by Erin Trejo
“I wasn’t gonna jump him,” I say never taking my eyes off of her. She slowly pulls her gaze to mine and her breath catches in her throat.
“So, you always pull a gun on someone when you’re in their apartment?” she questions with those big eyes glaring up at me.
“No, not always. Only when I know there is a piece of shit out there tryin’ to get close to you,” I inform her. Her eyes narrow, but she knows who I’m talking about.
“What is he talking about? Who is trying to get close to you Whit? What in the fuck is going on?” Jackson roars.
“Yeah Whit. Why don’t you tell your friend who it is?”
Her eyes burn holes into me. Those daggers she’s sending my way are dangerous.
“I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” she says turning back to Jackson. His eyes roam her body much like mine just did. I want to rip his heart out of his chest.
“You know exactly who I’m talkin’ about.”
I step toward her and her body becomes aware of mine. The slight shiver that I see go over her and the way she crosses her arms over her chest to hide those perky tits; begging to be sucked are a pure give away. Reaching up I let my finger trail a line from her collarbone to her neck. She visibly shudders when I hook my hand around her nape and pull her toward me. Whit stumbles and lands in my arms. She’s just where I want her.
“Put some clothes on darlin’. It’s gonna be a long night.” Whitley drags her eyes to mine with a pissed off glint dancing in them.
“You can’t make me do shit Mason,” she snaps. I chuckle.
“I can and I will. Go get your fuckin’ clothes on before I fuck you over the couch while your little friend watches,” I growl. I release the hold I have on her before she turns and hurries into her room. When I look back over to Jackson, the poor bastard is standing there with his mouth hanging open.
“You got a beer?” I ask. He nods but doesn’t look at me. I chuckle and head into the kitchen. I open the fridge and pull three beers out. When I turn around he’s standing right there behind me.
“How the hell did you get her to listen to you? She doesn’t do a damn thing she’s told. Ever.”
The confused look on his face is almost amusing. Shrugging, I pass him a beer before I head back into the living room. Once I’ve dropped onto the couch Jackson walks out and sits on the chair opposite me.
“Is she in trouble?” he asks softly. I can see the look in his eyes. He’s worried about her.
“Honestly, I don’t know yet. I need to know how she knows this fucker first,” I admit to him.
“Who?” he asks.
Before I even have a chance to respond my little hellfire comes out dressed in tiny assed shorts and a t-shirt and says, “Alvaro Diaz.”
“That’d be the one,” I say with a smirk. Whit sits on the end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. She takes a deep breath and looks up at me with sad eyes.
“A long time ago my dad was into a lot of drugs. He was a dealer. He brought a lot of lowlifes around our house. It wasn’t any surprise and it sure as hell didn’t surprise me when the Cuban drug lord showed up one day,” she takes a deep breath before speaking again. “My dad had debts, and Alvaro was there to collect. Dad didn’t have it, which wasn’t a surprise either, but what did surprise me was that Alvaro realized dad had me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. No fuckin’ way!” I roar as I tug at my hair. Jackson doesn’t get it; he won’t get it. He isn’t like us. I run my hand down my face before looking up into the most beautiful eyes I’ve even seen in my life. It tears at my heart to see the pain in them. I don’t want her to finish, but I know she has to. She needs to let it out. She’s held onto this for so fucking long that it’s tearing her apart.
“I’d just turned fifteen. Dad, well, he traded me for his debt.”
The words barely leave her mouth when I’m on my feet. My hands are fists at my sides and my muscles are corded tightly. Everything in me wants to go after him full force. I want to watch him bleed. I want him to pay for what he did to her; what he still continues to do to her. Goddamn it! Whitley crawls across the couch, rising to her knees to grab my hands in hers. Fifteen? So fucking helpless at that age.
“I need you to sit with me Mason. I don’t think I can finish if you don’t.”
Her words are like a slap to the goddamn face. They’re a spark to a flame that’s already burning. I take a deep breath and drop back onto the couch next to her. Whit surprises me when she climbs into my lap and wraps her arms around my body. I can feel her trembling. Shit! I don’t know if I can do this. After taking another deep breath, she continues.
“It lasted for a year, maybe a little longer. He let his guys fuck me too. It wasn’t always Alvaro, but somewhere inside this fucked up head of mine I really thought he loved me. I thought that’s why he shared me. I didn’t know any different. I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known,” she screams.
I squeeze her tighter holding her even closer against my body. That’s where she got the fucked up idea of fucking everything in sight. She doesn’t know any better.
“Oh my god Whit, I am so sorry. You never told me any of this,” Jackson says rushing to sit next to us on the couch. He grabs her hand holding it in his as she tries to swallow her tears.
“He came into the bar. What did he say to you?”
“He said that I was always his and that he didn’t want to see me with trash like you,” she says softly with her voice hitching.
I sigh and lean into her. Pressing my nose into her neck, I simply inhale her. This shit is worse than I thought it was. So much fucking worse. How the hell did she get wrapped up with such a piece of shit? How did he hurt her when she was only a child? There are so many questions racing around in this head of mine that I don’t have any answers to. I hate it. I want to fix it for her, but how?
Chapter 22
Whitley
I let him hold me as tears prickle my eyes. Jackson keeps my hand held in a tight grip, not having a clue what to say. I can’t blame him. Feeling Mason holding me is perfect though. It’s calming.
“Your dad… you said you didn’t know where he was, yeah?” Mason asks as his hands tighten around me.
“I haven’t talked to him since I ran away. Something happened and Alvaro had to run back to Cuba and I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t look my dad in the eye knowing that he had traded me for his debt to that man. I just… I just had to get out of there.”
Jackson’s fingers run over my knuckles in a soothing gesture. I can feel Mason tensing up behind me.
“Armando. What the fuck happened when you were with him?” he asks huskily.
“I can’t talk about that right now Mason. I just can’t do it.”
Panic sets in. The room begins to spin as I let my mind wander to that night. I feel sick to my stomach. I leap out of Mason’s arms and run for the bathroom. I can hear Mason and Jackson talking softly before a hand lands on the back of my neck massaging me gently. I can’t take it. I heave until nothing is left. Mason drops onto the floor behind me and pulls me back against his chest.
“I won’t push you right now. Not after what you just told me. How long ago was this Whit?” he asks softly. He runs his nose up my neck.
“It was eight years ago. I was thirteen when I was first raped by one of my dad’s drugged up friends. My dad was so fucked up he didn’t even notice it happening on the floor in front of him as he lay on the couch. Alvaro made me feel like he cared. I thought he loved me, and I thought I loved him too.”
“No, he’s a fuckin’ pig. A sick fuckin’ excuse for a man. You were a kid, Whit. He was a grown fuckin’ man. I wish I had known you then. I wouldn’t have let that happen to you.”
His words hit me in the chest like a freight train. I curl up in his arms and let him hold me.
“I know that now, but back then I thought it was love. He would buy me things and was nice to me after. When he left I just lost it, I tried
to kill myself. More than once; obviously that never worked,” I giggle a little. Mason tightens his hold on me even more.
“I get that talkin’ about Armando is off limits right now, but I need to know Whit.”
“No, you really don’t. I don’t want you to. You have to work with him Mason. I’m not stupid. You will lose your cool just like you did on me out there. I don’t want you in any trouble because of me,” I tell him. Mason shifts moving so that he can pull my face to his.
“Do you not get it yet? Do you not understand that I want to protect you? Since that first night in the goddamn alley, I’ve wanted to keep you safe. I thought about you; those eyes. I wanted to keep you safe. I still do Whit.” Sobs creep their way up my throat and hiccup from my mouth.
“You can’t save me Mason. As much as I wished you could, but no one can save me. I can’t even save myself.”
“Why won’t you even let me try, Whitley? Let me try,” he begs as the tears fall down my face.
I lean into his chest and I cry. I let the tears that have been hiding for too long just fall where they want to. The pain, humiliation, the regret. I let it all fall down my cheeks.
“You have to let someone in Whitley,” Jackson’s voice comes from behind me.
I don’t pull away from Mason, not even when I feel Jackson’s hands on my back. Because if I am being honest with myself? I know I’m safe in Mason’s arms.
The longer I cry the heavier my chest feels. The thought of taking something to ease the pain is almost unbearable. Mason shifts lifting me in his arms when my exhausted body can longer hold itself up. He walks us into my room and lays me down on my bed. I can hear the rustle of clothing before I feel the bed dip. Mason wraps his arms around me, pulls me into him, and covers us up with my blanket. His warm breath dances over my skin as he talks.
“Why did you cut off all your hair Whit?” We already talked about this. Well, not entirely.
“Things were said about my hair. I wanted that reminder gone. I didn’t know how to make that happen, so I cut it off,” I tell him. Mason sighs and snuggles closer.
“How many times have you tried to kill yourself?” he asks as his voice sounds pained.
“Including the one when you found me? Three.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. “I would take it all from you if I could. I would steal every bad memory from you and make you remember only the good ones.”
As much as I’d love that I know it can’t happen. Mason sounds just as sad as I feel. It hurts me to know that I’m the one causing it.
“One of these days I will be gone Mason. One day none of this will be able to hurt me anymore. I’ve tried to make peace with it, but it’s so damn hard. Everything seems to be coming back full circle and it’s fucking crushing me.”
Admitting that to him was harder than I thought it’d be. Mason doesn’t say a word he just holds me. It’s not until I feel his breath on my skin that I know he fell asleep. I shift in his grasp and roll over so that I can face him. I run my fingers over the stubble on his chin, feeling the softness of his lips, and even up over his eyes, as if committing his face to memory.
“I could get lost in you. I could get lost in everything you are, but what good would that do me? What happens when you’re gone too?”
“Don’t do that to yourself Whit.” Glancing up I see Jackson standing in my doorway.
“It’s just the way it is Jackson. I don’t have anything to give him in return.”
“Maybe he just wants you? Maybe your heart? Did you ever stop to think about that?” he asks softly, trying not wake the sleeping beast.
“He couldn’t possibly have them Jackson. The devil owns them. You know that.”
Chapter 23
Mason
I left Whit sleeping happily the other morning. I’ve sent her a text and called her letting her know that I have a lot of shit going on at the club, but that I’d see her soon.
“No. The answer is fuckin’ no Mason. Where the hell do you even come up with shit like that?” Viking roars.
I suppose bringing this to his attention might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had. She’s a nobody to this club. She’s just someone to me.
“Somethin’ happened between them Viking. I don’t wanna have to fuck him up when I see him,” I tell him truthfully. Viking takes a long pull of his beer before setting it back on the table.
“She ain’t your old lady Mason. She ain't shit to this club. We’ve been workin’ with Armando for years. What the fuck makes you think that I’m gonna fuck our biggest Columbian connection over a piece of ass that you’ve been stickin’ your dick in? This is our club Mason. Do I need to remind you of that?”
I knew it was a risk talking to Viking about this. I knew the way he’d see it, but I had to fucking try anyway.
“I get it Viking. I really do. Fuck! I just want to do what I can to help her,” I admit. Viking blows out a breath and leans back in his chair.
“I hear you Mason. I do. You’re my VP. This club owes you big time for the shit you’ve handled, but she isn’t one of us. It’s your piece of ass on the side, you hear me? Whatever it is she means to you, well you need to bottle that shit up. We can’t let some pussy bring this club to its knees.”
Scratching at the scruff on my jaw, I contemplate my next move. There are very few things I can do right now. I can walk away from her, I can defy my club, or I can walk away from the club altogether. None of those seem like the right choice, and none of them make sense for me to do.
“I get it brother. I’m not droppin’ her, but I will back off Armando. For now,” I tell him. I need to think this over. I need a plan. If shit heads south, I need to be prepared for it.
“For now? No, you drop it forever Mason.”
“Can’t do that, but for now it’s over. I don’t make promises I know I can’t keep, Viking. You know me,” I remind him. His eyes flicker to me before recognition sinks in.
“Goddamn it Mason. I know. I do fuckin’ know you, which is why this shit with her is shockin’ the shit out of me. Does she mean that much to you already?” he asks.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I look him directly in the eye. “She’s startin’ to. There’s somethin’ different there and I want it. I’m not walkin’ away from her. Not until she tells me to anyway.”
“Where does that put you then? When she tells you to walk?”
“Leaves me in the same place I am now brother. You know me Viking. Don’t stand here and act like you don’t. I can handle it.”
Viking nods his head as his eyes fall to the beer bottle in front of him.
“Don’t you let her affect business Mason. VP or not I will vote you the fuck out. I don’t want to; you know I don’t. Without the Columbians pullin’ shit in we’d go under.”
I nod my head knowing that all too well. We may have a good set up here, but most of our money comes from selling the coke Armando supplies us. I know losing him as a supplier will kill this club. I need to think about this. I need to focus on something other than what that bastard may have done to break her, but I can’t.
“I know. I won’t let it interfere.” I’m a fucking liar. I’ve never been the lying type, especially when it comes to the club, but if there is a slip up on Armando’s part, I will kill him. No fucking question asked.
“Get the fuck out of my office before I lose my shit,” Viking says waving me off.
I turn on my heel and leave the office to head straight to the bar. Grabbing a bottle of Jack I drink it straight from the bottle. I need to clear my head. I need to figure this shit out. I need to figure out where I’m at with all of this. Losing Whit isn’t an option any more. She needs me, fuck me I think I need her too.
“Rough night?” Ink asks while passing me a joint. I bring it to my lips, inhale, and then exhale.
“Fuckin’ life brother. My head’s a goddamn mess.”
He just chuckles as I blow out the ring of smoke. I take another hit and
then pass it back to him.
“About that chick?”
“Yeah, she told me some shit the other night. Fucked up shit man. I didn’t know how to even respond to her,” I tell him.
Ink watches me as he smokes for a few before he finally speaks.
“You care about her?”
I nod.
“Fuck the rest then.”
“Can’t just fuck it. Shit could come back on the club, and it’s fuckin’ deep man.”
Ink mumbles under his breath before glancing around before leaning in closer to me. “You need somethin’ I got you. No questions asked Mason.”
“Appreciate that brother, but I can’t drag this club under. I just need to think things over and come up with a plan. Somethin’ that won’t fuck everyone involved,” I tell him.
Ink nods and leans his hips against the bar. “Told you man, you need someone to run ideas with, I’m here. We’re brothers. Remember what it was like when I was with Trixie? You can’t fight that shit.”
Nodding my head, I watch as he turns and walks away. I pull out my cell and dial one of the last people I ever want to talk to, but I know I have to.
“The fuck you want puto?” That voice makes me grin.
“Manuel, come on now. I thought you loved me?” I joke. I look around to make sure no one else is listening.
“Love you? Fuck I’d rather have my goddamn dick fall off and be eaten by a shark than love you motherfucker. What do you want?”
“I have a few ideas I want to run by you. Was wonderin’ when the next time you’ll be in the states might be?”
The line is quiet for a few seconds. Maybe he hung up? I would if I was him. The last time he and I had a run in I knocked out half of his teeth.
“What kind of ideas?”
“The kind that involves big shipments and that half breed bastard you call a brother steppin’ into the spotlight.”
Well that got his attention. I know it did.
“Friday. I’ll meet you at the docks. You know which boats belong to me.”
The line goes dead, but my smile expands. Step one is now in play. Now, to get Whit to agree to tell me what I need to know. Then, I can move forward to step two.