by Dark, Raven
In the past week, he’s never let me leave the clubhouse once. Hardly anyone will speak to me here unless they have to. Dee and Monica aren’t the only ones giving me the cold shoulder. Tequila is the only one that doesn’t speak to me as if I’m pond scum.
Most importantly, there’s no hope of my ever getting out of here or finding Sarah if I’m never allowed to leave.
Keeping my goal of escape firmly in my mind at all times, I’ve played the role as best I could. I’ve waited and watched and learned. Now, today, I hope it will pay off.
Making my way over to the couches, I press my hands over my belly, but it doesn’t calm the angry bevy of bats fluttering there.
“Problem, Wildcat?” Spider asks, flicking his gaze at my hands.
I mentally blow out a breath and keep my hands where they are, letting the nervousness I know he can see become part of the role. Hoping it looks as if I’m anxious about asking for a favor that’s important to me, rather than that I’m terrified he’ll see right through my request.
It is important to me. My freedom is at stake, and I hope I’m wrong, but I’m sure Sarah’s is too if I don’t find her.
“No. I mean, not really. Spider, can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” His eyes sparkle.
Striker snorts. Dragon watches me closely, swirling the ice in his whiskey glass.
If I weren’t so anxious, I’d have laughed. I force a smile I know looks painful.
Spider sets down his empty glass on the coffee table, then sits back, waiting.
I bite my lip and chicken out for the moment. “You want another one of those?” I nod to the glass.
“In a minute.” He points his finger to the floor at his feet.
Inwardly, I roll my eyes, mortification creeping up my cheeks, aware that every man sitting with him has his eyes on me. Watching to see what I’ll do.
He always does this. Since the party, every time I talk to him, if it’s possible for him to do it, he has me do the same thing—kneel at his feet as if I’m some kind of personal slave.
That’s another reason I have to ask him what I’ve come to ask. This past week, if I’m not sleeping or eating or in his bed, I’m on my knees. Usually with his fist in my hair and my mouth full of…well…him. I need more than that. I need to be more than just his toy.
Spider is sitting at the left side of the couch, and with the table in front of him, I can’t kneel right there, so I do the next best thing. Forcing my expression to one of acceptance, I carefully kneel on the floor at the arm of the couch. I set my hands together on the armrest and force my eyes to stay on his.
“She looks good like that, Spider,” Dragon says.
My cheeks feel like they’re going to melt off. Dragon hardly says boo to me most of the time. The MC president usually ignores me completely. The few times he hasn’t, he’s looked down his nose or shaken his head at me.
I’ve long since gotten the message. He doesn’t like me. He sees me as someone who’s gone against his club, and tolerates me only because of Spider. I’m not sure what to make of the rare compliment—if you can call it that.
Spider’s mouth turns up at Dragon’s comment before he returns his eyes to me. Waiting again.
I clear my throat. Tightening my hands on the couch arm to stop their shaking.
“Spider, let me have a job.”
It’s a statement, but it’s laden with what I hope is imploring respect.
He leans in a little. “You have a job.”
I furrow my brow, at first thinking he’s talking about my serving drinks here. Then I notice the heavy silence from the men and the mocking light in Spider’s eyes, and I realize what he’s getting at.
It takes all my effort not to grind my teeth.
I lick my lips, staring at the leather arm of the couch. I detest how low and small my voice sounds when I speak. “I need more than just…pleasing you.”
“Do you now?” His long fingers stroke my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw. “If you don’t have enough to do, I’m happy to keep you busy.”
Refusing to give up so easily or let him intimidate me, I tell him the same thing I’ve been rehearsing in my head for days while I waited for the right time.
“I understand that you have all the power, and I’ve done my best to get used to my life here. But I’ve been raised to believe everyone should contribute. Work hard and earn their own way. It feels wrong not to be earning my keep.”
It’s the best spin I can put on the truth. I lower my head, not having to entirely fake the guilty look I give him.
In the Colony, everyone had a job. Everyone worked. Even the wives, who were expected to stay at home and tend to the chores and the children carried their own weight. Pastors’ wives ran events for the church and held parties, cleaned houses, or ran the choir. Anyone who didn’t pull his or her own weight was considered a leech and a sinner, someone who drained resources and had no worth.
“And I suppose that wanting employment outside of the clubhouse has nothing to do with wanting to escape?” He pinches my chin between his thumb and fingers. “How long will you be out that door before you run, hmm?”
I take a deep, calming breath. I’d expected him to say this. It’s a fair question, considering that I already tried once.
I put on my best innocent look. “I’m not asking to work so I can escape.”
I hate lying. My stomach clenches at the thought of deceiving him, and not all because of what he’ll do to me if he catches on.
He grins. “I wasn’t patched in yesterday, thief.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not asking so that I can run. It’s important for me to work. To have a real job, one that earns money.”
“I’m sure it is. Money which you will save and stockpile until you can hop a bus out of Nevada.”
Rats. This isn’t going well. But I still have one angle left to play.
I will my hands to stop shaking, meet his eyes with a level stare, and lay my hand over his. His is huge, warm and calloused, and capable of snapping my fingers like dried twigs.
“Spider, you told me to earn your trust. How can I do that if you never give me the chance?”
His brow raises, and for a second, I’m sure he’s seen through me. He’ll never go for it. Then the smallest curve touches the sides of his mouth. Calculating respect flashes in his eyes.
Man, suddenly I hate myself for this.
A millisecond later, his expression hardens. “You don’t need money. I give you everything you need.”
I can feel my chance of getting my life back slipping away. I see what he’s doing. He’s keeping me dependent on him. That was one of the ways the church kept us from leaving. No one ever received money that they could use to escape. That’s why all earnings went to the church, and the elders doled it out.
It’ll put a crimp in my plans not having money, but if working my way up to that is what it takes to gain my freedom and find Sarah, that’s what I’ll do. Eventually, I’ll have to hope I can convince him to turn whatever job he gives me into a paying one, otherwise I won’t get far.
I’ve seen the importance these guys place on those who are associated with the club giving something back. Dee and Monica have talked about how everything everyone does is for the good of the club. Playing on that is my last hope.
“Okay. So, don’t pay me. But I want to do more for you, and for the club. Give me a chance to show you that you can trust me.”
“For the club?” Seated beside Spider, Arson gives me a doubtful look. “Do you even know what you’re asking, girlie?”
Probably not. I still don’t fully understand the whole biker lifestyle thing. But I know what it means to pull your own weight.
“So, put me where you need me,” I say simply.
Spider watches me, saying nothing. My heart begins to speed up as I wonder if my deception shows on my face, if he can somehow sense it.
Those icy blue eyes flick to Dragon, th
en back to me before I can read the look he gave his superior. He picks up his glass from the table and hands it to me. “You can make yourself useful right now and refill this.”
My shoulders sag. So that’s it. My only hope of getting out of here was a job outside of Casper’s, and it’s gone. He sees me as nothing but a plaything, useful only for fulfilling his manly lusts.
Loneliness hooks itself deep, anger boiling in my blood. I grip the front of my obscenely short skirt in my fists. Any number of insults beg to be flung at him, but I can’t lose it on him now, or I’ll be back where I started. I keep my eyes down, hiding any emotion he might see, take his glass, and stand.
I’ll have to keep playing the role. The role of the captive who’s accepted her place, who knows there’s no hope of getting out, and has settled for making the best of a bad situation.
The thing is, how long before I get another chance?
“Anyone else want anything?” I force my voice to a pleasant but resigned tone, looking around at Dragon, Arson, Striker, Cap and the others.
All of them decline, except Cap.
“I’d love a beer, darlin.” He holds up his empty mug.
At the bar, I wait for Tequila to get the drinks, desperation sinking it’s hooks into me. Now what? If I can’t find another reason for Spider to let me leave Casper’s at least once, how will I get away? How will I find Sarah?
If the Colony has her, I might be the only one who can get her out just like she did for me.
Over on the couches, the guys are talking in low voices. Spider is leaning toward Dragon, who looks irritated at something.
They’re probably talking about what Monica calls club business. Half the time when I knock on a door to a room where only the men are gathered, the doors are locked and none of the server girls are allowed in except to set down food and drink. I never catch enough of the conversations to have any idea what they’re discussing, but I can feel the secrecy in the room every time I stumble on a meeting.
I’d give anything to know what those meetings are about, especially considering that Monica’s warned me never to even look like I’m listening in.
That’s the rule in this place. I hear nothing, I see nothing, she says. I get in, do my thing, and get out.
Yeah, I’d love to know what they’re always hiding, but it’s dangerous for me to even think about trying to find out.
Carrying the tray back over to the couches, I notice that men have stopped whispering, all of them sitting back as I approach.
Yep. More club business. Especially since Dragon’s watching me as if he’s wondering if I was trying to hear them.
I hand Cap his beer, and he nods his thanks.
I like Cap. He’s always got a friendly smile for me, and he’s one of the few who doesn’t look at me as if he’d love to strip my clothes off. Of course, that could be because he’s old enough to be my grandpa.
Plus he’s got that cool eye patch that makes him look like a pirate.
I walk over to Spider and hand him his glass. When I turn to leave, I fully expect him to demand his usual kiss or to pull me onto his lap.
He seizes my wrist. “Not so fast. Come here.” He nods to the floor.
Here we go. Thus far, he’s never made me do anything to him in front of the others. Will he expect that now?
Dread races up my spine.
Once more, I go down on my knees.
Reclining in his seat, Spider is the picture of arrogant command and bad boy magnetism. Glass in one hand, he sweeps my hair back from my shoulders with that unsettling gentleness. His fingers brush my skin, making it tingle. “You want a chance to prove your loyalty, isn’t that what you said?”
I swallow. What is he up to? I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the other men as he spoke.
“Yes.” My voice shakes. “Why?”
Spider searches my eyes as though he’s looking for something. Then he nods. “I’m giving you one chance.”
Wait, what?
He downs the whiskey and sets the glass on the table.
“One of the serving girls at The Devil’s Den isn’t working out. Dee was going to fire her tomorrow. You can take her place.”
The Devil’s Den. I’m not exactly excited about returning to that flesh den, and the last time I was there, Deacon Jacob showed up. He’d probably have dragged me back to the Colony if I hadn’t gotten mixed up with Spider first. What if he shows up again, or someone else from His Holy Peace finds me there?
Tempted as I am to ask him if there’s another place the club owns where I can work, I can’t risk doing that. He still doesn’t know why I tried to run off with that money, other than the answer I gave him—that I had to get out of town. If I seem nervous about going there, he might want to know why.
True, I could play my anxiety off as if I just don’t want to work at a strip club, but he’s doing me a favor, here. Putting up a fuss might make him change his mind and cost me what might be my only chance of escape. If I run into trouble, I’ll just have to hope the MC will help.
The other men get up and depart, saying goodbye to Spider and leaving us alone.
He gives them a nod and a wave. “We’ll start with one shift a week,” Spider is saying now. “Show me that you can be trusted with that, and then we’ll talk about giving you more.”
A hesitant smile tugs at my lips. “For real?”
He nods. “There’s no need for you to be cooped up in here all the time when I’m not here. You need to get out once in a while. If it means that much to you, take the shift.”
If it means that much to me…
It’s not the reaction I should have, but an absurd gratitude unfolds in my chest for him. He’s controlling the game here, loosening the leash by but a notch. And yet, he’s also giving me a freedom he doesn’t have to give me. He’s taking a chance on me. And he’s doing it because it’s important to me.
Happiness bubbles up, and before I consider my actions, I cradle his hand and place a kiss on his knuckle. “Thank you, Spider. This means a lot to me.”
“Stephanie,” Tequila calls. “There’s customers waiting.”
Spider leans close. “I’m trusting you, Wildcat. Don’t fuck this up.”
“I won’t.” I kiss his finger again, but he tips my face up and presses his finger to his lips.
I smile and lean forward, laying a warm, appreciative kiss on his perfect lips.
“Stephanie!”
“All right, get back to work before Tequila loses her shit.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Go.”
I excuse myself letting Tequila know I’m taking a bathroom break. As soon as I’m inside and shut the door, the rare flutter of happiness dies and guilt chews at my gut.
Letting my head drop back against the bathroom door, I close my eyes, pushing back the sting of tears.
If he catches onto my plan… Ice fills my veins and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Ten days ago, I became a thief. Now I’m a liar, too.
* * *
The evening after Spider and I talked about my going to work again, my shift starts at nine. We head out of Casper’s at a little before eight, with twilight turning the sky a dull grey. Darkness won’t be coming for another hour or so. As usual, I plan to change into that God-awful uniform when I arrive, so he’s tied my bag to the back of his bike.
Spider slips his helmet onto my head and does up the chinstrap. Not having been outside the clubhouse since the night of Diesel’s party, the light breeze feels good on my face. It’s hot out tonight, and when the breeze picks up, it’s pleasantly cool.
Heaven help me, I swear this man gets sexier every time I see him. He’s dressed in dark, faded denims that hang low on his square hips, a plain black short-sleeved tee that stretches over his impressive chest tight enough that I see every ripple of muscle, and black riding boots. For all that the tattoos serve to remind me of what he is, a heathen and a criminal, I miss the sight of them. That leather
vest with its biker patches is left open over his shirt, as always giving him a dangerous, bad boy look that refuses to be ignored and more than makes up for the hidden ink.
“You don’t have a helmet for you,” I point out, looking up at him.
His brow flicks up. “Are you showing concern for me?” He tightens the helmet’s chinstrap until it’s snug.
“Yes. If you wipe out, you could crack your skull open.” He doesn’t need to know that the thought of losing him is causing a totally irrational tightening in my chest.
He smiles crookedly and runs his fingers along my nape. “How sweet of you to fret over me. Don’t, though. You’re never getting rid of me.” He mounts up and I follow.
A knot of guilt forms in my gut when I consider his promise. Over his shoulder, I look out at the open road that runs past the clubhouse toward Las Vegas. If things go right, he’ll drop me off at The Devil’s Den, and then he’ll never see me again. He’ll be ticked when he comes to get me only to find I’m not there.
An absurd sadness pricks at my heart when I consider this, but I force it down, reminding myself of what’s at stake.
I spent my life in a gilded cage being told what to do, how to think, how to live. The church expected me to cleave myself to a man who wanted a wife whose entire purpose was to make him look good in the eyes of his followers. I barely escaped. Spider might make my body melt in ways Pastor Seth couldn’t touch, but the MC is still a prison. And it’s a dangerous one, governed by rules I don’t understand. I can’t let myself forget what Spider is. He still might kill me. I’ll never really be safe here, with him.
Not to mention, Sarah is still out there. As long as I’m here, I’ll never find her. I don’t want a man like Deacon Jacob finding her and dragging her back to the Colony like he would have done with me.
Fears and doubts trickle in at the thought of implementing my plan. If I fail…
Refusing to think about what happened the last time I tried to escape, I tamp those doubts down before they can take root. I won’t let him catch me this time. I just wish I didn’t hate myself for deceiving him.
Spider takes out a pack of smokes and lights a cigarette. I put my cheek to the back of his vest while I wait, but immediately pull it away when the heat of the leather touches my cheek.
