Spinning around, I blink at the sight of Gisele standing in front of me. She lifts her hand, shoving her thumb behind her. “I saw you sitting out here all day watching the warehouse. Figured you just wanted to be alone, but then I saw them leaving and it was Jaguar and Pinkie. So…”
Her words trail off, mainly because she probably has nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn’t be pathetically sad and make me feel shitty, so she has the good sense not to actually verbalize them.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.
She nods her head, looking at her feet, then lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Don’t have much going on, but I just started this new show on Netflix, if you want to come and binge it with me? Coyote is out hunting, he won’t be home anytime soon.”
“Hunting?” I ask.
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head once. “I don’t ask.”
Understanding the unwritten rule of, don’t ask, don’t tell, when it comes to club business, I only nod. I’m sure Pinkie has some kind of duty for me to do in the bar, but since it’s getting to be dark, she wouldn’t want me back there anyway, so I take Gisele up on her offer.
“Sure, I’ve never watched Netflix before,” I admit.
“Never?” she breathes.
“Nope.”
Together we make our way toward her barndominium. She tells me that Coyote built it next to the clubhouse so that he could be close to her and the club, seeing as she prefers not to go places much. She likes to stay inside her own space, and I can’t say that I blame her at all.
When I lived at the Donkey Punchers clubhouse, I tried to stay in my room as much as possible, keeping the door locked at all times. It was safer that way. Seems as though it’s safer for my sanity to do the same thing here.
Spending the evening with Gisele is exactly what I need. She’s my age, but in some ways, she seems younger and in others, she seems light years older. She reminds me of myself and I’m glad for the company.
“So what’s your favorite food?” I ask her, trying to learn more about this recluse who enjoys baking awesome chocolate cake and watching Netflix shows.
She hums, leaning back in her chair and turns her head to look at me. “Pizza. Is that cliché? I feel like it really is.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, I like pizza more than I probably should too. My favorite thing is raisin pie though.”
“What?” she cries. “What the hell is that?”
Closing my eyes, I lean back and rest my head against the back of the couch. I bring forward a memory that I try not to think of often. It was the time my mom left my dad. She ran and she ran hard, all the way to Arkansas.
We stayed with her parents for a full week before my dad found us and dragged us back to California. He pumped my mom full of so many drugs she was catatonic the whole way home. I was catatonic too, but mostly because I was scared to death.
“My grandma,” I whisper, thinking of my mom’s mom. It was the one and only time I met her. I don’t even know her name or if she’s still alive. “I stayed with her for a week, in Arkansas, and every night she made a big dessert. I didn’t know why, seemed weird to me since my mom didn’t cook anything unless it could be nuked in the microwave, but every night my grandma made dessert. The last thing I ever ate of hers was raisin pie and I thought it had come straight from heaven.”
“Tell Gisele good night,” a voice growls.
My entire body jolts and I turn around to see Coyote and Dylan standing right behind me. Coyote doesn’t even notice me. His eyes are on Gisele and they’re warm. He’s smiling and looking like he’s about to rip her clothes off.
Dylan isn’t looking at me anywhere near that way though, he’s looking at me like he sees nothing except red hot anger in his vision. I’m not even sure he actually sees me. Deciding not to poke the bear, I let out a sigh and stand to my feet.
Licking my lips, I turn to look over to Gisele. “I had a lot of fun.”
Admitting it feels weird, but I did have a lot of fun. I’ve never had a friend before, so while this feels weird, it also feels really good. She smiles and tells me that she did too and to come over anytime at all.
The last thing that I want to do is leave, but I do it. Walking right past Dylan, I wonder why he’s so damn angry, then decide he can be whatever he wants. I know what he was doing, probably last night, but definitely all day today, and I know what I’m going to be doing in the future. I’m getting the fuck out of here.
Chapter Fourteen
PAMELA
Following behind Dylan, I wonder why he’s so angry, but then I decide it doesn’t matter. I’m getting the fuck out of here. I repeat the sentence to myself again and again, reminding myself that it’s what’s going to happen, even as Dylan marches toward the dark side of the building, instead of toward the lit back door.
He stops and turns to me, but still doesn’t speak. I let out a gasp as he wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me against his chest before he walks me backward until my back slams against the wall.
Tilting my head back, I look up into his wild, deep gaze. He looks like a wild animal, too. He looks as though he’s been caged and wildly looking around for an escape. He doesn’t have the right to look that way. He doesn’t know what being caged is like, he doesn’t know shit.
“Do you have any idea what you did?” he barks.
Between his intense gaze and the anger that’s radiating from him, combined with his sharp tone, I jerk backward and my head bounces off of the brick wall behind me with a painful thud. Pressing my lips together, I try not to cry, except this time I’m not sure if I can swallow the tears.
“What I did?” I ask, completely confused on top of terrified of what he’s going to do to me in his blind rage.
He bares his teeth with a growl, and I’m unable to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks at the same time my entire body trembles.
“Disappearing like that, all fucking day and into the night? Nobody had seen you, nobody knew where you were. I thought Riot had come in and taken you.”
I blink. He was worried, and he’s angry, but he spent the entire day with Pinkie and I highly doubt they were painting their nails together in that warehouse, especially with the way I found them this morning, her practically naked and both of them far too close together.
“Nobody had taken me. I don’t leave the property, just like Dragon instructed. I wasn’t alone, I was with Gisele.”
“That’s another thing,” he snaps. “You put Gisele in danger just by being alone with her like that. If Riot saw you two, you think he’d leave her here and only take you?”
I don’t know what to say, what to think. I stare at him, at a complete loss for words as he continues to berate me and basically tells me I have zero sense. I don’t blame him. Gisele is an Old Lady, she’s way more important to this club than I am. If anything happened to her because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
“I’ll apologize to Coyote,” I whisper when he’s finished.
I haven’t heard half of what he’s said, I stopped listening to him, my mind only able to cope with so much negativity before it completely shuts off. Maybe it’s self-preservation, I’m not sure, all I know is I can only handle so much before it becomes too much.
“Apologize to Coyote?” he asks.
Focusing on his gaze, I jerk my chin up slightly. “Yeah. I don’t want to cause any waves. I didn’t realize that walking over to her place, by being with Gisele would put her in danger. I’ll apologize.”
Dylan blinks, then something shifts, it changes and I watch his face turn from anger to confusion. “What the fuck?” he breathes.
“Huh?”
He shakes his head a couple of times, as if he’s trying to refocus, then looks at me again in bewilderment. Pressing my lips together, I watch him, waiting to see what he’s going to get pissed off at me for next. I’ll let him say his shit, then eventually he’ll let me go and I can go back to hiding.
“You don�
��t need to apologize to anyone. Just don’t do it again, stay inside the clubhouse, where I can find you so I know you’re safe,” he says with a heavy sigh.
Suddenly he sounds tired and I want to ask him if he’s hurting still, if he needs anything, but I decide against it. Pinkie can ask him that, she can take care of him, I think bitterly to myself.
It’s not like I was in his room for over a week taking care of him when the club beat the shit out of him. It wasn’t like I watched his chest rise and fall just to make sure he was still breathing, like I didn’t sleep for days on end. I’m just a stupid kid that he rescued to feel better about himself—nothing more.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?”
With a hum, I decide not to say anything else. The sooner this can be done, the better. He doesn’t release me though. His body is pressed against mine, holding me hostage against the wall and in the dark.
“You’re pissed.”
“What would I be mad about?” I snap.
His eyes widen and his lips curve up into a grin. “You’re not pissed… you’re jealous.”
Narrowing my gaze on his, I decide not to justify his observation with any words. Instead, I lift my gaze to the sky and let out a heavy exhaled breath.
“Are we done here?” I ask.
He makes a tsking sound, which causes me to grind my teeth together. Shifting my eyes back down to connect with his, I can’t help but wish that this was different. That we were different. That I was more of what he wanted, older, sexier. More like Pinkie. He’d want me then. He wouldn’t think of me as a little kid to rescue, he’d think of me as more.
“Not even fucking close,” he rasps, then before I realize what’s happening, his lips are on mine.
I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside of me. My body goes from stiffened to melting into him as soon as his warm tongue fills mine, as soon as he tastes me, he owns me.
I hate myself.
Letting out a moan, I lift my hands between us and grip his cut. Arching my back, I can’t stop myself from rubbing my chest against his hard torso. The friction relieves and yet intensifies the ache of my breasts.
I need more.
I want him.
Releasing my hold on his cut, I start to slide my hand up his chest when he quickly breaks the kiss and stumbles backward, away from me, as if I’ve burned him in some way. I watch as he lifts his hand, running his fingers through his hair at the same time his eyes find mine.
Regret.
I see it swimming in his gaze and as much as I try to hold back the tears, they just fall again, harder and faster this time.
“Go to bed,” he says, his voice husky, rough, and sexy.
“Dylan—”
He holds up his hand to stop me from speaking. “Get your ass in bed, little girl.”
JAGUAR
I can’t do this with her. She deserves better. She deserves more. I watch as a pained expression crosses her face. Then she squares her shoulders, turns and takes off toward the clubhouse. I watch her ass as she runs, wondering what the absolute fuck is wrong with me?
I could have her, right now.
Make her mine and keep her.
I could do a lot of things, and yet, I keep pushing her away from me. There’s a shadowed figure not far from me, probably thinks that I don’t know he’s there, but he’s watching me. Maybe it’s just what he does these days—watches me.
“Yeah?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He clears his throat, then walks out of the darkness and into the light so that I can see him. “You’re not takin’ her up on what she’s offering,” he points out.
“I’m not,” I say, nodding my head in agreement.
“Care to enlighten me? You made a big fucking deal about saving her. About bringing her here, and she’s practically begging you to claim her and you won’t do it? Why?”
I should tell him to fuck himself and worry about his own shit. I don’t though. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead, and I’m not stupid enough to think that his influence isn’t a major reason why I’m not currently six feet under.
So, I have no choice but to answer his questions, to tolerate him, even if it’s the last thing that I want to do with him. My anger is gone, but I don’t know that we’ll ever be friends. As much as I betrayed him, he did me too. He just went about it a different way.
“I’m trying to be better, Eagle. I’m trying to do better. She deserves something and someone different than me, than what I can give her.”
He watches me for a moment, his eyes searching my face, then finally he clears his throat. “Got that wrong, Jag. The man you are now, that’s who she needs.”
“The man I am now? What makes you think I’m any different than I was when I shot you?” I ask on a growl. “Plus, the man I am now is pretty fucking pathetic. I couldn’t take care of her, even if I tried.”
He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t give me a narrowed gaze, or show any reaction to my words. Instead, he just watches me. It’s eerie the way he can just look at you and his face remains expressionless. I don’t fill the silence with any words, instead I wait for his response.
Eventually, he does respond. I don’t know if he had to think about his words or if he was trying to make me stumble over my own, either way, it doesn’t matter because I know that I’m not right for Pamela.
“You don’t see it yet. Hopefully you will before it’s too late with Jailbait. You’re different, Jaguar. If you were the same man that you were when you shot me, you wouldn’t give a flying fuck if you were good for her or not. You ain’t him, brother.”
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him that he’s wrong, but he doesn’t let me. It’s just like fucking Eagle to turn and walk away in the middle of a conversation. He said what he wanted, and now he’s done.
Fucker.
Instead of going inside immediately, I stay out and enjoy the warm air. Now that the sun has set, it’s starting to cool down, but it won’t get cold. At least not tonight. There’re still a few months left until that happens.
Walking over to the picnic table, I climb up and sit on top of it, placing my feet on the seat. I could use a blunt right about now, but I know that I don’t have any on me. Dragon would frown on it anyway. Prospects don’t drink and they don’t smoke, not without permission.
Prospect.
I still haven’t allowed myself to think much about it. I’m a goddamn prospect. I haven’t been one of those since I was eighteen years old, and here I am, starting over. Except, it’s not completely over because all I did was completely fuck myself and my brothers over.
Starting over implies that I’m starting again with a clean slate and I’m not doing that. I’m eating crow. I’m shoveling shit to eat. And I’m good with that because I deserve every fucking second of it.
What I don’t deserve is Pamela.
Even if she’s everything that I’ve ever wanted.
The music inside slowly becomes louder and I decide to make my way in. I’m not partying, but I’m sure I’ll be required to do cleanup. Another thing that I’m oddly okay with these days. Used to be, I needed the party. I needed the pussy, booze, and to escape. I find I’m not needing that much these days.
My focus is elsewhere.
Chapter Fifteen
PAMELA
I’m surprised to see Pinkie sitting in her bed when I finally make my way into the room. Dylan may have scolded me and sent me to bed like a baby, but I didn’t do that.
Rebellion bubbles beneath my surface. Although I didn’t get into any trouble because I lamely stood against the wall and watched all of the people drink and start to party around me, I still felt bad.
Pinkie doesn’t say anything right away and I can’t help but feel uncomfortable alone in this room with her. Stiffly, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the empty wall in front of me, not wanting to turn to look at Pinkie, yet wanting nothing more than to turn and look at her.
I hate it, because I kind of like it all at the same time. I don’t want to like her, I don’t want to like anything about her. She slept with Dylan last night and did God knows what today. I need to hate her and him, both of them.
Except, I know this life and I probably couldn’t hate either of them if I tried. They’re still better than anyone I’ve ever been around. That makes me hate my dad a little more, though I didn’t think that was possible.
“I’m fine,” I say with a sigh.
She doesn’t say anything right away, then she clears her throat and I can feel her eyes on me. They practically burn into my profile. Slowly, I turn my head to look over at her. I blink at the sight of her.
Pinkie’s face is all splotchy, like she’s been crying, her eyes are puffy and rimmed in red. She’s barefaced and her hair is up in a messy bun. But that’s not all, she’s dressed in clothes that completely swallow her.
I’ve only known her a couple of weeks, but I’ve never seen Pinkie in anything more than a miniskirt and tank top, she’s usually in some kind of skimpy bikini thing.
“I should ask you that, are you okay?” I ask, finally speaking.
She pulls her lips in and rolls them around a few times before a fresh wave of tears roll down her cheeks. I don’t know what to do. I stare at her in shock, wondering if there’s anything that I can do. I don’t know how to comfort anyone, I’ve never done that before and nobody has ever done it to me either.
“I’m not, but I will be tomorrow. I just need the day,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Why?” I stupidly and insensitively ask.
She releases her lips, then curves them up into a grin. “You really are awkward and sheltered, aren’t you?” she asks, but she’s not angry. I can tell that much, she’s smiling and even lets out a small giggle.
“I really am,” I agree.
“Nobody really knows my story. Nobody but Jaguar and Dragon, maybe a few of the older guys,” she whispers. “Mainly because they were probably here when I rode in and landed in this clubhouse a stupid assed twenty-four-year-old.”
UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) Page 12