by Avelyn Paige
Pushing off my heels, I head over to my work computers and flick one of them on. Retrieving the pad of paper from my pocket, I notice Presley’s list. Half of the shit on it is foreign to me. I snap a picture of it, and text it over to Darcy. She will know exactly what to get. Although, that doesn’t solve the real time issue now because Presley is without apparel at the moment. A wicked idea comes to mind, and I smile as I think about it. I unlock my office door, and head to my room on the other side of the clubhouse. The main room is busier than it was earlier. My brothers are home to roost, until the coast is clear. Many of them with their kids and old ladies in tow. Darcy and Dani sit at the bar top, locked into conversation, while the twins and Roxie babble in a playpen between them. Not exactly a sight that I ever thought I would see within the confines of our club. It was a change, but a welcomed one.
With so many people around, I dip unnoticed down the hallway and walk into my room. My dresser to the left of the door was my target. The heavy wooden drawer creaks as I open it, and pull out a few of my club shirts from my prospecting days that I have kept as mementos. They don’t exactly fit me now, but they will fit Presley.
“Need anything, sugar?” Misty, one of the newer club girls, asks making sure her ample tits are on display for me. Normally, I wouldn’t second-guess her appearance for anything other than what it really was, a satisfying fuck and a happy ending for the both of us. Now, she only annoys me.
“I’m good,” I say, trying to dismiss her. Disappointment clearly shows on her face. She starts to leave, just as another idea pops in my head.
“Is there a storeroom for clothes for the new girls? Toiletries? Shit like that?”
“Ruby has a few things set aside. Why?”
Her prying begins to piss me off.
“I’m thinking about cross dressing,” I spit back. “Why don’t you take your ass over to that little cache of stuff and bring me back a pair of sweats and that girly shower shit you all love so much?”
She starts to question me again.
“This isn’t up for debate, Misty. Just get it and bring it back here.”
She huffs and spins on the too tall for her heels, stomping down the hall. Her ass shakes with a little more effort as she leaves. Desperate much? I’m almost positive that there are a handful of men sitting right out there in the clubhouse room that would scratch her itch in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for her, this isn’t the dick she is hooking up with anymore.
A few minutes later, she comes back and thrusts a bag into my hands without another word. She stomps back down the hall. I force myself not to yell after her to calm her tits, but that might encourage her pursuit of me further. Peeking into the bag, I find a few of the necessities on the list Presley gave me. This would surely get her through the night.
I shove my old shirts into the bag and head back towards her room. Call me a cave man, but I like the idea of her in my shirt. I knock when I reach the door, and she doesn’t answer. Do I go in and just leave it by the door? My mind argues with itself like I have someone else living in my head with me. There’s no proof that there isn’t someone else in this sexy brain of mine, which just makes me laugh at myself.
Snapping myself back to the task at hand, I press my ear to the door and listen for the sound of the running shower, which I hear.
Time to use those ninja skills, V.
Carefully opening the door, I quickly slide in and place the bag onto the floor by the doorframe. I start to praise myself for accomplishing my mission without being detected, until I hear a gasp above me. My eyes trail up from the floor and the bag, and find a towel-wrapped Presley staring down at me like a barrel of a gun. Her long hair is shoved to one of her shoulders, while beads of water slide down her very naked legs.
Abort mission, motherfucker. Abort mission.
“Uh, hi,” I squeak, before I scramble out of the door way and run straight back to my office. My chest heaves as I rush in, slamming the door behind me.
If I had any chance of just leaving Presley alone, it just flew out the fucking window with my man card attached to it.
It’s been almost three days, and my peeping tom bodyguard has been a ghost. No pop-ins to check in on me or any security checks to make sure everything is okay. Even the few times that I visited Ginny in her room on the other side of the clubhouse or ventured out to have dinner with actual people, he was absent. Did my brother pull him from my detail, after what happened? Just when I thought and come to terms with the fact that my person in command changed, I’d find something in my room that could only come from him.
For example, the morning after the incident I grumbled to myself about wishing there had been bacon at breakfast, after coming back from eating. The next morning, I was happily surprised to find a plate of bacon and eggs waiting for me. As I scanned the room, no one else seemed to have it. Just me. Something I know had to be him because he would have heard it on the camera systems. It could have been my brother, but after considering it, I knew it wasn’t him. It was V.
Even though he’s stayed away, the tingling sensation that cascades down my body tells me he’s nearby. It calms me in a way because it’s like I’m not alone, even though physically I am.
In my loneliness, I thought about the last time I had seen him over and over again. I have to admit that walking out of the shower and seeing him there, sliding into my room like a burglar was a shock. Maybe more so to him because I didn’t find our close encounter that awkward. He was being thoughtful by bringing me clothes and toiletries to tide me over. A surprisingly sweet gesture that I wanted to thank him for had he not decided to Houdini away.
But it added up with the nervousness he seemed to have around me. I had my suspicions about the source of his odd behavior, yet it was unconfirmed, until I could gather more data about him. Some of these questions that I hope can be answered by my recurring visitor.
After getting cleaned up, and ready for the day after another restful night’s sleep, I step out of my doorway only to find my brother standing on the other side of it.
“Can we talk?” he asks, gesturing with his hand for us to go back into my room.
“I guess,” I reply, stepping back inside with him right behind me.
Mikey closes the door, and the soft click of the hammer striking the plate sounds like a bomb going off in my silent room. The air is so thick with tension that you could have cut it with a dull knife. How did we get to this point in our relationship?
I take my position on the couch, and Mikey shifts to sit on the edge of my bed. His eyes lock onto the HRMC shirt that I have on, and they instantly roll. Was there something wrong with me wearing the club’s colors? Every action and reaction he makes, I find myself constantly questioning the motive behind it. Mikey is like watching a bomb with an occasional tick, knowing that at any second that it could blow up in my face.
“Who’s Agent Martinez?”
My face falls, and I can feel all the blood rushing out of it.
Shit.
“He’s who recruited me. Why?”
“He paid me a visit at home today. Asking questions about you.”
My hand rubs across my face in frustration. This is not what we need right now. Martinez being here means only one thing. He knows I’m still alive. As much as I wanted to trust the man who recruited me for this project, there’s a part of me that nags that I really can’t. The Zezza family had to find out about Ginny’s location somehow, and until I could cross him off the list, he wasn’t safe.
“What did you tell him?” I inquire, with a hint of nervousness lacing my voice. Did my brother sell me out?
“That I haven’t seen you.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t like that he was at my house, but I think I got him to back off for now. He’ll be watching the house and probably Mom’s.”
“Mikey, I’m sorry for bringing this to you,” I apologize sincerely. The last few days of mostly being on my own has left me in quiet reflection. My ini
tial reaction of coming here was propelled by fear, and a deep resounding feeling of regret settled into my bones with the way I treated him. After a few good nights of sleep, the fog of my disdain for the decision to come here was beginning to lift. The club has accepted us with open arms, and I had rejected them all the while clinging to them in help. It was my actions that drove the wedge deeper between my brother and me.
Mikey’s stern face softens, as his hand raises in front of him in a hushing motion.
“I’m honestly glad you came to me.”
“You are?” I shockingly ask. “I thought−,” I trail off, as he stops me mid-sentence.
He shoves off the bed and walks toward me, kneeling at my feet.
“I’m not mad that you came here because this bullshit finally brought you home.”
“But the club? Ginny? We’ve put you all in danger because we came home. This is all our fault. The shit hasn’t hit the fan as of yet, but we both know it’s coming.”
Mikey reaches out and grabs my hand, taking it in his. His roughness feels foreign against my smooth skin. It is paradoxical visual of the two different lives that we both have lived. His was rough and tumble, while mine was boring and safe. That is until his world and mine collided head on. Now we find ourselves in the gray middle ground, trying to find our place in it all.
“I know it is. But you are here where I can protect you like I was always meant to do. Whatever happens at the end of this, you will still be here and that’s all that matters.”
Tears begin to well in my eyes. I thrust forward, removing my hands and wrapping my arms around his large neck. We hold each other like we did, when I was kid and nightmares sent me screaming in the night. This man. The one right in front of me is the brother that I remember. The man who would never let anything happen to my mom or me.
He pulls his hand away and wipes away my tears.
“I know I can be a son of a bitch. We both know where I get that from,” he says with a laugh that I reciprocate.
“Yeah. Just don’t turn out like him. You seem to have finally found your happiness,” I declare to him, yet another question lingers. “What happened to Maj?”
Mikey grimaces at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. He slides from the floor, and shoves his way in next to me on the couch. His large frame makes the frame squeak, under the weight of the both of us.
He begins to tell me about what transpired between them. Each portion of his story starts a fire of rage burning inside of me. She was supposed to love him. That’s what nearly all marriage vows say. Knowing that she stood in front of him, shared a home and bed with him, and gave us my niece and nephew all the while working for the enemy, enrages me further. Had the bitch not been dead, I might have killed her myself for putting him and the kids through this.
Woah. I guess there is a piece of my dad still inside of me after all.
“Jesus, Mikey,” I exclaim, as he finishes his story. “Why didn’t Mom tell me about this?”
His cold, blue eyes shoot a sharp glare in return to my question.
Touched a nerve. Way to ruin it, Presley. This was the best talk we’ve had in years, and you had to flipping ruin it with bringing up mom.
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Mom knows what she needs to know.”
“And there’s dad again,” I fire back.
“Ignorance is bliss, LeeLee. Just let her enjoy her years knowing that I’m happy now. She loves Darcy and her kids.”
Her kids? Only getting a brief run down from Darcy during odd small talk, as she got me settled in the room, she mentioned her kids. Though I hadn’t seen them beside the baby, I wondered if they were my brothers or her first husband’s.
“Is Roxie yours?”
“No. Darcy was pregnant, when Jagger died. You remember him, don’t you?”
My mind flitters back to my early memories of the club, and the man who sacrificed so much for my family. I can feel a smile forming on my face thinking about how he used to bring me little gifts of candy or a doll, whenever he came over. I often wished that he was my father, when dad was raging off his rocker on drugs.
“You know I do. He was one of the good ones.”
My brother nods in agreement. “Speaking of Mom. She doesn’t know you are here. Let’s leave it that way, until we know for sure how this will all play out.”
“For once in my life, I actually agree with you,” I laugh, and Mikey smiles back.
“Do you need anything?”
I purse my lips, while I try to think. To be honest, the only thing that I truly need is a charger for my phone, but that’s not something I can freely ask for. Finding one somewhere within the club was my only option. I just had to wait, until I could roam freely to search the place.
“No, I’m good, but I do have another question for you. What is V’s deal?”
“He do something I need to know about?” Mikey scowls. “If he did, you need to tell me.”
“No. It’s nothing like that,” I stammer. “He just seems so different from the other guys here. I was curious about him.”
Mikey smirks back at me, rubbing his hand across his face. Did I miss something about Voodoo? Was this a stupid question to ask my brother or did I cross some unmentioned bro code line?
“V is V. He’s a good guy I promise you, or I would have never assigned him to watch you. That being said, if you want someone else, I will arrange it,” he offers, looking for some sign of unease about me.
“No, he’s fine,” I offer. “It’s just the years of practice as a therapist planting things in my head. I find that there are times that I can’t help it, and I just want to analyze other people. He’s a curious case.”
Mikey belly laughs like I said something hilarious.
“LeeLee, half the guys in here would be curious cases. We all have to be a little crazy to live this kind of life.”
This lifestyle is not for everyone, myself included. It took a special kind of person, usually someone who needed danger and structure in their life, to take up with a motorcycle club, unless you were born into it like my brother and I. We weren’t given the chance to live a normal life. I had to make my own version of normal all on my own.
“No shit,” I tease back. “Don’t forget that I lived this life, too.”
“That’s something that I will never forget. Had I taken better care of you and Mom everything could have been different,” he says with a somber tone dripping with guilt.
“You really think that you could live a civilian life?”
“No,” he laughs. “You’re probably right. Could you see me in a suit pushing papers all day in some cubicle?”
“Hell no.”
We both laugh again because that’s the honest truth. My brother’s demeanor doesn’t exactly make him a great fit for corporate America. He’s too independent, and too bull-headed to listen to some pencil pushing manager lording over him. My mind imagines the sight of it, and I can’t help, but laugh. Mikey gazes at me in confusion, unknowing of the visions in my head. I start to share the vision, but a soft knock comes from the door. I look up to see V leaning against the doorframe.
“Sorry to interrupt, Prez, but I need to borrow your sister.”
Mikey looks between us both and shoves off the couch. He stops short of V and mutters in a low voice, something that I can’t hear from where I’m sitting. He slaps V on the shoulder, as he finishes and exits around him.
Voodoo stares at me, staying firmly planted in the doorframe. Keeping his distance, no doubt.
“The prodigal bodyguard returns,” I tease him. “Thought you ghosted on me or something.”
He runs his hand through his dark hair, while his eyes never leave mine. It’s like he’s watching me like a predator would watch his prey, whenever we are together. It’s unnerving and exciting at the same time.
“I’m sorry for the other night,” he mumbles. “It won’t happen again.”
The ease of our first meeting still linge
rs in the air of the room. I notice the nervousness of him bubbling just below the surface. He’s more in control today, but not by much. This could be my chance to get him to open up a bit more, and try to calm his nerves. I may carry the Sanders name and blood within my veins, but I’m not exactly my father incarnate.
“So, you’re saying that you don’t want to see me wrapped in a towel again?”
He stiffens with shock registering in his eyes. You can almost see the fictional smoke coming out of his ears, as he tries to come up with something to say that won’t get him in trouble.
“I, uh,” he stammers, before I put him out of his misery.
“Lighten up, V,” I smile, as I rouse from the couch and stalk toward him. He stiffens more, when I stop right next to him, leaving only a few inches between his body and mine. Why is it so much fun to mess with him? I enjoy it way too much for my own good.
The buzz from the first meeting begins to radiate between us again, as we both study each other in silence. He shuffles one foot forward cutting the small distance between us in half. His hot breath sends prickles of goose bumps cascading down my neck and arms.
Is he going to kiss me? Do I want that? Come on, brain. Work for crying out loud.
His lips quiver, and just as he’s about to speak, I pull the rug out from under him to break the tension.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “My brother doesn’t know a thing about you sneaking into my room, while I was indecent.”
He doesn’t move. I mean nothing at all. Did I stun him speechless or did his brain freeze up?
“You said that you needed something from me? I hope it’s not an encore of the last time you were in my room.”
He gulps, shifting back to his normal position, as I just smile wide at him.
Two can play at this game, and teasing him might just be the most amusing thing to do, while I’m here. His curiosities have definitely gotten this pussycat interested in how his mind works.
Hearing Raze’s voice in her room nearly had me calling for a retreat and running away with the circus.
I could totally be a tiger tamer.
