When I'm With You (Little Hollow #2)

by Danielle Dickson

  I start to thrash no matter how much it hurts me, I’m not being subjected to this. “Have you not learnt by now, Keeley? You’re mine! Now be a good girl and I’ll let you have your hands back.”

  I don’t process his words as I manage to slip from his grasp and kick my legs up into his face as hard as my waning energy will let me. He stumbles back, cursing me and I try to drag myself along the floor to make it out the door before he gains his balance, but he grabs me by my hair and pulls me back into him before I’ve even made it over the threshold.

  I scream as he pushes me down onto the damp, grimey mattress, and I’m scared at what he’s got planned for me.

  When I get the courage to open my right eye again, he’s on all fours above me, deathly still, and I think this scares me more than his fits of rage. I flinch when he brings up his arm to wipe the blood dripping from his nose, he looks down at his arm after and laughs. He actually laughs.

  “You’ve grown extra feisty. I think I like it, we’ll have so much more fun.” My eyes shut tight and my skin breaks out in goosebumps as he cups my face and traces his thumb over one of the cuts on my cheek, not bothering to be gentle. “I’m going to get off you now and you’re going to lie here until I come back, can you do that?”

  I give him a quick nod and he gets up and is out of the room quicker than I can sit up.

  I hear the lock turn as he leaves and the tears start rolling down my face. I’ve never felt so out of control.

  This is it, I think as I look around, the unknown sending me into a blind panic.

  He’ll use me as he sees fit and I won’t have any say in it. As that thought passes, I hear heavy footsteps coming toward the room and my breathing picks up as a key turns in the lock again.

  His eyes flash as he looks at me. “I thought I told you to stay lying down.”

  His voice is strangely calm, he reaches me in two strides and hunkers down in front of me. I can’t see what he’s holding in his hand properly so I look up at him. “My head hurts more lying down.”

  I make my voice sickly sweet and his face changes into something unreadable but he doesn’t say anything, he just clicks open the small box in his hands and my heart picks up.

  I hear rustling and his hand raises to my face, I squeal as the cut down my cheek stings when he pours a cold liquid into it. The smell tells me it’s vodka and it’s confirmed when he takes a long swig out of the small bottle.

  “Hold still, I can’t help you when you move.”

  Why is he helping me?

  I don’t understand what’s going on, it’s like a different person has walked back into the room to the one that walked out.

  I try another tactic, hoping that this side of him will be more compassionate. “Please let me go, I swear I won’t tell anyone.” When he doesn’t acknowledge me, I sigh and swallow my pride. “Uncle Merl, I’ll do anything you want if you just let me go.”

  “Anything?” He looks at me seriously and I hold back the bile that’s making its way up my throat, and nod.

  He searches my face and I wait anxiously for him to say or do something. Using the knife from earlier, he cuts my hands free and I wince at how torn up my wrists are.

  He looks down at them. “Can’t have them get infected now, can we?”

  He doesn’t give me a second to brace myself as he pours the vodka straight into the open wounds and I hiss. He keeps holding my hands and I school my features into a neutral look, trying to keep the disgust off my face.

  “You look just like your mom, you know that?” I’m not sure what he wants me to say, so I nod briefly. “So tell me, what would your little boyfriend think if he knew you were the daughter of a whore?”

  I grit my teeth to stop myself from saying anything, I guess he’s talking about Lewis and I don’t correct him that he isn’t my boyfriend, it’s best he thinks people will look for me. That people care. Then something occurs to me, if he knows who Lewis is then that means he’s been watching me. I shiver at that thought.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Keeley. I’m sure he would’ve figured that out sooner or later,” he sneers.

  I stay silent, watching his face turn from a humored expression to twisted and angry.

  “You will speak when you’re spoken to! Do you understand me?” He spits out, throwing my hands into my lap.

  “You’re an angry little man, you know that?” I quip, and immediately wish I hadn’t.

  I watch as Merl ‘Taz’ Michaels stumbles behind the bar and pulls out a small bottle of vodka. There’s no way in hell that weasel’s getting voted in as VP again, he’s the sketchiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.

  My fists ball up thinking about the fact he probably will get it again on account of being the Pres’s brother. This whole vote is a waste of time, Pres made a decision on something that should’ve been the club’s vote three years ago, he’s on probation. So every year we vote our members of office in, and every year, it always ends up with the same results. It’s a fucking fix.

  But as I look at Taz, I know it’s time for change. Something’s not right with him, I can smell it as much as the cheap perfume on this broad who won’t take no for an answer. She’s been gagging for it since the moment I walked in here, she’s a stage five clinger and I’ve decided I’ve had enough of these broads hanging around the clubhouse all the time.

  I look around the common area, it’s only eleven in the morning and half of my brothers are already drunk out of their minds. We have church in two hours and these assholes can’t even stay sober for one fucking day. The whole club is going to shit.

  There’s a time for partying and a time for club business. Partying should always come after club business but these fuckers have no morals, it doesn’t even feel like a brotherhood anymore, more like a group of men getting drunk off their asses and fucking anything in sight. I feel a hand moving up my thigh and a head drop onto my shoulder, I’m so not in the mood right now so I shrug off her ratty head.

  “Are we gonna do this or what?” She asks, pouting at me, which really isn’t a good look on her.

  “Or what,” I quip, kicking back her stool.

  “You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time, Bear, but I’m starting to understand why they call you that!” She huffs.

  I give her a warning look and turn away toward the bar, she wisely chooses not to say anything else and turns around to jump off her stool. I watch out the corner of my eye as she saunters across the room and slides right into JT’s lap, like she hadn’t just been offering to take me back to my room.

  That’s another thing getting out of hand, the broads are starting to think that they have a say here, when they don’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only.

  The Crows Rebels are known for being one percenters. Booze, brotherhood, bikes and broads. Only, I think everyone has forgotten the most important two.

  Most of us are in this club because we have a love for bike’s, there’s nothing better than flying low out on the open road, the vibrating engine between your thighs and your brother’s by your side, except I can’t remember the last time we all did that just because.

  I throw back the rest of my beer and shoot a lazy wave to JT and Slider. “I’m out.”

  Slider takes one look at cheap perfume sucking face with JT and jumps up to join me. “I ain’t staying here with those two dry humping each other, wanna ride?”

  I grin wide at him. “Think you can keep up, bro?” I say with a wink.

  He punches my shoulder.

  “Pfft, who do you think you are lately? Old man,” he counters back and I narrow my eyes, humor lacing them.

  I’m not even twenty-eight yet, only three years older than him so I know he’s joking.

  We spend the next hour with nothing but our bikes between our legs and the landscape whizzing by us. This is what the club should be about, not fucking club broads and getting so drunk you can’t even ride home every damn day.

  Pulling bac
k up to the clubhouse, I see the lot is starting to fill up for church and it’s a beautiful sight, Harley’s everywhere, all lined up, the chrome glinting as the sunlight hits it.

  “Yo, Bear! Wait up!”

  I watch my oldest friend walk toward me with that confident swagger he’s always had.

  “Smokey, not seen you at the club in a while,” I say, clapping him on the back.

  Samson ‘Smokey’ Waters is a hard-ass. He’s road captain for the club and got his nickname because he’s one of our best riders.

  “I’ve been down in Denlo on club business. Pres said to keep it under wraps until I got back for church today, so let’s get our asses inside and get this over with.”

  I blow out a nervous breath. Today’s going to be interesting.

  We all file inside the room and take our seats, I see my pop and Pres having a heated discussion in the corner and I wonder what the hell that’s about. My pop, Trent ‘Snake’ Kingsley, is the current sergeant-at-arms and he’s doing a shit job at controlling this lot, no wonder half the members never come to the clubhouse anymore with all the drugs going about, this shit needs taken care of, and it needs doing now.

  Pres starts the meeting and we vote in a road captain, which always ends up being Smokey since he’s the only one that puts his name forward. He’s my best friend, but he’s a shitty road captain, he never organizes any rides for fun anymore.

  Secretary, treasurer and sergeant-at-arms are voted in, of course my pop gets the majority vote for SAA the same as every year. Vice president is the next to be voted in, I see Taz put his name forward and he sits looking smug as no one else says anything... until I stand up.

  “I’m putting my name forward too.”

  I sit back down and look over at Taz who has a scowl on his ugly mug. He glares at me and I give him a smug grin as I can hear everyone talking between themselves. I’ve always been happy to stay on the sidelines, until now. I’m gonna clean this club up before the mother chapter has us eighty-sixed, we’ve already had our fair share of warnings.

  “Well fuckin’ hell, look who’s stepped up. Got some competition on your hands brother,” Pres says.

  Daryl ‘Tank’ Michaels has been President of the Crows for four years now and he’s always had his brother, Merl, or Taz as he’s nicknamed, by his side as VP. No one has ever gone up against him and I’m relishing in the fact that he’s about to be put in his place.

  “Votes for Taz,” he says, looking around the room.

  Three brothers throw up their hands and Taz starts staring daggers at me, I can tell he’s trying not to lose his shit. He knows he’s lost the vote already.

  “Votes for Bear,” Pres says.

  I fucking hate that road name, there’s not even a great story behind it unlike most people’s. I have a hairy chest and a grizzly fucking attitude to go with it, hence the name ‘Bear’. My pop knew I hated it so he kept on saying it, and it stuck.

  I shake my head forgetting about the road name and look around the room as practically everyone’s hands are in the air. A wicked grin spreads across my face as my eyes meet Taz’s and he flies out of this chair and throws a punch at the wall.

  “You can’t fuckin’ take this from me. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doin’!” He screams at everyone.

  “He’s gonna do a hell of a better job than you, sit the fuck down, Taz, before you really hurt yourself,” Smokey says, giving me a wink as all the brothers erupt in laughter.

  Pres nearly puts the gavel through the table as he bangs it down. “Shut the fuck up all of you! What’s done is done.” Taz glares at his brother. “But what can be done, can be undone.”

  He looks at me with a sneer on his face and everyone around me starts protesting.

  I couldn’t give a shit what his crackpot ass thinks of me, I stopped respecting him the moment he eighty-sixed his own daughter right after his first year of being Pres. I knew this would happen just because Taz is his brother.

  Smokey speaks up for me again. “Pres, come on, man. Bear won that vote by fuckin’ miles.”

  I get out of my chair. “Don’t waste your breath, he’s made up his mind. Pres trumps all, right?” I walk past Taz keeping my eyes trained on his the whole time and he narrows them at me. “Better get your shit together, Taz. You know I’ll be contesting. One step out of line and I’ll know about it.”

  I plan on being up his backside, metaphorically, until he finally fucks up, which he inevitably will. Him and Pres stopped caring about the actual club two years back, they’ve run it down into the ground ever since.

  They brought in more broads than we could handle, the broads use more of our drugs than we distribute, and since then, it’s turned into one big fuckin’ party. Now I like a good drink and I’m not immune to the women, I am a man after all, but the drugs are a step too far for me, I’m sick of not getting my cut of the money all because some broad and some of the brother’s are using it to get their highs.

  All this partying is taking away the fact that we’re all brothers in an MC, we should start acting like it instead of letting in any old riff-raff and letting addictions get in the way of business.

  I’m lying on my bed when the door comes flying open and I know exactly who it is before I even look.

  “Ever heard of knocking?” I say.

  My pop stands there with a face like thunder. “What the fuck was that shit you just pulled?”

  Tank, Pres, is his best friend, has been since they joined as prospects together thirty years ago. I stand up in front of him, rooting myself in place. I can’t believe I used to be scared of him.

  Deciding to play dumb, I just look at him and shrug. “You wanna be in office? You fuckin’ talk to me about it first.”

  All humor drains out my face and is replaced with anger, I step right up in his personal space. “Are you really that fucking blinded by your friendship that you can’t see you’re all running this charter into the ground? Denlo will cut us, most of our brothers have nowhere to go other than here. You want that on your conscience? Be my fuckin’ guest, but I’m contesting this shit whether it pleases you or Pres. I will be VP or even Pres if he doesn’t step his shit up,” I whisper-shout.

  He grinds his teeth and I can see him thinking about his next move. “You have no idea what you’ve done, you’ve turned the brothers against Taz and now he knows they want him out of position, he ain’t gonna make things easy for you or them. I have no loyalties to Taz other than him being a brother of the club, but me and Tank have been friends a long time. I’m not blind, Bear. I can see he’s lost his way, hell, I can see it in myself too. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this,” he says, closing the door.

  I take a step back. “I was smart, I’ve kept my head down and didn’t let anyone know I was gunnin’ for the position.”

  “Exactly! You should’ve let me know. You weren’t smart, you played right into his fuckin’ hands. You think if anyone would’ve voted Slider or Muck in place of me he would’ve allowed it? Fuck no! He needs to feel like he’s surrounded by people he trusts, and that sure as hell ain’t you right now.”

  “Why the fuck you telling me all this? I thought you were coming in here to tear me a new one,” I huff out and cross my arms.

  “‘Cause I didn’t bring you up stupid. Tank may be a good friend, but I can see what’s happening. Hunter, you sleep, eat and breathe this club, us old fucks have just gotten lost. You’ll make the best motherfucking Pres this club has seen in a long time when it’s your time but for now, you need to use your head.”

  I think about what he’s saying, I’m fucking convinced I’m not speaking to my pop. The pop I thought I knew would’ve come in here and knocked me around a little, in fact, I’m still expecting him to shout bullshit and start beating on me. “I think you’re getting a little soft in your age, old man.”

  The air rushes out of me as his fist jolts into my stomach. “I may be gettin’ on but I can still throw a punch, don’t you fuckin’ forget it
.”

  He walks out and I stand up rubbing the spot where he’d hit. I look up as cheap perfume from earlier walks in and leans against my door frame.

  “Get the fuck out, Kristal,” I sigh, not having the energy to fight.

  She starts sliding down the straps of her top leaving nothing to the imagination as she’s not wearing a bra.

  “It’s Krista,” she practically purrs at me.

  “Close enough,” I grumble. “But sentiment still applies. Out.”

  I push her out of the room, grabbing her top off my floor in the process, and throw it at her. I turn around and push the door closed after me with the heel of my boot.

  Twenty seconds later a knock at the door has me swinging it back open. “I told you to-” Seeing prospect Whitey standing in front of me and not Krista, I rub my hand over my growing beard. “What the fuck do you want, Whitey?”

  “Smokey said to come tell you there’s a bottle of jack with your name on it.”

  Well I don’t mind if I do, anything to drown this shit out.

  He leaves me in a battered heap, coughing up blood and gripping my ribs to try and stop the pain that’s radiating through me. He threw punches and kicked and stomped on me until I’d begged him to stop. Not one of my finest moments but at that point in time, I didn’t care. It’s all about self-preservation now, dying doesn’t scare me, it’s whatever he has planned for me before it comes to the end that does. After all, it takes more courage to suffer than to die. And I’m not about to give in easily.

  I wince as I push up off the floor into a sitting position, my knee screaming at me, and pull at my bound ankles trying to break free from the cable ties still around them. But they just cut into my skin the harder I pull, and I scream in frustration. Shuffling back against the wall, I drop my legs as I realize I haven’t got the strength to break it off. I wish I had my boots on, I know a trick to get cable ties off with just a shoe lace.