“Are they treating you well?” he asked me, his voice still dropped low. So obviously he knew. He was aware that this was dangerous, but it didn’t seem like he cared.
I started filling up more glasses with whisky. Over Patch’s shoulders I’d noticed Grimm’s empty glass. Lynch would want me to replenish his drink pronto.
“I’m fine, Patch,” I snapped at him, though that wasn’t my intention. I couldn’t help but worry for my life. Nobody else was going to. I was alone out here. I was the only one who was going to take care of me.
Patch’s brows crossed. He wasn’t pleased by my tone. Was he going to hurt me too? Had I misjudged him? Was he like the men in the Sons of Satan? Was Lynch going to expect me to enslave myself to the Black Cobras as well?
But Patch’s eyes softened as I stared back at him. No, it wasn’t a look of anger that I saw on his face. It was a look of disbelief, of concern. He didn’t buy it. He’d seen the way Lynch touched me before. He didn’t believe I was fine.
I arranged the glasses on the tray once I was done filling them with drinks. I gave Patch one last look and stepped around the counter, carrying the tray again towards Lynch and company. Patch remained behind, watching me. Was he looking at the way my hips swung in my tight skirt? Was he gauging the length of my bare legs? Did he want to touch my breasts too? Feel me up?
The thought of Patch’s big rough hands on me set my body on fire. I licked my lips, trying to focus on Lynch instead as I placed the tray in front of him. I collected the empty glasses and while I was walking away, he slapped my butt hard. The smack resounded in the room and it made him laugh maniacally.
“What do you think of this bitch?” he asked aloud, interrupting whatever conversation he’d been having with Grimm before this. I felt every nerve in my body tense up. I was already facing Patch, walking towards him now, pale-faced. His face looked darkened, angry. I could see he didn’t like hearing Lynch talk about me that way.
But he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He couldn’t. Even I knew that.
The only thing we could do now was return to our assigned roles and simply carry on.
3
Patch
My blood curdled when I saw and heard the slap on Samantha’s ass. Lynch had barely even looked at her when he touched her like that, pawing her like an animal. She had flinched again, even though she kept walking, behaving like this was nothing. Like nothing was wrong and a slap on the butt like that didn’t affect her at all.
It fuckin’ affected me.
I wanted to rip the man’s arm out of his shoulder. I wanted to see blood. I wanted to make it so that he would never touch her again.
I hadn’t thought about Samantha in a long time, in many years—she was nothing more than a fantasy from my childhood, but now she was totally real. It was like she was the only person who existed in this room. The only thing that was occupying my thoughts.
I’d heard her voice, seen the faraway helpless look in her large green eyes. When I asked her, she insisted she was doing alright. That she was being treated well by those assholes. But who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to fool anyone. I knew exactly what was going on. She was under Lynch’s thumb. He was using her for his pleasures. She was a slave to him and had to do his bidding. Everything she did was because she was afraid of him.
And I didn’t know how to help her without starting another war with the Sons of Satan first.
Samantha kept her head down now on her way back to the bar. She walked past me but didn’t meet my eye. She was visibly embarrassed, probably shaken and angry too, by Lynch’s behavior. I wanted to stay there, talk to her some more, find out what she was doing here, what I could do to help her—but I knew that if I did, I would be putting her life at risk.
The last thing Lynch and his men needed to see was that I favored her in some way. I had no choice but to return to the table.
Grimm and Lynch had been talking for a while now. We were two drinks down already. From the tight smiles on their faces and their jovial voices, it seemed like maybe they were coming to some kind of an agreement. Seeing Samantha had kept me distracted so far. I’d missed most of that important conversation.
When I walked back over, Lynch was thundering away.
“And I’m giving you my word. A man’s honorable word, my friend, that we’re going to dial back. As long as you folks dial back too.” Lynch threw back his head, gulping more whisky down his throat.
Grimm was nodding his head.
“And that is exactly what we want. To just return to the way things were. Before all this nastiness started. Before you bastards started all this nastiness, that is.”
Lynch laughed at that. In fact, he was finding a lot of things funny it seemed. He nodded.
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard it before. It was some nasty business, but it doesn’t have to go on forever. You’ve proven yourselves. You can handle it. You fuckers deserve the Mexican contracts. So, go ahead. We won’t bother you.”
Lynch sat up, lighting up his cigar again and smoke filled a circle around his face. Behind him, his two men, Gunther and the other guy, were still standing in attention. Despite the big smiles and the heavy laughs that were coming from Lynch himself, it didn’t seem like his man Gunther was completely on board with the idea.
I could sense it from his eye movement and his body language, the way he continuously squared his shoulders and rubbed the tip of his nose. Was he not in on his boss’s truce? Didn’t he agree with Lynch?
Whatever was decided here tonight, I knew I would need to keep an eye out on that fucker. Maybe he was planning something else. Something separately? Maybe Lynch was going against Gunther’s ideas by agreeing to this truce. Just like Grimm was going against mine.
But now Lynch and Grimm were shaking hands and standing up. They’d agreed on peace, a truce. Neither of our clubs were going to attack the other. The war was over.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Lynch said, thumping Grimm’s back playfully. I wasn’t about to buy this for a second. What business? What did Lynch gain from this? Even though this particular meeting had gone smoothly, it didn’t mean that things were always going to run this smoothly between our two clubs. Shit was going to go down and it was going down soon. Just when we had our guards lowered—under Grimm’s orders
Grimm seemed pleased. Bones was following him closely and I had no choice but to follow the two of them out of the cellar too.
Lynch and his two men were walking with us. I was aware of leaving Samantha behind. She had clearly been given the responsibility of cleaning up after us, locking the place up. I looked over my shoulder at her.
Maybe she hadn’t expected me to look. Her eyes were on me, focused straight ahead and narrowed. There was that look of longing in her gaze. What was she trying to tell me? That she didn’t want me to go? She wanted me to stay?
Or was I just imagining it? Was it something I was projecting on her because that’s what I wanted? Maybe it was the exact opposite of what she was really trying to communicate. Maybe she wanted me to leave. To leave her alone. Maybe she hoped we never bumped into each other again.
She was the one to tear her gaze away first. I followed Grimm and Bones out of the cellar. Lynch’s voice boomed as he continued making ridiculous jokes and Grimm indulged him. We were walking out of the building now. No incidents had taken place. The meeting had gone smoothly. Lynch and Grimm shook hands again. The truce was sealed. I exchanged looks of unease with Bones and then we were walking away.
I was leaving Samantha behind. She had given me no indication of wanting anything different to happen. I didn’t even know if I would ever see her again. Surely, she was one of many girls Lynch liked to surround himself with.
Maybe this was it. A chance meeting at a random place ten years later, to remind me that those teenage feelings I had for this girl had been real after all.
4
Samantha
I breathed a deep sigh of relief when they wer
e all finally gone, and I was the only one in that dingy cellar room. The meeting was over, there was finally some quiet. I didn’t have to listen to Lynch’s booming voice.
I was tasked with collecting all the bottles and glasses, cleaning up after everyone else and eventually locking up the casino on my way out. It was a task I was more than happy to do.
It meant being left alone. It meant having no peering and lustful eyes on my body. Not being commanded and treated like shit. At least for some part of tonight I would have some peace. I could be alone with my thoughts. And it was Patch who was in my thoughts. The only thought that occupied my mind.
Seeing him again, having him ask me if I was doing alright—had nearly brought tears to my eyes. It had reminded me of everything that had gone wrong in my life. All the wrong decisions I’d made.
Seeing him again also reminded me of what it felt like to actually want a man, to want him to look at me. I wished he’d stayed longer. I wished we could have openly talked, but that was not possible.
Not only was Patch an outsider, but I was fully aware of the war that had been going on between the Black Cobras and the Sons of Satan. No matter what decision of a truce they had come to tonight, Patch still belonged to the opposite side. The side that Lynch wanted to crush. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man who would tolerate sharing.
I was available to be looked at, to be occasionally fondled and definitely mistreated by his men—but Lynch was the only man who could have me. He made sure that everyone knew that. Including me.
Even being friends with Patch was out of the question. He was gone from my life. It was over. One fleeting moment and now he’d returned to my past, like I hadn’t even met him tonight.
I collected everything in the room and turned off all the lights. I was going to have to return to the Clubhouse on the double. Lynch didn’t appreciate me being late. He would punish me if I was.
Thankfully Lynch didn’t notice that I’d returned to the Clubhouse half an hour later than he wanted me there. I’d dawdled. I’d spent too much time thinking and wanting and hoping and wishing and ended up slowing myself on the way out.
But Lynch and Gunther were now embroiled in some kind of an argument, surrounded by the other men all shouting at each other, over each other—and none of them seemed to have noticed when I’d snuck in.
I was supposed to be looking after the drinks at the bar again, so I put myself to work quickly. Glasses needed to be washed, broken bottles swept up off the floor, stock moved in from the storage room to behind the counter, ice buckets to be filled, and cigarette packets stocked up. A lot of work had to be done and I preferred doing it in silence, keeping my head down as usual and not interfering in whatever argument they were having.
But, unfortunately, Lynch did happen to notice me. He broke away from the shouting group of his men and walked over to me. The cloud of smoke from his cigar followed him as he headed my way. I looked up to meet his eyes and forced myself to appear pleasant. If he caught me frowning, there would definitely be a punishment involved.
“Fuck ‘em!” he growled, sitting down on a stool. I knew what he needed. I poured a shot of vodka and slid it over to him, some of it spilled on the counter and I was quick to wipe it away with the rag thrown over my shoulder. Lynch continued to mutter under his breath.
Gunther was shouting something. Pointing at Lynch now. I wasn’t even trying to listen. Lynch waved a hand at him and turned back to me. I could sense he was a little bit drunk by now, which meant he would want to keep drinking. Drink more and more and more. The shot of vodka was polished off in a matter of seconds and I was pouring him some more.
He looked up at me with bloodshot, bleary eyes now.
“Where’ve you fuckin’ been?” he hissed. I gulped but tried to keep my chin up. Don’t show any signs of weakness—it was a policy I’d acquired over the years I’d spent here. If I could just keep it together for a few more minutes, hopefully, he’d be distracted and move away to a different subject.
There were other women here. Fishnet stockings, bleach-blond hair and glittery eyeshadow was in abundance at the Clubhouse. They were dotted around the place, sitting on men’s laps, smoking their cigarettes, or getting fucked in the back somewhere. Why did Lynch keep coming back to me? What did he see in me? I reminded myself to keep it together.
“I was at the meeting place, cleaning up,” I replied, trying to strike that perfect balance between being casual and firm at the same time. Lynch crossed his brows and glared at me like he didn’t believe me.
“Then why the fuck did it take you this long to come back here?”
I thought he hadn’t been keeping watch, but I was wrong. I never should have underestimated him.
“I didn’t look at the clock. Was I late?” I asked, looking down at the counter, losing my confidence for a moment. Lynch took that opportunity. He jerked up, making a sudden grab for me over the counter. He gripped the neck of my top and pulled me towards himself and I felt limp and weak in his hands. I gasped but tried to gulp the rest down. It wasn’t like anyone was coming to my rescue here!
“You know very fuckin’ well you were fuckin’ late!” As Lynch growled at me, his spittle flew all over the place. Some of it landed on my chin. He was still holding me hard. I could feel the tightness of my top stretching against my skin. I had to do everything I could to not wipe his spittle off my face. That would be idiotic. It would be an open insult to him.
“I told you to come straight back here, didn’t I? Bitch?” he growled, finally releasing his grip on me. I staggered backwards, my face red and my gaze down. I wouldn’t dare to look at him now. I could hear the sniggering laughter behind him. Some of the men must have noticed the scene and they thought it was funny.
“I did come straight back here. I didn’t go anywhere else,” I murmured. Careful not to raise my voice too much.
“What did you say?” Lynch growled again. This time he got off his stool. Shoulders squared and ready for a fight. I shook my head; it would be a mistake to repeat myself now.
Lynch charged around the counter, headed straight for me and I could feel myself shuddering. I should have been numb to this kind of treatment by now. He grabbed me by my throat and pushed me violently back till I thudded against a wooden cabinet.
He was holding a cigar up in the air, his burning cigar, poised to land on my skin, to burn me with it. I didn’t look up at him, just kept my gaze turned away, hoping he’d just walk away. I wanted to stare him down. I wanted to force him to see into my soul. See for himself what he was doing to me. That I was a human being just like him. I wanted to stand up to him. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would change his mind.
All I could do was appear obedient, not meet his eye, make him believe that he had be pressed under his boot just where he wanted me.
Lynch growled some more before he finally let me go.
“Pour me another shot,” he hissed and walked back to the front of the counter. I jumped to action, pouring some more vodka in his shot glass. He drank that thirstily before walking away, muttering something under his breath.
I was just glad I’d gotten away unscathed this time.
I wished I could kill him.
I wasn’t sure what it was; maybe the fact that I’d bumped into Patch today and he had given me a quick but effective reminder of the person I used to be before all this happened. Maybe it was that my old feelings for him were revived and I was reminded of there being actual good guys in the world. Good guys like Patch who would follow you silently to school to make sure nobody tried anything on the way.
Or maybe it was just that I’d had enough of Lynch and his mistreatment of me.
Whatever it was, I was more interested in what the men were talking about amongst themselves tonight than I’d been before. I wanted to know what they were discussing. I could sense it was something about the Black Cobras, which meant that it also concerned Patch and I wanted to know what it was.
Gunther
and Lynch were still fighting amongst themselves.
“That was a fuckin’ pussy move!” Gunther shouted, spilling his beer everywhere as he waved his arms around the place. Some of his cronies, the guys who always hung around him, agreed and banged their fists on the table.
“And I keep fuckin’ telling you they fell for it. Just like you did!” Lynch growled, more than just a little bit drunk by now so his words were slurring.
“It doesn’t matter if they fell for it. Those pussies. We never should’ve waved a fuckin’ white flag in their faces.”
“And now they’ll have their guards down. So, we attack. We take everything they own.”
Lynch was smiling and Gunther looked unconvinced.
“We need to attack now, every day, till they have nothing to give up anymore. We take what we need, and we leave them to pick up the pieces. We’re bigger and stronger. They’ll never win against us. We don’t need to fuckin’ trick them!” Gunther continued and a few of his cronies laughed.
Lynch clenched his jaw, possibly a little upset now by the tone Gunther was taking with him. After all, Lynch was still the President of the club.
“If they don’t see us fuckin’ coming, we eliminate all their top guys. Grimm, Rogue, Cash, Patch, Bones, the whole fuckin’ lot. They have nobody left then. In one shootout we destroy the Black Cobras and then they’re shit, they’re nobody. Don’t you fuckin’ see that, you numbskull?!”
Lynch stood up, staggering on his feet. He was ending that conversation and heading towards me again.
I could feel myself searing under my skin. My hands were shaking as I tried to keep busy behind the bar. It wasn’t because Lynch was coming to me, it was because I’d just heard him declare that he wanted to kill all the top men of the Black Cobras. That he was going to use the peaceful delusion of this truce to kill Patch.
Patch (The Black Cobras MC Book 3) Page 4