Only a few seconds later, the old door creaked, and it flew open again.
“Back for more, sugar?” I asked, my voice full of cockiness, and laughed a guttural all too knowing laughter. This wouldn’t be the first-time women came back after I degraded them, trying to reclaim their self-worth—To tame the asshole biker as if their pussy held some of the Louisiana voodoo that my grandma once told me about. The blatant truth is, no pussy would ever have a hold over me again, and that is the end of the story.
“Sugar, hmm?” Bad asked, throwing his head back as he took a big horn of whiskey. “Cobra, I’m a lot of things . . . but, son, ain’t nothing on me made of sugar!” He laughed while hitting the bottle once more.
“Sorry about that, boss.” My back immediately straightened as if it were a new arrow, and my palm rubbed at the building tension in my neck.
He laughed and set the bottle down onto the makeshift table that I made at the shop a few months back. “It’s fine. One of those bitches is a screamer. Hell, at one point, kid, I thought you may have been killing her in here.”
“Ha! Yeah! I was fucking her to death,” I admitted sliding my feet into my boots and lacing them to the top.
“Ah, shit, kid. Those were the days! I remember it like it was yesterday. Now the old lady might have a problem with all of that nonsense.” He let out a throaty laugh and bounced his wedding band off the bottle’s rim, picking it up and taking another shot. “Now, are you gonna be a responsible and sober pillar to society and get ready for work . . . or are you going to drink with your president?”
“Is that even a question, Bad?”
“Sorry, kid, I had to ask.” He let out a deep hoarse laugh, lighting a cigarette that he pulled from his pocket and took a few draws from the end.
“We both know I’m not looking to impress a damn person on this planet. No sir. Not my style.” We both were more than aware I had to be at work.
“Mine either,” he agreed, smoke billowing from his mouth as he led our way into the communal area. “But those dues won’t pay themselves.” His elbow lightly jabbed my side, and he nodded.
2
Quinn
“Little fucking whores,” I groaned to myself, sweeping the cigarette butts into a pile on the floor and shaking my head as two women slid down the hallway from Cobra’s room. The blonde rolled her eyes, and the redhead stopped about five feet from me.
“He isn’t all that great if it makes any difference to you.” She tried to console me, running her fake press-on nails along the dustpan’s handle as she held it, waiting for me to sweep the dirt onto it.
“Makes no difference to me, honey.” I casually brushed her off, glaring down at her from where I stood. Typically, I would’ve jumped her ass for thinking she had even one ounce of freedom of speech in this house, but I promised King I wouldn’t cause a scene when Cobra and I split and remained true to the agreement now, even if I wanted to stomp their asses for the sheer fact of disrespect.
“Sorry, Granny. We didn’t mean to rattle your wrinkles.” She swiftly opened her grasp, and the dustpan clattered against the floor, making an unnecessary upset for this time of the morning as she idiotically laughed to herself, “We didn’t know his pretty dick is spoken for.”
“It’s not!” I barked, unintentionally baring my teeth and ground them into my lower lip to stop the rest of my statement from finding life. With a deep breath, I scooped the pan’s handle into my palm and curled my fingers around it one at a time for added dramatics, my eyes never straying from hers.
“Careful,” the blonde warned, adjusting her sad excuse for a shirt and, out of the clear irritation bubbling through her insides, flipped her wrist outward with an exasperated huff.
Just as I got to my feet and tucked my thumb over my knuckles, footsteps approached from behind us, and what I am about to do pulsated through my body and turned into recognition. Over something so trivial, I’m about to break my promise to King, but they lacked the reverence that should be given in this house. The way they spoke of Cobra alone is enough for me to stomp their asses. Fuck. I sucked in a deep breath as adrenaline crashed over my body in a tidal wave.
“What the fuck did you just say, bitch?” Lathe shouted, cracking his neck while flames of hatred bolted out of his eyes in their direction.
“Do you fuckin’ little bitches think your opinion means a thing in my house?” He paused as his southern drawl thickened. He spat the pissed-off statement out of his mouth while stuffing a cigarette in between his lips, right after he licked them, and eyed his fingers that shook as he cupped a matchbox from the pocket of his shirt. He struck the match against the box, waiting for one of them to open their ludicrous mouths, slowly holding the new fire to the end, and his eyes briefly closed. At this point, I hope one of them is smart enough to understand that his question is rhetorical. Lathe didn’t smoke often. He always carried a pack on him but never smoked unless he’s getting ready to fuck shit up. He’s on the edge of going fucking belligerent, which is how he earned his road name, Lathe. A lathe machine might be slow and sedentary, but once the bit dropped into the precise position needed in that exact moment, shit is on point.
I wanted to react, oh fuck did I ever, but knowing Lathe like I did, I only smiled. The only thing racing through my body is sympathy for those clueless girls. They didn’t know who they were up against. Lathe’s protection over me is his default, but aggression is his hard set. The little fucker might have stood a good five inches below most of the brothers, but his mean streak couldn’t be measured. There is a reason I thought of him as family. We both were instinctively hostile.
The redhead stepped forward, and just as her lips parted, he shook his head, and his feet froze as soon as they met the floor again. “Not even in the least, you fucking idiots! Do you see that woman right there? The one you disrespected. She calls them like she sees them. If you all know what’s good for you, you’ll leave before she loses her shit because when she cries, the whole club hears her tenfold, bitches. Ears to the ground, you fucking cock teases. Do you understand who you just insulted? She’s my fucking mom, and trust me, no one trumps what the house mom says. I love that fucking bitch more than life and would slash your fucking juggler just to please her. That’s who you are up against.” He took a step toward them, squaring his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles against each other.
The blonde’s hip popped out, and one of her hands landed on the dip in her side. Her other hand flew into the air with attitude.
He cocked his head sideways and slowly blinked his eyelids in disbelief. “Are you fucking stupid? I’m serious. Do you see any other female in here that didn’t just ride a dick for validation like you just did? No. The two of you are doing the walk of shame out of here, dick fresh on your breath. Guess what?” He wiped his fingers over his mouth and smoked billowed outward from his lips as he clamped the cigarette between two fingers and sharply pointed them to where I stood. “That bitch right there is a Chained Rebel. No one fucks with her, period!”
“Get the fuck out!” he yelled, unlocking the door, and nodding as the light of the day skirted across the club’s floor.
The girls stopped in front of him deep in thought, and I chuckled, sweeping the dirt onto the dustpan, and emptying it into the trash.
“This is as much her house as it is mine. Get that shit straight right fucking now. When it boils down to brass tacks, you’re both nothing more than a warm muffin for a cock. News flash. Let me shine a light on your stupid fucking condition. You are nothing more than a slab of warm meat that my shitfaced brothers can drop their dick into. Nothing more. An absolute coyote ugly, who the fuck did I screw last night no standards. I’m here to tell you that any of my fucking brothers would rather gnaw their dick clean off than pound it into your worn-out STD-ridden pussies again.”
“Get the fuck out, you damn ignorant sluts.” He added the last part, slamming the door behind them, and locked it with a wink.
“Good riddance, right?�
�� He clapped his hands together, wiping them against each other as he passed me and poked me with the tip of his finger as a kid would do.
“Damn ignorant sluts,” I repeated his words with a laugh. There is no doubt in my mind he had reacted in this manner completely for my benefit. Not his. Actually, that isn’t the full truth. Lathe had about as much tolerance for those bimbo patch chasers as I did. What could I say? I taught him well. I smiled with a sense of admiration while he kicked random shit across the public area of the clubhouse. I couldn’t bring better things into Cobra’s life no matter how much I tried. He was too far gone when we met. Lathe is another beast entirely.
He’s like the son I never had. During his probation period, for whatever reason, he looked to me for guidance, not his big brothers as every other prospect had. I should have questioned it, but it’s nice to be valued. A lot of the brothers rode him for how protective he grew over me, but in reality, they all were. I’m a good fifteen years older than Lathe, so as soon as my eyes zeroed in on him, I knew I would protect him as much as I’m able. It came naturally to me.
The club life definitely isn’t for the weakhearted, and the kid had already lived through shit no person should have to. All it took was one night, a bottle of Jack, and one heavy heart-to-heart for me to find a purpose for him. I looked out for him back then, and we’d both been taking turns doing it for one another ever since.
I climbed onto my usual stool and tapped two fingers against the bar. It isn’t my responsibility to place judgment on any of the guys in the club, but that didn’t mean I’m perfect. Occasionally, I did. Especially when it came to my ex-husband. He held a different position in my mind than the rest of the brothers did. I considered each and every one of them as family. What they did on their own time or where they parked their dicks is none of my concern. Until they made it my business. The only brother I even slightly cared about who is in their bed is the one I had been married to, Cobra. What could I say? Old habits had a habit of clinging to their fucking life, and the fuckers wouldn’t die. No matter how much I wanted to destroy the connection between us, I couldn’t. It’s like trying to split one single strand of hair in half with a chainsaw. Impossible and unbelievably fucking complex, despite every way we approached it, mayhem is always the ending we found. Regardless of the many times, I reminded myself that I didn’t care what Cobra is doing with his life, I did. I couldn’t help it.
After Cobra and I separated, I swore to stay away from anything club-related, but by that point, my life was far too interwoven with the MC to ever detach myself from them. Every aspect of my livelihood somehow led back to this tribe of scattered rebels. They were my family, and when I tried to imagine life without them, I couldn’t see the picture clearly. Every frame to pass through my mind somehow bent itself to involve these deviants. I am screwed and didn’t know what else to do with my life. I used to be someone’s old lady and a sister to the brothers, but at that moment, I didn’t have a title on my back to give me a placement. Thankfully, I’m not the only one with sentiment dwelling within their heart. The brothers came to me one night and invited me to stay in the family. Of course, the whole thing pissed Cobra off beyond belief, but he’s the minority with his opinion. I would be lying if I ever admitted that fact alone didn’t make me smile inside.
My ex-husband and I had a mutual understanding. We steered clear of each other as much as possible. We both had to face the reality that we both held a valuable position in this club, whether either of us liked it or not. It’s not a typical scenario. It’s just how things had to be. That didn’t stop my hatred from growing more and more each time I’m forced to witness these little sugar-coated whores leaving his room. We all knew what happened last night, but it didn’t make it easier to swallow the fact he’d moved on and that I had not completely. Somewhere inside the deep and intentionally forgotten fractures of my thoughts, these memories that we made together were always going to be there. They often captured me as a prisoner to the past and left me begging the future for just one more second with him. It is in those seconds I hated myself for wanting someone who’s no longer mine. At times, certain people walk into your life, and you never expected the change they bring forth. Yet, it’s those who were capable of altering your life that you couldn’t live without. No matter the circumstance or where time had stopped ticking, the feelings you carried within remained in your heart, even when you didn’t wish for them to.
Cobra is the first person that I ever loved and the man who took my virginity. He introduced me to club life, and after our complicated and messy divorce, I found myself at a standstill. I had already grown too close to most of these brothers to ever forget about them. I’m not able to distinguish my own life apart from the CRMC, so I decided not to. Fuck Cobra! The only thing that sets us apart is the appendage between his legs. If I’m the one with a dick and not him, I wouldn’t have been faced with the brutal decision of him or the club. After the awkward phase had mostly blown over, I filled the dainty and yet hardcore boots of what the biggest part of bikers referred to as a ‘house mom’. The only thing that set me apart from that cliché name is simply that I didn’t need to ride someone’s cock to have a meaningful purpose within the club. I knew who I was and where I stood. I am constantly here cleaning up their disasters and taking care of them when it’s needed. I didn’t deny the maternal need to help them because, hell, somebody had to do it.
It might have been a different story if Bad had a full-time old lady because more often than not, it’s the president’s woman with this job title. We never knew who would accompany him to a party, though. He rarely invited the same woman over twice. Most of us didn’t even bother to learn his girls’ names and simply referred to them as ‘Baby’ when we actually had to talk to them. The women never picked up on us doing it because two of them were rarely in the same room. His latest marital vows didn’t change the fact of who I am within the club. As odd as it is, Bee didn’t have much to do with anything club-related. Truthfully, I think Bad wanted something outside of this club to call his.
I did the only thing any person on this Earth could do. I lived one day at a time, never knowing what the next would bring. The one thing I did know is I would always call myself a Chained Rebel, and it didn’t matter what Cobra’s feelings were on the subject.
3
Cobra
Flint slid down the hallway and shook his head. “Brother, might want to hit the back door, your midnight specials just left, and both Quinn and Lathe are here.”
“Fucking Lathe,” I complained, fully aware he’d undoubtedly made a scene. He always had a soft spot for her, but I couldn’t blame him. She is a badass woman. The two of us just never saw eye to eye on most things. Really, I am the one that fucked that whole situation up by getting my ass caught. Of course, we tried to make it work, but she never forgave me for the past.
Regardless of how terrible my transgressions were and the hell I put her through, I would be damned if I ever overlooked the fact if another dick sunk into her sweet pussy. I wouldn’t admit it to another soul, but if she ever found another old man, I would kill the son of a bitch out of sheer principle. That is a long time ago, and too much shit had gone down between us for things to go back to how they were. There were about three things Mouse and I were both equally good at, fighting, fucking, and downing whiskey. We still did two of those things on a habitual level, but as for the third, I doubt we’d ever be together again.
I’m a double standard asshole, but I never once tried to hide that aspect of myself. Honestly, I never pursued another woman when I’m sober. It’s always drunk off my ass or wrapping up the morning aftermath, like how things went down with the two bitches this morning. Even though this is how it always happened, there isn’t any reasoning with Mouse, and I couldn’t blame her. We both agreed to try and be civil, but I continuously fucked that up when I put my desires before hers. I might not have initiated this morning, but it still made me a dick for not stopping it. Mouse wou
ld never give me another shot. Hell, I wouldn’t ever ask her for one, but I never intentionally wanted to hurt her again.
“‘Preciate the heads up, Flint.” I nodded in his direction and turned to take my ass out the back way to avoid crossing paths with Lathe and Mouse. I would apologize to her after she’d cooled off some. I’m not an idiot. There would be no reasoning with her right now.
“Whose vehicle we taking today?” A yawn crept from my lips. “Fuck. I need caffeine.”
“Yeah, about that, I got you, as usual, brother, but it might be a good idea if we take your ride today. Mouse might get a wild hair up her ass, and there’s no telling what she’d do to your truck.” Flint coughed, rolling up the sleeves of his denim uniform, and knowingly smirked.
Lathe may have been more open about his feelings about Mouse, but the truth is that all of my brothers, including Bad, loved her. I’m not an exemption to loving her. I loved that woman more than my own damn life. As pathetic as it is to still have feelings for my ex-wife, I did, but I never fucking acted on them. I no longer had a right to ask her to love me in return and hadn’t for some time. Right after we agreed separation is best for us, I forced myself to lock down those feelings inside and bury them in cement. She deserved a lot more than I would ever be able to give her, but I’d be fucking damned if she found it with one of my brothers. Hell no! That would be where I drew the line. Even though I would kill or die for any of my brothers, none of them were good enough for her, especially her little ass kisser, Lathe. It depended on the day, what I would do for him and how much patience I happened to carry.
Running my hand through my hair and then chewing on the inside of one of my snakebite piercings purely out of frustration, I tried to think of anything else. I couldn’t think about that shit anymore. “Get your ass in the truck, Flint!” I yelled, entering the lot to the side of the clubhouse. I had to get my ass to the machine shop, or I’m going to be kicking rocks before dark.
Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Page 51
