“What’s what about?” I hedge, hoping he’ll let it go.
Focusing all his attention on my face, his gaze traveling between my eyes, down to my mouth and back, he repeats,
“What’s with the tears sweetheart.” As if to illustrate his point, Jackson swipes a thumb across the apple of my cheek, wiping the wetness covering it away.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I stare at him in awe. I hadn’t been aware I was close to tears, let alone that I’d let one fall. This was something that did not make me happy.
I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, but this was ridiculous. I had just met this man. Granted, Jackson is not just any man, he’s most women’s fantasy man, but still. I could hardly believe I was letting the fact I cared about him and what happened to him show. Especially like this. It’s not that I’m heartless and don’t care about people, strangers or not, but I certainly don’t cry over men I barely know.
Deciding avoidance is key in this situation, I open my mouth to speak, but thankfully before I can get a word out a huge, bearded, tattooed man interrupts.
“Boss, need a word.”
His voice is as rough and unrefined as he is. Huge, bulky, with broad shoulders that look like they could lift a fallen redwood by himself, and amazing molten chocolate eyes, this man comes close to taking the title of the most good-looking man I’ve ever seen. If I hadn’t seen Jackson first, that is.
“Give me a sec, Deke,” Jackson rumbles. Turning to me, he announces, “I’ve got to go talk to my boys for a minute. Are you gonna be alright here with, Bella?”
Without waiting for a reply, Jackson addresses the two men sitting at the end of the long bench seats.
“Spook, Gunner you’re on guard. You need me you call.”
Both men incline their heads, which I assume in biker code means ‘sure thing.’ Not wanting to be babysat, I offer,
“I think I’ll just head home now, Jackson. I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night. You go and speak to your friend, and I’ll see you around I’m sure.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me, sweetheart.”
“Ah, why not?” I ask, curious what this has to do with him at all.
“Because some shit just went down with one of our women, and you being here with us means that shit could filter down to you,” he replies bluntly.
“I highly doubt that, Jackson. They didn’t see me, and even if they did, they don’t know who I am,” I state cleverly. “I have appointments scheduled for first thing tomorrow so I would have been needing to get home shortly anyway. This situation just makes it sooner rather than later.”
Bellowing over the noise in the bar, Jackson barks,
“Jay, cancel whatever shit Beth has on for tomorrow.”
“On it,” he yells back. Eyes lighting on me, Jay grins giving me a wink before returning to chatting with the man at his left.
“What the hell was that?” I all but shriek. “Who do you think you are? You can’t cancel my appointments, Jackson. That is not cool.”
“Who do I think I am?” He growls close to my ear. Running his nose behind my ear, breathing me in my pulse spikes and my hands go clammy. “I think I’m the man who’s going to have you on the back of my bike. I’m the man who’s going to have you in his bed. And I’m the man who’s going to keep you safe. That’s who I am, Sweetheart. Now, you’ve got two choices. You can wait here for me with my guys keeping an eye on you to make sure nothing happens to you, or you can take off and make me hunt you down. I’ll warn you, though. One of the two has consequences I don’t think you’re ready for.”
“Consequences,” I say breathily.
“Yeah, baby. Consequences.”
In hindsight, it probably wasn’t particularly smart of me to ask what they were but I did.
“And what would they be? The consequences I mean.”
“They’d be me finding you, putting you on the back of my bike, taking you to my place, and not letting you lose until I’ve had my fill of you. And I’ve got to say, the way you look, smell, and the promise of your taste, it could be a long time before I’m willing to set you free.”
“Oh my God.”
“No, my name’s Jackson, baby. But when you’re under me and I’ve got my cock inside you I’ll take whatever you wanna call me,” Jackson growls against my skin. “Now, are you going to stay here and let my boys watch over you, or are you going to take off and make me chase you?”
I’m sure it sounds like he was asking a question, but realistically I wasn’t being given a choice.
“I’ll stay,” I state quickly.
“Good choice sweetheart. I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”
Nodding at him, I feel Jackson kiss the top of my head as he slides out of the booth to go and commune with his biker brethren.
I didn’t see Jackson again, but I did see his friend, the man he referred to as, Deke. Approaching us, Deke flicks his eyes to Spook and Gunner, who had been sitting with me and Bella silent but watchful ordering,
“Gunner, you’ve got Bella. Back to the clubhouse. No detours. No stopping.”
Immediately, Gunner stands offering Bella his hand, heading for the door. Over her shoulder, she calls out,
“See you in a few, honey.”
I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I found out less than a minute later.
“Beth, darlin’,” he prompts until I take my eyes from Bella’s retreating form and face him. “You’re with me. We’re gonna get you outside on my bike and back to the clubhouse. Boss wants you there until he gets done taking care of some business.”
He doesn’t give me any more, but he does help me up with a firm hand on my elbow. Guiding me outside to a large, black and chrome beast of a motorcycle, Deke explains,
“I’m gonna get on first. You swing your leg over and climb on behind me. All you’ve got to do is put your arms around my waist and hang on, darlin’.”
Following his instructions, I position myself on the small seat behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t know what riding etiquette dictates, how much space is appropriate to leave. But seeing as I haven’t ever been on a bike before, I plaster myself against his back and hold on for dear life.
The ride wasn’t long, maybe ten minutes, but it was one of the most exhilarating experiences I’ve ever had. In the beginning, I had been terrified of the power Deke was in control of, but within seconds of taking off I learned that he was in complete control of it. He was at one with his machine. And the feeling of freedom that knowledge brought was beautiful.
Pulling up in front of an old, what I assume is a repurposed armory, Deke backs his bike into a free spot along the wall closest to the entrance. The rolling, chain-link fence was operated by two younger men, my guess would be in their early twenties. They nodded to Deke as we rolled in, but no words were exchanged.
I’m starting to think that bikers speak in a mixture of coded hand signal, grunts, chin lifts, and head tips. But what do I know?
After Deke and I dismount, he places a hand on the small of my back leading me inside. The three-story, gray, cinder block building is imposing. It doesn’t blend with its landscape, a lot like the men who inhabit it. It stands tall and proud in its surroundings, demanding it be noticed.
Stopping a few feet inside, Deke tags my arm bring me to an abrupt halt. Letting out a high-pitch whistle, he addresses the room. A room brimming with men, a few scantily dressed women, and Bella.
“Listen up,” he shouts. “This is, Beth. She’s off-limits. Boss’s orders.”
His statement that earns us several grins and more than a few groans. Propelling me forward again, Deke shuffles me toward a semi-secluded corner of the room where there are two recliners, a small table and not much else.
“Boss wants you to stay put until he comes to get you. Don’t wander off by yourself. And don’t talk to anyone you don’t know. All the brothers are good men, you’re safe here. But you’re not wearing a p
roperty patch so you’ve gotta be smart and do as you’re told, yeah?”
Cringing at the word ‘property’ I nod but don’t speak. Dray had explained a few biker terms to me during the hours he spent in my chair, and albeit this was one of them I’d never liked the implication of it. I didn’t deem women as property, and while I had tried to understand it from his perspective, I will openly admit I struggled with it.
Scrutinizing me, Deke must see whatever’s necessary to set him at ease.
“Okay, darlin’. You see that man there,” he asks, pointing to an older man nursing what looks to be a glass half-full of bourbon. Again I nod. “That’s Sarge. If you need anything, let him know. He’ll look out for you while I’m gone, and before Boss gets in.”
Deke doesn’t wait for me to answer. More to the point, I think he escapes before I can ask him any questions.
I spent long minutes surveying the huge, open-plan room. The furniture has seen better days, a lot of it with tears in the fabric or well-worn. Polished concrete floors don’t lend themselves to scratched, but nevertheless, they too are damaged, bearing the evidence of years. Pool tables, cheap lighting, crooked framed prints on the walls, this place is every bit what I had imagined a biker clubhouse would be.
Bella was swallowed up by the room not long after I arrived and I haven’t seen her since. I wasn’t worried per se, she’s known these men most of her life, but I was concerned. I would have thought she’d check on me at some point, but obviously not. However, in the just under four hours I’ve been sitting, curled into the brown leather recliner I’m in, I learned a lot about the club and Sarge.
At sixty-two, he’s the oldest Vengeance member, patching in – a new term I learned, which equates to joining – when he was eighteen. He’s never had an old lady, citizen wife, or long-term girlfriend. According to him, the only woman he was ever interested in decided she wasn’t cut out for his lifestyle after being together with him for a little over four months. The way he tells it, she was the one. The only woman that had held his interest, and he wasn’t willing to settle. If he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anyone.
Sarge explained that the MC was a brotherhood. Men who abide by their own code of honor, had each other’s backs, believed in God, country, living wild and riding free. The way he talked about it, I could almost feel the love he had for the men he called his family. It was sweet. It was beautiful, in a manly, badass way. And it was something I wished I had for myself.
Embarrassed to ask but needing to, I asked Sarge about the women I saw loitering around the room. My assumption that they weren’t old ladies had been correct. He went on to tell me that some of them were what they called ‘hang around’s,' a few of the others ‘club-whores.’ At my startled gasp, Sarge further enlightened me telling me that they chose to share themselves with the men. They weren’t chained here or held against their will. If they wanted to leave they could, but most didn’t. Vengeance gave them somewhere to live, paid for their education (not all of them, but the two that did go to college), gave them jobs, and cash when they needed it. But most of all, Vengeance gave them a family. Somewhere to belong.
“Girls like them, they’ve got nothing on women like you, though, Beth,” Sarge announced just before he left me to my thoughts.
“Pardon?” I whispered, confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Girls like those,” he gestures to two women cackling on bar stools. “They aren’t old lady material. They’re temporary. Women like you are glue. You stick.”
“Um…thank you. I think,” I mumble, burying my head in the crook of my elbow where it’s resting on the arm of the chair.
Chuckling he goes on to say,
“There are two types of women in the world beautiful Beth. Women who want this life and will do anything to get it; and women who are born to have it. They mightn’t know it's their destiny, but when the time comes and they find themselves a man who’s strong enough to endure every hardship to make sure they’re never hurt, never scared, never want for anything, they stick.”
Smiling at me with kind eyes, softened by age and bourbon, Sarge stands.
“You mightn’t know it now beautiful, or maybe you do, but you don’t wanna admit it to yourself, but you’re the second type of woman. I can see you’ve got a vulnerable spot a mile wide, darlin’, but don’t you worry. Boss is a man who’ll have a mind to that and take care of it for you.”
With that, Sarge left and I worried.
I worried that what he said could very well be true. I could indeed be one of the women he described who stuck. And if I was, then what did that mean for me?
Strength isn’t something you can be assured you have until you’re tested, though. What I didn’t know was my test was only hours away. And it was one I would fail. Thankfully, I would be given another chance, one in which I could redeem myself. A test I wouldn’t fail, but to what end. That test wouldn’t be hours away, but days. Not enough of them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
~ Boss ~
All I’ve ever known
I’d been staring down at Beth curled up in the piece of shit recliner for five minutes calling myself every asshole under the sun for bringing her into my world.
Knowing that I was going to be exposing her to things she’d neither want or understand cut me to the quick. I was a selfish man, though. Greedy enough not to care if she could handle my life or me. Beth was my reward for everything I’d endured up to this point, and I wouldn’t be letting her go without giving us a chance.
She was my reward for making it out the other side of my shitty childhood. She would eradicate the pain of the beatings my old man gave me. Remove the memories of what I’d done for the club. Beth is pure beauty. A gift for everything I’d sacrificed. Someone who made me feel clean, cared for, appreciated. Fuck, yes, I’m a selfish bastard.
Her asking me if I was okay sealed her fate. And although she didn’t know it yet, Beth was mine. I’d stated my intentions when I’d spoken to Deke earlier, making it clear no one was to touch her when he took her back to the clubhouse. Any man that did would answer to me, and that was something they didn’t want to do. They knew what it meant, and I was positive none of them would risk my wrath.
On the ride home, I’d asked myself a hundred questions. Some I had the answers to, some I didn’t. I refused to dwell on the one’s I didn’t, accepting that I might never know because at the end of the day they didn’t matter.
Vengeance lives by the motto, ‘Live like tomorrow may never come,’ and that’s how I’m going to let this shit with Beth play out. I’m going to live for the here and now and worry about tomorrow and her reaction to me claiming her then. If she has concerns, I’ll allay them. If she’s scared of what being my woman means, I’ll make it so her fear is short-lived. I’ll do anything I have to to convince her I’m worth taking a chance on. And I’ll succeed because I’m a persuasive bastard when I have to be. And if she still decides she isn’t cut out for this, I’ll keep working on her until she reconsiders.
Sliding one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, Beth automatically wraps her arms around my neck, nuzzling her face into my chest. Blinking her big green eyes up at me sleepily, I smile down at her.
“Jackson,” she breathes half-asleep.
Jesus, fuck, she undid me. The weight of her in my arms. Her soft breath against my neck. All of it was like a balm to my soul.
“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me. I’m just gonna put you to bed. It’s been a long night and I’m wiped.”
She didn’t argue, didn’t try and fight me to put her down. Beth just sighed and snuggled closer.
I made it down the hall which led to the dorms, unlocking my door without jostling her too much, and kicked my door shut with the heel of my boot. Placing her gently on the center of my bed, I slipped off her shoes, peeled her jeans down her long, toned legs, trying not to look at what I’d uncovered, flicking the sheet and comforter over her. It took every ounce of self-
restraint I had not to linger beside her, strip the sheets from her beautiful body and touch every inch of her creamy, exposed skin, but I managed. Just.
Undressing, washing the filth of the day away, I lean heavily into the tiled wall of the shower stall. Forearm to the wall, my head dips low, water running steadily over the back of my head. Where I’d believed my thoughts would be confused with anger over what had gone down at Hounds tonight, I find them turning to the curvy, auburn-haired beauty in my bed.
Almost unconsciously my hand finds my cock, sliding up and down my shaft, tugging roughly as I reach the head. Imagining it’s Beth’s small, soft hand stroking me, I let out a pained groan. Visions of her lips wrapped around the head of my dick, sucking it into the wet cavern of her mouth have me speeding up, pre-cum beading at my tip.
Fisting myself harder, jerking quicker, I let the memory of her scent, the feel of her tits pressed against my chest as I carried her to bed assail me. Using my thumb to collect the liquid dripping down my shaft, I smear it across my palm increasing the pressure and speed of my strokes until my eyes roll back in my head. This is going to be the fastest I’ve ever gotten off, but I’m not surprised. Beth has that effect on me.
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 16
