Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)
Page 8
This time by the back of her neck and as she brought her hands up to break free, he snagged her wrist again.
If she fought him, he would only tighten his grip, so she tried to remain calm, even though her heart was beating right out of her chest and her breathing had become choppy and shallow.
Why did he have this effect on her? He shouldn’t.
“Stella.”
And why the fuck did her name on his lips and the way he was holding her make her lose her breath? “Let me go.”
It was impossible to hide her reaction to him. Which put her at a disadvantage.
Even so, she would not give in.
If she did, everything around her would collapse. Again.
She would lose control of her life. Lose control of what was hers.
She’d lose everything.
She did not need a man like Trip in her life.
She didn’t need a fucking man at all.
And the fucking balls on him...
She lifted her chin and met his eyes directly. “Let. Me. Go.”
“What were you dreamin’ about, Stella?”
She jerked her arm, but he held tight.
“Same thing I’ve been dreamin’ about every night?” His anger had softened a bit, but it was still there, barely simmering beneath the surface.
“Depends. Are you dreaming about when you pushed an eleven-year-old girl so hard she cracked her head open on a concrete block wall? Is that what you’re dreaming?”
The fingers on the back of her neck tightened and the ones around her wrist twitched.
“Let me go, Trip.”
“I was fuckin’ fifteen, Stella.”
“And that makes it okay?”
“No, it doesn’t make it fuckin’ okay. But what fifteen-year-old kid wants a little girl chasin’ him around tryin’ to kiss him and demandin’ he marry her?”
None. She knew that now and she knew that later once she was old enough to know better.
“Try kissin’ me now. Bet you won’t get that same response.”
What? “You know what? It would be the same result. It’d be like slamming my head against a fucking concrete wall. Back then I thought you were the greatest, now I see you as you really are.”
“And how’s that?”
She could see it in his face. Him putting up a wall, becoming guarded. And a muscle in his tight jaw jumped.
“Someone with nothing and nobody. Someone scrambling to make something out of nothing because you don’t have shit to show for the last thirty-five years.”
As she tried pulling away from him again, he spun them until her ass was against the back counter and his hips had her pinned.
His brown eyes glittered fiercely. “Sounds fuckin’ familiar, Stella. What do you have to show for your thirty-one years on this goddamn Earth? This run-down goddamn bar that was handed to you? A mountain of debt? What? What do you have to show? No man. No kids. No fuckin’ nothin’. So, before you start throwin’ stones, you better move outta your own goddamn glass house.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck you, Trip.”
The motherfucker smiled.
And that didn’t cool down her anger at all. “You just walk in here out of fucking nowhere, and then think you’re going to be some fucking hero and help the damsel in distress? For what? What the hell do you expect to get out of this?”
“Told you what.”
What she didn’t want to give him. “A portion of the bar.”
“Half of the bar.”
Half... Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. “And I’ll say it again... Fuck. You. Trip.”
“Give me half and you’ll have more fuckin’ money in your pocket than you do now.”
“Right.”
“Swear it. You’ll have free or cheap labor—”
“Prospects—”
“Money to invest in fixin’ up this shithole—”
“I don’t want to turn this into a fucking biker bar, Trip.”
“It doesn’t have to be a fuckin’ biker bar, Stella! Fuck! You’re so goddamn stubborn.”
She wasn’t the only one. “Because you want me to give up half of everything that belongs to me. Just like that, you walk in twenty fucking years later and you want half.” Like she was in the middle of a bad divorce.
“Let me help you.”
Fuck that. “No.”
Trip closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. His fingers had flexed on her wrists, which were pinned between their bodies.
She shoved at him, but he didn’t budge. “Back off.”
His eyes opened and their gazes locked. “If I back up, you’re gonna knee me in the nuts.”
“And you’d deserve it because I still owe you one.”
He dropped his head until his mouth was just above hers.
Like at the barn. Like in her dream.
Though, with two different results.
His warm breath beat rapidly against her lips. His jaw was working and his eyes so intense, they seared her. “If you fuckin’ think I hurt you on purpose, you’d be fuckin’ wrong.”
She blinked back the sting in her eyes.
She had already cried enough tears to last a lifetime. She wasn’t going to cry over this man, or any other man, ever again.
She stared at his parted lips as he challenged her, “Try to kiss me again, Stella. You know you wanna.”
No. No. No. Don’t fall down that fucking rabbit hole.
“I don’t want anything to do with you.”
His eyelids got heavy and those lips of his, the ones she couldn’t pull her gaze from, curled at the corners.
He knew she was lying.
Because even though she would be leaping into that bottomless pit, she wanted nothing more than to feel those lips on hers. What the little girl inside her wanted back then and was denied. What the woman who she was today dreamed about after the other day in the barn.
That little girl had thought the sun rose and set in that boy.
Now she was too jaded to think that.
She’d been dead inside for over a year. When she wasn’t angry or sad, she was numb.
But sex with Trip might make her feel alive once more.
Might.
And that right there was too much of a risk. Because with sex, there were always complications.
She worried Trip would think he owned her afterward. Women were no more than property to bikers. She’d seen it. Even with her mother. With the rest of the original ol’ ladies, too.
And he might use that as a way to get his hands on her bar.
Her bar.
No longer Pete’s.
Not the club’s.
Not Trip’s.
This was her fucking bar, and no one was taking it from her. No one was ever taking away what was hers again.
And one night with Trip wasn’t worth the risk of losing it. No matter how alive it would make her feel. No matter how much it would remind her that the world hadn’t stopped that day. At least for everyone else.
Even so, she was the captain of her own destiny now and if she went down with the ship... Then so be it.
“Fuck you,” she forced out.
“Yeah, you wanna do that, too.”
“You are so fucking full of yourself.”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. The arrogant asshole didn’t even bother to deny it. “Let me get your change so you can get the fuck out of my bar.”
“Keep the fuckin’ change. You need it more than me.”
That blade sliced deep. “I don’t need your fucking charity.”
He shook his head, regret in his eyes and his tone. “We all used to be family once.”
Stella’s blood ran cold. “Family doesn’t hurt family.” But she knew that was a complete lie. The pain family could inflict was always the worst and sometimes the deepest.
“You need to fuckin’ let that go.”
“Which part? Where you hurt me? What your father did? What Razor did? Wh
at happened to Ox and all the rest of our so-called family?”
“I’m only responsible for the first one. The rest I had nothin’ to do with, Stella. You fuckin’ know that. I’m done apologizin’ for what I did. You can’t forgive me, then...” He shrugged. “Then fuck you, don’t forgive me. Don’t give a shit, let that eat at you just like the rest of the past. Me? I’m movin’ forward, makin’ amends, makin’ somethin’ outta my life. You wanna sit alone in this dingy fuckin’ bar feelin’ sorry for yourself? Do it while listenin’ to a few Joan Jett songs, then get the fuck over it and move the fuck on. Now, I’m done askin’ and I’m just takin’.”
What the fuck did that mean?
He let her wrist go, but still kept his hand firmly around the back of her neck and her pinned to the counter with his body as he reached into his cut and pulled out a worn, folded piece of lined notebook paper. He shoved it against her chest and her fingers automatically grabbed at it, but he didn’t let go. He held onto it as he kept talking.
“The Fury is mine. That means half of this bar is mine. If you don’t believe me, that’s the agreement Pete signed with Buck thirty years ago. The club financed the whole fuckin’ bar, Stella. The whole goddamn thing. The agreement was Pete and the club split the profits fifty-fifty. And for the last twenty fuckin’ years, Pete kept all of the fuckin’ profits. You don’t want me collectin’ that debt, Stella. Swear to fuck, you don’t. So the best thing for you to do is to put my fuckin’ name on the deed next to yours and... let... me... fuckin’... help... you.”
The last was said only inches away from her face, which she was sure was as white as a ghost, since all the blood had drained from it.
She wondered if what Trip said was true, whether the paper in his hand was legally-binding. She was afraid to look at it. Afraid to think about what all he just said meant.
She knew the club helped Pete buy the bar, she had no idea that they had paid for the whole thing.
Fuck. If it wasn’t for Trip coming back to Manning Grove and opening those wounds, no one would’ve known. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation right now, losing the one thing she had left.
The only thing she had left.
Without the bar she had absolutely nothing.
No home. No job. No future.
She dropped her head and tried to breathe. Tried to still her spinning thoughts.
This was all his fault for coming back.
This was all Trip’s fault for digging up the past.
Her father never told her.
No one ever told her.
Christ, the rug was just pulled out from beneath her again. Her future unsure, questionable.
She couldn’t start over again. She couldn’t.
She would be forced to give him half the bar. Forced to deal with him on a regular basis.
She tried to swallow the sob that rushed up from her chest. She couldn’t contain her sign of weakness, so she turned it into a scream instead as she slammed both hands into his chest. “Bastard!”
He grunted at the force of her hit but didn’t move back. Instead, he pinned her tighter against the counter.
“You fucking bastard! You knew this all along, didn’t you?”
“No—”
“You knew this and were playing me!”
“No, Stella—”
“You did. This was just a game to you. A power play.”
“No, just wanted—”
“You wanted,” she hissed. “You. Fuck Stella, right?”
“Stella.”
“You know what I want?” Before he could answer, she slammed him in the chest again with both palms, causing another loud grunt. “I want you out of my fucking bar. I want you out of my life.” She was now screaming in his face.
She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her fear, her rage, her frustration was bubbling up and over. Leaking. Escaping. Like the steam from a pressure cooker. She couldn’t contain it because if she did, she’d explode.
Her heart was beating so hard, so fast, she swore she was going to have a heart attack.
A heart that had been irrevocably broken, then withered and died.
“Not leavin’ the bar.”
She couldn’t take any more loss because she had nothing left to lose.
Nothing.
Trip just claimed the last thing she was clinging to.
“Then I will. I’ll get my shit and get out. You can have it.” But you can’t have me.
“Stella...”
“Get out of my way.” As she went to slam him again, to break free from him, from the chains he was trying to bind her in, he grabbed her wrists in a grip so tight she winced.
He got up into her face and growled, “Learned the hard way twenty fuckin’ years ago not to put my hands on a female, but you’re fuckin’ pushin’ my patience, woman.”
“Good. Because I have zero fucks left to give. I’m fresh out.”
“You better dig deep and find some, woman, because I need you to run this fuckin’ bar and help me make it a success. The club needs the money and so do you.”
“Once again, Trip... You need. My life does not revolve around your needs.”
“No, it revolves around yours. And you’re too fuckin’ stubborn to see it.”
“Let me go so I can go pack up my shit.”
“You’re not goin’ anywhere.”
She knew one way to get him to free her. And he was too close to knee him in the nuts.
She relaxed every muscle in her body, raised her face to his, and whispered her challenge. “Who’s going to stop me? You?”
Anger quickly disappeared from his eyes and heat took its place. His look was wary but interested. And she immediately felt his body change. One particular part was starting to press hard against her belly.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me.”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip then tucked that lip between her teeth. His eyes followed every one of those movements.
Typical fucking male. Dangle a bit of sex in front of him and he was putty in her hands. Thinking with his dick and not his brain.
“You can let me go and the bar could be all yours and the club’s.”
“Don’t wanna let you go, Stella. Want you to stay.”
She wanted to demand why. She would hand the bar over to him free and clear. “You don’t need me.”
“The fuck I don’t.”
His words were soft but sharply edged at the same time. She ignored some of the implications behind them.
He would never own her. She was not property. She wouldn’t be used or passed around.
She had grown up watching women be forced to do things they didn’t want to do.
She would never be that woman.
Never.
Chapter Six
He wasn’t sure what Stella was trying to pull. One minute she was hard and resistant, the next soft and compliant.
Sort of.
He wasn’t falling for that bullshit.
He hadn’t wanted to use the agreement against her, but she’d forced his hand. He would’ve preferred she’d let him help her by her own choice.
But fuck no.
If he had any fucking sense in his head, he’d let her do what she threatened. Pack up her shit and leave. He could turn this bar around without her by using the MC to run it. It could be profitable for both the bar and the club.
He couldn’t imagine she’d just walk away.
But, worse, he couldn’t let her.
Did he want her? Fuck yes.
Did she want him?
Both in the barn and even now, he saw the pulse pounding along the delicate line of her throat. It wasn’t from fear.
Fuck no.
He was stirring something deep down inside her, the same as she was doing to him.
He came back to Manning Grove to get his life in order, to rebuild the club. He did not come back to find a woman. He didn’t need that complication, he had too much work to do.
She also had a passion and determination he admired. She was like a pit bull hanging on to the throat of this bar, until she had nothing left. She would starve to death before letting go.
He knew this not only because of what Dutch had told him—the man could flap his gums—but by what he saw in her.
Her grit.
It was the same as his.
She was the kind of woman who could stand by his side and help him rebuild. A woman who would not need constant reassurances, would not want to play relationship head games or keep him on a leash.
He would not take this bar from her. Which meant she’d have to stay.
But she needed to see the only way out of the hole she had fallen into was to take his offered hand. Because anyone else would come in, take the bar, and kick her ass out the door.
And then she’d truly have nothing.
Instead, he wanted to give her something.
However, he needed something from her in return.
The first and most important thing so he could do that, would be for her to stop fighting him.
With the look she was now giving him and the way her body had gone soft against his, anybody not thinking clearly would think she was being compliant. Accepting. Resigned.
But Trip knew it was a trap.
Even so... Did he want her? Fuck yes.
Did he want to get his nuts knocked into next Tuesday? Fuck no.
She was cunning. But then, so was he. So, he recognized her tactic.
However, he did not appreciate it. Not at fucking all.
But two could play that goddamn game.
“Then go.” He released her and twisted his hips away to make sure his sac wasn’t in her strike zone. “Get your shit and get the fuck outta here. But let me say this. You walk away, don’t fuckin’ come back. You walk away, you give it all up. Gave you a chance to make somethin’ from nothin’ and you just fuckin’ shit on it.” He jerked his chin toward the rear exit of Crazy Pete’s. “So fuckin’ go.” He added fuel to the fire. “Had a year to get this place turned around, you failed. I’ll do it in a couple of months without you bein’ in the way.”
As he turned to walk away, to completely dismiss her, he heard her sharp intake of breath.