straight up, knowing very well whatever I eat is going to come back up later.
He’s on his way over to the chair in the corner of his room when he stops, turns to look at me, and gives me a glare that makes me think he’s about to come over and slam me up against the wall. “You can’t be serious, Marisole. When’s the last time you ate, two days ago?”
I give him a curt nod. “Yeah, and I’m not going to eat. I’ll just get sick again anyway.”
I’m being honest, but my answer doesn’t make him happy at all. “You’ll eat ‘cause I went out and bought it for you. Fuck, I had to drive a half an hour just to find one of those damn places. I didn’t need to go anywhere after church. Hell, after church, where my entire club agreed to back me up and protect you from those bastards you came from.”
I shake my head and scoot back on the bed until my back is hitting the wall. I pull my arms around my knees and stare right at him. “I didn’t ask for you to do any of this.” I’m so conflicted between being angry and grateful for what Ravage has done. Grateful I’m out of the Beasts of Brutality’s grip but frustrated I’m in a new prison. I’m sure my sister never intended for it to feel this way, but it’s what this is. How else would I describe it?
“You didn’t have to,” Ravage mutters, digging his hand into the bag. I pick up the red and white package the sandwich is in, take it from the packaging, and throw it right at his face.
“I never asked for this! I didn’t ask to be locked up like some sort of prisoner. Don’t you understand?! I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to be here in Delaware. I didn’t want to be with Scar, and I certainly didn’t want to be with you!” I scream, tossing the soda at him too. The Styrofoam cracks against his chest and the drink covers his entire body.
His nostrils flare as he rises from the chair and, in record time, crosses the distance between us. “I don’t recall askin’ for permission, baby,” R
avage hisses out every word, calling me by the pet name he gave me all those years ago. He proceeds to grab me by the shoulders and I run. My fight or flight instinct is activated and I use my legs to push me toward the door. I didn’t hear him lock it, so maybe I can get out. Maybe I can be free. Only the second I have my hand on the doorknob, Ravage’s weight collides on all sides of me. I hit the ground and his weight pressed up against me makes breathing seem harder to do.
It feels like my lungs aren’t expanding at all and fear is the only thing I know. I hit the ground, desperately trying to breathe. Every time I try to take a breath, it sounds like an awful wheeze. The weight shifts from all sides of me and I’m forcefully pulled up. My shoulder blades hit the wall and his broad-shouldered body hovers over me. “It’s okay. Whatever’s going on in your head, don’t listen to it. Everything is fine right now. It’s okay.” Ravage encases his arms around me and he holds me so tight, but the pressure around my body feels soothing in a way. “You’re fine. Just breathe,” he speaks to me in a low manner and sure enough, I can inhale lowly.
“I w-wish none of t-this ever h-happened,” I sob breathlessly, tears streaming down my face. Ravage doesn’t say a thing. He keeps his arms holding me close, and I blubber. “I was supposed to have a d-different life, and instead, this is h-how it turned out.” I do my best to slow my breathing down as my thoughts come blabbering out. Going through withdrawal is hell but going through it with your ex, the one you have so many regrets about . . . it only makes everything worse.
“He told me I d-didn’t have a c-choice and look where it l-landed us.” Tears come crashing down and I can’t hold them back. “I w-was supposed to be with you, n-not him.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ravage
It takes a couple of seconds for her words to sink in. Did she say what I think she just did? I keep my arms wrapped around her, but soon enough, wetness coats my t-shirt. I loosen my grip on Marisole, and she looks up at me with her big, red-rimmed eyes. “He told me I had to marry Scar. I wasn’t given a choice, Ravage. I never wanted to hurt you and I know I did. I’m s-so sorry.”
Wait on Me (Knights of Retribution MC Book 2) Page 7
