by Jc Emery
“Trunk,” Jeremy says. “This is club business, right? I called a few of the guys and they’re meeting me at the club house.”
“Good,” is all I can say. It’s like I’m on autopilot as I climb onto my bike, fire her up, and kick up the stand. I hang up the phone, shove it in my pocket, and peel out down the road for the highway.
In no time at all, I’m at the house and opening the door to the spare bedroom. On the floor, beneath the window, is Nic. She’s pulled up her legs and her arms rest atop her knees. In her right hand is a pairing knife. Her hair is a little messy, and her eyes are red, but she looks a lot better than I expect. I had expected her to be crying or even afraid. But no. Sometimes I forget how strong my girl really is. With a steady gaze she says, “I’m fine.”
“He hit you?” I ask, striding into the room and crouching down in front of her. Very slowly, I reach out, and she lets me take the knife. With the way I went off on her earlier, I’m relieved she doesn’t try to slice off some of my flesh.
“Just across the face,” she says. I move my hand up to gently cup her cheek.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I say. “I really fucked up this time.”
“Our kid is screwed,” she says, letting out a heavy breath. I crack a smile that I don’t mean, and she responds with a soft laugh that doesn’t meet her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say and press my lips to hers. “But he’s gonna be ours.”
I give it another moment before I stand and pull her up with me. As much as I wanna be here all night with her, I got shit to take care of.
“It was Darren,” I say, finally making the connection. “The guy who hit you—it was him.” She nods her head and diverts her eyes.
“Nine times—now ten. I can tell you exactly how each time went down. Sometimes it was a pop in the mouth like tonight, sometimes it was much worse.” With big eyes, she looks up at me. “I’ve never told anybody that before.”
“He ever try something like he did tonight?” I ask, fucking terrified of the answer.
“You want the answer to that?” she asks, sadly. I let my eyes fall closed for half a second and vow that I’m going to lay waste to this piece of shit.
“No, but I need the answer,” I admit.
“Darren Jennings has violated me in every way you can imagine,” she says as her face heats and tears pool in her eyes. Looking at her and knowing what she’s been through, I can’t help but be selfish enough to feel like shit for not knowing and not protecting her. And I made her bring that shit home. I made her deal with him when I should have been there.
“He’s going to pay for what he did, for every single time he put his hands on you. I promise you, baby. Never again.”
“Where is he?” she asks.
“Jer’s got him at the clubhouse. We’re taking care of it.”
“I want to see him,” she says. I shake my head and tell her that’s not going to happen. “I’m the one he hurt, not the club. I get that you gotta take care of this, but so do I. Please, take me with you.”
Chapter 24
The ride to the clubhouse was tense. I didn’t feel right about bringing Nic with me, but I also didn’t feel right about leaving her at the house all scared and fucked up. Not that she was showing she was scared or fucked up. Truth be told, she mostly looked pissed. But that’s how she is. She’s good about hiding her emotions when she wants to. Still, I couldn’t deny her this. If she needs to see the prick take a beating to feel better, that’s what I’ll give to her.
Inside the clubhouse, in the game room, the pool table has been pushed aside. Diesel and Grady stand on either side of Darren, making sure he doesn’t move an inch. Across the room, leaning up against the wall, is Jeremy. His arms are folded, and his eyes are trained on Darren like he might kill him if he flinches wrong. I know the feeling, but I check myself before I make a mess that we can’t get out. We’ll be able to get blood off the concrete, but not so much off the pool table or the sofa.
“She shouldn’t be here,” Diesel says, catching my eye and lifting his chin at Nic, who follows behind me.
“She needs this,” I say and defy any one of my brothers to say a word. Shit’s upside down right now and I don’t know what Jeremy told them. He did well tonight. I’d rather he had let me call my brothers, but that’s selfish. He saw a way to help his sister—my woman—and he took it. And he did it the right way, knowing this was club business. Can’t be mad at that.
Wyatt strides in behind us carrying a wrench, a large flathead screwdriver, and a large bottle of bleach. He sets the wrench and the screwdriver down on the pool table and the bleach on the floor. With a nod of his head, Grady and Diesel each grab one of Darren’s arms and lift him off the couch. His eyes are wide, and he struggles, but is totally outmatched by my brothers. They shove him to his knees, and each places a foot on his ankles to keep him in place.
“Come here, kid,” Wyatt says to Jeremy, who responds immediately. Wyatt directs him to stand behind Darren and to hold him by the hair so he can’t turn away. “Prove to me that you’ve got enough heart for this club.”
Jeremy grabs Darren’s hair at the roots and yanks his head up with both hands. I turn to Nic and place a kiss on her temple. “You don’t have to watch this.”
“Yes I do,” she says. As much as I wish she weren’t here, I can see that she’s resolved.
“He scared you—back then?” I ask.
“He separated me from everything I ever loved,” she says just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Jeremy’s grip on Darren’s hair tightens, and both Diesel and Grady twist their boots into his ankles. Darren squirms uncomfortably and whimpers in pain.
“You never have to feel that way again,” I say and place a hand on her stomach. There’s nothing physically there to feel, but I swear—now that I know she’s got my baby inside her, I can sense the difference. I might be crazy as fuck, but I’ve been hot for this girl for a decade now. “What we got going on, it ain’t gonna end. We got this shit.”
I can feel my brothers watching us, but I don’t give a fuck. This is for her, not them. “But before we can move on, we got to end this. All that shit he did to you—you let it out now, baby. Let him have it.”
Once again, I underestimate her. I expect her to tell me that she can’t, or she’s afraid. But she does none of those things. She just stretches up on her tip toes and gives me a kiss. When she pulls away, she walks over to the pool table then moves to stand in front of Darren.
With watchful eyes, Wyatt comes to stand beside me. He says, “I wouldn’t let my woman in on this shit.”
I shake my head and say, “The only woman you got is your right hand and the Lost Girls. Nic can handle this shit. Remember who her dad is.”
Just as I finish my sentence, Nic brings the wrench back and then slams it into the side of Darren’s face. His head drops forward, but Jeremy pulls him back up so he’s facing her. She leans over and screams in his face, “That was one.”
She rears back and brings the wrench down to his upper arms as hard as she can. I stand in silence, realizing how angry she is and what she’s capable of. The sight before me reminds me to never hurt her as bad as he has. She wasn’t a woman she might be able to prospect, because fuck if she ain’t handling her shit.
“That’s two. You have eight more,” she hisses.
Wyatt clears his throat and leans in toward me and says, “I retract my comment. Chick is scary as fuck.” Darren starts mumbling something I can’t understand, but it only serves to piss her off further. She slams the wrench into his abdomen twice more.
“Oh, baby,” she says in a mocking tone that’s half scream, half whisper. “Why do you make me hit you? Why do you make me so mad? Is it because you don’t love me?” And she goes on, delivering angry line after line of what I can only guess is the shit he said to her. She gets in a total of seven blows then stops. I think she’s done when she starts pacing, and I take a step closer to her. The angry jerk of her head and he
r anxious plea make me stop. “I have three more.”
“Stop your crying,” she screams at Darren, who has tears streaming down his face. She hits him across the face again, this time on the other side. “Take it like a man. You’re such a big, strong man, aren’t you? Fucking take it!
“You made me feel like trash. You convinced me my family didn’t want me and that they weren’t protecting me. So fuck you and your fucking tears,” she snaps and swings at him again, this time at his side.
“But you fucked up,” she says lowly, leaning over to get in his face. “You think this is bad? You fucked with the wrong bitch, because baby, my man is going to end you. You hurt what’s his, and there’s only one way you can pay for it.” She rights herself and brings the wrench down like she’s swinging a fucking golf club and slams it into his dick. He folds in on himself, screaming and crying with such force that Diesel and Grady and Jeremy all lose a grip on him as he hits the concrete. She backs away and strides over to me. Her face is blank as she hands me the wrench and then leaves the room and turns down the hall to my bedroom.
“Holy shit,” Jeremy says, breathing heavy as he helps Diesel and Grady lift Darren up. The guy’s sobbing, and his mouth is bloody. “I am never giving her attitude again.”
My brothers laugh and smile down at Darren, who’s eyeing the room, his left moving slower than his right. With each step I take that brings me closer to him, my body relaxes just a little bit more. I got shit to deal with, but seeing Nic fuck him up really helped me focus my energy. I crouch down in front of him and signal to Wyatt for the screwdriver, which he produces quickly. I pop it up in the air a few times and stay still enough that Darren can follow my moves, even though it’s clearly a struggle.
“Your pussy daddy should have taught you how to be a man, but since he didn’t, I will. I didn’t even have a daddy, but even I know you don’t beat on women. See, tonight? Found out I’m gonna be a daddy. Findin’ out I’m gonna have a kid puts me in a special place. Makes me want to right all the wrongs in the world. Lucky for you.” I stand to my full height and lay a kick in his abdomen, then another one, and another. Diesel and Grady struggle to keep him up as his body grows limp and his heavy breathing turns into desperate gasps. I shove the screwdriver in his face, making sure he sees it clearly.
“This screwdriver? Well, I’m not gonna shove my dick in your ass, now am I? You see, you took something precious from my woman—you invaded her body—and she won’t ever get that back. Do you believe in an eye for an eye? Because I do,” I growl and then grab him by the throat and toss him onto the concrete, stomach first.
When we’re done, he’s barely breathing. A few of his fingers on his right hand twitch, but otherwise his entire body is limp. Wyatt takes the wrench and screwdriver to the shop to melt them down with the oxygen acetylene torch. Diesel gets to work covering the concrete in bleach, and I have Jeremy help me drag Darren’s bloody, broken body into the van.
“Where ya dumpin’ him?” Grady asks with his cell in his hands.
“Don’t know,” I say. “I’ll figure it out.” Grady nods and walks away with his phone to his ear. In the distance, I can hear him bitching at Layla about something or other, and he rushes off to his bike and peels out. It isn’t until I’m in the passenger side of the van with Jeremy driving that I figure out where his body needs to go.
Five minutes later, Jeremy cuts the lights as we pull up to the Jennings residence. Darren’s parents’ house is on the outskirts of town, with a great view of the ocean and some major real estate. The house itself is in perfect condition, and the lawn is obviously professionally landscaped. Everything about it is quiet, and wealthy, and peaceful. Everything, with the exception of the bloody body of their son that I toss in their driveway.
xxx
Days later, and Jeremy’s kept true to his word that he wouldn’t say a thing about what we did. The club’s figured it out by, now and they’re pissed off all right, but we got bigger shit to worry about. Still, when the local news station reports on the well-being of the poor comatose beating victim, Darren Jennings, and the search for his attacker, both Nic and Jeremy watch until the segment’s done. She knows I did it, but she won’t ask. Since that night, she’s been a little softer and a little less irritable, and being able to give her that matters to me.
“You ready, baby?” she asks as she shoves the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Dressed in black jeans and a black and gray top with her black leather boots on, she’s damn fuckable.
“Think Chief would mind if we skipped out?” I ask, letting my eyes slide over her frame.
“On his funeral?” she asks. Her eyes are narrowed, and she shakes her head while giving me a look like I’m the stupidest mother fucker on the planet.
“Yeah,” I say. She knows I wouldn’t skip out on laying a brother to rest, but she’s so playful now, and I like playful Nic. Still, I ain’t letting her in the garage near my wrenches.
“Yes. He absolutely would mind,” she says. “Put your dick away for once.”
Standing from the table and walking over to her, I place my hands on her sides and press my half hard dick into her stomach.
“I don’t like your last name,” I say. “It’s confusing.” She stares up at me, only partially confused. She gets where I’m going with this. She’s just in denial about it right now. “Is it pronounced ‘Wee-len’ or ‘Whay-len’?”
“And your last name’s any better? Do you not remember what they called you in high school? Joshua Will-Suck-Cocks ring any bells?”
I grin down at her, loving that she’s playing along.
“I remember who started that,” I say and narrow my eyes at her playfully. She reaches up and tugs on my beard with a huge smile on her face.
“You trying to say you want to make me an honest woman?” she asks on her tip toes.
“I don’t know about honest,” I say to tease her. She scrunches her nose up and gives my beard a pull, making my dick stand at attention. She knows damn well how that shit gets me going.
“I don’t know how I like the name Nicole Wilcox,” she says and licks her lips.
“How about Nicole Will-Suck-Cocks, because baby you gotta know, having had it once, I’m gonna need that on the regular now,” I say and lean in, devouring her mouth with my own. She bucks her pelvis against mine, and just when things are getting hot, a throat clears from the hallway.
We both turn and look at Jeremy, who is wearing all black and his prospect vest that Jim gave to him the day after the shit with Darren. Almost took it back after finding out where we left Darren, but Jim knows that wasn’t on Jeremy—that was on me.
“Okay, cool,” Jeremy says with a smile on his face. “Making me an uncle, and a brother-in-law, and one day—a brother,” he says as he pinches the leather of his cut between his fingers. “Now how about getting your own place?”
I pull away from Nic, proudly adjust my dick, and smirk at the stupid punk.
“We already got our own place,” I say and clasp him on the shoulder, then stride out to the car. I call behind me with a chuckle, “You’re the one who needs to find his own place.”
My good mood falls instantly when I see the plastic hospital band that’s tied around the windshield wiper. I check the door to find that neither Jeremy nor Nic have made it outside yet, and pull the band off the wiper blade and give it a good look. On the band, there’s a bunch of information printed from patient’s chart number to the date of admittance, and even special instructions about allergies. But it’s the name, in bold print, that reads JENNINGS, DARREN that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Playful laughter sounds from the doorway, and Nic comes out first, then Jeremy. She’s too happy and in too good of a place to know about this, so I shove the bracelet into my pocket and climb into the car with my woman and the kid who will one day be my brother. And we take off to say goodbye to an old friend.
Epilogue
Sometimes I feel it in my bones—Duke loving me. Sometimes
I don't feel anything but sheer terror at the thought that he might be telling me the truth. Because when you love and you are loved by someone else, you have something to lose. And way too many times in my life have I lost things I've held dear to my heart. But things are looking up. I tell myself that every day, because the gifts I've been given are outweighing that which has been taken from me. And it's because of him.
I turn over on my side and look down at the most precious thing in my life—my daughter. She's covered in a pile of blankets, nestled beneath the muted pinks and creams. And even among a sea of pretty, she stands out. She’s gorgeous. Robin is close to nine months old now. She grows so much every day, but we’re often so busy I wonder if we’re missing some of it. And I don’t want to miss a single second. She’s mobile and chatty and so damn opinionated already. I love it.
Every moment I spend with her, the less I understand my own mother’s bailing on me and Jeremy. Even when my baby grows up and she’s all mouth and sass and her daddy’s piercing blue eyes, I’m going to love her. And I’m not alone.
“Wanna go see Daddy?” I ask her. She kicks her chubby little legs out, makes a gurgling sound that I swear is an excited affirmative, and smiles up at me with the cutest, toothless grin on the planet.
“Da,” s'he says. I know she’s saying Daddy in her own little way, but I like to pretend she’s saying “duh,” because that’s just funnier.
“I love you so much I think I’m gonna make myself sick,” I say as I scoop her up and walk her out of the room and into the living room and try unsuccessfully to ignore the dull ache from my right hip. The new tattoo on my hip is a gift for Duke. After he got the tattoo on his lower left arm, I knew I had to get something for him, too. On the inside of his wrist is a tattoo of my signature, and on the other side is the word forgiven. Once I told him that everything that’s in the past is done and gone, he wanted to commemorate it in a very permanent way.
