“Pamela,” she exhales. “Don’t.”
Shaking my head, I stand and tug my hand out of her grasp. “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “Nothing does. I know my options and the only saving grace I have is that nobody has ever been between my legs. I know I’m valuable because I have a hymen.”
Without another word, I turn from her and walk away. She lives in a world where she works at the Boys & Girls Club, where she has choices. I don’t. I don’t even have a middle school education.
I haven’t been to school since the fourth grade. I can read and write, only because I love to journal and read romance novels. I’m not a complete idiot, mainly because I yearn for knowledge and constantly look things up.
Choices, options, those things don’t exist for a girl like me. I was raised at the clubhouse, raised around the depravity of the Donkey Punchers MC. I was raised to be used, to know my place and know my worth.
I’m not worthless.
I have worth, that worth just lies between my legs and nowhere else.
“She understands, more than you know,” Pinkie says as soon as I walk into the room where the clubwhores hang out.
There isn’t much here, some chairs, a couch, a television. Then there are two bedrooms off of this room and they each have four twin-size beds. Basically, when they aren’t being used, this is where they sleep and hang. It’s not a bad gig, way better than the women at the Punchers were ever treated.
“Maybe she does, but it doesn’t matter. She seems to think that I have options when I know the truth.”
“Yeah, I get that, too.”
Turning to her, I arch a brow, but I know that she is telling me the truth. I can see the depth of Pinkie and she has been through and seen some serious shit. She’ll probably never tell a soul about any of it either. I wouldn’t either. The more knowledge people have, the more they can use against you.
She watches me, but I can’t read her face. Sometimes I catch her looking at me with this weird mixed-up expression. She’s wearing it now. It doesn’t last for long, she shakes it away, but she’s watching me, studying me, looking at me almost as if she can’t believe I’m real.
Chapter Five
EAGLE
The men are looking at me, their expectations clear. They want me to agree to kill him. They want him gone for his betrayal. I should want that too. Except when I look at him, I don’t see a killer. I still see my brother, the man that I betrayed just as much as he did me. Granted, my reason was a bit different than his, but he was fucking blinded.
“I don’t think he should die,” I announce.
There is nothing but silence. So I continue to speak. “He betrayed us. He shot me. But I’m not without blame in the situation. He thought he had claim to my Old Lady, the circumstances around that don’t matter anymore, but he thought he had a legitimate claim to her. He was pissed and he made the wrong fucking choice.”
“No shit,” Silver grunts. “Goddamn, it was the wrong choice if there ever was one.”
“You want him dead?” I ask.
Silver flicks his gaze to me, then to Dragon. “I don’t. Didn’t want him losing his shit the way he did, but I don’t want him dead. When he was just Jag who went fucking crazy and ran away like a coward, thought I did.”
“Now that he’s standing in front of us, after helping us? After helping her the way he did?” I ask.
“There’s good in him, always has been, but fuck it’s deep, hombre,” Silver grumbles. “Seeing that girl strapped down on the table and him standing next to her, weapon drawn ready to throw down for her… puts a different spin on it.”
Looking around the room, I wait for someone else to speak, but everyone is pretty quiet still.
Then Mountain clears his throat. “What are the options? We can’t let him back in the fold, no matter what. Even if I respect him a little more than I feel like I fucking should.”
“Agreed,” I say, nodding my head.
“How do we know he’s not spying for the Donkey Punchers the way he did for us?” Hawk asks. “Or that she isn’t? That they aren’t in on it together. She’s the princess of the whole fuckin’ club.”
As someone who hasn’t been around much and literally came walking right back in, I’m surprised he even has an opinion on the matter. Then there’s the fact that the Punchers fucked with his own fucking family, and Jaguar was there for that. I’m surprised he didn’t kill him in Cali.
“Take his phone away, keep a tail on him, make him prospect again,” Coyote suggests. “She doesn’t have a phone, came with just the clothes on her back, nothing else.”
I look over at him, my brows raised in surprise. Not only because the idea isn’t half bad but also because he hardly has anything to say when we’re in church. He sticks to himself, sticks to his Old Lady who lives just a few feet away from the clubhouse on the grounds.
“That’s not bad,” Taz says. “Look, we’re all pissed at Jaguar. But it’s been a while and he was telling the truth about everything. Worm even saw what they did to that other girl.”
“What happens when he loses his shit again?” Wolfe mutters. “What happens when he doesn’t get his way and loses his fucking mind?”
There are rumbles and grumbles from the men as they shift in their seats. Turning to Dragon, I jerk my chin in his direction. I want to know his opinion. I didn’t hate Coyote’s suggestion. Having the blood of my brother on my hands, deserved or not, isn’t something I really want to carry with me.
“There’s no clear answer,” Dragon begins. “I wasn’t going to weigh in at all. I figured you could come up with a plan together, something you could all agree on. Seems we’re all conflicted.”
There’s a knock on the door, and our heads all swing around to look at the closed door. Gator walks over and opens it, just enough to stick his head out. I hear him murmur something, but then he grunts and steps to the side.
Della is standing in the doorway, Santiago in her arms. He doesn’t leave her side and I have to admit, I love that. Just another reason why I’m in love with my nena. But love her or not, she can’t be here.
Jerking, I unstick my feet from the floor and stomp over to her. “There an emergency?” I demand.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide as she tilts her head back and looks into my eyes. “I know you’re talking about Jaguar’s fate. I feel like I should be able to weigh in,” she murmurs.
“No,” I grunt. “Club business. What happens in this room is not for you to know.”
“Let her in,” Dragon calls out.
Della’s lips curve up into a sexy grin and I decide I’m going to fuck that grin off her face, gonna make her scream my name later, punish her in the best way for this. Stepping to the side, I dip my chin and allow her to pass.
“You have something you want to say about Jag?” Dragon asks.
“I do,” she says. She clears her throat, then she begins to speak. “I was angry with him. Hated him for what he did, but the thing is? I allowed a lot of it. I didn’t stand up for myself, didn’t fight hard enough. Didn’t tell him no. Then I ran, then I married Santiago behind his back. All the while, right or wrong, he thought I was going to be his.”
“Sounds like you’re makin’ excuses for him,” Mountain points out.
Shaking her head, she licks her lips. “I’m not. He was wrong, without a doubt. I’m just not sure he was so wrong that he deserves to die.”
“Sounds like we have a new little bitch,” Coyote chuckles.
“What?” Della asks, her brows snapping together in confusion.
Chuckling, I slide my hand around her hip and squeeze. She shifts her head and looks up to me, her face still clouded in complete and total confusion.
“Coyote suggested we take his phone, keep someone on him at all times, and drop him to prospect status again until we can decide if we can ever trust him again.”
Della’s eyes light up immediately. This is the clear winning scenario for her. “I don’t hate that,�
�� she whispers. “Pamela wouldn’t either.”
“That’s what this is?” I grunt. “You want to give him a slice of happiness since you feel guilty?”
Della shrugs a shoulder. “You should see the way he looks at her.”
“Yeah?”
She smiles. “It’s the same way you have always looked at me.”
My torso jerks and I close my eyes. “Go on now, nena. You said your piece.”
Dipping my chin, I touch my lips to her forehead and she lets out a sigh before she quietly takes a step back, then leaves the room.
Turning to the men, I chuckle. “Leave it to Della to make us all change our minds,” I state.
“Guess the fuck’s staying… for a while,” Mountain calls out.
We have a formal vote and decide that once we lay out some ground rules, Jaguar will live—for now.
PAMELA
I watch in complete horror as Della knocks on the door of the room where they’re clearly holding church, then I gasp as she’s actually let inside of the room. At home, a woman would be brought down for doing what she did, and she would never be allowed inside of the room.
“You okay?” Pinkie asks, concern clearly laced in her voice.
Turning to her, I’m sure my eyes are wide and my face is flushed. “They let her inside,” I whisper. “Is she going to be okay?”
Pinkie’s gaze flicks behind me, then to me, and she tilts her head to the side. “She’ll be fine. This whole thing involves her, she probably just wants to add her two cents,” she says, shrugging a shoulder as she wipes down the bar.
Looking down at the scratched-up bar top, I wonder what kind of club this really is. At first, I thought it would be a place full of really good guys. They’re good, but they’re not, if that makes sense.
They are on the edge, I can see the anger, the violence that swirls just beneath their surfaces. That makes me think that they’re more like the Donkey Punchers than I realized. But then they let a woman into their space, let her have a voice, and now I’m confused all over again.
“This ain’t like the Punchers, honey,” Pinkie says, her voice too soft, as if she knows exactly who and what the Punchers are. Nobody really knows them though, they think they do, but unless you’ve lived a life with them, you don’t really know shit.
She’s speaking to me as if I’m some kind of wounded animal and she has to tread lightly. Maybe I am and she does. But I don’t really like it.
Not from her.
“Yeah,” I breathe, deciding that I want this conversation to be done.
“Pamela,” she calls. Lifting my head, I look up at her when she doesn’t say anything else right away. “They ain’t like them. Trust me. I’ve been around bad men, and these guys aren’t clean in the eyes of the law. But in our world, they’re good men.”
“What happens to me when this is done and I’m eighteen?” I ask, knowing that eighteen is coming in just ten days.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I can’t answer that. I know Dragon well enough to know that he’ll give you choices. He won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Nobody around here would let him anyway.”
Nodding my head, I don’t tell her what I’m thinking. There’s no reason to. I don’t tell her that I doubt he’ll just take care of me, just let me go, just let me do whatever the fuck I want to do. He owns me, there is no freedom for me. My dad finds out where I am, he finds out they have me, and it’s war.
So, no, I don’t have any choices. But there’s no sense in telling any of these people that. Esther has already made it clear she thinks I have those, and now so does Pinkie. But I know… I know the truth.
A few moments later, I hear Pinkie’s sharp intake of breath and I spin around to see what has her all surprised. It’s Jaguar. He’s being led toward that room once again. He turns his head, his gaze finding mine immediately.
His eyes dance, their depths still deeper than any pool or lake I’ve ever seen. His lips curve up into a smirk and he jerks his chin at me before pressing his lips together in a kiss. My heart rate spikes. It speeds just at the gesture, at the thought of having his lips on me.
Lifting my hand, I stupidly wiggle my fingers in his direction and give him a small smile of my own. Then I inwardly roll my eyes at myself because I’m a fucking idiot. I’m proving to be the teenage girl that I am and I hate it.
“They won’t kill him,” a voice whispers from next to me. Turning my head, I’m surprised to see that it’s Della. I didn’t even hear her approach and there she is, with Santiago in her arms.
“They won’t?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, they love him too much. They understand him. They realize what he did, he was blinded and not himself. He’ll be punished, but they won’t kill him.”
“Punished?” I ask.
I only know of one kind of punishment and in the Donkey Punchers, punishment always led to death no matter who was being punished, be it man, woman, or child. I don’t understand punishment without death, to me it doesn’t exist.
“He’ll probably get his ass kicked,” Della says with a sigh.
“Probably?” Pinkie snorts.
Della laughs softly. “Okay, he’ll get his ass kicked. But then, he’ll live and he’ll have an opportunity to prove himself again, to earn his place again with his family.”
Licking my lips, I look back to that room. The door is still closed, the men all inside and I think about what she’s said. He’ll have an opportunity to prove himself, to earn his place with his family.
It’s beautiful.
Chapter Six
JAGUAR
The kick to my face probably knocked a few teeth loose. The ones to my ribs definitely cracked and probably broke a few of them. My body is bruised, my face swollen beyond recognition, but I’m alive.
I’m breathing, which is a hell of a lot more than I thought I would be. They’ve decided to let me live... for now. I don’t know how long I’ll be breathing, but each day is another day I have to prove myself.
I’ll fix this. I’ll make them trust me again. They have to. If they don’t, then I’m dead, but not only that, I’ll have proven my father right. I’m worthless. I can’t do that, I can’t truly prove him right.
I need to fix this.
I need to prove that I’m worth something and if I can, then maybe I can help Pammy, too. Maybe I can save her, maybe I can be good to her, for her, unlike I was with Della. Maybe I can get right with the fucking world.
The men pick me up and carry me to my new room, the holding cell. I have a feeling that I’ll be living here for a good long while. I also have a feeling that all of my shit has been burned or tossed out—probably burned, that’s what the fuck I would do with someone’s shit. Someone who betrayed my entire club.
My body slams against the floor, a giant heap of bones, blood, skin, and bruises. I let out a low moan, but nothing else. The room is bathed in silence and I close my eyes. Internally, I tell myself not to fall asleep, worried that the number of blows to my head could have given me a concussion, but I can’t keep my eyelids open. They slowly close and the world around me goes peacefully dark.
I hear a soft voice next to me, then my body is moved and I let out a moan of pain, it slides throughout my entire being, until I’m placed on something soft. Must be the bed. I let out a sigh, feeling as if I’ve run a marathon.
The soft voice comes to me as soon as my pain eases. A hand slides down my back as her voice continues to speak. I can’t understand her words, my brain unable to concentrate, but her soothing touch and her soft voice lulls me back to a blissful peace.
“He hasn’t even moved,” that voice speaks again.
I can’t open my eyes. I can’t call out to her or even try to move my arm. I’m frozen and again, I drift off. I don’t know how long I’m out. It could be days, it could be hours or even minutes, but when I try to open my eyes, the room is bathed in darkness.
My eyes won’t open very wide, they’re swolle
n shut, but I can see a little around me. I can tell I’m in the same holding room that I’ve been staying in. There is moonlight pouring in from the barred window, but that’s about all I can tell.
“Are you awake?” that soft voice asks, speaking again.
I feel the bed dip as someone sits next to me, then I feel a gentle graze of a hand down my bare back. I don’t know when I lost my shirt, but it’s probably a good idea, I have a feeling that it was covered in blood.
“It’s Pamela,” she breathes and I let out an exhale. At least I know that she’s safe, for now. “You’re going to be okay. The doctor came and checked you out when you didn’t wake up for two days straight. He said you’re banged up, but everything looked okay for now.”
“How many days?” I ask, taking a breath between each word.
Just those three words are downright exhausting. I let out a sigh and close my eyes, attempting to open them also takes far too much energy.
“Just rest, Dylan. You need rest.”
I hear her voice soft in the background, but again, I can’t make out her words. She shouldn’t be here with me. She shouldn’t be taking care of me. I don’t deserve any of this, maybe one day I can earn a life where she’s mine, but right now I don’t deserve a fucking thing.
The world around me goes dark again and I’m filled with aching sadness as everything from physical to mental pain consumes me.
Rolling onto my back with a groan, I notice that it’s a little easier to open my eyes, and it’s also bright as fuck. With a sharp intake of breath, I regret that breath and also opening my eyes. It’s so bright it hurts.
“You’re awake,” Pamela breathes.
I feel her body sink down on the mattress next to me, and I tip my chin down to look at her. She’s fucking beautiful, a vision, and I’m sure I look exactly how I feel—like shit. Reaching out, I place my hand on her thigh, squeezing it as tightly as I can, though it’s not very tight at all, my fingers have zero strength to grip.
UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) Page 6