Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC Book 2)

by Jordan Marie

  “Love you, Dragon. Forever.”

  “Forever, Mama.”

  I hang up and find Dancer just staring at an empty glass in his hand. I take a deep breath and decide to just dive in.

  “It can’t keep going on like this, Dance.”

  “Don’t know what you mean,” he lies and I know he is lying.

  “Tell me another one,” I respond, filling our glasses again. I just stare at mine, the amber liquid blurring.

  “I’ve got a handle on shit,” he lies yet again.

  I guess hardball it is.

  “You look like death warmed over, your woman is currently in a bathroom crying over your sorry ass and all this is after you drove your vehicle into a fucking lake trying to end it all. Doesn’t sound at-fucking-all like you’ve got a handle on shit.”

  “I believe I said I don’t want to talk about this,” he growls, moving to stand. “I’m not two, I’m a grown ass man and I do not want to do this.”

  I grab his wrist to hold him in place.

  “You move out of this chair and you will regret it. We’re going to have this shit out. We’re going to have it out now and we’re going to work through it. I will not lose another brother. I will not lose you. Do you hear me, Dance?”

  “You’ve become a meddlesome motherfucker since I’ve been gone, Dragon,” he sighs, but relaxes back into his seat. Only then do I let go and take another drink. Fuck, I’m going to need it.

  “You want to tell me why driving your car off a ledge is better than reaching out to your family?”

  “I’m not getting why you think this is your business. You weren’t there. You haven’t lived any of this shit. I have. If I don’t want to discuss it, then by god I should have that right.”

  He’s right, I think for a second, but disregard it. If he hadn’t tried to end it, he’d be right. If he was coping worth a damn, he’d be right. He’s dong none of those things.

  “It is my business. You’re my business. You’re family.”

  “This family is so fucked up Drag. I’m not sure that’s a good thing anymore.”

  It’s a low blow, but I allow it. I still can’t figure out how I missed the signs about Irish.

  “You can talk or I will, Dance. It makes not one damned bit of difference to me at this point.”

  “I got nothing to say.”

  I sigh. I was hoping this would go a different way.

  “When you were unconscious at the hospital you had dreams,” I watch as my brother’s face turns pale white.

  “You don’t get to go there, Dragon,” he says, the words lie heavy in the quiet room. His voice is laced with a cold anger that could chill a man to the bone. “This is my fucking life, and you do not get to go there! You do not get to fucking discuss it and we’re not talking about this fucking shit!”

  He gets up throwing his glass across the room. I don’t know where it lands. I’m too busy watching my brother. Too busy seeing the misery inside of him literally bleed to the surface.

  “This does not concern you, Dragon. This has nothing to do with you. This is my fucking life and I will deal with this shit the way I want to!” He growls starting towards the door.

  “You’re not dealing with it, Dance. Man, you aren’t even going to the damn therapy appointments the hospital set up.”

  “You’ve been fucking checking up on me? What the hell gives you the right?” He yells, turning around to look at me.

  “Dance man, I care about you. Hell, we all do. I want to help you.”

  “You can’t help me! You don’t know a fucking thing about it! While you were here finding the woman you wanted, I was the one rotting away! I was the one locked behind steel doors, spending my nights staring through bars! I was the one being beat down by the guards! I was the one whose soul was shriveling inside—dying little by little, piece by piece, every fucking, damned day! I was the one who was held down and beaten nearly unconscious while the guards laughed! I was the one they forced! I was the one…SON OF A BITCH! JUST STAY OUT OF IT! It was me, not you, not Crusher, not motherfucking Bull, none of you! It was me! So, don’t you fucking try to tell me what the fuck I need to do! You have no clue! NONE!”

  He slams out of the room and I let him go. I let him go, because I have no idea what to do. Fuck, maybe I’ve made it worse.

  I have to do something. Anything, because some things can’t be unheard, some things can’t be undone. Some things eat holes in you. My brother has holes the size of the fucking Grand Canyon eating him alive and I don’t have the first idea of how to help him, but I have to try. I have to.

  I need to start finding who exactly was involved in those attacks—every last fucking one. I can’t use Freak or none of the boys though. This secret is Dance’s and I will NOT add to his pain, but I am going to find every last man involved and then I will make them bleed and beg for death, before I end them. Believe me, I will end them. I will.

  Chapter 21

  Dancer

  I DON’T WANT to say I ran out of there, but I walked fast. I don’t look back. I’m mad, not so much at Dragon—more at the world. I knew what was coming and I knew I didn’t want to hear what Dragon had to say. I knew I couldn’t handle it. I should have turned and left immediately. Why the fuck didn’t I leave?

  I jump on my bike and point it towards Pussy’s. I should go home to Carrie. I should, but I can’t. I need to get lost in a bottle. I can’t stand her eyes looking at me in sadness and disappointment. I’ve disappointed her way too much.

  My drive there is quick. I drive hard and fast, letting the cold air hit my face. I welcome the sting and the numbness it eventually brings. I curse the tears I feel hitting my face. Men do not cry. Real men! Strong men! I don’t feel strong. Hell, I’m not strong. Things like what happened to me, they don’t happen to strong men. I scream out into the night air. It doesn’t help—not one damn bit.

  I grab a seat at the bar and proceed to lose myself. People seem to be giving me a wide berth, I’m glad. Six, is working as a bartender tonight, he nods, but doesn’t speak. Does he know too? Did Dragon tell all the men? My hand shakes in fear at the thought. I don’t want anyone to know. I can’t handle anyone knowing. I want to kill Dragon for knowing. I wrap my hand around the shot glass. I hold it tight to hide the visible signs of the hell I’m going through.

  I’ve never been able to say the word out loud—not once. I’ve tried, but giving voice to the word is like giving it life—giving it control. I was attacked? That’s easy. I was beaten? Still, no problem. Yet, saying aloud the ugly words, the more ‘real’ words is impossible. One word keeps repeating over and over in my brain. The mere thought of it feels as if my insides are on fire and I’m going to be devoured by the flames and burned alive. Rape! I’ve been… raped!

  Rape is something that happens to the weak. To women who can’t protect themselves. It does not happen to men. It sure as hell doesn’t happen to strong men, men who are able to take care of themselves. It doesn’t happen to men who can protect people they care about.

  I was raped!

  I leave the glass behind and just grab the bottle, taking a swig out of it. Carrie wants to hitch her wagon to me. She wants me, but how can she want the man I really am? How much would her love turn to disgust if she knew the truth? I should tell her. I should tell her and end this fucking fairytale she’s concocted in her head.

  *

  I’VE BEEN HERE awhile now. I couldn’t tell you how long. I really couldn’t. It’s a blur. Time ceased to exist half a bottle ago. I want to be back in bed with Carrie. I want to lie next to her and listen to her breathe and forget, if only for a minute. That’s another weakness I guess. A real man wouldn’t crave escape, he wouldn’t need to pretend.

  “Dance man, how about I take you home?” I look up to see Crush standing beside me.

  “No thanks,” I say. My words sound off to me, but I don’t really care.

  “Man, Carrie’s worried about you. Let’s get you home and you can sleep
it off.”

  “Carrie, always fucking Carrie,” I growl out, reaching for another drink, but the bottle is empty now. When did that happen?

  “C’mon Dance, your head is all fucked up. Let’s get you home so you can sleep it off. Things will look better in the morning, they always do.”

  “They don’t. Trust me Crusher, sometimes things are much fucking worse in the morning. You got a woman?”

  “Not on most days.”

  “Don’t fucking get one, they don’t stop until they ruin your life. They bat their eyes and smile at you and think you should just drop to your knees in front of them. Don’t fucking get a woman, Crusher.”

  “Dance, man I happen to like getting on my knees for a woman.”

  “Then get a pussy. Pussy is free. Pussy is easy. HEY! This man needs pussy! Who’s going to help him out?”

  Crusher snorts and helps to steady me as I get up. The room sways, but eventually comes to a stop.

  “Don’t worry, Crusher. You’ll get all kinds of pussy now. Women run to a man with a dick because they think they can sink their claws into him. They want to make us into some kind of hero who can do anything. It’s crazy.”

  “C’mon let’s get you in the cage.”

  “Cars are not cages. I have been in a fucking cage, not the same man. It’s not the same.”

  “Yeah brother, you’re right. Let’s get you in the car.”

  I stare at the black suburban in front of me. How’d we get outside? Fuck if I know at this point. I see fucking Bull sitting in the passenger side, so I slide in the back when Crusher opens the door. I almost fall out again, but Crusher holds onto my shoulder until I steady myself. I look across from me and Carrie is watching me. I don’t know why she’s here, but the look on her face is one I do not like. I have disappointed her yet again. Didn’t I warn her? I am not a man to hang your hat on. I never have been.

  “What’s wrong, Princess? Starting to see what I warned you about? Not liking what you see? Tell me Princess, what are you staring at?”

  “Nothing, Jacob. Let’s just get home.”

  “Home? We don’t have a home. I’m not cut out for a white picket fence and a home.”

  She doesn’t reply and it pisses me off. She pisses me off. This whole fucking mess pisses me off.

  “I keep telling you I’m not Prince Charming in your story, Princess. I didn’t leave one prison, just to be trapped in another.”

  “Dance man, shut the fuck up,” Bull growls from the front passenger seat. Figures that where Carrie was, Bull would try and follow.

  “Of course you’d be here. You just can’t stay away from her, can you? I got news for you brother, I already got in there. You don’t have a chance. She’s mine now. I showed her what real men do. Had her screaming in pleasure. She’s so loud, I thought the neighbors would call 911. Ain’t that right, Carrie?”

  Carrie doesn’t respond, not that I expected her to. I know I’m being an ass, but I can’t stop myself.

  “If you weren’t drunk off your ass and a pathetic waste, I’d end you. Now shut the fuck up,” Bull growls not bothering to look at me. Which again, fucking pisses me off. Who the hell does he think he is?

  “Got to tell you man. It was sweet. Thought she was going to break my dick off she was riding it so hard. Bitch loves my cock. I gave her…”

  Slap!

  The sting of a hand smacking across my face is so hard that my jaw burns like fire. I stop mid-sentence, turning sideways to look at Carrie. She’s sitting beside me and I can’t really say what the look on her face is. The tears on her cheeks though? That’s fucking familiar. My hand goes up to where she slapped me. The skin is hot to the touch. I turn away from her tears. I turn away from the anger I see in those green eyes.

  I turn away.

  Chapter 22

  Carrie

  I CAN TAKE the humiliation. It doesn’t mean anything, not in the grand scheme of things. I can take about anything from Jacob, because I know he has this poison in his system. I know that the target of his venom is almost, always me. He blames me. He blames me for his attack, for his pain. I am okay with that, because I blame me too. I do. If I could go back, I would in a heartbeat. If I could take his place, I would. If I could have been the one violated, I would! If Jacob hadn’t saved me that night and never rescued me, I’d be okay with that. I would absolutely go back and do that. So, taking shit from Jacob? I am okay with that, because I feel like Dancer’s hell is my fault.

  Except, I’m not. Not really. Every word he says cuts my heart up. Every time he looks at me with disgust and hate in his eyes I want to cry out at the injustice of it all. I don’t. I don’t know what to do at this point.

  We make it home without Jacob spewing any more of his anger at me. I am grateful. My hand hurts from the force of the blow my hand landed on his face. I make a fist to hold the pain in. He passed out on the ride back and it takes both Alexander and Bull to carry him inside. They place him on the couch. I shouldn’t care, but I get a blanket from the hall closet and drape it over him. He’s dead to the world and so far there doesn’t seem to be a sign of his usual nightmare. I sit down in the chair across from him, watching as he sleeps. Here like this, he seems a little like the old Jacob—the Jacob I hold close in my heart.

  When I woke up earlier to find Nicole and Bull still here I wasn’t sure what to think. Then, Nicole told me what Dragon had done tonight and I panicked. I knew instantly that would be trouble. Dragon doing this pushed Jacob into a place he wasn’t ready to go. It was like watching an avalanche though, you know what’s coming, but there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it. So I just waited.

  Eventually, Alexander and Dragon showed up and from Dragon’s face, I figured things were worse than I imagined (which was pretty damn bad). I didn’t ask and they didn’t volunteer. Dragon took Nicole home and the rest of us just waited. Six called before I drove myself too insane and we set out to bring Jacob home.

  Now, Bull’s gone and Alexander is in the other room supposedly sleeping. I should be. Instead, like a fool I’m sitting here watching Jacob sleep. I think maybe I’m standing guard to keep his nightmares at bay. I realize how stupid that is, but I can’t seem to help being stupid when it comes to Jacob.

  I watch him silently. I have every angle and indention on his face memorized, but he seems softer in sleep. Like this, I’m reminded of the Jacob I fell in love with. In his dreamless sleep, he looks like the Jacob who found me alone, crying in the parking lot of my school. I had missed the bus and everyone was gone. I’d fallen asleep and apparently none of the staff or students missed me. I fell and skinned-up both my knees and the palms of my hands. Jacob had found me sitting on the concrete crying. He picked me up in his strong arms.

  Dry those eyes Care Bear, I got you.

  His gruff voice was soft and he used his thumb to wipe my tears away.

  That memory morphs into another. This time it was when Jacob showed up at mine and Jazz’ prom to make sure we were okay. I hated high school, having never fit in. Jacob danced with the awkward, shy sixteen year old girl and instantly turned a horrible night into one I have always held dear. He took me in his arms and smiled down at me.

  I want your first dance to be with me Care Bear, can’t have all these boys trying to steal my girl.

  I remember the feeling of being in his arms and hearing those words wash over me. I want to go back there—back to the days when Jacob cared about me. I want to go back to the days before he was hurt.

  I see glimpses of him. When he calls me Care Bear? When he made love to me there were moments it felt like he was right there with me. I know Nicole told me I would have to fight. I thought I could. I want to. I really do. I just don’t know if I can handle more of his hatred.

  Sometimes the only thing to do is give up. Either that or hold on, I haven’t decided…my brain hasn’t told me which to do yet. I’m afraid it never will, because my heart keeps drowning it out. I love him, but maybe there is a limit to wh
at love can truly endure?

  I have all kinds of questions, I have no answers. I give up trying to figure it out and decide to go to bed. I go through the motions of taking off my makeup, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. My mind is on auto-pilot. I feel broken.

  I don’t know how long I’ve lain in bed. I must have dozed off because I wake up to sounds coming from the bathroom. I lie there hearing the shower shut off. Eventually, I hear water running into the sink. I’m about to go back out again, when I feel the bed shift. Jacob’s hand comes around my stomach. I try my best to hold myself solid. I ignore the way the heat from his body tries to invade mine.

  “I’m sorry, Care Bear.”

  Part of me, even now, wants to let it go. I can’t.

  “Aren’t you going to talk to me?” He asks.

  “I’ve nothing to say.”

  “I’ve been dealing with shit Carrie, and I got drunk. I shouldn’t have.”

  “I know, I just can’t handle being someone you hate. I thought I could, I was wrong. I need for you to go.” I’m honest this time. I might understand why he’s lashing out at me, but I don’t know if I can’t handle any more of it, not when there aren’t any signs of it changing.

  “Baby, I said I’m sorry. Have I messed this up too much, Carrie?”

  “I don’t even know what this is and I really don’t know why you care. You don’t even like me, Jacob.”

  “This is the only time my brain finds any peace. I need you, Care Bear.”

  “I’m just so tired.”

  “It’s not an excuse, but Dragon brought shit up and I’m just…I need time, Carrie. I need time,” Jacob says rolling over on his back looking up at the ceiling. His voice is a mixture of pain and frustration.

  “It’s fine. Move back in at the club while you figure things out.”

  “No. I can’t stand being at the club it feels like the walls are closing in on me there.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll move out in the morning,” I say as my heart breaks inside. I have come to view this house as home. It is stupid to get attached to it, but it seems I only do stupid stuff these days.