by Voss, Deja
“What are you doing here?” he asks again, his hands digging into my hips so hard I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise. I don’t care. I like this side of him, this quiet rage he’s taking my body with. Some people would call it hate fucking, to me, it’s something I crave.
“I don’t know, Hank. I don’t know anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I cry as he thrusts in and out me, sawing back and forth against my g-spot as my whole body trembles. “I just needed to get away. I like it here.”
“You’re absolutely insane,” he says, raking his fingers through my hair, pulling it hard as he stares into my eyes. “Why do you trust me?”
“I never said I did,” I cry out, my back arching into the wall. My toes curl as I shatter, eyes back in my head, my pussy clenching tight around him.
“Fuck,” he growls, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, marking me with his lust, his body rigid as he pins me against the wall one last time.
He leaves me there, just grabs his jeans and boxers and wanders off into the bathroom without another another word. I watch the muscles in his legs flex and bite my lip, admiring that perfectly sculpted ass of his. I know I should probably feel used. Maybe I should feel bad about myself, or guilty for cheating on my dead fiancé. Instead, I feel empowered.
This man is an enigma, but I’m drawn to him in some strange way. I feel like I solved the first riddle of many to follow when it comes to figuring this man out. I grab a t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts out of my suitcase and begin getting dressed. I pour myself a shot of vodka from the bottle on the nightstand and sit on the bed, sipping it, just watching the bathroom door, wondering what’s going to happen when it swings open.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says when he returns.
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to date,” I giggle, trying to lighten the situation. I know that’s not even a thought in his mind. I know exactly what he means.
“I mean, you stay here in this room until we figure out what we’re going to do with you.”
“That’s not going to happen. I have fifty-seven dollars to my name that’s going towards hair dye, a cup of coffee and a pancake, and an escape plan. Check out is at 11 a.m. I was really banking on tonight being a good night at the bar. I was going to move into my new apartment Monday, but I needed to get rent together.”
“I’ll figure something out. Do I need to send someone down here to sit outside the door tonight?”
“You’re not going to stay?” I ask, patting the bed. “I thought we were going to cuddle.”
He obviously doesn’t find that as amusing as I do. The least I can do is make myself laugh in the middle of this storm. I have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring, but maybe I got through to him. Maybe he’ll help me out. Or maybe he’s just going to let the club handle it.
“I’ll be here until eleven,” I assure him. “That’s the best I can do.”
“Azalea, huh?” he asks, sliding his shoes on. The way he’s looking at me, it’s not disgust. It’s not hate. It’s mildly confusing. He’s still trying to figure me out. “I like that a lot more than Stacy.”
He pulls the door shut behind him and I crack the window blinds with my fingers and watch as he gets on his bike and rides off. I make sure the door is locked and double dead bolted, but for some reason, I’m not scared.
Even if he did send someone here to watch me. Even if they were keeping an eye on me. For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel afraid at all. I feel like I’m right where I belong, no matter who I am. I down my vodka and get underneath the itchy sheets, shut off the lights, and fall right to sleep.
Three Years Ago
Stacy:
“Harold!” I shout, startled, as he pulls open the closet door. “Leave me alone.”
I’m at the perfect height to punch him right in the dick, but as much as I want to, I have no desire whatsoever to touch anything on his body right now. I’m completely disgusted.
“Azzy, have you been in here this whole time?”
“I’ve been in here long enough to know you need to get the fuck out of my house right now.”
I can’t believe this is happening to me.
I was hoping he was drunk or high, or maybe he knew I was in here and it was just some epic prank the guys wanted to pull on me. Instead, he’s staring at me, stone-cold sober, in nothing but a dorky pair of fucking tube socks, completely at a loss for words.
“We need to talk,” he says, reaching out his hand to me. I don’t know how he could be so confident right now. I don’t know why he isn’t appalled.
“Don’t touch me,” I growl. “I can take care of myself. Where is she?”
“Fuck if I know .” He shrugs. I don’t know what it is about Harold that makes him so magnetic to women. It’s not like he’s a conventionally attractive guy; in fact, aside from his tattoos and long dark hair, he doesn’t even really have any features that set him apart from any other everyday biker. That’s not his draw, though.
He’s smart, and he makes people feel good about themselves. When Harold lets you into his world, you feel like you’re in on some kind of inside joke. At least, that’s how he makes me feel. Maybe that’s not what other women see in him. I’m sure these club sluts just like him because they’re trying to hurt me. They know who I am, who my father is, the kind of power I have. Destroying me seems to be their daily mission. I try to be strong, my dad raised me to be a soldier, but this indiscretion is crossing a serious line.
“Do you trust me?” he asks. The look on his face is like he already knows the answer, and that answer, in his mind, is yes.
“I just watched through the crack in the door while you fucked Mable in our bed. Why in the world do you think I would trust you right now?”
“Azzy,” he says softly, stroking my hair out of my face. I cringe at his touch. “I need to tell you something.”
He pulls a felt box out of the nightstand drawer.
“Have you lost your fucking mind? I’m not playing this side bitch game. You can’t just buy me with jewelry.”
He opens the box and shows the ring to me. It’s pretty, it’s simple. A single princess cut diamond high on a silver setting. “I’m not trying to buy you. I want to marry you, I want to be a good man to you, but there’s some things you have to know about me.” He hands me the box and looks me in the eye.
“Can you put some fucking clothes on?” I snap the box shut and toss it on the bed. “I can’t even start to take you seriously right now.”
I flop down on the bed and clutch my head in my hands.
“Azalea, I’m taking a huge risk here telling you this, but I know you’ll understand. I know you love me, even if you’re mad at me right now. How long have you known me?”
I’m only twenty-three years old, but Harold patched into the club probably when I was thirteen. I never gave him much thought; he was just kind of a guy that hung out with my brother, but the older I got, the more he grew on me.
By the time I was seventeen, we were sneaking around. By the time I was eighteen, I was his old lady.
Nobody in the club thought twice about it. He was twenty-four at the time, sergeant at arms, loyal to the club, took care of his responsibilities without batting an eye, and loved the hell out of me. In my dad’s eyes, it was a dream come true, knowing his baby girl was taken care of.
“Ten years, I guess,” I say.
“We’ve been through a lot of shit, you and I,” he says, grabbing a briefcase from the very closet I was just hiding in. He opens it up, and inside is a laptop I’ve never seen before. “I know I’m putting myself in a really bad spot telling you this, but I also know that you love me. I know that we’re going to get through this.”
“What is all this?” I ask.
“If I’m going to marry you, I need to be completely honest with you. My name isn’t Harold. It’s Mark. I’m not twenty-eight; I’m actually thirty-four.”
“Let me guess, you’re not actually from Florida, either.�
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“Where I’m from is irrelevant. Hell, all this is irrelevant. The only thing you need to know is that I didn’t sleep with Mable to hurt you. I did it to save you.” He cracks open his laptop and starts showing me pictures of dead bodies, men that I’ve seen around the club before, men that I know did business with my father and the Debasers.
“Why do you have that? That’s fucking sick.”
“It’s for work,” he says.
I slap my hand over my mouth. I don’t know if I want to scream or cry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I reach for the nightstand drawer and he grabs me by the shoulders.
“You’re going to shoot me?”
“What do you want from me?” I shriek. This is bad. This is really bad. This man that I’ve shared my heart with, my bed with, he’s been playing us this whole time.
“I want to be with you, Azalea. I want to marry you. I want to get you out of this shit and show you a better life. This isn’t for you. You don’t deserve to be tangled up in this.” He hugs me tight to his body and I cry into his chest. My world just got turned upside down.
I love this patch that I grew up under. I love my father and my brothers. I love these men. They are my family. But I love Harold, too… Mark… or whoever he is. And the thought of being able to live a normal life, not having to live in fear anymore, having a house and a dog and babies who can grow up to be whoever they want to be… I’m not thinking straight.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask.
“If you marry me, I’ll make sure you’re safe. This isn’t about you.”
“How long?”
“Forever, obviously,” he says. “My love for you is the only real thing about any of this. I want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“I meant until shit hits the fan.”
“I can’t say. I don’t even know just yet. Could be a month, could be five years. Still a lot of pieces that need put together.”
“Why are you trying to hurt my family?” I sob.
“I’m not. Please trust me. This goes so far beyond your family. You people are just a drop in the ocean of petty crime. We’re going after the big sharks. We just need a little bait.”
I pull myself away from his grip and throw myself face down on the bed, bawling my eyes out. My life right now might be imperfect, but it’s the only life I know.
“What if I say no?”
“I think you know what will happen, sweetie. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t stick with me. I thought you loved me. I thought you trusted me.”
“I thought I knew you.”
“You do,” he says, stroking my face. “I will tell you everything. I promise. Every single thing. We’re in this together.”
Reality hits me over my head. Maybe I am twenty-three, but know jack shit. I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up. I like my job at the local daycare center, but that’s all it is, a job. I don’t know if I’m old enough to decide who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I do know that pushing him away is a dumb mistake, no matter what my ultimate choice is. The only way I can protect my family is by keeping an eye on him. The only way I can protect him is by playing along with his game.
I can’t even be upset about the situation that just played out before my eyes while I was tucked away in the closet. I have bigger worries now. Life just got really heavy.
“I hope it fits,” he says, sliding me the ring box.
“Can I be alone for a little bit?” I ask.
“Anything you need,” he says, stroking my hair. “I get it. This is kind of a bombshell. It’s going to be ok. I love you.”
He kisses my cheek and grabs his briefcase.
“Hey, Az?” he calls from the doorway. “Don’t even think about going anywhere.” He nods to the open window and slams the door behind him. My skin crawls. I’m fucked.
Chapter 12
Goob:
The long cold ride home didn’t do anything to clear my mind. All I could think about was being inside her perfect body. I don’t know what it is about her, Stacy, Azalea, whoever she is, but as much as I want to hate her, as much as I think there’s a lot more to her story than she’s willing to give, I can’t help but want to believe everything she says. Part of me wants to protect her, and that other part of me, that evil part that I’ve grown up with, it’s telling me that I need to destroy her.
I drop by the clubhouse, but the only people still hanging out are Heat, our chaplain, fifty-five going on twenty, and a couple dirty birdies making out in a booth in the corner, their clothes scattered in a heap on the floor. Watching that is more repulsive to me than watching Buzzy’s brain leak out all over the bar floor earlier tonight. These kinds of chicks, they’re evil to me. They remind me too much of my mother.
“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty?” I ask him.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, stroking his beard, puffing on his cigar, and watching the two with intrigue as they giggle.
“Where is everybody?”
“We waited around for you, but Esther said you were good. Something about the bartender?”
“Yeah.”
“That was real smart, Goob. I feel like your brother is a little too trusting sometimes. Big heart, bad businessman. He’ll hire anything with tits and tears. What’d you find out?”
“Nothin .” I need to be really careful here. Do I protect her or do I destroy her? Who am I now and who do I want to be? Not just for her safety, but the club’s, too. “Well, other than she plans on skipping town tomorrow. She’s out of cash and needs to move on.”
“We have cash,” he says, shrugging. I’ve thought about that myself. I could easily give her whatever she needs to get her into that apartment she was talking about.
“Yeah well, if she’s planning on skipping town broke, what good is giving her a bunch of money, too? Especially if this is some kind of setup.”
He sighs and takes a long swig from his beer bottle. “What are you gonna do, son?”
I cringe when he calls me that. I know he calls all us young bucks son, but ever since the day I left this mountain to do the rehab thing and see the country, I considered myself a voluntary orphan. I have no binds to anyone who parented me.
“We can’t kidnap her, can we?” I ask. I mean, it seems like a fairly logical thing to do, but then again, I was raised by people who kidnap their own children.
He chuckles that deep laugh of his until he coughs. “That’s how I know you’re nothing like your father. He would’ve already had her tied up and stashed in a hole somewhere.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, walking behind the bar and grabbing a bottle of beer. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Maybe she’s alright .” He shrugs. “Maybe just offer her a place to stay until this all blows over. Keep an eye on her. Who knows, maybe it’s the universe’s way of bringing you two together.”
I roll my eyes at him. Aside from the universe part, he does have a point. I might not have to kidnap her. Maybe I can talk her into coming with me willingly.
“I never got a look at the broad. Is she hot?”
That’s none of his business. I think the two sluts in the corner just finally noticed me here.
“Goob!” Tara, the brunette with bad skin and small tits shouts from across the room. “Come play with us!”
“Ew,” I say a little louder than necessary.
“Oh, are you still going through your ‘girls are gross’ phase?” Heat teases.
“No, I’m just going through my ‘trying not to get syphilis’ phase. Hopefully it’s one I don’t grow out of.”
“Suit yourself, Goob. Just know, one day you’ll be a washed-up old man like me waiting for his boner pills to kick in.”
“Is that what’s going on here?”
He smiles at me and bats his eyes.
I finish my beer in two swallows and steal a cigarette from his pack laying on the bar top. “I’m out of here.”
“Trust me, I don’t want your hand anywhere near me ever.”
He reaches out to hug me and I just back away slowly, wandering off into the night.
My house is on the same property as the clubhouse. It’s nothing special, just a little cabin my dad used to keep his out-of-town whores in. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, efficiency kitchen. We burned most of the furniture when he left, so I’ve been piecing together things here and there as I go. Every time I bring a couch or a chair through that door, it makes my stay here feel that much more permanent. Sometimes that feels good.
Other times, I wonder. I wonder if I missed something out there when I was traveling around trying to get my shit straight. Maybe Azalea is on to something.
Fuck that. She’s not blowing town on a mission of figuring out the meaning of life. She’s blowing town because she’s caught. In a trap, in a lie, I’m not sure.
I toss and turn all night long. I know what needs to be done tomorrow. I need to stop her from leaving, talk her into staying here while we figure out what actually happened last night, while we figure out Olive’s fate. I almost forgot about that poor girl.
I was too busy sleeping with the enemy. I don’t know what it’s going to be like having her here, trying to resist my urges, trying not to let me see her weak.
I don’t let just anyone touch me, but somehow she managed to bypass all my warning signals and turn me into a maniac. My dick throbs in my boxers just thinking about the way she smells, the way her lips taste like strawberries.
That tattoo, though. I need to get the guys together to do a little recon on just how wide the scope of the Debasers is.
It’s going to be a rough couple days. Before I know it, the sun is coming up through the slats in my blinds and I don’t even know if it’s worth it to try and sleep for another hour or just drag myself out of bed and get this day on the road. I bury my face in my pillow and wait for my alarm to go off.