Coal (Regulators MC Book 3)

by Chelsea Camaron

  He smiles. A real, genuine smile crosses his face before a laugh escapes.

  “Pixie, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”

  I shrug. “Make a wish.”

  Coal laughs again, and I feel an invisible weight lift off my shoulders.

  When the waitresses leave, Hammer is the first to comment. “You two have obviously learned the art of silent communication.”

  “Ethan,” Des interrupts him.

  “What? They shared a look, and suddenly, Coal knows she got him good and laughed. Coal never fuckin’ laughs. They obviously got something goin’ on.”

  “Drop it,” Coal tells Hammer, and they share a look.

  I don’t know how to read it. There isn’t anger or animosity, just a simple command that Hammer obeys.

  As we leave, I anticipate the energy shifting and the calm between Coal and I to leave.

  It doesn’t.

  Coal walks me in my apartment where I expect him to leave, but instead, he seems to make himself comfortable.

  He’s the only person to get on my couch and not complain about the uncompromising wooden frame and the simplistic style that is for function, not comfort.

  Sitting beside him, I am at ease in my space. Even though there is so much we don’t know about each other, it feels like he belongs here.

  “Today was fun, Pixie. Thanks for going with me.”

  “I had fun, too,” I answer honestly.

  “Don’t know the last time I spent out, relaxed and laughing,” Coal says, meeting my stare.

  His honesty surprises and humbles me.

  “I’m glad to be a part of anything that relaxes you and makes you happy.”

  Coal’s dark eyes soften. “Pixie, it seems like when you’re around things just relax. Maybe it’s your aura.” He smiles at me. “Maybe it’s your gift.”

  “My gift?”

  “My mother is Sioux.” Coal explains. “I spent summers growing up going to the reservation. In Native American culture we are given a gift from the animals, the plants, it’s how you are named typically.”

  I’m intrigued. “What normally soothes you, Coal?”

  He laughs and it makes me smile.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  I raise an eyebrow challenging him.

  “Drums, thunder, really anything with a steady rhythm.”

  The continual beat of my heart suddenly pounds in my ears. The pull between us is stronger than ever before. As the thumping gets louder and faster, I find my body coming alive.

  Then I lick my lips and lean into him. Surprising even myself, I press my lips against his. With a slight opening, I slide my tongue in.

  Lights flash behind my eyelids, and my entire body tingles as the energy moves through me.

  Coal’s hands cup either side of my face as he takes control. He’s gentle in a way I didn’t imagine would come from a large man like him.

  Reaching out, I run my hands up his neck and to the back of his head. The skin is smooth, soft, and I can’t help massaging him as we continue to tangle our tongues.

  When I moan in pleasure, Coal abruptly pulls away and jumps up. He wipes his lips as if he’s committed a crime and looks at me with pain in his eyes.

  “Pixie, I can’t.”

  Those are the only words he speaks before rushing out the front door.

  I listen as his motorcycle rumbles away while my lips still tingle from his kiss.

  Just when I think we will untangle ourselves from each other, we are somehow in deeper than before.

  Chapter Twelve

  ~Coal~

  I ride around Miami for a couple of hours, trying to clear my head, but it doesn’t seem to work. There’s only one thought that I keep coming back to: tell her why. If I tell her about that night with Amber, maybe she will understand why I can’t give her anything more. I can’t give anyone a damn thing, other than cash. The lines get blurred.

  There’s something about Pixie that makes me want to open up, and that is almost enough to paint a yellow streak down my back and send me running. Except, I don’t run from anything anymore.

  After Amber, I refuse.

  Turning my motorcycle around, I head back to Pixie’s place. It’s time she hears the reason I am the way I am.

  My nerves are amped, and before I know it, I’m parking my bike in front of her building.

  Steeling myself to do the right thing, I turn off the motor and amble toward her door. She opens it right after the first knock, almost as if she knew I would come back.

  Propping myself against her doorframe, I tell her, “We need to talk.”

  She moves aside and waves for me to come in. She seems calm, but I can see the tense lines in her shoulders. The woman isn’t that good at hiding how she feels. I know she’s nervous as hell as to what’s about to happen. Which is almost funny because, for once, so am I.

  Walking over to her couch, I sit down and wave my hand for her to join me. “Have a seat, Pix. I have a story to tell, and you’re going to listen to every word.”

  Pixie takes a seat next to me, so close our bodies almost touch. I have to fight the urge to wrap my arm around her shoulders and draw her body into mine for a hug. As much as I want to comfort her, that would send the wrong message with what I’m about to say.

  “What is it, Trevor?” she asks timidly.

  “I’m going to tell you a story, Pixie, and by the time I’m done, if you want me to leave, just say the word. And let’s be clear here, babe; I fully expect you to tell me to leave. You want to know why I don’t do permanent, why I can’t take without giving first, this story is the reason. You want to know why my aura is so damn dark, you’re about to hear why. I only ask one thing from you before I tell you why I am the way I am. Don’t repeat this shit. You’re the first person I’m going explain this shit to since it happened, and my business is my business. I don’t want it getting back to Des and Morgan. Understand?”

  She nods. “What’s said here stays here, Trevor.”

  “Good.” Running my hands over my bald head, I drop them to my knees and let myself remember what happened so long ago.

  “Back in high school, my senior year, I had a girlfriend named Amber. I wasn’t in love with her, but I cared for her a lot, and we were together for a while. She was a good girl from a good family, and I thought a few times she might just be dating me to piss her family off because I was the only half-breed Native American running around our town. Sort of like the boy from the wrong side of the tracks deal. Or maybe I was her ticket to having a wild time because everyone in school knew I might work hard, but I played hard, too, if you know what I mean. But Amber was sweet to me, and after a while, I blew those notions off.”

  Pixie listens silently while I fight back all the memories and my need to hurl as the anxiety overtakes me. Knowing I need to do this, I push on.

  “Then, one night, we were at a friend’s house, partying. Amber had been to a couple of my friends’ parties, but this was the first one where she drank with me. We were both having a good time, blitzed out of our minds, when she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to the bedrooms. At first, I thought she just wanted to make out. That was all we ever did, anyway. As long as we were together, I never tried to have sex with her because I knew she was a virgin, and I didn’t think she was ready for that.”

  I take a deep breath to continue, when Pixie interrupts me. “That was very admirable of you to think of her best interests like that, Trevor.”

  The comment makes me snort. “We’ll see how admirable you think I am in a few minutes, Pixie.” Not giving her another chance to speak, I keep talking. “So, like I was saying, I thought she was dragging me upstairs to make out. And we did for a while, but two teenagers drunk and making out isn’t a great combination. Things got heated quickly, and the next thing I know, we’re both naked. Hell, I don’t even really remember how we got naked. The next thing I remember is we’re about to have sex. As in, my cock was at her e
ntrance, and I was about to push in. I do remember asking Amber if she was sure she wanted to do it, and I thought she said yes. The next thing I know, I’m inside her, and she’s talking about how much it hurts.

  “The worst part is, it gets even fuzzier after that. I know I asked her if she wanted me to stop, and I remember her saying no, but I thought she meant no, as in, she didn’t want me to stop. I’m not going to give you anymore gritty details. Needless to say, shit was over really quick and the last thing I remember before passing out is holding her while she cried and telling her it was going to be okay.

  “After that night, things were weird between us. Back then, I thought it might have been because she regretted what we did. A couple of weeks later, Amber disappears for three days, saying she had the flu, and then she shows up at my parents’ house with her parents.

  “She’s crying and shit, and her father said I took advantage of her. As in, he said I raped her. And if that wasn’t bad enough, because of what I did, she was pregnant. Graduation was two weeks away, and Amber’s parents demanded I leave right after graduation or they were going to press rape charges against me. I enlisted the next day into the Army and never looked back.”

  Regret burns, and like a bitter pill, the taste lingers. I resist the urge to jump up off the couch and pace the space in front of me.

  “I lost everything that day, Pixie. My father’s respect, my home because I couldn’t go back because of Amber and her parents, and my soul. Because, let me tell you, nothing will make your heart and soul shrivel up faster than being accused of being a fucking rapist when you thought you were having consensual sex with your girlfriend, but you were too fucking drunk to remember.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what happened with the baby, Trevor?”

  Her question stumps me. It’s the last thing I expected her to ask. In fact, I’m shocked I’m even still sitting beside her and she hasn’t sent me packing already.

  “I was told later that she lost the baby. I might not have wanted to be a father at eighteen, but hearing that, I felt responsible somehow. I fucked up Amber’s life and lost our child. If they couldn’t have a good life, then neither would I. This is why I don’t do permanent, Pixie.

  “After that, I shut myself off emotionally. And doing that has led me to doing a lot of bad shit simply because, in a lot of ways, I no longer give a fuck. I’m not going to tell you about every dark thing I’ve done in my life; that’s on me to keep. What I can tell you is that I’m not a good man, I’ve got blood on my hands, and I can never, ever give you what you want or deserve out of a man, which is love and a good life.”

  “Why do you think you have no good to give, Trevor? I see and feel nothing but good from you.”

  “Pixie, I’ve tried repentance. Hell, Morgan’s sister Madyson, she went through hell. I don’t speak to her. I want her to live her life, move on, and for that reason I leave her alone. I help how I can for her to have a fresh start.”

  “Morgan and Madyson would want to know this.”

  “Pixie, it’s not for you to tell. It’s on me and I don’t want them to know I am part of their lives.”

  “I understand.”

  Her reply is genuine and I feel like Pixie understands me in a way no one else ever has. Maybe in a way more than I understand myself.

  “I’ve spent my own time in the dark, Trevor. Wishing, praying, and doing anything I thought I could to right some wrong. In the end, I had to face that things happen in life, some are to teach us about ourselves.”

  ~Paisley~

  I sit here, silently stunned at everything Trevor Blake has laid out in front of me. He thinks he’s dark and hardened like coal. I think he’s honorable and respectable. Not because he made a bad decision when he was a teenager. No, because he was man enough to accept it.

  The weight he’s carried for all these years is insurmountable.

  Part of me just can’t believe what he’s saying. He’s a rapist? I may not know him as well as Ice, Hammer, Morgan, or Des, but I can’t believe that this man is a rapist.

  He doesn’t have a clear memory.

  “Trevor,” I say his name softly, “have you ever considered being hypnotized to bring up the memories? You aren’t even sure what happened that night.”

  He lifts his hand. Then, using the backs of his knuckles, he gently runs them down the side of my face. “I treasure this moment, Pixie. You see too much good where there isn’t any.”

  Tears form in the corners of my eyes. “I see a man who didn’t take advantage of me when I hit him with my car. I see a man who stood out with an old lady at the grocery store to help her get her groceries in a cab. I see a man who, as much as he wants to stay away, he’s gone beyond his own limits, all because of a stranger who needs her energy reset. Those are all selfless acts. They are all good things.”

  “Stop,” he commands firmly.

  I silence, and the feelings of sadness hit me again, just like when he left. I can’t let him walk away with things like this.

  “Trevor, Amber wants to hear from you.”

  His eyes grow wide. “How do you know this?”

  “When I searched you, her social media profile came up. She doesn’t know how to find you and wants to talk to you.”

  “Some things are better left alone, Pixie.”

  The air around us is thick with tension. My mood is dark, as is Trevor’s.

  “I just think—”

  He puts a hand up, stopping me from continuing. “Don’t think, Pixie. I came back to explain. I came back so that you can understand that, while you are a gorgeous woman with a unique personality, this thing between us isn’t going to happen. I gave you a respect and trust I’ve never given anyone. In return, I’m gonna ask that you let it be.”

  I open my mouth to speak, then immediately close it, not knowing what to say.

  He stands, kisses my forehead, and walks away.

  “Stay safe, Pixie,” he mutters without looking back at me.

  I let him leave with so many thoughts in my mind. Doesn’t he see that Amber may need closure, too? Maybe she wants to set the record straight about what happened between them.

  I listen as the sound of his Harley pulling away rumbles through the space once again. My heart is heavy.

  Trevor “Coal” Blake is a man of many layers. He’s not the hardened, blood-stained soul he thinks. He’s a man with a history, one that is far from pretty, but one which has built his character. He is strong. Trevor has heart, character, respect, and determination, yet he’s determined to continue to punish himself for something that isn’t exactly clear.

  He’s not a rapist. I don’t believe it for one second. I just don’t know how to prove it to him.

  I see the good inside of him. I can sense the light inside of him. I just have to show him what I see.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~Coal~

  “Yo, lunch was delivered!”

  When I hear Hammer’s shout from across the empty club, I make my way back to the conference room we use at Alibi. Screech has offices in both clubs so he can do what we need him to do wherever he is. Or, in this case, wherever we are doing club business.

  Today that happens to be at the male strip club because we didn’t want Lisa going back to the other club where she works. She’s not ready to face the girls and talk about losing Big Jim. We aren’t open for business for the day yet, so it works out even better.

  All of us have been taking turns watching over Lisa and helping her with anything she needs. It’s our way of honoring Big Jim and taking care of our Regulators family.

  We asked Lisa to come in today and go through some surveillance photos of employees of Billy Bob’s Barbeque to identify Cook. Now we are all impatiently waiting to see who she picks so we can get justice for our dead brother.

  As I step into the conference room, Hammer is already eating what looks to be a pulled pork barbeque sandwich. It still makes me sick to my stomach. Who the fuck ordered this?

 
Walking over to the spread of food, I see coleslaw, potato salad, hush puppies, french fries, and a platter of sandwiches. Looking over at Hammer, my stomach turns again at seeing him eat.

  I hear a noise and look to the other side of me just in time to see Ice making a plate for himself. As he picks up a sandwich, I see an odd shape of white paper sticking out from underneath one of the other sandwiches on the platter. Reaching over, I gently pull it out, and as I do, I see there are words on the paper.

  What the fuck is this?

  I unfold the slip of paper to see a message that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Compliments of Cook. Enjoy.

  It takes a few seconds for my brain to register the implications of the note, and when I do, I immediately reach over and slap Ice’s plate out of his hands.

  As he cusses me out, I jump over and slap Hammer’s plate out of his hand, too.

  “Don’t fucking eat that! IT’S FROM HIM!”

  Holding the note up to Hammer’s face, I see it turn ghost white as the blood drains away. Then he spits what’s in his mouth out and starts gagging. There’s no telling what Hammer just ate. With Cook, it could be pulled pork … or it could be human. I don’t think I will ever look at meat the same way again.

  Looking over at Ice, I see a confused look on his face, so I hold the note up in his direction and explain, “Cook sent us fucking lunch.”

  How Cook knows us is beyond me? Maybe because of Big Jim. Either way, this sick fuck is going to die by our hands in a painful motherfucking way. I don’t like games, and lately, it seems I no longer like meat, either.

  Ice looks at Hammer, who is now bent over the trash can, puking, and cringes.

  Just then, Screech comes running into the room, holding a photograph up. “We got him!”

  There, in black and white, on glassy photo paper, is the image of an average-looking Caucasian man leaving the back entrance of Billy Bob’s Barbeque restaurant.

  “Lisa identified this one as the man who killed Big Jim.” Holding up a separate piece of paper in his other hand, Screech quickly rattles off, “His name is David Koch. He lives at 629 Beaumont Lane.”