Refuge (Riot MC Book 1)

by Emily Minton

  “Growing up like I did, I never really felt like I had a home, not a real one. But, when I was with my dad, I always felt at home, no matter where we were,” she says, a genuine smile on her face. “The first thing that popped into my head when I looked at Denver was the song Take Me Home, Country Roads. I named my dog after the singer, John Denver, so I would never forget that I always have a home with Dad.”

  Cline laughs, even though she probably can’t understand what the hell Ronni is really saying. I do, though. She is telling me, without actually saying it, that her life has been just as fucked up as mine. She may have lived in a house that cost more money than I will ever have, may have even had a housekeeper and cook, but she was never happy.

  “I’m hungry,” Cline says, breaking the silence that has filled the room.

  I shake away my thoughts and stand up. “Let’s eat.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Veronica

  Standing in the kitchen, I start rinsing the dishes to load in the dishwasher. Van has taken Cline to get ready and get her stuff together. Her mom is going to be here in a little while to pick her up, and I’m already missing her. She has kept my mind occupied, not giving me a minute to think about this shit my life has become. Not to mention, she has kept me from throwing myself at Van.

  She has been the perfect buffer, a constant reminder to keep my distance from him. With her gone, I’m not sure what I will do. I want Van more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I want to touch him, want him touching me. Most of all, I want to feel him deep inside of me. I want him to make me moan his name, and I’m pretty sure he wants the same thing.

  Since we shared our kiss, he hasn’t touched me once, but his bright blue eyes have followed my every move. The hunger in them is easy to see. I swear, it looks like he wants nothing more than to eat me alive. Just the thought of him doing that causes my body to pulse with need.

  I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and place the last plate in the dishwasher. Just as I grab a dishtowel to dry my hands, there’s a knock at the door. Not wanting to interrupt the little bit of time Van has with Cline, I rush through the house and throw it open. A second later, I am looking into the eyes of a woman that I know has to be Cline’s mother.

  I’m so damn shocked; I can barely keep my mouth from hanging open. She looks nothing like I expected, not at fucking all. I have tried to picture her a million times over the last week. Each time, she was someone different. None of the women I envisioned was anything like the woman in front of me. This chick reminds me so much of my mother that it makes me sick to my stomach.

  Her blonde hair is pulled up into a tight bun on the back of her neck, pulling her skin so tight that it looks painful. Her obviously surgically-altered nose is tipped up at the end, giving her resting bitch face. Her silicone-filled lips are pressed into a firm line, letting me know she is anything but happy at seeing me. Before I can take the rest of her in, she opens her mouth and starts spewing orders.

  “Tell Van to get out here right now,” she says with an unbecoming scowl. “I need to talk to him, and I’m not in the mood to wait.”

  Van steps around me and states, “I’m already here.”

  A second later, the woman is screaming. She is talking so fast that I can only make out about half of what is coming out of her mouth. I get the gist, though. She doesn’t like me being here and wants me nowhere around her kid. Right now, I’d say she is the one that shouldn’t be anywhere near Cline.

  “I can’t believe you would bring some club whore around our daughter,” she shouts, and I have to fight the urge to correct her.

  Never before have I been compared to a club whore. Granted, my mother and stepfather insinuated I was a whore more than once, but I always ignored them. With this one, I want to correct her, let her know who I am. Instead, I keep my mouth shut.

  She places her hands on her hips and screams, “You promised you wouldn’t have any of your whores anywhere near Cline!”

  “You need to watch your mouth, Regina,” Van says, but she ignores him.

  She goes on and on, but a growl brings her tirade to an end as Denver pushes his way around Van and me. He stops just a foot or two in front of me and bares his teeth at the woman, looking as vicious as the legendary Cujo. I’m so surprised at his behavior; it takes me a minute to grab his collar and pull him back.

  Denver was already grown when Dad gave him to me. Dad got him from a shelter in Indy. He had been brought in after his owner died. The people that ran the shelter didn’t even know his name or age. The only thing they did know was that he was gentle but could be vicious when provoked. Until this moment, I have never seen that happen.

  “Oh my God,” she wheezes out, taking a step back. “Please, tell me you haven’t had that animal around my daughter.”

  I want to make excuses for Denver, but I see her point. If a two-hundred-pound animal just growled at me, I wouldn’t want it around my child. Then again, I wouldn’t have been screaming and giving the animal a reason to growl.

  Running my hand over his head, I try to calm him down. “It’s okay, boy. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Take him inside, Ronni,” Van orders, nodding his head to the back of the house. “I’ll be in there in just a few minutes.”

  I give him one last look, before leading Denver away. My stomach drops, knowing that Van isn’t gonna let this go. He’s gonna make me lock up my baby. I can’t blame him, but the thought of doing it makes me sick to my stomach.

  As soon as we step into the living room, all thoughts of Denver fly out of my head. Cline is sitting on the couch with tears in her eyes, hugging herself for comfort. I’m taken back by the look of fear in her beautiful blue eyes. Before I can say anything, Denver pulls away from me and rushes to her. He starts licking her face as she wraps her arms around his neck.

  “Denver wouldn’t hurt your mom,” I reassure her, thinking his growling must have scared her nearly to death.

  She blinks, seeming confused, then asks, “Do I have to go with Mommy?”

  When the fear in her voice hits my ears, I’m suddenly taken back to years past, to a time that I begged my father not to make me go back to my mother. Back then, I didn’t understand that he couldn’t keep me. I thought he just didn’t want me. I hope like hell that Cline doesn’t feel the same pain I felt.

  “Your Mommy probably misses you,” I tell her softly, sitting down beside her and taking her into my arms. “She’d be lonely if you didn’t go home with her.”

  Cline doesn’t say anything, just sobs against my shoulder. Denver cries right along with her, howling loud enough to make my ears ring. I try to shush him, but he just keeps on. Finally, after a minute or two, Cline pulls away from me and looks at my dog.

  “I’m okay,” she says, petting his head.

  Seeming to understand, he lets out a short bark then plops down by the corner of the couch. She wipes her eyes and gives me a hug. Without even a word, she stands up and walks toward the door. Denver lets out a bark, his eyes trained on her departing figure. I lay my hand on his head, kneading the loose skin on the back of his neck. I can feel the tension running through his body and know the same tension is filling my own.

  The minutes tick by, seeming like forever, as I wait for Van to come back inside. Finally, he walks into the living room, looking like his world is coming to an end. He stops just inside the door and looks at me. His eyes move to Denver, and a chill runs up my spine. The fire inside his blue orbs causes goosebumps to cover my skin.

  I jump off the couch and say, “I’m so sorry he barked at her. Denver has never growled at a person before. I swear the only time I have heard him even attempt a growl was when he saw a squirrel at the park.”

  He looks through me, his blue eyes filled with confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about, Ronni?”

  I try to think of a way to answer him, but I’m so confused that nothing comes to mind. He seems so p
issed; I was sure he was angry that Denver growled at Cline’s mom. If not, I have no damn idea what is wrong.

  “Aren’t you mad about Denver growling at Cline’s mom?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed by the emotions running through my body.

  “Fuck no.” He walks over to give Denver a pat on the head. “Your dog is a good judge of character. I would growl at her bitchy ass if I could. I’d probably bite her, too, if I wasn’t afraid of getting rabies.”

  I try to think of a response to his words, but nothing comes to mind. I have no idea what is going on in his head. If he’s not angry about Cline, I’m not sure what is wrong with him. Granted, Cline’s mom was a total bitch. Maybe he gets pissed just being around her. I know I would.

  “Oh,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say.

  He looks at me for a minute before walking over and grabbing my hand. He forces me to stand up, pulling me flush against his body. His eyes meet mine for a minute. I think he is going to kiss me for a second, but he steps away just before his lips touch mine.

  “I hate that shit, hate sending her back,” he states, stepping away from me. “It’s fucking with my head, knowing that Cline has to spend so much time with that bitch.”

  To be honest, it’s messing with my head too. Cline is super sensitive, crying if any little thing goes wrong. Not to mention, she goes overboard, trying so hard to please everyone—much more so than a little girl of six should. All of that worried me before meeting her mom. Now that I have laid eyes on the woman, it scares the shit out of me.

  Knowing he doesn’t need to hear any of that right now, I say the only thing that comes to mind. “I could go with a shot. What about you?”

  He looks at me for a second before nodding. “I could handle a few.”

  “Come on, then.” I paste on a fake smile, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the kitchen. “There’s a bottle of Jack above the fridge with our names on it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Van

  I’m sitting in the living room, picking on my guitar, bored out of my fucking mind. Being stuck in the house all the time is killing me. Usually, I’m at the clubhouse anytime Cline is at her mom’s. With Ronni here, that’s not gonna happen. Normally, I would take her over there to hang out, but I can’t do that right now.

  There was a huge charity run in Indy last weekend, raising money for a member of a local club. His son has leukemia, and bikers came out of the woodwork to help him pay for the kid’s treatment. If Ronni hadn’t been here, I would have been right by their side.

  We opened the clubhouse to a club out of Kentucky, one that currently runs guns for us. We agreed to put their boys up for the run. Of course, that night turned into another then another. The boys are having too much fun drinking our liquor and fucking our whores to head home. I’d be pissed if we wouldn’t be doing the same thing at their club.

  The plan for them to come down was made weeks before we found out about the shit going down with Ronni. By the time we knew what was going on, it was too late to change our minds. At least, we couldn’t change our minds without their crew wondering what the fuck is going down, and we don’t want anyone asking questions.

  Ronni walks into the living room with Denver right on her heels and plops down beside me, letting out a large sigh. He lays by her feet, almost mimicking his owner’s sound.

  “I’m losing my freaking mind.” She leans against the back of the couch with a groan.

  “Something wrong?” I ask, cracking a smile.

  It’s been three days since Cline left. In that time, I’ve gotten to know Ronni on a different level. Before, all her attention was on my little girl. Now, she is focusing it all on me. With any other woman, I’d feel smothered. With her, it somehow feels right. The only problem is, being around her so much is making me want her even more.

  “Yeah, something’s wrong.” Ronni looks over at me, rolling her eyes. “I’m bored. Without Cline here, I haven’t got anything to do.”

  “She’ll be back the day after we get home from Tennessee,” I say, setting my guitar back in its case and pushing it under the couch.

  “I wish it was tomorrow, already,” she whines, leaning into my side and laying her head on my arm.

  When I told her that we wouldn’t be going until Thursday, she didn’t like it at all. If it were up to Ronni, we’d have left right after Cline did and stayed until she came back home.

  “You’ve made it through three days so far. I think you’ll be fine for one more.” I’m not sure what else to say.

  I’m leaving Ram in charge in my absence since Brass and Taz will be with us. I made sure he knew what was required of him, including watching over Ronni’s dog. I’d rather leave Walker in control of the club, but he’s still in Vegas. Hopefully, he’ll be back with Miles by the time we get home.

  This is probably the worst time for us to be going anywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re taking Ronni with us, I’d be glad to be going away for a few days. There are just too many unknowns there. When she’s in the house, I can keep my eyes on her, make sure she is safe. When we get there, I won’t know who I can trust with her.

  “I’m excited to hang out with Trix and the girls,” she says, sounding only a hint less whiney. “But that still doesn’t make me any less bored right now.”

  I’m still in shock that Tito took her with him to the other club. He hasn’t let her step foot in ours, but he takes her to other clubs. It just doesn’t make any sense. Then again, my mom wasn’t at the other clubs to pull her shit.

  Deciding it’s time for a subject change, I ask, “If you were at home, what would you be doing right now?”

  Ronni glances over at the clock and answers. “This time of day, I’d be at work at the restaurant. I’d be sweating my ass off, cooking for hundreds of people.”

  Suddenly, I realize she has never mentioned where she worked at before. Then again, I have never asked her. In fact, I’ve done my best not to ask anything about her life. Knowing that she grew up with money, I didn’t want to hear about it. Considering the few things she has let slip, I should have known she left that life behind her.

  “You like working at the restaurant?” I ask, honestly interested.

  “I should. It’s one of the best restaurants in Chicago. Hell, it’s one of the best in the world. The executive chef is a James Beard nominee and has two Michelin stars. Just working with him is a privilege.” She chews on her bottom lip for a few seconds before going on. “But, I’m getting tired of it. I spend all my time following someone else’s recipes, making the same shit over and over. I want to cook my own food.”

  Thinking about all the time she spends in the kitchen, the smile she has on her face when she does, I ask, “You really love cooking, don’t you?”

  “Cooking is my passion. I’ve loved it since I was a little girl,” she says, cuddling closer to me. “Mom never wanted me around, so I spent all my time with the cook. Georgia didn’t mind having me around. She actually treated me like I was more than just a burden. It’s the only time I felt like I was loved—at least when my dad wasn’t around.”

  I try to ignore the pain in her eyes when she talks about her childhood, not wanting to think about why it makes me so angry. Instead, I focus on how different our lives were. I can’t imagine growing up with a cook. My mom wasn’t going to waste her time in front of a stove, and we definitely didn’t have the money to hire someone to do it. Our meals consisted of whatever the old ladies at the clubhouse fixed, greasy take-out, or something that could be nuked in the microwave.

  When I don’t say anything, she continues on with her story. “When Mom and Timothy sent me to boarding school, I missed cooking with Georgia more than anything. By that time, I knew I wanted to be a chef, but they sure in the hell didn’t offer cooking classes. Sure, they show you how to set a table the correct way and drone on and on about table manners, but they don’t even teach the basics of meal prep. So, I improvised
and got a hot plate and a toaster oven. I’d cook whole meals in my room.”

  I lean back and wrap my arm around her, unable to stop myself from touching her. “Why did you go to boarding school?”

  I can’t imagine sending Cline away to school. I don’t even want to imagine it. Not having my little girl with me would kill me. Fuck, when she was only here every other weekend, it damn near gutted me.

  Ronni looks over at me, her brown eyes full of shadows. “I wasn’t living up to my full potential, at least not where they were concerned. They hoped being in boarding school would help me see the error of my ways.”

  I remember when she was first sent to the school. Tito threw a fucking fit, saying she was too damn young to be all on her own. If I’m not wrong, she was only a few years older than Cline is now. I can’t even fathom putting that much pressure on my daughter.

  “What I really want to do is own my own restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just something I can call my own,” she confesses, purposely changing the conversation. “At the very least, I want to be an executive chef, so I can cook the food I want.”

  “If you want your own restaurant, then do what you’ve gotta do to get it,” I tell her, knowing my next words are going to piss her off. “Your mom and stepdad never did shit for you, so let them do this. Use some of your inheritance and get your dream.”

  “No way,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t do that. Even if I was starving to death, I wouldn’t use that money to buy myself a loaf of bread.”

  Those assholes must have really fucked with her head for her to be so adamant about not wanting the money. I can understand that, but she really needs to think about her future. No use losing the only chance she may ever get to have what she wants.

  I start to argue my point, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head and pulls away. “Not gonna happen. I have a plan, though.”

  When she doesn’t say anything for a second, I ask, “You gonna tell me about it?”