Rock's Redemption: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)

by Chiah Wilder

  “I got men outside. We’ll cover what they don’t inside.” Rock wanted to slam the dude against a wall when he saw the look of disdain in his eyes as he ran them over the biker.

  “My colleagues will be here soon. I will need your services until they leave.” His tone was dismissive.

  “Let’s go and check this out.” Rock walked away from him without a glance.

  After the men checked out the entire first floor, Rock placed Chas at the back of the house where triple French doors opened onto a veranda overlooking a well-manicured lawn. Rags took the north side, and Rock stayed in the front by the foyer. From that viewpoint, he could watch the other rooms. The woman of the house was glaringly absent.

  At two o’clock five gentlemen appeared dressed in khaki pants with sports shirts. They carried briefcases and greeted Frederick as he walked into the foyer from one of the rooms. The host escorted the men to the dining room where they sat down and began their power meeting.

  Rock expected the woman to show up and serve the drinks, but the butler seemed to be the one in charge of doing it. I wonder if she’s at home. Maybe he had her go shopping while he and his buddies decide how to fuck up the economy and start wars.

  After thirty minutes, Rock contacted Jax on the remote and told him to come to the house so they could switch positions. He wanted to do a perimeter check to make sure everything was cool. The amount of wealth in the room was staggering, and he could understand why Blair wanted security during their meeting. The risk of a home invasion, kidnapping, or worse was too high.

  It took a long time to walk the grounds, but he wanted to make sure they were secured. When he came around the backside of the mansion he stopped. He sensed her at the fringes of his awareness, felt her pull—like magnet to steel. He took a deep breath and looked up, and there she was on the second floor, leaning against a small window, her gaze locked with his. For a long moment they were tied together through silence and anticipation. Then she turned away and was gone. Rock licked his lips and took a couple gulps of air while he tried to clear his head, then quickened his pace to finish up his round.

  When he entered the house again, he headed for the massive circular stairway leading up to her. As he climbed up, Frederick’s voice echoed in the foyer. “Stop! You’re not allowed up there.”

  “I’m just doing my job in making sure everything is secured.”

  “It’s not necessary to go upstairs. Just check the main floor and the grounds. The second and third stories are private.”

  Reluctantly Rock turned around and headed down, each step heavier in the knowledge that he was going farther away from her. It fuckin’ kills me to know she’s up there and I’m down here. Is it killing her too? She was definitely staring at me, but maybe she’d have stared at Wheelie, or Chas, or any of the guys. I’m worse than a pussy. I’m a fuckin’ pussy sissy.

  “You want me to go back outside?” Jax asked as Rock hit the bottom of the stairs.

  “Hold on for a few. I’m gonna check out all the doors and windows. We shoulda had more guys for this job.” Rock marched around the house, making sure everything was locked and not tampered with. This house is so fuckin’ big it’s taken me almost an hour to check everything out. Give me my room at the club anytime. As he came back to the foyer, he saw Frederick and the woman walking down the stairs, his hand holding hers. Rock held his breath, but the moment she saw him she bowed her head again, her hair covering her face. No way, darlin’. One way or another, I’m gonna see you before I leave.

  As they passed Rock and Jax, Frederick said to the woman, “Fix us lunch and bring the drinks, pet.” He escorted her into the dining room, the men standing as she came to the table. Rock doubted that the group was in the lifestyle, and Frederick acted differently with her this time than he had the last time the bikers had been there.

  She took their drink orders and then served the drinks, telling them she’d be out in a little bit to serve lunch. In less than twenty minutes she placed a bright seafood salad on the table, a plate of croissants, small bowls of lemon and lime wedges, and a platter of watermelon, cantaloupe, and berries. She refilled the glasses with white wine.

  “Leave the bottle here, pet. I’ll pour the wine. Why don’t you start cleaning the kitchen?”

  “Yes, S—I mean, Frederick.” She rushed out of the room.

  Rock came close to Jax. “I’m gonna check around again,” he said in a hushed voice. He went the other way, knowing from his earlier security check that he could enter the kitchen from the other side of the house.

  As he approached the kitchen his heart pounded against his ribs. Calm the fuck down. What’s up with you, pussy? He stood in the doorway, admiring the way she looked in her knit dress as she bent over to put dishes in the washer, her lovely hair free-flowing.

  “Need some help?” His voice came out louder than he wanted.

  She whipped her head up, her back to him, stiff and straight. “No. You have to go.” She glanced sideways out the door leading to the dining room.

  “He’s eating. He won’t bother us. I wanna talk to you.”

  “Why can’t you leave me alone?” she whispered, her voice hitching.

  “I don’t know.”

  An uneasy silence fell over them.

  “How’ve you been?” Rock asked gently.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I can’t talk to you.”

  “Why not? Because he tells you not to? You’re a grown woman. You can decide for yourself.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice was so low he could barely hear her. The few words they had spoken between them had always been in hushed tones, as though she were speaking from the shadows that lurked around her.

  “Okay, but before I go I want to see your face,” he blurted.

  She gasped. “No.”

  Without arguing, he was beside her in a couple long strides, spinning her to face him. She didn’t resist; it was like she’d been waiting for this moment since their breaths had first shared the same air. He lightly moved her hair from her face and placed his finger under her chin, tilting her head back so he could see her. He scanned her face and his gaze fell on her big shimmering green eyes. Beautiful eyes that reminded him of—Clotille!

  “Fuck. It’s you, Clotille, isn’t it?”

  She nodded then smiled.

  “No wonder you were hiding your face. I’d never forget your eyes. What the fuck are you doing in Aspen with this asshole?”

  She touched the base of her neck. “Please don’t tell Frederick we know each other. He’s very jealous.” She wrung her hands as she glanced out the door again. “Do you live in Aspen?”

  “Pinewood Springs. I’ve been here since I got outta prison.”

  “I heard you left Lafayette. I didn’t know where you’d had gone.”

  “I’m with the Insurgents MC. We’re doing this piddly ass job as a favor to a longtime friend.” His gaze roamed over her body. She’s still so beautiful even though she’s lost a lot of weight. He didn’t remember the dark circles under her eyes. “How can you be a part of this jerk’s lifestyle?”

  She shrugged. “It’s nice not being in control. I like being submissive and he loves being dominant, so it works for us.” She laughed nervously before looking out the door for the umpteenth time.

  “That wasn’t who you were when I knew you.”

  “That was a long time ago. I don’t think either of us knew who we were, Roche.”

  “I’m not Roche anymore. I’m Rock.”

  She smiled faintly. “And I’m no longer Clotille. I’m Pet.” They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then she cleared her throat. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Nah.”

  “I can’t believe a handsome, rugged man like you isn’t taken.”

  “Don’t wanna be.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?”

  “I said I wasn’t taken, not that I’m living like a monk. I got plenty of w
omen. No worries there.”

  She skimmed her eyes over his body. “I bet you do. You grew up to be quite a good-looking man.”

  “Merci.”

  She smiled, a touch of red kissing her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so good to see you again,” she said in a low voice.

  “Let’s go for lunch and catch up,” he said, his gaze lingering on her full lips.

  “I don’t think I like you asking my pet out.” Frederick’s voice was sharp and steely.

  Clotille’s hand flew to her mouth and she trembled.

  “I don’t give a damn what you like,” Rock gritted, his six-foot-one frame looming over the other man.

  Frederick ignored him and stared hard at Clotille. “Why were you talking to him without my permission?”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  “You’re sorry, what?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “You disobeyed me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I disobeyed you, Sir.”

  Before he could continue, Rock cut in. “Don’t blame her. I’m the one who came in bugging her. She told me to leave and not talk to her. I kept pushing it.”

  “And she kept talking to you. My point exactly,” Frederick said matter-of-factly. He glared at Rock. “If you think for one minute that I’m going to let you paw and soil my pet, you’re dumber than you look.”

  “You better fuckin’ watch your mouth ‘cause I won’t think twice ‘bout beating the shit outta you. I don’t give a fuck if you own the goddamned world. You show respect or your prick friends will be scraping you off your white marble floors.”

  Frederick looked at Clotille. “Get upstairs. Now!”

  “She’s not going anywhere. We’re not done talking.” He saw Clotille blanch, her lips quivering.

  “I don’t want any of you bikers in the house. Just stay outside.”

  “Fuck you. Come with me,” Rock said to her.

  She looked at Frederick. He smiled. “Pet, you have permission to speak.”

  “I can’t. I’m with Frederick.”

  Frederick looked at him smugly and Rock clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his temper in check. If she wants this fucked-up life, she can have it. I’m sick of this shit. How the hell is Clotille even here? Who gives a fuck? First thing when I get back, I’m telling Banger to assign another brother to this bullshit job.

  She went behind Frederick, her hand on his shoulder. He laughed. “I think my pet has spoken. Just because you’re younger and ride a motorcycle you think all the women want you. I can give my pet more than you ever could.”

  Rock looked one last time at the woman he’d loved since he was eleven years old. Even though her hand was firm on the asshole’s shoulder, a solitary tear spilled from her eye, leaving a wet trace down her face. As he watched it, he could feel her heart breaking.

  Rock marched out of the room and went up to Jax and Chas. “He wants us outside only.” The three guys left the house, and Rock went over to his bike and got on. His cams screamed to life and he ignored the baffled faces of his brothers as he sped away from Clotille.

  Chapter Seven

  The wind slashed at Rock’s face and body as he rode furiously back to Pinewood Springs. The last person he ever thought he’d see again was Clotille, and she turned out to be the woman who had been pricking at his mind for the past five weeks. She’s living as a slave for some rich man’s amusement. What the fuck, Clotille? He didn’t buy it for one minute that she wanted to be part of that asshole’s lifestyle. Hell, he knew her, plus he saw it in her eyes and heard it in her voice that she was lying. She was with Frederick Blair for a reason.

  Rock rounded the corner along the pass so low to the ground his shin was inches from the asphalt. As he pulled up, he remembered Isa telling him that Clotille’s father had gambled away all their money and they’d lost everything, but now her mother was living in a big house in a ritzy neighborhood. A wry smile cracked his face; he’d just figured out where the money came from to allow her mother to live in luxury.

  He couldn’t believe Clotille had ended up in such a situation. Shit! If she needs money, I can help her out. He yelled and the wind swallowed up his cuss words. Rock had money from the sale of his mother’s land, and he hadn’t wanted to touch a penny of it. He hadn’t even wanted to sell the land in the first place. He thought of it as blood money, so he’d placed it in an investment account which had been growing steadily for years. The club also gave a generous stipend to all the members thanks to their dispensaries and various businesses in Pinewood Springs.

  He hung a sharp right down the small dirt road leading to the clubhouse. Pulling up, he jumped off his bike and walked inside, the familiar scents of beer and weed welcoming him home. Before he reached the bar, Bruiser said, “Banger wants to see you in his office.”

  Rock stiffened. Had Frederick contacted Liam already? The whiny pussy. Rock rapped on the office door and entered when Banger’s voice boomed out. A scowling president greeted him as he walked into the room then sank into a chair in front of the desk.

  “Why the fuck did you leave your post? And what the fuck were you thinking by hitting on a client’s wife? Shit, don’t you have enough pussy in the club and town?”

  Rock’s eyes widened for a second when he heard “wife,” but then his complacent expression returned. “It turns out I know her from back in the day. We’re both Cajuns from the same parish.”

  “So what the fuck does that have to do with you hitting on her and leaving your post?”

  Rock stared defiantly at Banger’s piercing gaze. “I wasn’t hitting on her. And I don’t like the sonofabitch who owns the house. We don’t get along, so I thought it was best that I leave before I beat the shit outta him.”

  For several seconds Banger and Rock engaged in a stare down, neither one giving an inch until the president slowly shook his head. “Fuck, man. You may have blown the whole thing with Liam. You know how it is—it’s all about the money. There’s no way Liam is giving this fucker up for us, and we need him to get info on the Demon Riders. You shouldn’t have lost your head.”

  “Yeah, well, I did. I don’t like the way he’s treating her. She’s like a goddamned slave.” Rock crossed his arms and jutted his jaw out.

  “Yeah, I know all about the dinner party from the last time you were up there. Some of the guys told me about it. It sounds to me that’s what they’re into. It might not be for everyone but it seems like they fucking like it. It’s not for you to decide what’s right or wrong for her. You need to back the fuck off. This isn’t just about you and some pussy; it’s about the Insurgents. The club has a job and its reputation, and I can’t have one of the brothers fucking things up because he has the hots for someone else’s wife.”

  Rock just glared.

  “I’ll call Liam and smooth this out. The guy doesn’t want you near his place so—”

  “That suits me just fine ‘cause I have no fuckin’ intention of going back there.” Rock stood up. “We done here?” He wanted to take a hot shower, drink some brandy, and maybe fuck Lola and Rosie. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Clotille and how beautiful she looked. He wanted to leave that far behind.

  “We’re done.” Banger looked at his computer screen, his action dismissing Rock. He left and climbed the stairs to his room, the shock of seeing his old flame still reverberating through him.

  After his shower, he poured himself a brandy and sipped it slowly. Clotille’s eyes had always captivated him, but at that moment they haunted him. He sighed. She saved her family by selling herself to the guy. Are they really married or is Frederick using “wife” lightly? He wouldn’t put it past Frederick to be saying that on purpose to piss him off. Why the hell do I care? We haven’t had anything since we were teenagers. Then he remembered how she’d gone back and married Luc a few months after Rock was incarcerated. That had hurt more than anything. He’d acted like it didn’t, especially to Isa, but inside he’d been s
hattered. He’d needed her—his mother had been killed by his father, for fuck’s sake—but she’d left him when the going got tough. She fuckin’ bailed on me.

  He downed the rest of his brandy and headed downstairs, not wanting to be alone. Being with people kept his mind quiet. And that night he definitely had to keep the memories and all the demons they conjured up at bay; otherwise, he’d do something he’d regret, like riding back to Aspen and taking Clotille with him after he stomped the rich fucker to death.

  Wendy and Rosie were seated at one of the tables leafing through People and Cosmopolitan. He grabbed a beer at the bar and plopped down on a chair at their table, his eyes riveted on Seth Rollins as he attempted to throw Brock Lesnar on the ground. Several brothers were gathered around the television cheering and cussing at it as the top-notch WWE wrestlers entertained the crowd.

  “You doing okay, honey?” Wendy asked Rock. “You look tense.”

  “I’ve been better.” He took a long pull of beer. I can’t believe Clotille’s in Aspen. She must’ve recognized me the first night we were doing that shitty gig. That’s why she kept hiding her face. She fuckin’ knew it was me and didn’t say shit about it at the restaurant. She just keeps fuckin’ with me. Been doing it since we were kids.

  “Want a massage?” Wendy pushed her chair back and knelt in front of him, gently pushing his legs apart. She settled between his legs and began giving him a hand and arm massage.

  “Scoot your chair forward, sweetie,” Rosie whispered in his ear. He moved forward a bit and Rosie slid behind him and began massaging his shoulders. “Damn, you are tense. Your muscles are like cement.” She kissed his shoulders gently as her strong fingers dug into his skin. It felt so damn good the way Rosie worked out his kinks and Wendy moved her adept hands up and down his arms. Watching her tits bounce in her very low-cut top was a bonus. While they worked their magic on him, his thoughts flitted back to Clotille. He was getting real pissed at how she kept creeping back into his mind. For some unknown reason, he felt responsible for her, at least in her current situation. It wasn’t that he wanted her back in his life; he just wanted to help her get hers straightened out. After all, they had known each other since they were kids, and if he turned his back on her now he knew the guilt would nag him the rest of his life. If she really doesn’t want to leave, then I’ll stay the fuck out of her life forever. I want her to look me in the eyes and tell me to go away without that motherfucker around. If she does, then that’s it. Fini.