by Shyla Colt
CLUE
He backed his bike into the parking lot of the local coffee shop, Satellite. He’d spent the day distracting himself with Grand Theft Auto while waiting for this moment. He had a coffee date with Birdie, who’d spent the better part of the day with his mother. Everything hinged on what she had to tell him. If Birdie didn’t agree to be her nurse, he’d be back at square one, and in danger of losing Birdie at the end of the summer. The had woman crept into his veins, and become a part of daily life.
They talked every day and saw each other nearly as often. She got him on a level no woman ever had. Despite her sweet nature, she had a steely core he admired. The mixture of soft and hard kept him from feeling like he was pulling her in over her head. At this point, he had to admit he was playing for keeps. Is this how it feels when you get caught up in a woman?
Time was slipping away from him like sand through an hourglass. In the blink of an eye, three weeks were gone. It made him feel like a pussy. But he was smart enough to know a good thing when he found it. No woman had ever made him work so hard for it. He surveyed the crowd as he entered the building and chose a booth in the corner, so he could see who walked in. The popular spot wasn’t frequented by bikers, but it only took the wrong colors to clash to cause an issue. He leaned back against the wall, and tapped his fingers against the table.
The door swung open, and Birdie walked in.
The gentle sway of her hips in the form-fitting black dress made his dick go hard. She was sexy as hell in a pair of black pumps that showed off her stems, and loose curls tumbling down around her face. He stood.
When she saw him, her face light up.
Mine.
She had a shady man in her past. Someone who’d toyed with her self-esteem and damaged her ability to trust men. Of course, her father hadn’t helped things with his bargaining for Ardy.
He had his work cut out for him. I’ve always been one to beat the odds.
Birdie gave him a quick wave and speed walked to the table.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She sat across from him, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “You look good.”
She glanced down and smiled. “Thank you.”
Leaning forward, he tilted her head up with his finger. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked.
“Look down, ever.”
She gave him a shy smile.
Clue fought the urge to lean across the table and capture her lips. “Do you want to get a coffee?” he asked, forcing himself to be polite when all he wanted to do was ask her twenty-one questions.
“Coffee would be awesome. This place is amazing by the way.” She glanced around nodding. “I would hang out here all the time if I lived here.”
“Stay and you can.”
She glanced at him and pursed her lips.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her this had nothing to do with taking care of his mother. Not the time or place. I’ll pick my battles. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me?”
He nodded, ready to show her he paid attention to things she said. He’d seen brothers with their women enough to pick up what to do and what not to do. He’d noticed her penchant for white chocolate mocha, so he ordered two white chocolate lattes with whip cream and returned.
“What did you get me?” she asked.
“White chocolate mocha Latte.”
“That’s my favorite.”
“I know. I’m a man who pays attention to things that interest him.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
“I’m not following you,” Clue replied.
“Why me? I’ve seen the girls who hang out in the clubhouse. I’m not one of them.”
“Exactly. You’re you and you fit me perfectly. Even if you don’t trust me yet. You can’t deny it.”
“People aren’t always what they first seem.”
“Do I look like the type to fake anything?” he asked.
“No.”
“What you see is what you get. I don’t know who fucked you over, but I’m not him. I don’t do this shit, Birdie, chase girls and go slow. I ain’t never been interested before now. I’m new to this. I can admit that. But I’m serious.” He took a sip of his drink and studied her over a pile of rapidly melting whipped cream.
“I’m going to be leaving eventually, Clue.”
“We’ll see,” he said grinning.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched up.
I’m breaking through her wall. “How’d it go with mom?”
“I adore her. She’s a real sweetheart, and man, does she love you.”
“See? I’m lovable,” he smirked.
She laughed. “We talked, and I agreed to be her nurse, Nigel. But you have to understand, I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to. She calls the shots, and I act accordingly. I won’t violate her trust. I’ll present her with all her options. But you may have to accept the way she wants to do things.”
Her words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “What are you trying to say, Birdie?”
She sighed. “I don’t think she wants chemo again. You can try to sway her—”
“But you don’t think it’ll work.”
She shook her head no…and stirred her drink with a spoon.
An icy chill ran down his spine. I’m going to lose my mother. It was no longer a question of if, but when. He took a shaky breath and pushed away the drink.
Birdie stood and walked around to his side of the both, pressing her warm body flush to his.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and tucked her beneath his arm holding onto the one solid thing he had.
~* * *~
Clue sat on the back porch swigging from the whiskey bottle long after the sunset. He’d parted ways with Birdie, ignoring her concerned glance as he headed to the clubhouse. The brothers took one look at his face and left him alone. He couldn’t picture life without his mother in it. Her strong, rational voice, she’d helped keep his edges from becoming too rough. He’d seen what this life could do to a man who had nothing to lose, and no one to turn to. He didn’t want to become his father. A life in and out of jail, moving from one drama to the other wasn’t for him. There were different ways to be a member. He’d found the one that worked for him. While he was down to do whatever they needed, he didn’t invite trouble, or live on the edge. That wasn’t what he was looking for out of the club.
He came for the fellowship, the bond, and the freedom. They lived in a way that allowed them to have a life removed from the one society dictated for everyone else. He’d spent his first eighteen years doing the civilian thing. It hadn’t suited him. School had been hell. Social etiquette had baffled and disgusted him. People didn’t say what they really meant, and you couldn’t trust their word or their intentions. He knew the minute he graduated, he wanted to prospect, but he’d done a semester of college to appease his mother. In the end, they both admitted the truth and found a happy medium. He promised her he wouldn’t get so lost in the world he couldn’t see anything else, and she backed off.
You don’t realize how much you need someone until you’re faced with their absence. She’d been his outside perspective. The one who helped him decompress. Now, who will I vent to? The brothers could look down on signs of weakness, so he’d always been careful about appearing anything but rock solid. He swirled the bottle around, listening to the liquor slosh. I should go see my dad. The old man always had a soft spot for his mother. He knew they still hooked up even though they were officially over. He’s going to take this news hard too.
This is such bullshit. All the scumbags in the world and my mom is the one who has to die too young?
The anger welled up inside him. It exploded. He chucked the bottle. The tinkle of glass satisfied the destructive rage inside him.
He rose from his chair and stalked inside, avoiding everyone as he bee-lined to his room. He slammed the door and unleashed hell.
Glass shattered as he brought down pictures frames. Wood splintered beneath his boots as he kicked the chair that sat as his desk. He moved to the wall and reigned down blows. The pain exploding through his hands felt good. It took his mind off everything in a way the liquor couldn’t. Spent, he rested his head against the wall and clenched his fists, hissing at the burn. He rolled, pressing his back against the wall and slid down, bowing his head.
A knock came at his door, pulling him from the blissful numbness. He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the concrete. Go away. The knock came again.
“Clue?”
Birdie? How much did I drink? He rubbed his burning eyes.
“Nigel it’s me. I’m worried about you and I-I’m going to come in now.”
The doorknob turned, and she appeared before him in a black tank dress.
“Am I that wasted?” he asked.
“No. Oh my God, what did you do to yourself?” Birdie asked. She shut the door and rushed to him, kneeling down beside him. She took his hands in hers.
He winced.
“I knew you weren’t okay. I shouldn’t have let you go off on your own.”
“I’m not a child,” he snapped.
She frowned. “No, but you are hurting and in shock. It’s okay to reach out and admit you’re not okay.”
“No it’s not,” he growled.
She leaned back on her heels. “Why?”
“Because weakness is the last thing that needs to happen in this situation.”
“Do you believe the macho bullshit you’re spouting?” Birdie snapped.
“Since when did you grow a brass pair?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.
“Since I saw you needed tough love.”
“Oh, now you want to talk love?” He slurred.
She laughed. “There’s the man I’ve come to know.”
“…And like?” he asked, unable to hold his tongue.
“Too much. I’d like you even more if you’d let me clean and sober you up.”
He smirked. “Anything to get in your good graces, beautiful.”
She laughed. “Well, I know you believe it now. The truth slips out when it’s loosened by alcohol.”
“I toll you,” he said struggling to form words. The alcohol was hitting him, making him clumsy and slow. The endorphins were wearing off, and the pain began to make its appearance. He leaned on her heavily as he stood and they walked to the bathroom.
“I’m glad you got it. The longer you held it in, the worse the explosion would be,” she said softly.
He sank onto the toilet lid. “Not how I wanted to get you into my room,” he muttered.
“I bet it isn’t.”
The amusement in her voice warmed him, chasing away the cold that had seeped into his core. She ran the water, and he watched as she efficiently gathered a washcloth, peroxide, and bandages. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” he asked.
“No, I understand grief. It’s an ugly painful process that comes in many stages. I’ll never judge you for that. You don’t have to put on a mask or hide from me.” She placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Does that work both ways?” he asked.
She froze. “I’m trying to be a friend. What do you want from me, Nigel?”
“Everything. I want to know you inside and out. I want you to let down your walls and accept what’s between us. You’re so willing to give everything but yourself.”
She remained silent, busying herself with hot water and soap. She lifted his hand and gently dabbed at the cuts. “What you ask isn’t easy. I’ve always been a late bloomer. I move slower than most people. I like to be certain before I make decisions.”
He watched enthralled as she began to open up. “My last year of schooling, someone took interest me. His name was Adrian. He was everything I wasn’t, wealthy, movie-star handsome, confident, and popular. He swept me off my feet, charmed me, and convinced me not only was I special, but that he loved me. He even gave me a promise ring. God, I was so stupid, I bought everything he sold me.” Her upper lip curled, and her voice grew twisted with mockery. “I didn’t’ realize until after our final exam that he’d only needed me to get through the final class.”
“Son of a bitch. You say the world, and I’ll make him wish he’d never heard of your name. I promise you that.”
Her eyes widened.
Their gazes held.
“You know I believe you would,” she whispered.
“You should. This shit between you and I is going to be legendary. Be ready to put all that bullshit with that pretty boy behind you, because I plan on making you forget. I’m claiming you as mine Birdie.”
“You can’t—”
“Why are you here right now?”
“Because you needed me,” she defended.
“How did you know?”
“Demon called me—”
“And you came, still in your nightgown?” He countered.
“He said it was urgent.”
“You feel it. Deny it all you want. Your actions speak louder than anything else. I’m fucked up in the head right now about a lot of things, but you aren’t one of them.” He reached out with the opposite hand and cupped her face. “Let this happen, Birdie.”
She leaned into him and closed her eyes.
The small act of trust lightened his heavy load. She brought a stillness to the chaos raging inside him.
After a few heartbeats, she moved back.
He lowered his hand allowing her to tend him. A stirring began deep in his soul as she cleaned and bandaged his wound with a tenderness that that conveyed the words she refused to give voice to.
“Your hands are good, now let me get this shirt off,” she prompted easing him out of his cut.
She handled it with a care that made him smile. “If you insist.”
Birdie shook her head. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. I’ll hang this up and bring you a clean shirt.”
He did as she asked watching her walk around his room with a grace he wanted to see permanently.
She returned, and handed him a black Dueling Devils shirt. She curled her fingers, and he gave her the old shirt. “When you’re ready, we’ll get you into bed.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Alone,” she added.
He smiled. It was exactly what he’d expect from a good girl like her. His respect and longing for her grew. “You’re so good.”
“What?” she asked with a half laugh.
“So new and clean.”
“Okay, Casanova, time to go to bed,” she urged, helping him up and guiding him to the bed. He plopped down, and she unlaced his boots, tugged them free, and took his pants. She peeled back the blankets, and he slid beneath them. “Close your eyes and get some sleep Romeo. You’re going to need it in the morning.” She patted his head.
“You leaving?” he asked.
“Not yet.” She sat on the side of his bed and ran a soothing hand through his hair. She began to sing a lilting song.
The sweetly sung words sent him off to a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Four
BIRDIE
Once Clue drifted off, she moved from his bed, and began to straighten up the room. The last thing he needed to do was wake up to the destruction and relive all the emotions. She stacked the broken wood by the door, righted the fallen objects, and crept outside to the bar where Demon sat.
“How is he?” Demon asked.
“Passed out. Better. We talked through it. He’s at the crossroads. His mother has gone from possibly dying, to definitely dying. It’s like a clock has started ticking down in his head. It would screw with anyone.”
Demon ran a hand over his face. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Depends on what you mean by okay. He’ll be distracted at times and not himself. You know him better than me, though. Is he the kind to fall apart?” she asked.
“No. But we count on him for a lot. I need him one-hundred percent.”
“I’d caution you not to take away his position. He’ll need the normalcy more than once. He might even throw himself into it hardcore. Everyone is different.”
“I hear you,” Demon said.
“Can I get a broom and dustpan?”
“What?” Demon asked.
“I need to clean up some broken glass.”
“No, you don’t need to do that shit. I’ll get a sweet butt—”
“No.”
Demon’s eyebrows raise.
“Please, I want to do it.”
“All right, we have it in the kitchen.” Demon slid from his stool and walked to the kitchen. “What’s the story with you two? I promised Ardy I’d keep an eye out for you, and I’d like to know where my boy’s head is for obvious reasons.”
“That’s till up for debate,” she replied cautiously.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“He’s going through a lot. I don’t want him to jump into a situation he’ll regret later.”
“Clue is like his father, a man who knows his mind. If you don’t want my boy let him know now. Don’t string him around. He’s got enough on his plate, and I don’t tolerate women fucking up club shit. I need him on top of his game.”
“I’m not—I am thinking of him.”
“You sure you’re not thinking of yourself? This life isn’t for everyone. I get that. I respect that it takes time to figure that out. Unfortunately, that’s one thing you don’t have. You need to shit or get off the pot.”
His bluntness hit her like a bucket of cold water. She blinked, trying to digest the rapid fire of information.
“We keep it real and raw out here, Birdie. Best remember that.” Demon handed her a broom with a dustpan attached. “When you’re done, leave all the broken shit outside. I’ll have a Prospect take care of it. You staying the night? Ardy is going to want to know when I get home.”
“No. I’m headed out as soon as I get done cleaning.” He would be fine on his own, and she needed space to think about things.
“All right, you going to be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said taking the broom as her brain began to work overtime.
“Everyone knows you’re off limits, but I’ll put a Prospect on you.”
