Jagger had given her a guard dog. A pissed off, vicious fucking dog that hated everyone, except Chris. He was even iffy with Jagger and Crash.
The animal had been rescued during a police raid on a dog fighting ring and had been scheduled to be euthanized because of his injuries. He was a big black bastard with a wide chest, a huge head and heavily muscled body. Jagger had told them the vet thought he was a cross between a Mastiff, a Pitbull and a Rottweiler and had been bred for the fighting ring. The poor guy had scars all over his head and body. He was missing part of one ear and had narrowly escaped being blinded in one eye during his last fight, which was when the club’s vet had stepped in and saved him. After operating on him and getting him well again she had been desperately trying to place him but with no luck.
Brutus hated everyone she brought to meet him, until Chris walked towards his kennel. She had been there to look at a young dog Jagger wanted to get her. According to Jagger the big brute lay down and whined the minute he saw her. Before anyone could warn her away from him she had plonked her ass on the cement walkway outside his kennel and sat talking to him quietly. Jagger said he nearly had a fucking heart attack when she stuck her fingers through the mesh. Instead of ripping her fingers off he had licked them and rubbed his big scarred head against them, allowing her to touch him. Jagger said Chris turned to him and said ‘he’s mine’. And with those two words Brutus found a home.
Everyone was very wary of the brute but so far all he had done was pull his lips up and show his fucking enormous teeth while growling to warn people away from her. He didn’t care whether the person approaching was male or female, everyone got the same warning. According to Jagger he ignored children and other dogs completely. It was almost as if to him they were beneath his notice. All the club’s dogs gave him a wide berth, acknowledging him as the alpha dog.
Scar forcefully shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind when he saw Boots and Spook walking towards him from the garages.
It was time to ride.
And when he got back he was going to find Chris, even if he had to go see her at her new home. His apology was long overdue.
Chris
Two weeks ago I had a narrow escape at the clubhouse. I had been the target of some very bad men. They had gained entrance to the compound by befriending the strippers at Moonlight, one of the club’s strip clubs.
Sin, Boots and Scar walking into the common room right before they decided to grab me saved my life. A lot of stuff had gone down since that night but I had focused all my attention on my cottage. Ignoring everything else.
Jagger had pulled in the crews working on the other cottages to concentrate on mine and it was completed in record time. I went over to help almost every day, and okay, so my help was more of the cleaning up kind, but I helped. With all the changes Jagger and I had made to the original design my cottage became more than just a copy of the others, it became special, it became my home. The other thing that happened was Aunt B’s surprise.
A few days before I was to move in I was sitting at the kitchen table in the clubhouse searching for second hand furniture on Gumtree when Aunt B slammed my laptop shut and dragged me to the storage rooms. When she unlocked the doors I stood with my mouth hanging open staring at all the stuff in front of me. And when she told me I could have anything I wanted I was stunned speechless. She prodded me to choose some stuff and I slowly started to point to things I liked.
I picked an oversized big brass bed and a large chest of drawers for my bedroom to which Aunt B added a blanket kist, two bedside tables, a gorgeous carpet and a wingback chair. According to her my bedroom needed a chair where I could sit and read or whatever. It was useless to argue so I didn’t. She added a tall but narrow glass fronted cabinet with three deep drawers at the bottom for the bathroom.
I found an interestingly scarred dark wood rectangular table with two benches for my dining room and Aunt B added two high backed chairs and a long narrow sideboard to it. She said it was part of the set. Again no use arguing so into the truck it went.
The best find though had been two big and bulky deep cream coloured squishy couches, still wrapped in plastic and tucked away beneath covers in the far corner of one of the rooms. Aunt B laughed a little sadly when she saw them. Apparently they had been bought by Hawk’s mother and his dad had hated them. He wanted his comfy and worn in leather couches back and after a long back and forth argument his wife gave in and the couches ended up in storage. They were brand new and now they were mine.
By the time we left the storage rooms the truck was loaded down with furniture, carpets, rugs, lamps and boxes filled with pots, pans, glassware and a million other things. I gave up trying to slow Aunt B down after trying to argue with her for the third time and losing. The loaded truck had been driven to my cottage and unloaded when Jagger gave the green light. My room had been packed up days in advance and I had been living out of my bags as I waited impatiently to move into my little house.
My entire home had been furnished thanks to Aunt B’s generosity. Even my stoep (veranda) had been furnished. On the right hand side I had a colourful cotton dhurrie rug on the floor and a long and wide rattan couch with big comfy cushions stood on it. There was a good sized coffee table in front of it with a grass basket that held pretty stones I collected on my walks. It was the perfect place to sit and read, drink wine or beer, or just look out at the stunning view. On the left in front of my bedroom doors I had another dhurrie and two large easy chairs and a small coffee table. Jagger won the argument about the small outdoor fireplace, so now I had one. Outside!
Not everything came from the storage rooms though. I went shopping for curtains, throws and scatter cushions and I splurged on new bedding for my room. All the small appliances in my kitchen were also paid for by me and it made me feel so damned proud.
I was banned from visiting the cottage for the last two days before I moved in. And I saw why when I arrived with my packed little car on the morning of the move. Jagger had kept adding little touches to the cottage. This time he had added a small deck onto the front of my house and a braai, a big damned braai, built out of local rocks with a tall chimney had been built into the side of the deck.
He was always giving me little surprises like that.
But the biggest surprise came two days after I had moved in when Jagger and Crash gave me Brutus.
I grew up without any pets because my mother banned them from the house. According to her they shed hair everywhere and were unhygienic.
When Jagger came up with the idea of a dog I hadn’t been very enthusiastic. I just didn’t think I would have the time to train a dog. Jagger convinced me I could do it and that he would help me with training. So eventually I gave in (Again!) and we went to visit the club’s vet who apparently had dogs available.
As I walked into the kennels he caught my eyes immediately. Scarred, battered, sad and hiding behind a vicious face was the most amazing animal I had ever seen. The only way I can describe it is that we fell in love with each other at first sight. When I sat down in front of his enclosure I knew he was mine.
Brutus is not an easy dog to have because I have to be very aware of his moods around other people. Because of the abuse he had suffered he hates any type of restraint around his throat and I have to use a body harness when I want to walk him or take him out with me. He hates males and females equally but thank the pope he seems to think kids and other dogs are beneath his notice. It would have been a huge problem if he didn’t.
Over the last couple of days he has slowly become used to Jagger, Crash and Dizzy because they insisted on visiting daily and talking to him. But even though he’s getting used to them he still growls and shows them a lot of sharp teeth when he thinks they’re getting too close.
I’ve been taking him with me to the bar at night because there was no way I was leaving him home alone. I bought him a second bed and made a space for it at the back of the bar and once he was settled down
he pretty much ignored everyone.
What he does not ignore is threatening voices or people trying to touch me. Then he becomes a viciously growling menace. For the most part though he’s quiet and stays in his bed, but he’s always watchful and on guard.
As far as I was concerned he was perfect.
I was having a lazy day reading while stretched out on the couch outside when Brutus lifted his head and looked over the low wall at the road. I heard it soon after, the sound of a bike approaching. I went back to reading, thinking it might be either Boots or Dizzy coming home. They had both pulled out early this morning to go do whatever the guys do every day.
The bike did not continue past my place or pull in next door, it pulled into my drive and whoever it was parked right next to the steps to my small deck. Slowly sitting up I reached down and put my hand on top of Brutus’s head, he was sitting up and staring at the man on the bike. Strangely he wasn’t growling, he just stared intently as whoever it was got off the bike and slowly unstrapped his helmet.
I couldn’t stop the tiny gasp when his face was revealed. Scar.
What the hell was he doing here?
“Hey, may I come up?” He asked as he ran a hand through his long dark hair and set his helmet on his seat. I stared at the tall, green eyed, long-legged man with his broad swimmers shoulders and narrow hips. Okay, I admit, I might have secretly watched him in the pool a time or six. I knew that underneath those battered faded blue jeans he had muscled thighs and calves, and big feet. Shit. Was it true what they said about men and big feet? I ripped my eyes away from his feet and looked up into eyes that were the colour of pale green sea glass.
Brutus was still strangely quiet and I took that as a good sign. “Sure. Uhm…to what do I owe this visit?”
Stripping his gloves off he slowly walked up the steps as he pushed them into the pockets of the black hoodie he had on under his kutte. I noticed that he winced as he climbed those steps. He was in pain, his back must be hurting. Should he even be riding? I swung my legs off the couch and sat up. Ready to do what, I didn’t know.
He spoke before I could decide.
“I’ve come to ask your forgiveness for being an absolute bastard to you. I had no right to judge you or your choices. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you at the bar. I was being an absolute ass. Do you think you can forgive me and give us a chance to start over?”
I kept my eye on Brutus throughout, not knowing why my baby wasn’t doing his usual unfriendly showing of his teeth while growling. Shit, I hope he wasn’t going to suddenly lunge at Scar because he wasn’t in his harness and I didn’t have a snowballs hope in hell of controlling him.
“You were nasty and it’s not easy to let it go but it’s done. I’d like to move on and yes, we can start over.” I said quietly.
And then my dog shocked us both. He gave a deep sigh and lay back down on the rug in front of the couch.
“Is he supposed to do that?” Scar asked quietly and all I could do was slowly shake my head from side to side.
“He’s never done this with anyone. All I can think is that he knows you’re hurting and that you’re not a threat to either one of us. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make us some coffee or would you prefer something else to drink?”
Scar carefully approached me and we both watched Brutus for his reaction. Nothing. Not a twitch. In fact he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Holy shit.
“Everyone has been talking about how vicious he is and how no one can get anywhere near you.” Scar said quietly. “I’ve seen how he reacts to those he thinks are a threat to you. And now this. Unbelievable. And I’d love some coffee, thanks.”
I nodded, stepped over Brutus then waved at the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back with our coffee.”
I rushed through the house into the kitchen and quickly switched on the kettle. Pulling out my new French press I set about making coffee. Before long I had a tray loaded with mugs, sugar, milk and the French Press filled with aromatic coffee plus a glass of water and two Ibuprofen tablets.
The scene that met my eyes as I walked out the front door was straight out of one of the romances I loved to read. There was this rugged man leant back against the cushions on the couch, his legs stretched out, and his dog’s big head resting on his thigh while his big hand slowly stroked his head. Only it wasn’t his house, his couch or his dog, they were all mine but it felt like he belonged. So strange. I didn’t know this guy and I was wary of him. He had not been a nice guy from the very start. For the most part he had ignored me, until he didn’t. Now he was here to apologise for his behaviour.
Weird.
“It looks like the two of you have made friends.” I said as I walked over, set the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to him on the couch.
“We have, he’s a great dog, and you’re lucky to have him.” He said quietly.
“I know. I saw him in that enclosure and fell in love. Some people might think he’s ugly but I don’t. I think his scars make him beautiful. It shows he’s a survivor. He hates what he had to do to survive but it brought him here, to me.” I waved a hand in the air and laughed self-consciously. “Don’t pay attention to me, I’m rambling.”
Scar stroked a hand over Brutus’s head and shook his head. “No, you’re not. He is everything you say he is. He’s lucky to have found you.”
I poured our coffee but left it to him to fix it how he liked. What I did do is hand him the pills and the glass of water. For a minute I thought he was going to say no but then he sighed, took the pills and washed them down with the water.
“Thanks, I overdid it today and now my back is sore as hell, but damn, it was so worth it. I haven’t been able to ride since the accident and finally being able to throw my leg over the saddle of my bike was fucking amazing.” He said as he picked up his mug and took a sip.
“I’m glad you’re able to ride again, but maybe you shouldn’t ride too far at first.”
Scar laughed and it changed his serious face completely. I’d never seen him laugh before.
“Sweetheart, I’m sticking to doctor’s orders. He said I could ride today. I’m actually wearing a brace to keep my back stable under my shirt, but it started to hurt about thirty minutes ago.”
“Then take it off. You can put it back on when you leave.” It tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
He slowly lowered the mug he was in the process of lifting to his mouth, looked at me with his head tilted to the side, then nodded. The mug went back onto the tray and he took off his kutte, then his hoodie before lifting his t-shirt to get to the brace. It had Velcro straps across the front that he quickly ripped open then gave a sigh of relief as he took it off and hung it over the back of the couch.
“Damn, that feels better.” He sighed as he relaxed back against the cushions, picked up his mug and went back to sipping his coffee.
Me. Not so much, because I had to surreptitiously wipe the drool from my lips after seeing his rock hard abs up close and personal.
And that’s how my lazy day became a bit surreal.
I had this hot as hell man hanging out with me, drinking coffee and chatting about all kinds of things. And weirdly it felt comfortable, as if we had been doing this every single day of our lives. When in reality it was the first time we had ever really spoken to each other.
“Is your name really Chris or is it short for Christine or Christina?” He suddenly asked.
I pulled a face. “My names are Amaliah Christina but I really dislike my first name. My mother has this way of pronouncing it that I hate. So at university I used my second name and it was shortened to Chris.” I shrugged. “Now I just use Chris.”
He frowned as he tilted his head to look at me. “I think Amaliah is a very pretty name and it’s way better than mine anyway. Mine is Joshua and everyone always tries to turn it into Joe. I hate that.”
I grinned and nodded. “Yip, you’re definitely
not a Joe. How did you get your road name? And if you don’t want to tell me that’s okay too.”
“It’s not a secret or anything.” He said. “When I became a prospect I was mentored by my road captain, Claw. He was always trying to get me to talk about my time in the military. I refused, over and over, and one day I threatened to scar him for life if he carried on poking at me. He started calling me Scar and that was that.”
“So no actual scars or anything like that?” He just grinned and raised an eyebrow at me, leaving it up to my imagination.
Hours later, as the sun was sliding towards the horizon he strapped his brace back on, pulled on his hoodie and kutte and with a final scratch behind Brutus’s ears left as suddenly as he had arrived.
And I went from not liking the man at all to thinking that he wasn’t a bad guy after all.
CHAPTER NINE
Scar
The afternoon spent chatting to Chris on her veranda had changed things between them. He had found to his astonishment that she was easy to talk to and that he enjoyed her company. She was unlike any club girl he had ever met. In actual fact she was a nice girl and he now understood why some of the brothers looked at her the way they did. She would make some lucky bastard a great old lady. Not him, he was still too wary of getting involved, even though she drew him exactly the same way.
When he walked into the common room the day after the visit he went straight to Brutus, crouched and scratched his head to say hello. When he straightened Chris was right there and he leant over and kissed her cheek. He had no fucking idea why he did it. The shocked silence that descended when Brutus allowed him close erupted into whispers. But he ignored his far too damned nosy brothers.
“Hey, your boy is looking great.” He smiled into her stunned eyes before looking away.
He had to look away from those beautiful eyes before he lost his head and kissed her.
Mark Of A Scarred Warrior (Iron Dogz MC Book 5) Page 11
