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

by Danielle Dickson

  “Follow me.”

  Follow him? That’s all he has to say?

  My head is spinning, half an hour ago I was driving home in my car, and now I feel like I’m on the run. I want answers so I follow him into the lot. He scans the cars one by one and calls over a salesman.

  “Afternoon, can I help you?” A man around fifty asks, eyeing me up warily.

  I must look like a domestic violence victim and I consider asking him for help, but the look that Hunter fires at me makes me keep my mouth shut.

  “Yeah, I need a car in perfect working order and it needs to be ready to leave right away,” he answers him with authority in his voice.

  “Err, sure, we have the-”

  “I don’t care what car it is, it just needs to be ready to go now,” he says between gritted teeth.

  The man startles and rushes back into the little trailer. At first I think he’s going to call the police, but he soon comes running back out with a set of keys in his hand and points us toward a navy blue Toyota.

  “She may not look like much but she’s in perfect working order, I just need you to sign some papers inside. I assume you’ll be paying with cash?”

  Hunter nods his head and follows him back inside, I just stand there ready to collapse as my head starts to feel like it’s spinning. I can’t move, as much as I want to try and escape, I don’t think I’m in any danger with Hunter.

  He saunters out ten minutes later with the car keys in one hand and the duffle bag, I hadn’t realized he was carrying, in the other. He throws off the cardboard sign on the front window of the car and opens the door, shoving the duffle in the passenger seat.

  He looks up at me with a blank expression on his face which is so unusual for Hunter, he’s normally an open book with me. This isn’t my Hunter anymore, the Hunter I feel safe with, so I start to panic.

  He rounds the car and I take a few steps back but he catches up to me easily enough in a few strides, he lets his wall down and I see conflict dancing in his eyes as he curls my hand around the keys.

  “You need to go, now.” Is all he says before pushing me toward the car.

  “I don’t understand, can you just fucking stop for a minute!” I shout, and he lets go of me.

  “Steely, you’re in danger,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice void of any emotion.

  “Don’t call me Steely right now, this is serious. What the fuck is going on?” I ask between sobs.

  He doesn’t answer me so I look up into his eyes, I wish I hadn’t. His wall is back up and he starts pushing me toward the car again. “Get in the car and drive, keep driving until you’re far away from any of The Crows Rebels turf.” I drop down into the driver’s seat. “And don’t ever come back, do you hear me?”

  He says it with such finality and ferocity that it hits me in the chest, dealing another blow to my already wounded state. “But… I just don’t understand what’s going on. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  He bends down next to me and grabs me by my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  “He’s eighty-sixed you, Steely. If you’d have just kept your legs shut, none of this would be happening. You’re free game now, so I suggest you get the fuck out of here before any of the other brother’s find out what he’s done.”

  He let’s go of my chin and stands up, slamming the car door behind him before walking off without a look back. He climbs on his bike and roars off back toward home, no, not home. Hell.

  And here I am, left sitting in a strange car wondering how the fuck my life has ended up like this at the age of twenty-one, but I know how deep down.

  Some people are just born with disaster in their blood.

  After going down memory lane, I need a drink. I get to the clubhouse and head straight to the bar, prospect Whitey pours me a glass of my favorite and slides it over to me. I notice Taz eyeing me up over his shoulder from the other side of the bar.

  “Hey, Taz, why you so twitchy?” I question him, swirling the amber liquid around my tumbler and quirking up a brow.

  “Dunno what the fuck you’re talking about,” he retorts, signaling for a beer.

  “Really? Since I’ve contested you as VP you’ve been all jumpy and shit, something to hide?” I take a mouthful of liquor and stare at him smugly.

  He’s so easily wound up, hence his road name, Taz, like the Tasmanian devil. He has a temper on him like a bull seeing red. He puffs out his chest and stalks over to me, grabbing me by my cut and pulls me toward him. “You need to remember who you’re talking to.”

  I take another sip of my drink, completely unaffected by his try at a macho display and put my hand out as Slider and Smokey stand out of their seats.

  “Easy, boys. Everything’s all good here, ain’t that right, Mr VP?”

  I grin as his face starts to turn red and he lets go of my cut.

  “You’ll stay away from me if you know what’s good for you,” he warns.

  I have to stop myself from snorting as he takes his bottle of beer and storms toward his room.

  “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” I say, and the brothers watching the scene play out, laugh.

  “He may be getting on a bit but I’d be careful with that one, Bear. He’s fuckin’ unstable,” Smokey says.

  I grin at his comment.

  “He won’t do shit!” I say, laughing it off.

  “At least the next few days will give you both time to cool off and keep you out of each other’s way,” Jacques says and slides onto the stool next to me, leaning his elbows on the bar.

  “Why? What’s happening?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.

  He shrugs. “Beats me. Overheard him and Pres talking earlier, said he’s going away for a little while. Apparently he just needs time away.”

  Time away? He never does anything, what does he need time away from?

  “Ever occur to you that was a private conversation?” My pop says as he walks into the club.

  I didn’t even notice him standing in the doorway.

  Jacques stands and faces him. “Well yeah, but I was stocking the shelves in the back, not my fault they decided to stand outside the room,” he quips and laughs at himself before he’s stopped short by a slap to the side of his head.

  “Shut your ear holes next time, smartass, just because me and Bear are brothers doesn’t automatically give you an in, you need to earn your cut, get it?”

  Everyone lounging around the common area laughs and Jacques storms out of the clubhouse looking red faced. Pop sits on the stool Jacques just left and motions for prospect Whitey to get him a beer. My head turns to the door as three broads walk in. One of them I’ve never seen before. Smokey turns to me and taps me on the arm. “Hey isn’t that Jojo’s daughter?” He asks.

  Jojo is one of the oldest members but he can’t seem to keep it in his pants still and keeps fathering children left, right and center. I shudder at the thought of a chick actually being willing to go near him, he’s as fat as he is stupid.

  “Fuck if I know, he has so many who can keep count?” I say, keeping my eyes trained on her.

  She has on light denim cut offs that show half her ass and a white crop top showing her tanned, toned stomach but her face gives off a different vibe to the outfit she’s wearing. Her outfit screams up for it, while her face is saying stay away from me. I can’t say she doesn’t affect me, but I’d never go there, she’s way too young, she doesn’t look much older than eighteen. But it looks like Smokey doesn’t have the same issue as me as I watch him walk over to her with extra swagger in his step.

  Jacques walks back into the clubhouse looking like he’s calmed down some and walks over to us, taking in the new arrivals at the same time. He locks eyes with the pretty brunette and nods toward her.

  “Who’s that?”

  I shrug. “One of Jojo’s apparently.”

  His face takes on an unreadable look and he nods his head. “Yeah, I think she was in my algebra class last year. What’s sh
e doing here?” He asks, not taking his eyes off her.

  “Probably just turned eighteen, but who knows.”

  “Fancied herself under a biker is more like it,” JT sneers and grabs the beer that prospect Whitey hands him.

  I shake my head at him. How can he talk about her like that? She’s practically still a kid. I immediately feel guilty for my reaction to her and dismiss myself to my room, not willing to watch the brothers circle the new meat.

  I walk past Pres’ office to get to my room and hear shouting. I know I should just keep walking but I can’t stop myself and I lean on the wall outside his door. I strain my ears, only able to catch half the conversation, but I can hear enough to know it’s Taz and Tank going at it.

  “You said it was a done deal… fuck Denlo!” Taz shouts, and I hear a crash from inside.

  Looks like there’s trouble in paradise between the Pres and his beloved VP. Not able to understand what they’re talking about, I hurry away from the door not wanting to be in the path of the whirlwind when he comes storming out.

  What’s a done deal? And what’s going on with Denlo?

  I don’t bother to spend any more time thinking about it and flop onto my bed, placing my hands behind my head.

  Where is he going for a few days? And if he’s going away, that means he won’t be here for me to keep tabs on. If I wasn’t working for the rest of the week I’d follow him, but I’ve picked up these extra shifts to get away from the clubhouse.

  The gray metal door bangs off the wall as it’s flung open, and I don’t move from the spot on the floor where I’m huddled up. I don’t know how long I’ve been here for, a couple of hours? Days? It’s probably closer to two days than anything else, but I can’t be sure.

  I watch as he carries a chair into the middle of the room and flinch when he slams it down. He swirls around and motions for me to get up, I just look at him, rooted to the spot staring him down.

  “Get. Up,” he grinds out, each word laced with venom.

  I continue to stare.

  “I said get up!” He screams, spittle flying everywhere.

  I debate staying where I am but the look in his eyes tells me I shouldn’t, so I slowly start to stand up, grimacing at the pain in my knee and feet.

  “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He sneers, showing his nicotine stained teeth. “Now sit,” he commands, like I’m a prize winning dog.

  I grit my teeth but comply and squeeze my eyes shut as he trails a finger down over my collar bone and over my shoulder, tracing the tattoos that are etched into my skin.

  “I always wanted a tattoo, one apart from the club patch of course but I could never decide what I wanted. Not like you, you’re like a coloring book aren’t you?”

  I don’t say anything, just keep my eyes squeezed shut, wishing to be anywhere else.

  “Where was your last tattoo?” He asks curiously.

  I cock my head to the side and look up at him wondering why he’s asking me this. I consider telling him to go fuck himself, but instead, I sigh.

  “Back of my neck,” I reply, trying to sound bored, but inside I’m screaming to do something to save myself from this situation.

  I’ve been busy trying to come up with a plan in my head, but every time he’s been in this room, apart from now, it’s been for no longer than five minutes, so I’ve yet to see an out.

  He paces around the back of the chair I’m sitting on slowly and sweeps my hair across my shoulder so he can see my tattoo. I tense as his fingers lightly trail over the pattern at the back of my neck.

  “Why a key?” He asks, and I’m starting to wonder what his game plan is.

  I don’t answer him, choosing to stare at the cement wall in front of me in defiance, I’m done playing this game of cat and mouse.

  He grips my hair and twists, making it pull at my scalp and I stop myself from yelping. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “I said. Why a key?”

  “Because... I hold the key to my own destiny,” I force out, my voice sounding a little shrill and pathetic.

  He begins to laugh and the weak feeling I just had gets replaced by a seething anger. I feel it as it flows through my veins and I flex my hands, willing him to come in front of me, but he doesn’t. He grips the back of my neck and I feel his wet tongue dart out and lick around my tattoo. I cringe, goosebumps rising on my skin and I try to pull my neck away but he has me gripped so tight he’s pinning me down to the chair.

  “But here’s the thing, sweet girl.” And that’s when I feel the biting pain just above my tattoo. “You’re not anymore.”

  I try to pull away again but he pulls me back by my hair as I feel him cutting away at my neck. My breathing picks up as the burning pain carries on, squeezing my eyes shut, I will my mind to go anywhere else but here.

  Blood oozes down my back and as he lets me go, I fall to my knees and retch onto the hard, cold ground. My blood makes tracks down my face as my head hangs there, and I watch as it drips onto the floor. I cry out in pain, I’d do anything to make this go away, it’s excruciating.

  He kicks me onto my side and bends down to show me something about an inch long in the palm of his hand. Feeling myself on the verge of passing out, I try to focus on whatever it is he’s holding. As soon as I realize it’s my tattoo, I lose the contents of my stomach.

  “Now who holds the key to your destiny, bitch,” he laughs out menacingly.

  “You’re sick!” I scream at him through desperate, emotional sobs.

  He leans close to me and whispers, “And don’t you forget it, sweet girl.” Before he stalks out of the room, leaving me in a pool of my own blood and puke.

  I roll my shoulders, stretching out my tight muscles and cover up the Harley I’ve been working on, it’s time to head home.

  “Hey, Hunter?” I hear from the back of the shop, looking around for who the voice belongs to.

  Spotting Tessa, a girl who works in the office, waving at me, I take a deep breath and walk toward her.

  “Yeah?” I ask, trying to keep the boredom out of my voice. She’s okay, she’s just a little too peppy for my liking.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe do something tonight?” She asks, trying to be subtle about the way she’s sticking out her chest at me.

  I try not to look as I clear my throat and think of a nice way to let her down, I do have to work with her after all. “Thanks, but I’m not looking to date right now.”

  She purses her lips and moves closer to me, trailing a finger down my chest, landing on my belt.

  “Who said anything about dating?” She purrs, trying to be seductive.

  I take a step back. “That’s a nice offer but I like my job, your pop would kick my ass if he found out I was beddin’ his daughter.”

  She reaches up and digs her claw-like nails into the back of my neck, and leans in some more so I can feel her lips brush against mine as she says, “Your loss.” And saunters off, making her hips sway that little bit more than is necessary.

  I scrape a hand down my face as I watch after her, she knows what she’s doing so I tear my eyes away and clock out for the day.

  The scene at the clubhouse when I walk in is one I’m becoming more and more used to. There’s at least nine brothers sat in here, all drunk of their asses watching the club broads grinding on each other, and I’m beginning to become tired of it. I walk over to my pop, Jojo and Pres sitting on a table at the back of the common area, ignoring everything going on in the front.

  They all nod at me except Pres as I sit down in the empty seat and scan the room. Not seeing my brother, I turn to my pop.

  “Where’s Jacques?” I ask, a frown marring my face. He’s normally here by now.

  He shrugs. “Didn’t come home last night, figured he crashed here.”

  I purse my lips, it’s not out of character for Jacques to pass out here but when he does, I always know about it.

  “Not with me he didn’t, you seen him?” I direct my questi
on at Pres and he just grunts.

  I take it to mean no and walk over to prospect Whitey, they normally hang together when he’s here.

  “’Sup, Bear, what can I getcha’?” His strong southern accent is more prominent when he’s had a drink.

  I cross my arms and lean against the bar. “Nothing strong, I’ve got work tomorrow.” He slides me a beer.

  “You seen Jacques today?” I ask, taking a swig of beer, tasting the bitter liquid as it swirls around my mouth.

  He takes a pull of his own. “Nah, haven’t seen him since he took off last night saying he had business to take care of.”

  My brow furrows. Business to take care of? “And he didn’t tell you where he went or what for?”

  “Hell nah, I thought it was club business, you know I can’t ask about that shit,” he drawls.

  He has a point, but the whole situation puts me on edge.

  “He was talking to that new broad before he left.” He tilts his beer at the girl who just walked in. “Maybe he said somethin’ to her?”

  It’s the young girl from yesterday and I down the rest of my beer before making a beeline toward her. She clocks me walking over and I see her visibly tense up as she rakes her eyes over my tight black t-shirt and black jeans.

  “You know my brother, Jacques, right?” I ask, looking her in the eyes.

  Her walls come up and she stands up straighter as Jojo comes over and throws his arms around her shoulders.

  “Got a problem here, Bear?” He asks, raising a brow at me in question.

  I chuckle and raise my hands up. “Not at all, I was just asking…” I realize I don’t know her name.

  “Poppy.”

  “Right, I was just asking Poppy here if she knew my brother,” I say in way of explanation.

  He looks down at her and she shakes her head no.

  “There you go, says she doesn’t, you can move along now,” he counters, dismissing me.

  I stand my ground. “Now hold on a minute, I wasn’t trying to sleep with her. I just wanted to know if she’s seen him today.”

  Jojo lets go of her shoulder and moves to step in front of her, but she puts her hand on his chest. “Dad, he’s only asking a question, go on and sit down before you give yourself a heart attack.”