by Marie James
The roar of his motorcycle is muffled through the wall, and before long it fades to nothing as he heads away from the house. Although I was happy to get away from him, being alone in this house brings its own emotions of abandonment and fear.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling at the hem of my shirt as it rides up my thighs. The action felt so right in the moment as Dom’s eyes hungered at the sight, but shame fills my blood after his reaction.
I never would’ve acted that way at my own club. My brother and Grinder would’ve lost their shit if I propositioned a man there. Why I did it today is beyond me. At the Renegade clubhouse, I do my best to stay away from all the men there, but something foreign is drawing me to Dom.
He’s attracted to me, that much I know. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I cooked. I’m not an overtly sexual person, but I know my tiny frame and disproportionate breasts turn the eyes of many men. The men at the clubhouse would watch me, leer in my direction, eating me up with their eyes. Dom is no exception.
I shudder, a literal chill running over my skin when I think about the men at the clubhouse and how their eyes follow me, the words they whisper when Scorpion isn’t around, and the way Grinder rules over them. He’s claimed me, happened years ago. So as much as the men talk and make disgusting innuendos, I know they won’t touch me. Just like myself, they’re terrified of him and his psychotic behavior. I’m not worth risking his wrath, so they stay clear.
Just the thought of Grinder and the last eight years of my life makes my skin crawl. After locking the bedroom door even though I’m alone in the house, I enter the bathroom, strip to my skin, and climb in the shower. No amount of scrubbing can clear my head of the things I’ve done, witnessed, and been forced to do, but the symbolism of coming clean eases my mind.
I take my time showering, toweling off, and getting dressed back in the t-shirt Dom provided yesterday. Not interested in TV, I clean the mess in the kitchen, opting to wash the dishes by hand rather than use the dishwasher simply because it will kill more time.
Footsteps and a thump on the front porch almost cause a heart attack as I’m wiping down the kitchen table. The echo of the doorbell off the walls makes my heart stutter, and I do the only thing I can think of in the moment. I hit my knees and crouch behind the kitchen island, praying whoever is on the porch doesn’t come around the side of the house and look through the large picture window over the sink.
Frightened, I huddle, hunched over my knees, making myself as small as possible while waiting for the imminent attack. I knew better than to run to a person who knows Grinder. He’ll leave no stone unturned looking for me. I’m a liability, knowing too much that will either get him killed or land him in prison.
My breathing rattles in my ears, seeming louder than it actually is, and I wonder if the person outside can hear the harsh inhales and exhales. I shriek like a frightened child at a horror flick when a phone on the kitchen wall begins to ring.
Eyes darting in the direction of the front door, I fully expect a combat boot to kick it in any second, especially after my reaction to the phone. It rings five times and silences, only to begin again ten seconds later.
“Mak?” Dom’s familiar voice soothes me more than it should.
I stand from my kneeling position and look over the island, fully preparing to explain my reaction now that he’s home.
“Mak!” His voice is louder but seems just as distant. “The box on the damn wall woman!”
Noticing a small silver box on the far wall of the living room, I slowly make my way over there. Trusting nothing, my eyes dart left and right as I take measured steps across the room. There’s no looming shadow showing through the front door or boot steps on the porch, which aid in calming my raging heart.
Is it possible to have a stroke at twenty-four?
“The box, Makayla.” I shuffle faster as the irritation grows heavier in his voice. “Push the button to talk.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter before obeying his order. “What?”
I shouldn’t be disrespectful, not after he’s let me stay here, but it’s an automatic reaction after having the shit scared out of me.
“Don’t test me, woman,” he grumbles. “I just got a notification that the store delivered the clothes for you. They were told to put them on the porch and ring the bell once.”
I’m an idiot.
“Y-yes,” I stammer. “Someone just rang the doorbell. It scared the hell out of me.”
His chuckle at my expense, although manly and admittedly sexy, rubs me the wrong way.
“You need to go out and get them. It’s suspicious for bags from a women’s clothing store to be sitting on my porch.”
My head whips in the direction of the door and the thought of opening it and someone seeing me makes my blood run cold.
“No one’s out there, Mak. They’re leaning against the door. You don’t even have to open it the whole way.”
What is he a damn mind reader now?
“Now, Mak. I don’t have all damn day.”
“Fine,” I say with a stab of the button on the wall.
I pretend to wring his damn neck with my hands as I walk to the door, but stop in my tracks when his laugh follows me. I side eye the silver box, but continue my trek across the room. Standing off to the side of the door, I unlock it and grab it, bending at the waist and dragging them inside. Leaving them by the front door, I go back to the box.
“There’s underwear in there, Mak. So I don’t have to see you bending over like that and flashing that pretty pink pussy at me.” The words come across the intercom before I can assure him I have the clothes.
I peer around the room, wondering if he’s hiding somewhere fucking with me. I would’ve never taken him for the type to play practical jokes, but people surprise me every day.
“Cameras, Mak. They’re all over the house.” My cheeks flush, and my hands instinctively pull my t-shirt down more. “None in the guest bedroom, but I did enjoy the little dance while you were washing the dishes.”
I jab the button, but words fail me at first.
“Something you need to say?” The humor in his voice, such a change from his asshole attitude this morning, almost makes me laugh.
“What are you some kind of fucking creeper?” I face the box directly with the hope that it hides my smile.
“You think I’d leave a woman I don’t know all alone in my house without the means to check and see if she’s rifling through or stealing all of my shit?” Back to the same indignant jerk he was this morning.
My jaw hangs open. “I’m not a thief. I haven’t stolen anything since that one time I got popped at Wal-Mart when I was fourteen.”
I don’t bother explaining I was a late bloomer and my mom refused to buy pads, even when I refused tampons the first time I started my period. The Asset Protection Officer at the store saw how embarrassed I was and even offered to buy them for me. Mortifying.
“You’ll have to tell me the story when I get…” he pauses. “Shit. I gotta go.”
Silence over the intercom, makes me realize just how much I was enjoying the interaction, even though he practically accused me of being an untrustworthy criminal.
Not feeling like providing him with any more entertainment, I grab a yogurt out of the fridge and close myself back in my borrowed room. Every connection I have in life is inside the Renegade Clubhouse and only one person in this entire situation that keeps me from running across the country and never looking back.
Chapter 6
Dominic
“Gotta go,” I grumble into the phone before closing out of the security app on my phone, tucking it into my pocket just as Bri sashays up to me.
“Hey there, Dom.” I give her a quick head nod, normally interpreted by everyone else around here to leave me the fuck alone, but Bri ignores it.
Brighton Griggs, the older sister of Shadow, the Cerberus VP, has been around for months, using the excuse of helping her brother and Mi
sty with Griffin, their almost sixteen-month-old son. Problem is she doesn’t know shit about children. She mistakes my grin about the story Kid told me about how she put Hershey’s fucking syrup in Misty’s breast milk as directed at her.
“We don’t normally see you during the week,” she coos, sitting down beside me without an inch to spare between our thighs. The Clinique Happy she’s over-sprayed on herself assaults my nose. The same shit that Karen wore all through high school. I thought that shit went out of style in the nineties, but then again Bri is only two years younger than my thirty-eight, so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising.
“You staying the night?” Bri asks when I ignore her by keeping my eyes down, feigning interest in the app screen on my phone.
“Nope,” I answer, wishing I hadn’t even come over. “Was just about to leave.”
My eyes dart up, finding Kincaid, Emmalyn, and several Cerberus members walking through the front door. The pinks and purples of the late fall sunset serve as a backdrop to their forms before the door closes. I smirk as my love-struck brother guides his very pregnant wife through the room.
“Hey, Dom,” she offers without pausing.
“Let me get her to bed, and I’ll be out in just a few minutes,” Kincaid says, his arms at the ready to fend off anything that could stand in her way.
I chuckle when Emmalyn rolls her eyes at his overprotectiveness. She’s told him a million times to back off, but after about the sixth month she gave up when he wouldn’t relent.
I thank the Lord above when Snake, Snatch, and Ace take seats in the living room. Bri huffs and excuses herself less than a minute later.
I look over at Snatch. "What were you guys doing?”
“Doctor’s appointment,” he answers.
“More like a security escort and convoy to the damn hospital,” Snake complains with an exaggerated sigh as he plops back on the sofa. “Prez is getting worse the further she gets.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. I can laugh at the way my brother is acting over the woman he married two months ago. Snide comments from someone other than a blood relative make me want to punch him in the face.
“They went through hell to get those babies,” I say instead of getting violent. “Just because you knocked up a club whore and she chose to get an abortion six months ago, doesn’t mean that there aren’t people out there who want their children.”
Snake grumbles something under his breath as he stands and leaves the room.
Snatch kicks my boot, forcing me to pull my eyes from his back. “Asshole thing to say, man.”
“It’s true,” I begin.
Snatch shakes his head. “She didn’t even tell him she was pregnant until after the procedure. He’s pretty fucked up about it.”
“Shit,” I grunt. “I can’t get shit right today.”
Including keeping my attitude in check where a certain pink-haired girl is concerned.
“Five weeks,” Kincaid says coming into the room rubbing his hands together. “I can’t wait for my girls to get here.”
A sharp knock on the door has Kincaid tilting his head at Ace as he sits down. It’s only then that I realize Ace, one of the newer members of the club has a pistol at his back and another strapped to his leg, his hand on his side piece as he peeks through the peephole.
I go to grin at my brother for the show of force at the damn doctor’s office, but Ace’s announcement, “Renegades” before he pulls open the door snaps my neck in that direction.
I hate the ease Ace must feel as he pulls his hand from the gun on his thigh to swing the door open as if he’s welcoming an old friend.
Kincaid shifts beside me, scooting to the edge of the couch. Nervous energy is rolling off of him, and I know then that he doesn’t trust the Renegade MC as much as he makes the other Cerberus members believe. I see his eyes dart to Snatch who’s on his feet in less than a second.
“Beer?” he asks me as he heads further into the room toward the kitchen and closer to the entry into the hallway where Kincaid’s pregnant wife is resting.
“Sure, man,” I respond not taking my eyes off of Grinder and two of his lackeys as they clear the threshold and walk toward us.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Snatch doesn’t offer the interlopers a beer, a clear indication to everyone that they’re not welcome to stay.
“Grinder,” Kincaid says standing from the couch. His nonchalance betrayed by the way his hand rests on his belt, right above the glock he’s got in an appendix carry against his stomach. “Unannounced is really unusual for Renegades, especially without your Prez.”
The warning in his voice beyond apparent. The Renegade MC is invited to community functions, being the closest MC to Kincaid’s. They come over by invite only, usually for barbecues or parties, the last one being when I retired from the Marines last year. Since finding out Emmalyn is pregnant, Kincaid hasn’t invited them back. The pixie like woman alone in my house is the reason for this unannounced house call, and I hate that I promised Makayla I wouldn’t speak to Kincaid or any of the Cerberus about her being there. Protecting her is one thing, but at the expense of this club when I have no fucking clue what’s going on, isn’t something I’m remotely comfortable with.
“Prez’s sister is missing,” Grinder says with an emotionless expression that makes my skin crawl.
Damn near graying hair and numerous scars on his face make his words more sinister than I’m sure he’s intended. The Renegade’s Sergeant at Arms has been around longer than almost all of the other biker’s in the group. He was Breaker Hanigan’s SAA before Scorpion took over years ago.
“How long?” Kincaid asks with concern etched in his uninformed voice.
“Nobody’s seen her since yesterday, about mid-morning,” Grinder replies.
“Less than thirty-six hours,” Kincaid says after a quick glance at his watch. “Can’t be the first time she’s taken a break from the clubhouse.”
An eerie sense of dread hits me when Grinder’s scarred lip twitches as if he’s barely holding back his rage.
“She tends to stick pretty close to home,” one of the other guys says, but is halted from speaking when Grinder throws a death glare over his shoulder.
“We’ve had some trouble with a few assholes in town. She went to get coffee and never came back,” Grinder shares.
Kincaid cocks his head to the side, confusion in his eyes. “If you got trouble in Durango, I guess I don’t understand why you guys are looking for her in Farmington.”
Grinder’s eyes dart from Kincaid’s to mine and back to Kincaid’s. “We wanted to see if you’ve seen her. Ask if any of your girls have had contact with her. Scorpion’s getting nervous. She’s never been gone overnight before. He’s afraid she’s in a bad way.”
She’s safe motherfucker.
“Most of the girls here are gone for the week. Some lipstick convention in Tulsa. Been gone since Monday. Won’t be back until next week.”
“Fuck,” Ace groans from across the room and I look over in time to see him grabbing his dick through his jeans as if he’s pained by not having pussy at the ready for a week. Lazy fucker may have to go out and actually convince a woman to fuck him.
“I can put in a call,” Kincaid adds. “But I can guarantee they haven’t heard from her. Poison doesn’t come around here. Never has.”
The mention of her name makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“So you’re not going to look for her?” Agitation is evident in Grinder’s voice as he darts his eyes between my brother and me.
“Let me do some checking,” Kincaid placates. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”
Grinder nods and turns to leave, his gaze staying on me a couple seconds too long. I know he can’t read me. I’ve perfected my ability to keep my emotions locked down, playing someone I’m not from years in the Corps, but the way he’s looking at me makes me question if I’ve kept my face calm when ideas that he’s somehow responsible for Mak showing up on my doorstep. The f
act that she can compromise years of training concerns me.
We stand, silent, and watch the three Renegade members exit the clubhouse, not speaking until the sound of their motorcycles are no longer heard.
“Hmm,” Kincaid hums as he takes his seat once again.
“They usually come to you with shit like that?” I ask as Snatch comes back from his post near the kitchen and sits across from us.
“Never,” Snatch answers for Kincaid.
“They usually keep their club business to themselves,” my brother adds.
“It seems more like they’re hunting her, not looking for her,” I reply.
“You caught that too, huh?” I nod even though the question is rhetorical.
“Let me know what you find out,” I say standing from the couch. “I’m going to head home.”
“Got big plans or something?” My brother, always attentive knows I’d normally stay later than now.
I shrug. “I feel like I need a shower after being around Grinder. That guy gives me the creeps.” Which is saying a lot considering the people we interact with on recovery missions and encounters I’ve had in my twenty years of military service.
“See you later,” he says also standing from the couch.
Snatch laughs as he heads back to his room to check on Emmalyn.
“Later,” I tell Snatch as I head for the door.
The slow fifteen minute ride back to my house does nothing to abate the feeling in my gut that Mak’s being in my house and the injuries on her body have everything to do with Grinder.
Once home, I don’t even bother knocking on her bedroom door, but I’m surprised it’s unlocked. She bolts up to sitting in bed the second the door opens.
“Cover yourself,” I hiss when she just sits blinking up at me with her glorious tits on full display.
“Don’t like my tits?” she teases but pulls the sheet up to her chin
“You have amazing tits, Mak. We both know that, but they happen to be attached to a woman who’s in my house hiding out from a deadly guy, and I’m left in the dark.”
