by Sam Crescent
“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a smart mouth?”
“It’s not the only thing you’ve told me.”
Gash frowned. “What else have I told you?” He couldn’t help but wonder what else she meant by her words. There was clearly something there that she wanted to tell him, yet she didn’t elaborate.
Charlotte shrugged. “I guess that is for you to find out.” She shook her head, blowing out a breath. “I don’t want to fight, okay? I actually just want to have some food. Being attacked in my own apartment has left me cranky.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He wanted her off balance and scared. Gash never claimed to be a nice guy. Years spent rotting in jail for a crime he didn’t commit had chased away any kind of playfulness he possessed. Fighting for his life had been his only companion, that and his need for revenge. Gash now had both within his grasp, but when he looked at Charlotte, the hatred wasn’t there.
“Do you know how to cook?” he asked.
“Who do you think kept you fed when you visited?” she asked. “Rebecca couldn’t cook to save her life. I was the one that cooked for you, me.” She pointed to her chest, and beneath the pain, he saw the anger. Charlotte was angry at him. “It seems you make a habit of forgetting everything.” She got to her feet, placing her hands on the table, and glared at him. “I’m going to make some food. Are you going to kill me for moving?”
“Sarcasm makes me horny, Charlotte. You keep on with that smart mouth, and I’ll put it to better use.”
“Funny, I thought rape was beneath you,” she said.
“Believe me, babe, when I get you underneath me, you wouldn’t be screaming rape. You’ll be begging me for it.” She clenched her teeth, and he couldn’t resist getting to his feet, invading her space. “Would you like me to show you exactly how good it can be?”
She glared at him for another few seconds before storming past him, muttering under her breath.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m going to make myself a chicken salad. You got a problem with that?”
“Do enough to feed me.” Sitting back, he flicked open his phone, and dialed Whizz’s number.
“What the fuck do you want?” Whizz asked as way of answering.
“That’s no way to talk to your friend.”
“You’re not at the club, and right now you’re not my friend.” Whizz didn’t agree with his need to go searching for Charlotte. “What kind of friend phones up late at night while I’m screwing my woman?”
Okay, maybe it had nothing to do with Charlotte.
“Am I cock blocking you?”
“No, you’re pissing me off. What do you want? Lash has told me to take your calls no matter what. I’m simply obeying orders. What can I do to help? I’m just an all night fucking service.” Whizz’s voice was filled with sarcasm.
Gash laughed. He liked Whizz.
“You’ll be pleased to know I’ll be back at the club in a couple of days. I’ll have Charlotte with me. Let the women know she’s not a whore, but I’ve struck a deal with her. She’s going to help me find the two people I want.”
There was silence on the other end.
“You still there?”
“I’ll help you. I want to talk to Charlotte alone,” Whizz said.
“Seriously? What is your fucking deal?”
“That’s the deal I’m going to make. You want me to find who you’re looking for, I want to talk to Charlotte. Believe me when I say that I’ve got your best interests at heart. You just don’t see it.”
“Fine. It’s not like there’s going to be much else for her to do. How’s the club?” Gash asked. Since getting out of prison he’d kept himself confined to the clubhouse and the town of Fort Wills.
“The same. There are days kids are running around, and other days it’s silent other than the singles fucking. I don’t spend all that much time there anymore. It’s why I have a cell phone. I’m actually at home with my wife and kid.” In the background he heard Lacey cursing.
“How is Sally?” Gash asked. He liked the young kid. Whizz and Lacey couldn’t have kids, so they had adopted the younger teenager.
“She’s doing great. It’s a relief that she has settled down at school, and she’s not even causing trouble. There’s no interest in boys yet, but I think it helped that I took several of the brothers with me to drop her off. They have backed the fuck off.”
Gash laughed. “It’ll only be a matter of time before she starts causing trouble.”
“I own a lot of knives and guns. Let the little dicks think they can get close to her. I’ll handle each and every one of them.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” Gash stared at the curve of Charlotte’s back, and a memory that was distant of another back, a naked back, flashed through his mind. Blinking back the memories, he focused back on the call. “I’ve got to go.”
Chapter Two
Charlotte chopped the ingredients for the salad, trying her hardest not to listen to him, or to pay any attention to him. They were going back to The Skulls clubhouse. She never had anything to do with the club seven years ago, and Gash wasn’t the same man he used to be. Then again, she wasn’t the same woman. A lot had happened over the years to change her, and there was no way she’d ever be that same carefree woman again.
He ended the call, and she heard him move away from the table. She kept on chopping even as he moved up behind her.
“Did you have any other friends when we were younger?” he asked.
He moved her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck. His breath fanned across her ear, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. Gash was stirring feelings and memories inside her that he couldn’t even remember. She recalled another night where he’d been like this, touching her, caressing her.
“Back away,” she said, whispering the words. It was hard as the two different times seem to merge in the one. She fought it. Charlotte wasn’t about to let herself be brought down by memories. They were her memories.
“You don’t sound like you want me to move away.” His hand gripped her hip while the other forced her to pause on chopping the salad. “Did you have a friend back then besides Rebecca?”
“I’ve told you before, Rebecca and I were roommates, that’s all. There was no one else.” Charlotte knew why he was asking, but she wouldn’t tell him what happened between them. He’d only laugh in her face. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Gash wanted to believe there was someone else there rather than see that it was her all along. He didn’t even suspect it could be her, and that fucking hurt.
“You feel so familiar, and you smell so damn good.” He pressed his face against her neck, taking a deep breath.
She gasped out at the flood of arousal that he caused, taking her off guard. She was transported to another time. The only difference between then and now was the fact he didn’t have the scent of alcohol on his breath. Last time, he’d been drinking, and at first, she had brushed him off. The biggest problem for her was the fact she had always had a crush on him, always. From the moment she first met him, she’d loved him. She had watched him with Rebecca, and even though there had been moments of jealousy, she never did anything about it. That night though, he’d been different. Yes, he’d been drunk, but she truly believed he had been himself. Gash had been sweet, nice, and tender, and he’d made her fall for him even more. He’d told her how beautiful she was, and how he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Even though he’d been drunk, she’d been pulled into his words, and that had been her mistake, and she shouldn’t have fallen for him.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Why does this feel good?”
She closed her eyes, allowing herself a few seconds of enjoying his closeness when reality came back. He had attacked her. Gash had been more than ready to kill her, and she wasn’t ready to give in to him. She pushed him back with her ass. “Give me some space. It’s not very nice to invade my personal area.”
Putting his plate on the table, she took a seat, opening the food magazine that she had been reading that morning when her life had seemed so normal. She tried her hardest to ignore him. When he sat down, and his knees grazed hers, she struggled not to tense up from the simplest contact.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
Glancing up at him, she took a bite of her chicken, staring. “So have you. The last time I knew you, you wouldn’t have snuck into my apartment with the intention of killing me.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
Charlotte twirled her fork on the plate as she thought about her next question. “Why have you waited so long?”
“Long for what?”
“Looking for them? Looking for Rebecca and that … man.” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. Charlotte never in all of her life considered herself a violent person When it came to him she wanted to witness his suffering, to be laughing in his face as he took his final breath. “It has been seven years.”
“I was in prison for five of those.”
I was in a mental hospital, trying to kill myself.
“What about the other two?”
Gash sat back, chewing his food. “The Skulls is my family. It’s the only family that I recognize.”
“You have more family?”
“A brother. I’ve not seen him in years. To be honest, he’s probably dead. He’s the one I was looking for when I was looking for Rebecca.”
“You don’t care?”
“Like I said, my family is The Skulls.”
“I never knew you had a brother.” Charlotte found it hard that he didn’t seem to care, but then she didn’t know his brother. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Blood doesn’t make family, Charlotte. Actions, loyalty, and love, that’s what makes a family. The Skulls were going through some serious shit by the time I was released. Tiny, my club Prez, he asked me to not go looking. I didn’t see a reason to bring more shit to the club. We’re all in a good place right now, and so I’m looking. I want to end this.”
“That’s a long time to wait.”
“I’m a patient guy.”
Biting her lip, she rolled the chicken and bread around her plate. “What happens when we find them?”
“We kill them.”
“Yes, we will.” She couldn’t look at him right now. Charlotte couldn’t tell him that when he was on trial she had been in a psych ward, trying to kill herself at every opportunity. How could she have helped him when she’d been doped up on drugs to stop her from trying to slit her wrist? Her hunger disappeared, and she got to her feet, dumping the contents of her plate into the trash. She needed to do something with her hands, and to stop nearly telling Gash about what happened. He blamed her for not coming forward, and she blamed herself as well. If she’d not taken that damn promotion, she’d have been here when he was first arrested. She had been thinking of herself, and her future.
“You’re coming with me. I believe you, but I need to get shit resolved. I need both of them to be dead, and gone.”
She gripped the counter, recalling the way he laughed at her screams. The way he looked so damn smug when she had woken in the hospital to find out what they’d done. Jeff Wright, the one man she wanted to kill more than anything else in her life. She truly believed she could kill him without care or thought.
“What happens to me after?” she asked.
“I don’t know. That’s up to you, and if you get cold feet, we’ll handle it.”
“You’ll kill me?” She was finding it hard to not be scared. This Gash scared her and he was nothing like the man she once knew. This man could easily kill her without a second thought.
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
Charlotte stared at him for several seconds. It may have even been minutes as she looked at the man who had haunted her dreams for years. She’d once been in love with Gash, wanting him from afar. For one night, she’d gotten her dream, only to have it shattered the next morning. It was part of the reason she’d taken the damn promotion, to get away from him and from Rebecca. Her heart had been fragile, and witnessing Gash with Rebecca had broken a part of her over the days they had been together. Whenever she thought of her feelings about Gash, she was always all over the place. There was no set feeling. She loved and hated him. He made her sad, angry, and aroused. He was bad for her.
“I’m tired.” She had enough drama for one night. The best solution was for her to just sleep, and end this uneasiness inside her. Everything looked better in the morning.
Without waiting for him to give her instruction, she left the kitchen, and walked the few steps toward her room. Her apartment was modest, and her only bathroom was through her bedroom. She closed her bedroom door, which had no lock. Charlotte had learned long ago to not even bother putting a lock on her bedroom door. If people wanted to get into her apartment, they could get inside without any struggle, and she would be sent to her fate.
Taking a quick shower, she didn’t take her time, enjoying the peace and quiet. Gash had invaded her apartment, and ruined any kind of peace she thought to have. Her night shirt was hanging on the back of the door, and once she finished with her shower, she dried quickly, placing the towel over the radiator, and then getting dressed.
She walked back into her bedroom, and came to a stop when she saw Gash already in her bed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. He could have taken the floor in the sitting room, or the small couch. She didn’t want him in her room, not now, not ever. It brought back too many memories, and tonight she was really struggling to keep all of those memories locked up tight.
“Getting comfy.” He snuggled into her bed, which pissed her off.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“This is my bed, and you’re not going to take my bed from me.”
“I’m not taking it from you, babe. Far from it.” He patted the bed. “Join me.”
“No, get out.” She moved toward her dresser and started to brush her hair. “This is my room. You’re the one attacking me, coming into my apartment, and you weren’t even invited. Get out.” She placed her brush back down on the dresser, and stared at him. “Well?”
“I’m not moving,” he said. “You may as well get in.”
Gritting her teeth, she folded her arms, and glared some more. “Why are you being a pain in the ass?”
“Because it’s awesome to be so.”
“Whatever. You’re not going to move?”
“Nope, and I’m going to stay right here, and this bed is damn comfy.” He wriggled a little, sighing as he did.
Asshole.
****
Gash wasn’t going to move, but he liked it when Charlotte did. Her tits, without the bra constraining them, bounced, and her nipples were rock hard pebbles, pressing against the front of her shirt. He wanted to see her without that shirt, to feel her body next to his, and to fill his hands with her full, rounded tits.
Desire hit him hard, and his cock thickened. Moving on the bed, he did his best to hide the evidence of his arousal so he didn’t frighten her. Charlotte always seemed like a little mouse to him, ready to scurry away. At least that hadn’t changed about her.
“Fine! I’m not going to give up my bed.” She stomped to her side of the bed, and withdrew the cover. Charlotte pushed it back enough for her to see his naked thighs. “You’re naked. What the hell are you doing in my bed naked?”
“I don’t wear clothes to bed.” He hadn’t worn clothes to bed since getting out of prison. For
five years he was forced to wear the colors of the prison he was in. He’d made a vow that he would never, ever wear shit like that again. “Don’t worry, babe, I won’t bite.”
“Put some clothes on.”
“No. It’s not going to happen.”
She released that growl again and climbed into bed. Gash watched as she gave him her back, then moved, thumping her pillow.
“You know, some people believe that the whole tossing and turning could be down to sexual frustration.”
“Shut up.”
“I could relieve you if you want me to.” He wanted to. Damn, he wanted to touch, to taste, and to fuck her so bad.
“Gash, you may be stronger than me, and be here intent on revenge on two people I despise, but if you lay a finger on me, I will kill you.”
He laughed. Her threat was so cute, and he told her so.
Again, another growl, and more thumping. He loved hearing that little growl. It made his cock harder than fucking rock.
Gash rolled over and stared at her back. Her wet hair trailed down her back, and he reached out to stroke her hair.
“Do you have a death wish?”
“I’m touching the hair on my pillow. I’m not invading your space.”
She was so tense, and Gash settled down on the pillow, suddenly interested in what she’d been doing with her life. “What has happened to you the past seven years?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I’m curious. You know I was in prison, and then I was with the club. What have you been doing?”
“Nothing. Living life.”
“And there’s no boyfriend?”
“None,” she said.
“How long has it been since you were with someone?” he asked.
“None of your business. Gash, we’re not friends.”
“We’re not enemies.”
“Yes, we are. I don’t make a habit of being nice to men who grab me around the throat as a way of a hello.”
He may have been a little drastic with his introduction.
Seven years he’d waited to see her again.
