“How long have you been here?” I ask. Looking at her, I thought she was in her late twenties, but now I wonder.
“Eight years, to the day.” She answers with a nod. “Twenty-four and angry at the world. I had nothing, nobody, and I’d just had a very traumatic experience. My man had tried to kill me, he thought he succeeded.”
“Pinkie,” I exhale and shift a little closer to her, but I don’t leave my bed. She needs space, I can feel that.
“When I say that I have issues, they’re a mile long. Doesn’t matter how all that came to be, just know that I was hurting and angry. I’d had a baby, tried to raise her, but couldn’t do it. I gave her up to a hell that I knew would eventually kill her. I was selfish. I ran, lasted all of six months before I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’d completely broken.”
“How did you end up here?” I ask, completely engrossed in her story.
I don’t even realize that she’s staring off into space, she’s not even here, she’s back there, twenty-four years old and broken. She’s quiet for a long time and I think that she’s done talking, that she doesn’t want to say anymore and as much as I want to push her, I decide it’s best not to.
Then she speaks, her voice is far away, monotone, and sad as she tells the rest of her story. “I was running around with a rough crowd. I didn’t know them very well. Anyway, they said they were going to party and the way they said it, I knew it was bad. I went with them anyway. I was barreling straight into whatever was in front of me, no fucks given.”
Pulling my feet up, I rest my cheek on my knees and watch her. She’s so sad looking and with no makeup, the way that she is right now, she looks twenty years younger. She looks so young. Small, lost, and scared.
“We came here. Except Dragon and all of them, they were all just a few years older than me back then. They weren’t in charge, they were young, dumb, and full of cum. And they were beautiful. I wanted them, all of them, and as soon as they saw me, they wanted me too. So, I partied with them.
“Sex, drugs, booze, I stayed for days. They all just melted together, day after day. Until I woke up from my stupor. And when I realized the date, it had been six months and it was the anniversary of the day I left. I had a complete breakdown. I lost my shit and Jaguar was the only one around at the moment.”
Pinkie goes on, she tells me how Jaguar talked her down off the ledge, how he held her when she cried. She tells me that they’re bonded because of that moment. Bonded in a way that she will always love him.
My heart cracks into a million pieces, because the story is so beautiful. I can see that she truly does love him, and I wonder why he doesn’t claim her. She’s perfect for him, and he’s perfect for her.
“I’m not telling you this to be a mean girl, to be a bitch or anything. I’m telling you because you need to know that he’s capable of true love. Even if you can’t always see it, you need to know that it’s there.”
“Why?” I ask, trying not to sound snappy, but I have no doubt that it comes out that way.
Her lips curve up into a smile and her eyes almost dance. “It may take him a little while, he may not seem like he does, but he’s falling in love with you, Pamela.”
“Me?” I breathe.
How can this woman tell me how much she loves Dylan, then in the same breath tell me that he’s falling in love with me, all with a smile on her lips? My eyes search her face, I look for any sign of malice or deceit, but she looks genuine and I’m confused.
“You, honey. I completely approve of it too.”
“I thought you said you loved him?” I ask on a whisper feeling so self-conscious that I can’t even stand myself.
Pinkie laughs softly, shaking her head. “I do love him, but not like that.”
“But you’ve had sex with him?” I ask.
She hums, nodding her head. “I’ve had sex with all of them. I like who I am, Pamela. I don’t want to be an Old Lady. I am perfectly happy with my position as it stands. I love all of these men, but Jaguar has a special place in my heart. But my place will never be on the back of his or anyone else’s bike. Maybe he has that place because we were always meant to be family. I want to see all of them happy, in love, and at peace.”
“Because you can’t be,” I say, pointing out the obvious.
I don’t say anything about the family comment, I’m not sure what she’s alluding to, but I can also tell that she’s tiptoeing around something so much bigger—I’m just not sure I’m ready to hear what it is, yet.
There’s a long moment of silence and it’s her turn to search my face. She doesn’t speak right away, but she’s thinking and it’s hard. Then her lips curve up and she gives me a big smile with teeth.
“I thought that I would never be at peace in my life and I know that part of me will never be, but there’s another part that finally is. I’ll never love them as deeply as an Old Lady could. And I’d never be happy, not with them or anyone else. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want all that and more for them.”
We don’t say anything else, there’s nothing else to say. How could there be? Pinkie opened herself up to me. She made herself completely vulnerable. That was brave. I can’t help but wonder if she really could be happy with any one of the men here. I don’t ask her though, she’s firm in her choices and I respect that.
Pinkie is so wrong though. So very wrong. Dylan doesn’t want me, and he isn’t falling for me. I’m a burden, gum on his shoe that he can’t wait to scrape off. He saved me for one reason and one reason only—redemption.
JAGUAR
I stay up until ten in the morning cleaning up the party that ended at four. I don’t mind it though, I probably wouldn’t have slept anyway. All I could think about was Pinkie’s kid and how she’s eighteen now—the same age as Pamela.
My thoughts shifted to Pamela and eventually to Riot. I have no right at all to ask about his whereabouts, if they have any ideas where he is, or if they’re going to try and bring him down. But I find that I need to know.
I’m trying to think of a way to casually work it into conversation with Mamba later today, seeing as he seems to be the one most open to actually talking to me, well the one who isn’t Eagle anyway, when Dragon walks through the door.
Looking over at him, I blink seeing Bellarosa at his side and Kora trailing behind them. Dragon must sense me watching him, because he shifts his head and his gaze catches mine. He frowns, then murmurs something to Bella and Kora before he turns and makes his way toward me.
“Jailbait up?” he asks.
I blink, then shrug a shoulder. “No fuckin’ clue.”
His brow arches. “She don’t sleep next to you?” he asks. I would think he was being a smart-ass if he didn’t seem so damn sincere about the question.
“Told you, not getting mixed up with her, not like that.”
He whistles low and shakes his head. “Mistake there, brother. She’s good Old Lady material, as any of the women, they vetted her fully and completely.”
I think about that for a moment, then I decide that it doesn’t matter. Maybe she’ll be someone else’s Old Lady, but she’s not getting saddled with a loser like me for the rest of her life.
“Don’t matter. But I did have a question.”
I watch as he shifts his feet so that they’re set apart and he crosses his arms over his chest, dipping his chin to look down at me, waiting for my question.
“I know it’s probably club business and all, but you got a pulse on Riot?”
He watches me for a while, longer than I’m comfortable with, but I don’t even flinch under his scrutinizing gaze. Like Eagle, he has a look and he could break a weaker man with it, but I’ve known them for half my life and their looks don’t scare me one fucking bit.
“Should tell you to fuck off,” he says. And he’s right, he should, but he won’t. “But I won’t, only because I can tell that you’re worried about her, even if you’re not ready to brand her yet.”
“Won’t brand her
, Dragon.”
He snorts. “Sure. Anyway, thanks to you, I know they went to Oregon. Worm found them lying low outside of a small coastal town called Winchester Bay.”
“We going up there to smoke ‘em out?” I ask, my adrenaline pumping through my veins suddenly.
Dragon watches me. Again he’s expressionless, and I wonder if the fucker thinks that he’s going to somehow make me feel intimidated. He won’t. Not even when I thought he was going to kill me. I just don’t get that way.
“You do, just with bitches, little eighteen-year-olds that are good and clean.” He chuckles.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I can’t believe that I fucking said that shit aloud. “Riot,” I snap.
“Gathering intel, then we go. You think you want in on that action?” he asks.
“I know I do,” I grind out. “Saw what he did firsthand. Know the kind of sick shit he’s into, he needs to be put down like the goddamn animal that he is,” I grind out.
Dragon’s lips curve up into a grin. “Good. Hoped you’d say that. You’ll go when it’s time, as long as you continue to prove yourself.”
“Got no contact to the outside world and there’s always a brother up my ass. I’m good with all that shit too, happy to prove myself, Dragon.”
His eyes almost glitter as they search mine, then he chuckles. “Good.”
I watch as he turns away and walks toward his wife and daughter who disappeared somewhere down the hall. I don’t know why they’re here, not that he’d tell me anyway. Just the fact that he was willing to even tell me anything at all was more than he had to do.
Deciding to stop dwelling on any of that shit, I continue cleaning up. I tell myself that I’m not going to think about Pamela while I clean, but I lie to myself, yet again.
I can’t get her off of my mind.
Everything about her is absolutely everything that I want and Dragon is right, I want her, I get off on the fact that she’s good and clean, but I can’t let myself indulge. I can’t ruin her.
Chapter Sixteen
PAMELA
My heart and head feel a bit better after my talk with Pinkie. I understand her better now and know that she’s had a hard life. Really hard. Her story, it reminds me of my mom. I can understand why she had a bad day. It doesn’t mean that I can forget what happened with her and Dylan, it’s obvious that there is something there, even if she says there isn’t.
It’s been a few days and immaturely I’ve continued to avoid Dylan. Though, I think he could be doing the same with me because he hasn’t sought me out either. I’m cleaning the kitchen, trying to make myself useful when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
Turning around, rag in hand, I lift my gaze to the man who is watching me. I don’t know how long he’s been there, but he’s leaning against the doorjamb and his eyes are really focused. It’s Mamba.
“Yes?” I ask, my voice soft, wondering what he wants and why he’s watching me the way that he is.
He doesn’t move from his place, staying far enough away from me that I don’t feel intimidated, but he is definitely here for me. I watch him, unsure of what to say and waiting for him to speak.
“You either gotta be all in or get the fuck out,” he announces.
My entire body jerks from his harsh tone. “Excuse me?”
“Jaguar fucked up, he did it big time. He betrayed us, but he’s not a bad person. He’s getting his shit together and he needs an Old Lady.”
“Why?” I ask, wanting, not needing to know more.
Mamba shakes his head, his gaze never leaving my own. “We all do, Jailbait. We all need someone who accepts us for who we are. Who supports us, who keeps our asses in check.”
“This isn’t about me,” I say softly, pointing something out that he already knows. “This is about you, about that woman who left, right?”
He clears his throat again, taking a step toward me. “It is and it isn’t. Jaguar deserves someone who loves him for him. Not because he’s their hero, not because he wears a Beast cut, not because he knocked her up, but because she just loves him.”
“And you?” I ask.
“Everyone deserves that, Jailbait.”
I hate and love the nickname that I’ve gotten from these men. I love it because I know that they don’t give them to just anyone and I hate it because it’s a reminder that they all think of me as a kid, as a little sisterly type and that sucks the big one.
“Guess I’ll get the fuck out then, since Dylan avoids me and doesn’t want anything to do with me, at all.”
“Yeah?” he snorts. “You gotta make a move, babe.”
“Me?” I ask, placing my palm against my chest. “Trust me when I tell you, I’ve tried. Almost embarrassingly so.”
He watches me for a long moment, just watching, not actually doing or saying anything, then he tips his chin down and pushes off of the jamb. He turns his back to me, stopping to look over his shoulder.
“Thought maybe you were for him. Guess I was wrong. Don’t got the grit.”
Without another word, he walks away from me. I watch the doorway long after he’s gone, unable to really see anything. That’s how Dylan himself finds me. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, cleaning rag in hand, staring like an idiot.
“Sunny?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
The way he says his nickname for me, the sweet tone, my entire body jerks and I drop the rag as I turn my head slightly to look at him.
Swallowing, I try not to do it, but I do anyway. I take all of him in and I can’t even pretend that he doesn’t affect me. He’s beautiful, dangerously handsome, rugged, and broken. It’s the broken thing that gets me. I’m not a woman who wants to fix someone, hell I’m broken in my own way too, but I think that’s the draw.
We can be beautifully broken together.
I want that. It’s stupid, I should want someone who has all their shit together, someone who can help me with my broken shit, but instead the only person I want is probably worse off than I am.
Clearing my throat, I look down to my feet, then lift my gaze up to meet his. “Dylan,” I exhale. “I think…”
My words trail off because I don’t know what I think, not really. I know what I want, but I can’t make him want it too. I can’t make him see what apparently everyone around here sees. I can’t make him claim me or want me and it’s not fair to force it, no matter what Mamba says. No matter what any of them says.
“You think?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I decide not to say what I’m thinking. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s made it clear what he wants and doesn’t want. And I am who he clearly does not want. Bending down, I pick up the cleaning rag and turn my back to him, I decide to get back to cleaning.
I don’t expect it, so I jump when I feel his heat at my back. He’s standing so close to me, so close that I can feel his breath against the back of my neck. Then he reaches out, placing his palms against the countertop, caging me in, all the while he doesn’t touch me.
“Sunny,” he says again, his voice soft and soothing, sexy as shit.
Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to drum up the memory of the way it felt when his hands were on me, touching me, bringing me pleasure. I try not to imagine the way he tastes when he kisses me or the way his body pressed against mine feels.
I fail.
“What do you want?” I grind out.
He doesn’t say anything right away, he stays behind me, breathing on me, being sexy and I hate it and love it all at the same time. I can’t open my eyes, if I do, I’ll probably turn around and kiss him, I’ll make a move and get rejected yet again. I can’t do that, I can’t take it again.
“You,” he rasps. “I shouldn’t.”
I hum, not wanting to actually speak. I want to tell him that he should and to take me right here and right now. Then in the same breath I want to tell him that it’s too late, that I’m over him and to fuck off. I want to pull him close while pushing him away.
/> “You’re right. You shouldn’t, turn away and run now.” He growls, but doesn’t move and doesn’t speak right away. “Go,” I grind out. “Just go.”
Then, before I realize what’s happening, he has me turned around, the towel is snatched away from me and thrown across the room. He wraps his hand around my waist and picks me up, slamming my ass against the edge of the counter to sit.
Eye to eye, I can see the danger simmering just below the surface. He’s angry, he’s frustrated—he’s sexier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s about to explode, he’s about to lose control and I want it all.
I’ve never been one to crave danger, to want a man to lose control. Except with Dylan, in this place, I feel safe. He isn’t going to hurt me, the other men wouldn’t let him even if he tried. But he wouldn’t, not Dylan, not the man who saved me from a life of pure hell.
JAGUAR
Lifting one of my hands from her waist, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck. Watching Mamba walk out of the kitchen, a cocky smirk playing on his lips and a chin jerk toward me, I had to see what he was so fucking proud of himself about.
I thought maybe Pinkie was back in business, maybe he’d gotten Maria to come back, or maybe it was Gator. Fuck if I knew with him. When I walked into the kitchen and saw her, a sensation of rage filled my entire body.
Tangling my fingers in her hair, I tug her head back, forcing her neck to arch beautifully. Fuck me, I could devour her, all of her. I could ruin her without a second thought—happily.
“You could really fuck with a man,” I rasp.
She whimpers, wrapping her fingers around my biceps, her nails digging into me from above my T-shirt sleeves. Leaning forward, I lick the entire column of her throat, tasting her on the way up to her earlobe. Nipping her there, I rest my lips at the shell of her ear.
UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) Page 13