Jailbait (Southern Rebels MC Book 1)

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Jailbait (Southern Rebels MC Book 1) Page 13

by Kristin Coley


  “Chief of Police,” Creed answered. “Noah’s uncle.”

  “Oh,” I said faintly, nodding. “So the Chief of Police has it out for you and he just happens to be Noah’s uncle. And Noah just happens to help the club out?” I couldn’t stop some of the doubt I felt from creeping into my question and Johnny’s eyebrow twitched.

  “He’s loyal,” they answered in unison, ending any further questions I might have had.

  “We have time,” Johnny commented, flicking his ashes into an overflowing ashtray. “Jailbait is safe here for now.” He stared at me. “The Chief still has some respect for what the club has done for Friendly.”

  “I won’t let her be put at risk,” Creed warned, tossing his still lit cigarette onto the pile of butts.

  “Noted,” Johnny replied curtly, his gaze still locked on me. My head bowed under the weight of his stare and finally his attention shifted. “Hide the gun,” Johnny ordered, his tone growing contemplative as he stated, “We might have a use for it later.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Creed nod his agreement. He glanced down at his phone and stood up.

  “They’re on their way back with the dogs,” he informed us. “I need to get over there and prepare the kennels.” He eyed me, indecision on his face as he considered what to do with me. “You want to come?”

  I shook my head, startling him. “No, I think I’ll stay here.” He appeared reluctant and I forced a bright smile. “I’ll be fine. Won’t I, Johnny?” His mouth twisted, but he nodded brusquely. “See? It’s fine.”

  “Call me if you need me,” Creed responded, running his hand along the back of my chair as he went around. Johnny rolled his eyes at the warning glance Creed gave him and tossed back the rest of his beer before lighting another cigarette. He waited until Creed had left before bothering to look at me.

  “What do you want, little girl?” He drawled, head dipping as he blew smoke in my face. “Think you can win me over with your pussy too?”

  I couldn’t stop my lip from curling as I said, “Eww,” and a soft snort escaped him. “That’s not why I’m here,” I informed him tartly.

  “I’m noticing,” he replied idly. “You’re not the usual.” He spun his finger around in a circle, indicating the club and the women in it. “Type,” he specified.

  I lifted the jacket back onto the table and he sighed, but it didn’t stop my next words. “I know nothing about him. I don’t even have a picture. Just a vague memory of a laughing man spinning me around. You’re my last chance to know him.”

  He sucked on his lower lip as he leaned forward. “There’s a reason I’m not a Flying Eagle and the guys in here aren’t wearing that same jacket.” He sniffed, nose twitching as he tapped the table. “Maybe you don’t want to know about your daddy.” His face came within a hairsbreadth of mine as he whispered, “You dance with the devil and you will get burned.”

  “Jailbait,” a voice called and Johnny smiled mockingly, “Saved once again, little girl.” He sat back in his chair as Clutch stepped up to the table.

  “I could use a hand making dinner,” Clutch requested and I nodded as my need to know more solidified.

  Johnny nodded at the jacket in my arms. “Keep that out of my sight or a cigarette burn will be the least of what happens to it.”

  I didn’t bother to respond as I followed Clutch toward the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s gaze every step of the way. “Why does he hate me?” I cried when we reached the privacy of the kitchen. “I haven’t done anything to him.”

  Clutch eyed me in disbelief. “You challenged him. In front of half the club no less. You’re lucky to still be alive.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said sullenly, plopping down on a wobbly bar stool as Clutch went to the sink and started washing his hands. “Creed said Johnny wouldn’t let anything happen to me, but he’s not going out of his way to help me either.” I gazed at Clutch speculatively as he set a skillet on the stove. “Apparently, I remind Johnny of someone,” I fished, wondering if he’d take the bait.

  Clutch glanced over his shoulder at me as he tugged an apron on over his heavily muscled chest. “You do.” He left it at that as he started to crack some eggs into a bowl and I gritted my teeth.

  “Is it some big secret?” I finally asked and he slowed whisking the eggs.

  “Not a secret,” he replied after a minute. “But I doubt Johnny would want us talking about it.” He dug around in the fridge as he asked, “What do you want in your omelet?”

  “Whatever you’re having,” I replied with a shrug, my fingers picking at the hole Johnny had burned into the jacket. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, you and Ronnie?”

  He cast a sharp glance at me. “Not talking about that either.”

  “Then what can we talk about?” I gripped and he nodded to the jacket in my hands.

  “Your mom,” he suggested and I swallowed hard. “It’s got to be hard, losing her like that.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I answered automatically, staring down at the counter in front of me.

  “You’re never gonna want to talk about it,” he told me. “But you should.” He didn’t say anything more and as the silence lingered I could feel the words bubbling to the surface.

  “She didn’t want to be buried.”

  Clutch made an indecipherable hum, telling me he was listening without actually interrupting.

  “She hated the idea of being put in the cold earth and covered with dirt. She always said cremation was the better option. Let her burn to dust.” My eyes grew damp. “She always wanted to go to the mountains for vacation but we never had the money.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “She never brought guys home…trying to protect me, I guess. But she thought Grant was a good guy.” I scrubbed my face, my throat closing and threatening to choke me.

  “I never knew my dad,” Clutch mentioned casually, filling the silence I’d left. “Never even knew who he was.” He flipped the omelet using the skillet, distracting me when he caught it flawlessly. “When Mom died, any chance of me ever finding out died with her.”

  “Your mom died,” I repeated, starting to think this was a club of orphans.

  “Yeah, cancer took her a few years back.” He slid the omelet onto a plate and slid it in front of me. “When we knew she wasn’t going to make it, I asked her who he was.” His mouth twisted. “She still wouldn’t tell me.” He glanced over at me. “I know a little about regret and losing the only family you ever had.”

  “You have the club,” I answered softly, cutting the omelet he’d made into little pieces.

  “I do,” he agreed with a nod. “They saved me. Johnny never let me forget I had a home here. Creed,” Clutch paused with a chuckle, “He treated me like a brother.” He waved a spatula at me. “You know I was friends with Cord first?”

  I shook my head and he nodded.

  “I was. I’m a few months older than him and God, we’ve been friends as long as I can remember. After,” He hesitated and I glanced up from my omelet. “When Cord left to join the Navy, Creed stepped into the best friend role.”

  “Sounds like Creed did a lot of that when Cord left,” I observed, watching as Clutch plated his own omelet. “It seems strange that Cord left,” I waved my fork, “That he isn’t a Rebel.”

  “Cord was a Rebel,” Clutch corrected, straddling a bar stool as he shoveled half the omelet into his mouth. “Probably a good idea if you don’t mention him around Johnny either.”

  “He wouldn’t have anything to do with whoever I remind Johnny of, would he?”

  A short laugh escaped Clutch and he shook his fork at me. “That cleverness is going to get you in trouble, Jailbait” he replied and I shrugged, stabbing another piece of omelet.

  “Maybe,” I hummed. “Or maybe it’ll save us all.”

  ***

  The next morning I was in the bathroom, trying not to make any noise as I hid behind the curtain and rubbed in the cr
eam Norah had made for me. I wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that I was hiding, but I’d successfully avoided any run ins with Candy or anyone else who’d witnessed our little showdown the previous morning and I was eager to keep it that way.

  “Girl, I think you need to go to the doctor,” a hushed voice said and I shrank further into my little corner. “He tore you up good.”

  Someone whimpered and I winced in sympathy at the sound of their pain. “I told the fat bastard to use lube,” they replied, hate in their voice. “He didn’t give a shit, he never does. I hate him.”

  “All the girls hate him, but this time he went too far,” the other woman answered. “I really think you should go to the doctor. You can’t even sit down.”

  I cringed, trying not to draw a mental picture of what must have happened, but it was impossible as they continued to talk.

  “The way he likes to pound the asshole makes me think Fat Willy has a secret,” she scathed, her voice breathless with pain. “Maybe he’s imagining Creed under him.”

  My eyes almost popped out of my head as the other woman gasped. “Oh God, Gloria, you didn’t say that to him did you?”

  “Hell no, it was bad enough having him jam that hairy dick of his up my ass without a how do you do. I can only imagine what he’d do if I questioned his manhood,” she mocked, moaning slightly.

  “A doctor, Gloria,” the other woman repeated.

  “I can’t afford a doctor and it’s not like I’m about to go ask Johnny for the money. He’d want to know why.”

  “Maybe he should know why,” the other woman said sharply.

  “Are you going to be the one to tell him?” Gloria asked and when silence met her question, she sighed. “Exactly. None of the girls want to say anything. Johnny doesn’t have an old lady. There’s no one to tell when one of the guys is being a dip shit or too rough.”

  “I will,” I announced, wincing when I heard the words come out of my mouth. I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut and my nose in my own business, but I was suddenly angry on their behalf. I shuffled out from behind the curtain and met their stunned faces. “I’ll tell him for you.”

  “Jailbait will go tell Johnny about our problems,” Gloria laughed, the sound cutting off with a gasp as she stepped forward. “Little girl –”

  “You know I’m really getting tired of being called that,” I interrupted. “I might be young, and maybe I’m naïve, some might even say dumb, but I’m not scared of anyone. Especially not Johnny or some fat bastard named Fat Willy.”

  They exchanged surprised glances and the other woman said, “She did threaten to pop Candy’s tits.”

  “She did, and you know, I think she would go tell Johnny,” Gloria mused. “What I want to know is why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you stand up for us? We’re not your problem. You’re not an old lady and you don’t owe us a damn thing.”

  “Maybe not, but you don’t deserve to have your ass rammed without asking either,” I answered, swallowing uncomfortably. “If one of the club guys is hurting you, hell if any guy is hurting you, then they need to be held accountable. And if Johnny won’t do it, then I will.” My bravado faltered for a second as I considered facing down a guy named Fat Willy, but as hope flickered over Gloria’s face I bolstered my courage. They needed a champion and really I had nothing to lose.

  “I think you’re crazy, Jailbait, brave as fuck, but crazy.”

  “I’m good with that,” I replied, handing Norah’s cream to Gloria. “Not really sure how much this will help, but it’s good on bruises,” I offered and she accepted it with a nod of thanks. “I’m going to go talk to him,” I added, straightening my shoulders for a little extra courage when they gave me concerned stares.

  I marched out of the bathroom and down the hall to the bar before turning around and heading straight for Creed’s room. I knocked on his door, chewing on my thumb when he didn’t answer. I tested the knob, surprised when it turned in my hand. I poked my head inside, squinting through half closed eyes in case he happened to be shirtless or naked, but opened them when I didn’t see him. I slipped inside, making my way to the bathroom, knocking again in case he’d been in the shower or something.

  The door creaked open under the force of my knock, revealing an empty room. My gaze caught on the sink and the little cup sitting there with a green and pink toothbrush sticking out of it. My lips curled up at the realization that he hadn’t tossed my toothbrush and I wondered if he expected me to use it again.

  I pursed my lips, scanning the room, but there was no sign of Creed. I headed back to the hall, jumping when I almost ran into a scrawny guy hovering outside Creed’s door.

  “Oh!”

  “He’s not here,” the scrawny guy said, twitching under my gaze. “He left early this morning with Clutch. Club business.”

  “Oh, okay,” I answered, my heart still racing at the unexpectedness of the guy’s arrival. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied automatically, his gaze avoiding my own. “If you need anything, I’m supposed to get it for you. You just need to ask.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I said, unable to step out of the room since he was blocking my exit. “Um, can I get by you?” I gestured to the hall and he stared at me for a second before shifting aside. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Weasel.”

  “I’m Sloan,” I introduced and he nodded rapidly.

  “Jailbait. I know who you are.”

  “Yep, Jailbait. That’s my name,” I stated ruefully. “I guess I’ll go talk to Johnny then.”

  “He’s in a meeting,” Weasel informed me helpfully. “I wouldn’t interrupt him.”

  “Good to know.” I looked at the skinny guy again, thinking. “You know a lot, don’t you?”

  “It’s my job to know things. Little things, big things. It’s why they call me Weasel,” he explained.

  “You know where I can find a guy named Fat Willy?”

  “Behind the bar,” Weasel said instantly. “He’s the bartender.” He eyed me cautiously. “You don’t want to talk to him. I don’t think Creed would like that.”

  I smiled grimly, “I’m sure he wouldn’t. I don’t want to talk to him, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

  “Okay,” Weasel squeaked, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “I should go,” he pointed down the hallway, his hand going to his pocket and I nodded before going in the opposite direction.

  I hadn’t forgotten Gloria’s pained expression and I was determined to give Fat Willy a piece of my mind for being an inconsiderate jerk.

  The guy standing behind the bar was fat, so fat I idly wondered where the hell his dick was that caused so much trouble? Hidden somewhere under one of those rolls, I concluded, as I cleared my throat. He glanced at me and I smiled. “Fat Willy?”

  “Yeah,” he sneered, his gaze crawling over me as he licked his lips.

  “You need to quit sticking your dick in unlubed assholes,” I told him bluntly. “You’re hurting the girls.”

  He stared at me for a second before throwing back his head and laughing. “One of them bitches complained to you?” He scoffed, leaning on the bar. “And you think you can come tell me what to do? The littlest bitch of them all,” he laughed, his belly shaking grotesquely. “Maybe you want to take their place,” he stated, the expression on his face changing as he contemplated me. I shifted, not liking the look since it reminded me forcibly of how Grant had looked the day he’d come after me. He came around the bar and I scrambled backwards, suddenly regretting my decision to talk to him instead of Johnny. “Give you a good poke and show you what a real man feels like.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m your type,” I replied, waving my hand airily as I prepared to really piss him off. “Since you like the ass so much, it seems like you might be craving a little dick of your own,”

  It took a second but I knew when he’d caught my meaning because he came at me with a roar. I braced myself for the
blow coming my way since I’d managed to back myself into a wall and had nowhere to run. It never came though, even when I heard his fist meet flesh, but it was a distinct click that had me opening my eyes. Johnny stood there, a revolver resting against Fat Willy’s temple, the click the sound of the gun being cocked.

  “Be grateful it was me instead of Creed,” he said icily, a terrifying smile creeping across his face. “Otherwise, you’d already have a bullet in your brain.”

  “I didn’t mean anything, Johnny. She said some shit,” Fat Willy pointed a shaking hand at me, clearly trying to shift the blame but he didn’t seem to comprehend that Johnny didn’t care. Deacon stood in front of me and I realized it was his hand that had stopped Fat Willy’s fist from slamming into my face.

  “We. Don’t. Hit. Women.” Johnny enunciated. “We don’t hit children. Jailbait fits both categories.” My eye twitched at that little pronouncement, but I wasn’t in any position to argue since he’d just saved my ass. “I don’t care if she said you like dick. I don’t care if she poked your belly and expected you to giggle like the fucking Pillsbury dough boy,” he announced, the words lashing sharper than a whip. “We don’t hit women.”

  “Yeah, Johnny. Yeah. Won’t happen again,” Fat Willy hurried to say, but the look he shot me promised retribution.

  “I don’t like the look in your eyes,” Deacon snarled, bending Fat Willy’s wrist backwards. “It don’t match the words coming out of your mouth.”

  Johnny nudged him with the gun. “Let’s have a chat.” Deacon shoved him away with a disgusted sneer, making sure he stayed between in front of me as Fat Willy glared at me impotently.

  “You should call Creed,” Deacon muttered under his breath as he scanned me to make sure I was alright. “So he doesn’t lose his shit any more than he already has.”

  “You called him?” I asked, my voice going up at the end and coming out as a squeak. He shook his head.

  “No, he called us,” Deacon revealed, eyeing me. “What the hell made you decide to go toe to toe with Fat Willy?”

  “He hurt Gloria and some of the other girls,” I answered with a shrug, digging my phone out of my pocket as it started to ring. “No Bueno, you know?”

 

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