by Joy Blood
Twenty-Two
“I’m going to go ahead and say you are through detoxing, but you still have a long road ahead of you. Gonna be a tough one, ain’t gonna lie, darlin’, but we got ya,” Doc tells me over lunch.
“And who is we? You and Premo?” After his declaration of me not being alone, Premo left. It’s been over two weeks, and I haven’t seen him once.
“Yeah. Me and Pres. The club,” he says, waving his hands. “You just need to accept our help.” Doc is still a little annoyed I snuck out on him, but it’s going away with time. “Unless there’s someone you want me to call?”
I shake my head. “No.” He nods, accepting the lie. I gulp down some water and shoot him a forced smile.
“Listen, I’ve got to run out.” He flicks a glance down to his watch, then up to the door. “One of the boys is supposed to be by here.”
“You can go. I promise I won’t leave,” I say, getting a skeptical look from Doc. I can’t blame the guy. I did run off when he was sleeping on the couch. My mind is much clearer now, and the thought of going back out on the streets makes me shudder. I think I might just stay here. That is…until I wear my welcome out, if I haven’t already. Maybe that’s why Premo hasn’t been here.
“Hope not. You just need to realize you have a life here, if you chose to accept it.” He stands from his chair. “I’ll be out for a few hours. If that fucker don’t show up in the next hour, you give my cell a call and I’ll come right on back.” He takes a piece of paper from a pad on the fridge and jots down his number. “Landline is over there in the living room. And don’t leave. Pres would have my ass if you run off on my watch again.”
“I won’t. Promise. But really, I’ll be fine. There’s food in the fridge and water in the tap. I will live.” He shoots a glance over to the door again with a scowl and starts walking away.
“Won’t be gone long, darlin’.”
“Bye, Doc,” And with that, I’m alone in the apartment. It feels strange to suddenly be by myself. The place even seems quieter. Getting up from the table, I take care of our dishes and load them into the dishwasher, then drink down one more glass of water. Then I start exploring. I haven’t done so since I always seemed to have a shadow behind me everywhere I go.
My first stop is the living room. I’ve seen a few pictures scattered here and there, but haven’t gotten close enough to see who the people in the photos are. The first one I pick up has a little boy snuggled in blue, safely wrapped in Premo’s arms while he looks down at him with a proud smile. My heart squeezes at the sight of the photo, and I quickly put it back down, passing by to the next one on the TV stand. This one has the same boy, I assume, only a couple years older, with a beautiful woman. Pin-straight, shoulder-length blonde hair with purple streaks running through and a bright smile on her face. She is stunning. I can only guess she is the boy’s mother. The woman Doc referred to as the one Premo let get away. I try not to let that bother me, but somewhere in the back of my mind, it claws away at me.
Knocking pulls me from my perusal, and someone starts calling out from the other side. “Doc, answer the door, man.” This must be the person who is supposed to come watch me. I start toward the door, but stop when I realize Doc never told me a name. Crap.
“Who is it?” I call out, trying my best not to sound as panicked as I feel.
“O. Doc leave already?” My heart pounds faster. “I’m O. The club’s Road Captain,” he states. “Hold up.” I step closer to the door and listen with my ear pressed against the wood. “Yeah. I’m here.” Pause. “’Cause Wick was being a fuckin’ prick.” Another pause. “Yeah, she won’t let me in. You didn’t tell her who was coming. Okay.” There’s another pause that lasts for a moment, then a beep sounds out. “Darlin’, you can let the prick in. He’s good,” Doc’s voice calls out through the phone. “Good girl for not just opening the door.” I can hear the smile in his voice and picture the twinkle in his eyes.
“Hear that?” O calls out, and I unlock the door, letting in the man from the hall. What greets me on the other side nearly has me shutting the door in his face. He’s tall—so tall, I have to crane my neck to get my eyes up to his face. Oh, the face. Maybe that’s why they call him O. Crystal clear blue eyes so bright, they shine focus in on me. “Can I come in?” he asks, smirking as if he already knows why I’m gawking the way I am. Gosh, I swear I’m drooling a little too. Nodding, I discretely wipe away any saliva that may have escaped from the corner of my mouth and walk farther into the apartment, wishing it were bigger.
“Sorry about that.”
“No. It’s good. I should’a been here on time. One of my brothers was being a dick. I’m O.” He extends his hand out in greeting. “Now that there isn’t a door between us.” He smirks. Hesitantly, I reach out and take his hand, instantly tallying up the differences between his hand and Premo’s. Crap.
“Vera.” I pull away only a second after contact. While his hand might be softer, I long for the rasp of Premo’s palm. Stop it.
“Never been inside the Pres’s apartment. Shit is nice,” he muses, looking around. He lifts things here and there, as if he’ll find something underneath.
“Where do you live?” I find myself asking, suddenly wanting to know more about this whole club life.
“The clubhouse. Just a few of the brothers have a place of their own, mostly the ones with families.” As he talks, I notice bags in his hand. Following my eyes, he says, “Pres sent this for you. Said you probably were getting sick of wearing his clothes.” He shrugs, offering the two plastic bags. I take them with a thank you and start for the bedroom, then stop.
“How is Premo?” I chance the question, my lip trapped between my teeth.
“He’s good…?” O sounds unsure, almost stating it like a question. Nodding, I continue my path again, but he keeps talking. “Lot of shit goin’ on at the club. Requires his attention. I’m sure he’ll be by some time to check up on ya.” I nod again, and get to the room, closing the door behind me.
Twenty-Three
“You did fucking what? I don’t want that motherfucker there with her. She just got through detox. She doesn’t need him there,” I yell at Wick, who was supposed to be the one to go over to my apartment and stay with Vera while Doc ran his errands and got a long overdue break. Wick and Nixon are the only two who know about Vera. Nixon, because he was there when I found her the second time, and Wick because I needed him to go watch over her today.
“Sorry, Pres. I needed to get this bike done. Got a deadline for the rally. I sent the bags with him, though,” he says, making me want to backhand the fucker. Last thing I need is pretty boy O stomping into my apartment and sweet-talking Vera out of her panties.
“What did you say to him?”
“That you had some girl staying at your place going through detox. He’s good, Pres. Won’t cause no setbacks.” I shake my head. The unwanted images of O flirting with Vera send a fire of fury through my veins. Without another word to Wick, I stomp away from the garage over to my own bike.
I forced myself to send Wick instead of going myself because I was getting too involved—too damn close. After she snuck out of my apartment and I found her in the alleyway, I knew damn well I was in too deep with her. I needed the distance so I didn’t end up doing something stupid, like asking her to stay—not that I hadn’t already asked her that very thing in not so many words.
It takes only minutes to reach the apartment complex, and even less time for me to stomp up to the door and walk through to find the two of them sitting on the couch laughing. The energy in the room instantly charges, and her eyes fly to mine, taking me in. I find myself doing the same. Damn, she looks good. Her cheeks are how they should be, no longer sunken in, full of life. Her color has become rosy instead of the ghostly white it was when I found her. It’s amazing what a couple weeks of rest and some food will do to a person.
“Hey, Pres. Vera was telling me about—”
“You can go back to the clubhouse. I�
��m stayin’. Go help Wick with the bike,” I snap, walking past them both to the kitchen for some water. I need something in my hands before I put my fist through my brother’s face.
Shit, what is wrong with me?
“Got it. Nice to meet you, Vera. It’s been a pleasure.” I catch the soft chuckle she gives him before he walks out the door, leaving the two of us alone. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Should have just let them be. Doc will be back in a few hours and—
“Thank you for the clothes.” Her sweet voice comes up behind me. I was in such a fluster, I didn’t even notice she was wearing the clothes I had one of the girls gather up for her. Shit. When I turn to face her, I see what a big mistake that was. My eyes travel over her tight white tank top, narrowing in on the outline of her nipples through the cotton. Yep, should have left her in the baggy shirts and too big shorts. On her legs are a pair of faded blue jeans that just border the hem of the tank top, and I bet a million dollars if she turned around right now, I would see a perfectly round ass in those pants. Christ.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to form words. “Yeah. Figured you could use some.” She shoots a smile my way, and I distract myself with a nice long swig of the cold water, thinking I might have to pour it over my dick to get it to calm down.
“Well…I’m going to go…lay down.” She walks off down the hallway, and I force myself to suppress the groan that tries to escape my chest. She does indeed have a perfect ass in those jeans.
Twenty-Four
I needed to get out of his proximity. The man just does something to me I can’t explain. Sitting on the couch and having a normal conversation with O had been good, but when Premo walked—no, barged through the door—I didn’t know what to do. I had gone from being carefree and laughing at a story O was telling to not being able to breathe. Premo just sucked all the air from the room when he entered without even trying. Standing there with his gaze pinned on me, his muscles bunching under his t-shirt and leather vest, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. And the look he shot O. It was as if he were trying to cause the man to burst into flames.
“Vera.” His voice, even through the door, sends goosebumps to prickle along my skin. “Would you feel up to a ride? Get out of the apartment?” Premo asks. I don’t know how to answer. I long to get out of here, but then I’m scared of what the outside world will do to me. It wasn’t too nice when I snuck out before.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, stepping up to the door without opening it.
“Think so. Doc said it should be fine. He would have taken you himself, but with his leg, or lack thereof, decided not to in case you tried to run.” He tries it as a joke, but it comes out more accusatorily, making me wince.
“You make it sound like I’m a prisoner.”
“Just of your own mind. Listen, I might not be in the same boat, but I do know a thing or two about addiction.” This has me twisting the doorknob. His face comes into view through the crack. “I know how hard it is to go out there after kicking the shit holding you down. Passing it by without reaching out to grab it again. Just for that one little piece of serenity it gives you.”
“I want to get high again,” I state, surprising myself.
“And I want to drown myself in a bottle of Vodka. Every minute of every day.” I blink in surprise. “Let’s go out there and face it together, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I echo his last word and step forward out of the room.
“Hang on a sec, though,” he says, bypassing me and stepping into his room. Going right to his dresser, he opens a drawer and pulls out a sweatshirt. “Here. It’s cold out.” He pauses and looks down at my chest, making me suddenly aware I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are standing at attention. Oh crap. My hand snatches the shirt and I pull it over my head. I practically drown in the thing. It’s black with a big white tiger on the front and “Siberians” stretched over the top. It smells like him, and I catch myself bringing the hood around my neck and up to my nose to take a deep breath. I stop before he notices, though. “Come on.” He extends his hand for me to take, and I don’t even think twice before interlocking my fingers through his. They are rough, working hands, not anything like I’m used to holding. This man knows what a hard day’s work means; it’s written all over his beautiful hands. I can’t take my eyes off the sight of his hand locked with mine. “Here, put this on.” I was so occupied with our darn hands, I didn’t even notice we left the apartment and are now standing by a motorcycle.
“I haven’t been on one of these before,” I admit, reluctantly taking the offered helmet.
“It’s fine. Just wrap your arms around me. I’ll do the rest.” He shoots me a smile as he straps on his helmet, then pulls tinted goggles over his eyes. My helmet has a visor over the top, and when I pull it over my head, Premo reaches out and snaps it down. “All set.” He swings his leg over the seat, then turns back to me, reaching his arm out to help me on. “Just got to trust me,” he says, and maybe it’s because he says it with such confidence, but I put my hand on his arm and straddle the bike behind him. “There you go. Hardest part is getting on. Now, sit tight and enjoy,” he says, sounding like he’s talking about so much more than riding a motorcycle. I find myself shifting even closer to him, pressing myself tighter to his muscled back. I swear I hear him groan, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the bike’s engine revving to life. At first, it makes me jump, but when the rumbles roll through my chest, my heart speeds up and my body does something I’m all too familiar with. I get high. Only this high isn’t drug induced; it’s Premo induced. The bike moves out of the parking spot, and then it’s as if we are flying. I don’t know where he takes me, and I don’t care. I just hang on and enjoy every second of the ride.
Twenty-Five
She is wrapped around me, her body heat seeping into mine. It’s torture, but sweet, sweet bliss at the same time. I want her like this always. Maybe bringing her with me wasn’t such a good idea. I thought being in the apartment alone with her would lead me to do something stupid, but as I cruise down the streets with her on the back of my bike, I know damn well this is far more dangerous than ending up in bed with her. This, what I’m doing right now, only makes me want to claim her. She isn’t mine to claim; she belongs to someone else. I just need to figure out who, and if they even deserve to get her back.
The ride to our destination is short, but I plan on getting back on the road before too long. I only stopped here to check on the progress and to see if maybe she has any memory of the place before it changes for good. The apartment complex has been completely vacated and is being gutted. Two of the tenants won’t be returning, and the others are content on living with friends or family members until their apartments are ready to live in once again.
“What is this place?” Vera asks as we step away from the bike, leaving our helmets behind.
“Apartment complex the club owns. We’re renovating it. Did the same thing to the one my apartment is in.” I step closer to the place, wanting to reach out and snatch her hand in mine, feel her tiny fingers laced through my rough ones.
“Oh. You did that?” she asks in amazement.
“No. My guys did it. I’m only the co-signer. Come on.” I beckon her inside, keeping a close eye on any reaction she might have to the hallway where we found her. Only…she doesn’t.
“This place needs a lot of work,” she muses, taking in the faded walls littered with graffiti and holes from fights that have taken place.
“Hey, Pres. Didn’t think you’d be stopping by,” Rat says as he places down the sledgehammer in his hands. “Hi,” he says, catching sight of Vera. He looks her over from top to bottom, making me want to kick him in the face. “And who are you?” Rat steps closer, crossing his arms over his puffed-up chest.
“She’s mine,” I snap, realizing only after the words fall out what I said. “I mean, she’s staying with me for a while. Doc is helping her,” I explain, trying to cover up my stupidity.
“Vera.” S
he extends her hand out. “You must be another one of the bikers.” She offers a sweet smile as Rat takes her hand in his, holding it a little too long. As much as I like that she isn’t cowering behind me, I can’t help but want to bust my own brother in the face for touching her hand.
“That I am. What has you hanging around his sorry ass?” Rat chuckles, letting her go. Finally.
“Where the hell is Hank?” I snap, interrupting his question before Vera has a chance to answer.
Rat gives a shrug. “Not sure. He said something about heading to the hardware store to grab something, but that was about two hours ago. Seems a little off these days.”
I nod, trying to hide my annoyance, and swing my gaze to Vera. “I just stopped by to see the progress. Still have a few errands to run before tonight,” I declare. “Ready, Vera?” I don’t wait for her to respond before reaching out to grab her hand—the same one Rat had in his—to pull her along with me back outside to my bike.
“Where to now?” she asks. I only hand her the helmet, swing my leg over my bike, and reach back to situate her behind me. I can’t talk anymore, can’t force myself to chitchat, so I rev the bike to life and speed out of town, wanting a nice long ride with no stops or speed regulations.
Twenty-Six
I find myself relaxing on the back of Premo’s bike, despite the tension rolling off him. Thankfully, the longer the ride, the more it eases. At first, he drove a few miles out of town, but then we ended up right back where we started. All the twists and turns were filled with trees, leaves returning to the trees bright with green. Each time we came to an opening in the foliage, there were pastures of cows and sometimes horses, their new babies clinging to their sides. For the first time since I came out of my self-induced haze, I don’t find myself panicking at the sight or thought of new life.