by V. Theia
“Just a little one.”
“Fuck,” he breathed out heavy. Palming the shaved part of her head, he dropped his and gave her the smallest kiss, taking her sweetness in as he licked his lips. “This is how it’s gonna be isn’t it? I’m gonna be a sucker for anything you want.”
She flashed him a serene, wicked smile. “Suits me fine.”
He felt like he’d walked into a freeze box when everyone got a look at who arrived.
“Let’s take the groceries through to the back,” she said, staying close to his side. Then she turned to the room of men, her sexy glare in place. “For fucks sake, yes, there’s a Renegade Souls in your precious clubhouse, get over it. He’s not the devil, he’s my boyfriend and if any of you dare to say one wrong word, I swear to fucking God, I’ll poison the roast this weekend, see if I don’t.”
“Damn, Cookie.” Butcher remarked with pride to his voice.
He wondered if these fuckers would mind him grinding on her a little.
Not even lying when he felt out of place here.
He didn’t want to be in another clubhouse. Not even for a visit and he often went over to Jamie Steele’s place for one reason or another.
He wanted Roux in his colors, wearing his Souls claim.
But this relationship was gonna have to be different from his boys’.
He had to compromise somewhere.
They’d never be able to fully discuss their club lives. He’d have to keep some shit from her and the realization of that didn’t sit good with him.
He trusted her with his life, trusted her with secrets, but the club was more than his life. It was his brother’s lives too.
Compromising, if he were honest, was not something he liked doing, but his Roux brought into play all new rules.
He wanted her.
Needed her.
Craved the very breath out of her body.
He’d negotiate anything to keep her.
And that included being civil to a bunch of lazy fuckers.
She led him through corridors until they reached a kitchen. Three men he recognized were eating at the table and they looked up with surprise blinks.
“Yeah, yeah, get over it,” Roux warned, pointing her finger.
Butcher dumped the bags and pressed his mouth to her ear, “Cookie, stop being so bossy, it’s turning me on.”
She laughed, elbowing him but not before he caught her forehead with a kiss.
“Let’s get out of here,” one of them said. “Don’t wanna be around when Prez kills him.”
Roux called at the retreating backs. “Assholes.”
The air went electric around them when he stepped into her space, pressing his hips to her belly, he put his hands on the counter behind her and dropped his head. “This is only the beginning, Roux. We’ll face bullshit. But you and me, we’re good, yeah?”
She gave him her eyes, so violet and low lidded.
“Tell me we’re good.”
“We’re more than good, but this is going to get on my last nerve. It shouldn’t fucking matter who I date.”
It was then, before he could get a word out, that they heard in a deep tone. “Guess you have no fucking respect for the club, Roux.”
A prez and father were in the house. Butcher stayed where he was but cranked his neck around to find blue eyes bullet sharp trained on him.
Right behind him, standing like two pieces of soldier toast were Reno and Chains. Of fucking course, the whole gang was here.
He moved to Roux’s side but made sure they saw him slipping his hand around her waist and nudged her into his body.
“Axel.” Butcher started. “We dropped off your shit. You’re welcome.”
There was nothing headier than feeling his woman curve her body against his, aligning them as a team. It calmed something within.
He didn’t want her to be on the outs with her family, especially her dad. He didn’t want her to have to choose between them. So he was going to swallow his pride as much as he could for her and do what he needed to make this situation work.
“Reno, I see you hiding back there,” his girl proclaimed in a haughty tone that was hot enough to nearly get him hard as stone.
Reno pushed passed Axel and glared. “I wasn’t hiding. Was waiting my turn.”
“For what? And if you say what I think you’re gonna say, let’s have it out now. Who were you with last night?”
The other man blinked. Butcher could feel sorry for the asshole getting grilled by a determined Roux, but he was too busy grinning on the inside and giving her hip a supportive squeeze.
Axel ignored him and prowled over to the coffee machine. Chains sat himself at the table.
“What?” Frowned Reno.
“You heard me. Which of the club chasers were you screwing last night?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“There you go. And this is who you want me to spend my life with, dad, seriously? You want him to run around on your daughter? Your only baby girl? Your favorite princess?”
Chains chuckled into a cup and even Butcher felt his lips twitch. She was laying it on a bit thick, but her meaning was crystal clear.
“Give it a fucking rest,” Axel said.
“I’ll be faithful after you put my ring on.”
His Roux made a sound that if he hadn’t been holding her, he was sure she would have launched at the guy. “I swear, if I felt even a flicker of anything for you, which I do not, thank fuck, I’d punch you in the dick for that remark. I was with Tad last night, so I guess we both cheated.” She gloated with a smile stretching her perfect lips.
Butcher slid a hand around her hip, up her back and to the back of her nape. “Cookie.” He warned low but he wanted to grin like an idiot.
He faced the devil head on, switching his eyes to Axel. “You gonna be good with this or is it something we need to talk about? If it’s not made clear, Roux wants to be with me. We’re together.”
“So that means I am not now or ever will be engaged to a cheating, sweet bottom fucking, asshole.” Roux piped in and he pressed her nape gently.
Seriously fucking gone over this woman. Her and her big, lovely mouth.
“Prez?” Reno said, “not that I want our girl with a Souls…”
“Not your girl.”
“Not your girl.”
Butcher and Roux spoke together, and she pinged a grin up at him.
“But you think we should say something now?” Reno finished.
Axel was busy brooding like a bear.
It was Chains who said, “Fucking hell, girlie. Your dad has only tried to look after you, right? You know it’s what he does.”
“By palming me off on him? Gee, thanks. I feel the love.”
“You’d be so fucking lucky.” Hissed Reno and that’s when Butcher saw red and stepped forward. “You wanna watch how you talk to her, boy, it’s the only warning you get. Show her some fucking respect.”
“I’m out,” growled Reno then flashed a glare at his prez. “Told you this shit wouldn’t work. Let him watch her ass, I’m officially done.” He stalked out.
“Watch her ass…for what reason?”
“Dad? What’s he talking about and no bullcrap, I’m tired of it.”
It looked like Axel acted as though he was gonna ignore them both, and Butcher was getting hacked off at the hint that something would harm Roux. He needed to know what he was looking out for.
Axel shared a heavy glance with Chains. “I had a deal with the Mexicans go south a while back and I’ve been digging us out of the shit ever since. We have too many of the boys still in lock up for the smuggling. Ruiz, yeah, baby, the same fucking one, started making noise about hurting what meant something to me if we couldn’t get the deal back up and running. Now this shit with his old lady.”
He felt Roux stiffen and Butcher stroked her nape, letting her know she wasn’t alone to handle this.
“Has Ruiz said shit about the bodyguard?”
“No
t that I’m aware, but no telling what he knows or how to use it against me and mine.”
“And Reno?” Asked Roux.
“I wanted someone to look after you.”
A little snort came out of Roux and alleviated some of his pissed off feelings. She turned sideways so she could wrap her arm around his waist and that went a little more to cooling him off.
Axel sighed and crossed his arms. Butcher could tell he wasn’t liking what he was seeing.
“And you thought Reno was man of the hour?”
Chains broke the tension by chuckling. “Told ya.”
“Fuck off,” rasped Axel. “A parent will do fucking anything, Roux. It was that or pack you off to a distant cousin across the country.”
“Dad,” she sighed. “I’m an adult. I’m as much a part of the club as you are. If there’s trouble…”
“I will protect her.” Butcher interjected with a steely stare, daring Axel to dispute it. “I can keep her safe at my club.”
This brought on a reaction from Axel that could have stripped paint from the walls. “This is why I didn’t want you fucking around with him, Roux. Getting the Souls involved in my business is the last thing this club needs. We keep our crap contained. And this here…” he indicated between them. “Is not something I’m fucking happy about, Roux.”
With that he strode out.
“You know he cares, princess.” Chains said, climbing to his lofty height. “He’s been fucked up about the threats against you for months, he only wanted to make sure you were safeguarded. I told him; the club’s always got our girl’s back.”
“Will you go talk to him? I don’t think I can right now, Chains.” She went to the guy and gave him a hug then turned to Butcher. “Can we go to your place?”
“Sure, baby. Go wait in the truck, yeah.” he handed her the keys.
“You’re not…”
“I won’t be long.”
He kissed her, then strode off and found Axel in his office, brooding with a scotch and a cigar.
“Not in the mood, Butcher, you’d be wise to stay out of my way.” He downed his drink and poured another, gripping it like a man with a lot on his mind.
Where Roux was concerned, he would compromise.
“Why try to push her with Reno when you knew that wasn’t what she was feeling?”
“Weren’t you fucking listening? Because I got targets on my back, get it? I ain’t gonna be around forever to make sure my girl is protected. Assholes would love nothing better than to use her against me and I don’t have to tell you how they’d do that. They wouldn’t put her in a grave. They’d fucking destroy her first.”
“So your solution is to hand her off to a dipshit like Reno, instead of asking the fucking man who would walk through fire for her. The man who’s loved her more than breath for years. You must be out of your goddamn tree, Axel. This is where I take over and I dare you to say shit to me right now.”
No argument came and that was the biggest surprise. Axel hung back in his leather chair, nursing his glass, pensive. “Make sure no fucker gets near her.”
Butcher found Roux sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. She’d watched his every step out of the Diablos club. Before he climbed in, he slipped back into his Souls cut and leather jacket.
“It feels impossible, Tad. How can wanting to be with you be so hard?”
He tagged her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Yet here we are, Cookie. Somehow we always end up where we’re meant to be. This shit won’t last forever and you know I’m not letting anyone get near you, yeah?”
“I should stay at home tonight and talk to dad, but can we go to your place for a while first?”
After their great mini trip, he hated to see her so despondent. He kissed her inner wrist and laid her hand on his thigh. “Anything you want, baby.”
And he meant it.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Rock bottom.” – Arson
It’s funny how quick Arson accepted memory loss.
It felt like every morning he woke up in one pit or another—sometimes a bed he didn’t recognize. He took it with acceptance that the last ten hours or more was a black hole inside his mind.
No matter how much he tried to remember what the fuck happened, it wouldn’t come.
When the hell did he turn into the sort of person who had no control over his actions?
When did he become this person?
He did the usual check. Lifting his hands out in front of him, ignoring how they shook as he looked for abrasions.
Not a scratch in sight, so at least he wasn’t in a fight of any kind.
It wasn’t unusual. Not the first time drunk Arson pissed someone off and sober Arson had to deal with the ramifications.
Next, Arson went through his pockets.
His wallet and phone were there. He had his bike and house keys. But a glance around him, he saw no motorcycle parked anywhere.
On his inside jacket pocket, he heard crinkling and he brought out three torn condom wrappers.
His whole belly dropped with disgust.
Fuck.
At least he’d been safe, yeah?
Fuck. He hated this—himself— so fucking much.
Sitting with the biting breeze in his face and his mouth feeling as though he’d deep throated a sand monster, he wanted a drink so fucking bad. And not water. A hard drink to level him out to feel normal.
That was something else which had crept up on Arson in the last two years. How he needed a swig of something before he even got out of bed. To get him to human level.
How easy he’d justified it to himself.
This wasn’t him.
This isn’t who he is.
He couldn’t even remember why it happened. One trickle at a time until it engulfed him.
Reality came to all broken men.
To all fucked up men eventually. And he had to ask himself, if this wasn’t him, then why the fuck was he sitting on a bench outside the church before the crack of dawn, with no memory of how he got there?
He bent forward over his knees. Ignoring the tremors in his hands and the sickening rush of dizziness through his skull.
It was a normal day, but he felt anything but normal.
He needed a drink.
He needed a drink.
His tongue was bone dry stuck to the roof of his mouth, aching for that first calming taste. The one that would smooth him out and stop the tremors from racking through his skeleton.
But for once he didn’t go looking.
Why was he outside of the church? Maybe he’d turned to Jesus.
He could no longer lie to himself and explain this shit away with it’s just one of those things.
What man in his thirties had one of those things every night of the week and was still able to call himself normal?
Arson was a fuck up.
A weak excuse of a man.
He didn’t even know how he was holding down his role and job at the club. They’d been too lenient on him for months. Rider was already pissed off with him, and after the church meeting two days ago, he wasn’t sure any of them wanted to see him again.
Angry and defensive that they got in his business, he’d avoided them since. Arson, that same night, swaying a little on his feet, found himself outside of Tag’s hospital room. Only hesitating to go inside when he noticed the brown haired Russian chick sitting by his bed reading aloud from a magazine while Tag and his bandaged eyes, had his head turned her way, listening to the soft accented voice.
He wanted nothing more than to ease his guilt, tell his buddy he was so fucking sorry he wasn’t there for him. Instead, like the prick he was, he took off, toting his guilt with him.
They could call him a shitty friend and be right.
How had he become this man?
He pushed his two shaking hands through his shoulder length hair and sighed.
He used to be responsible. And he gave a fuck about everything and everybody. He used to be a hard
worker; he loved the club. Or used to. Now he wasn’t so sure why he was there or why they still wanted him around.
Then a demon climbed on his back and he hadn’t known normal since.
He felt the whisper through his skull.
Just one more, man.
One isn’t gonna hurt any is it?
It felt as though he had this thing living inside him, and he was no longer in control of his own willpower.
The allure was a fucking pull to every muscle in his body. He was about to jump up and go do what he always did and that was fuck up some more but the sound of pounding feet from behind him caused Arson to pause.
He saw an approaching figure dressed in black with a hoodie over his head jogging down the pathway.
The face was recognizable when he got closer. He watched as Pastor Danny Murphy spotted Arson with a surprised look that morphed into sympathy.
Sickness curdled Arson’s gut until he thought he might hurl.
“Morning, Arson. You fancied an early morning too?”
“Something like that,” he answered and hoped the man would go away.
No such luck. Danny Murphy was one of those social people. The do-gooders of the world. He’d even traveled to see Lawless in prison a few times.
Not many like Danny these days. In a world of pure selfishness, Danny walked alone.
He didn’t want to talk, and he absolutely didn’t want to talk to the man of God.
The self-hatred was strong.
Stronger still once he figured out where he was last night.
A weak man.
A screw up.
A shit of a friend.
There’s no answers on his phone as he scrolled through.
The call log told him he made a call to Grinder around 11 p.m. last night, it lasted all of three seconds. And then Reaper for a few seconds at 2 a.m. He bet the ghost was fucking pleased about that call if he was tucked up with his old lady.
But there were no texts from women to indicate where he’d spent last night. He never kept women’s names or numbers stored in his phone. He didn’t see the point if it was a hook-up.
Feeling like scum. Shame poured down over his head.
He should know who the fuck he had sex with.
