“Wow! I see what you meant about not being a typical biker club.”
“Weather will be heatin’ up soon; perhaps you’d like to take a dip?”
She huffs as though I’ve said something stupid. Fuck, I forgot about her leg. I keep my thoughts to myself, though I suspect it wouldn’t be as much a problem as she’ll be thinking it is. Not like the brothers haven’t seen that stuff before.
I let her take in the view for a moment, and then indicate another pathway. It’s a bit rutted and potholed in places, so I lend a hand to help her manoeuvre over the worst of it. I lead her across to our garage, one of our legitimate businesses and one which is always busy, either with brothers sneaking in repairs to their bikes, or doing paying work for customers. Situated just inside our ten-foot boundary fence, we don’t have to let citizens far into the compound when they drop off their vehicles for service. Like any other day, it’s buzzing with activity. Slick and Tongue work here, together with Bullet and Rock, and Buster, when he can be bothered. Which reminds me of that conversation I need to have with Drummer about his recent behaviour.
We pause for a moment as she takes it all in, her first lesson that the club’s not all about play. Then I draw in a sharp breath and glower when I see the only man in the club I have a dislike for has downed tools at our approach and coming over with a leer on his face. Hearing a small sound I look down, and I can’t miss the way the woman beside me draws back into her chair as he draws closer.
Even the sour look on my face doesn’t stop him coming right over to us, “So this is what all the fuckin’ fuss is about.” He sneers down at her.
“Aren’t you supposed to be workin’?” It comes out as a snarl; there’s something in his expression I immediately take exception too.
He actually ignores me, “Got a great lookin’ rack there, babe, how about you and I getting it on together?”
I want to hit him for noticing. He shouldn’t be fucking looking. “Buster, have some fuckin’ respect. And get back to work.”
“Fuck.” He deigns to look at me, “You Tucson boys are on my back the whole fuckin’ time. In San D we used to have fun.”
“This Tucson boy is your fuckin’ VP, Buster. And it’s time you remembered that!” I don’t like getting riled in front of Wheels; this isn’t the nice calm afternoon I had planned for her, but I can’t let him get away with disrespect.
He’s got a fucking death wish or something; he just doesn’t get the message, “I’ll come find you later, shall I? You and I get to know each other better, babe?”
While I’m taking in a breath to blast him with my thoughts on that matter, Wheels answers for herself. The words are directed at him, but there’s a message for me there too.
“Sorry, Buster,” her words say one thing though she doesn’t sound particularly apologetic as she pauses to wave her hand down indicating her body, “I’m not into any of that nowadays. I can’t anymore.” She sounds brave, but as I rest my hand on her shoulder, I can feel her trembling. She’s scared of him, and I must admit, I’m gutted on her behalf. And on my account, is it true that she fucking can’t have sex? Surely not? Did she also suffer injuries to her pelvis?
I have to put my wants and desires behind me as Buster just won’t fucking give up! “You’ve got a pussy, ain’t you? And a mouth? And I s’pect you’re hidin’ a pretty little ass under there. That’s all I need, babe.”
I can’t hold back; my fingers clench, and my fist comes out, catching him hard on the chin, rocking him on his feet. As he goes swing at me, Slick and Rock, who must have emerged sometime during our confrontation, step forwards and grab hold of him, each holding an arm.
“You don’t fuckin’ hit the VP,” Rock hisses, “And you asked for that one. Now apologise to the lady and remember she’s under our protection.”
“Apologise?” he yells, and then points down, “To that? She’s not a fuckin’ ol’ lady; she doesn’t belong to anyone. Which means she’s another cunt waitin’ to be filled.” He sneers, and turns to look at us one by one, “Just because I ain’t so particular as the rest of yers…”
This time it’s Rock who takes him down before he can finish his sentence. Buster hasn’t got a chance. Unlike the rest of us, and another example of the way he disregards instructions from his prez, he doesn’t spend time in the gym or sparring. Slick nods to let me know they’ve got this, and sends a knowing look Wheels’ way. I give him a chin lift; he’s right. I need to get her out of here. Buster won’t be looking pretty by the time they’ve finished. Just another thing to add to my long growing list of issues with the fuckin’ man. He’ll be lucky if he keeps his patch if he keeps on like this.
Thank goodness I didn’t assign a prospect to watch over her, they’d never have been able to stand up to a fully patched member. I certainly don’t want Buster’s unpleasantness anywhere near her again. I’ll make sure I, or one of my trusted brothers, were on her at all times. Just until Horse gets back.
Having pushed her away, so we’re out of sight and hearing of the altercation which will be taking place at the garage, I hunker down in front of her and take her hands in mine. She’s shaking. “Buster’s a pain in the ass, darlin’. There’s not one other brother who’d disrespect you like that. Slick and Rock will be teachin’ him a lesson he’s not gonna forget in a hurry. Put him out of your mind, darlin’.” In truth, I’d like to be back there taking my turn. This is not the impression of the club I wanted her to take away from our tour this afternoon.
She wipes a tear away that’s escaped from her eyes, and looks at me beseechingly as if she wants to confide in me. But as she turns away with a shake of her head, I understand she doesn’t know sufficiently well enough yet to trust me with her innermost thoughts and fears. But I’m not stupid; I can guess how she feels. Vulnerable.
Unable to stop myself, I put my hand to her cheek, “Trust me, darlin’. I’ll make sure that you never have to deal with him again. He’s going to lose his patch if he’s not very careful, and after I speak to Drum, I reckon that’s gonna be made very clear to him.”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” her voice trembles.
“Not on you, darlin’, he’s doin’ that all by himself.”
I take charge, pushing her back to the clubhouse where I’m pleased to see Sandy, Viper’s old lady and manager of our restaurant, and Carmen, a hairdresser, who belongs to Bullet, sitting huddled around a table. I draw her closer and make the introductions. Soon they’re chatting about the subject that seems to intrigue her, how their old men got their handles—Viper, because he’s been our undercover snake in the grass on more than one occasion and Bullet because he rides his bike faster than his proverbial speeding namesake. She seems to be fascinated with the tales behind them. I shift uncomfortably hoping she never learns how I got mine.
Deciding I can leave them to visit for a while, I make my way to see Drummer. After filling him in, he’s incensed at Buster’s latest fuck-ups and promises to talk to him about his now precarious position in the club. Then, returning to the main room and after checking that Wheels is happily laughing with the girls―our old ladies are a great bunch―I find Peg at the bar and join him. As our sergeant-at-arms, he also deserves to know about Buster’s behaviour, so I give him the gist of it.
When I’ve explained how it all went down, Peg shakes his head and echoes my thoughts, “I can see we’re gonna be takin’ his patch one way or another before he’s done assin’ about.” Changing the subject, he points to Wheels. “You babysittin’ her now? I saw Horse leavin’.”
Sighing, knowing out of anyone he’ll understand, I tell him of her apprehension about being here in general, and that the disagreeable exchange with Buster certainly didn’t help her feel at home. I’m in the middle of explaining when Sandy comes up and touches me on the arm, pointing over to Wheels who seems to be doubled up in pain. But it’s her prosthesis she seems to be rubbing. I crease my forehead in surprise.
“Everything okay, Sands?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, we were getting’ on fine, and then her leg started hurtin’. She wants help to get back to her room so she can find her painkillers,” Sandy tells me, her eyes full of concern and worry for her new friend. Sandy’s a good girl.
I reach into my pocket and take out a box, at the same time beckoning Hank over. “Bottle of water,” I tell him.
Reading the dosage, I push out one small yellow pill into my hand, then taking the bottle, give them both to Sandy. “Here, Horse gave me her stuff to look after, give her that.”
Thanking me, she does. As Sandy returns to the table and gives the medication to Wheels, I don’t fail to notice the look of surprise that’s flicked towards me, and embarrassment on her face as she realises Horse put me in charge of her medication.
Peg is also watching her, “Nasty thing, that.”
“What?” I swing back to him.
“Phantom pains.” As it’s obvious I don’t understand him; he continues, “People think it’s all in the head when a missin’ limb starts hurtin’. But it’s not, ya know? It’s nerves and the like sendin’ the wrong signals. Very real and painful. But there’re ways to help.” Then his eyes narrow, not much gets past our sergeant-at-arms, “Why have you got her pills?”
I realise he’s one of the men it would be good to have in the know so I fill him in on Horse’s concerns.
He looks down into his beer, deep in thought for a moment, and then draining his drink leaves the empty glass on the bar and purposefully strides over to where the girls are sitting. “Skat!” He waves his hands at Sandy and Carmen. They throw him identical surprised looks, but he just stands there, arms folded, waiting to be obeyed. With huffs, they pick up their glasses and move away. Wheels puts her hands on her wheels, preparing to go, too.
“Not you.” Another terse instruction. Wheels looks up at me. I nod, hopefully comfortingly. Peg is not the gentlest looking man, or with the most polite manners. Standing my height, with shortly shorn hair and a long thick beard, I know how menacing he can appear. A good trait in a sergeant-at-arms.
He stares at Wheels for a second, as if taking her in. I’m expecting he’ll talk to her about her pains, but no, he takes an entirely different tack. “My name’s Peg, Wheels. Know why they call me that?”
She gazes back at him, then looks down, shaking her head in confusion. “No,” she answers softly.
“Well,” he begins, and then again surprises me. “Blade, our enforcer, well, let’s just say a knife’s his weapon of choice. And Buster likes to use his fists. Me, I’m a little more imaginative than that. You see, when I like to get information from someone, or just want to see them die rather painfully, I stake them out with pegs and let the sun do its work. Works like a charm.”
“For fuck’s sake, Peg!” I round on him seeing Wheels has gone white as a fucking sheet for the second time today. My fists curl at my sides, and I’m going to hit him if he upsets her any more. Way to make her feel at home here, Peg!
Suddenly Peg’s hand thumps down on the table, and he leans forward, ominously getting right in her face, “Why the fuck do you think they call me Peg, little girl?”
She shakes her head, her eyes widening as she goes from believing his story to doubting him in a second.
“Why d’you fuckin’ think?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he lifts his leg onto the table and pulls up his jeans revealing what I already know is underneath though most of the time forget it’s even there; a titanium prosthesis leading into his motorcycle boot.
I’ve seen her eyes open wide before, but now they seem to take up half her face. She gawks at the artificial leg; her hand appears to reach out by itself to touch it and then turns her gaze to him. “But… But how?” I realise as he does, she’s not asking his history when she adds, “You ride a motorcycle?” It’s half statement, half question as her gaze flits from his artificial leg to his face.
“That I do,” he tells her. “Lost my leg in Afghanistan, land mine. The other was pretty badly damaged too.”
“What, how…” She’s trying to stammer out a question and at last finds what she wants to ask. “How did you…”
“Get to walk again?” he pre-empts what she’s trying to say. “Sheer fuckin’ determination.” He puts his leg down again. “Meet me back here at six. And no fuckin’ excuses.”
Chapter 7
Sophie
No excuses? Just who does this man think he’s talking to? My eyes follow him as he turns abruptly and walks out of the room, and I know my mouth has dropped open. I glance at Wraith who’s looking as bemused as me. What the fuck was that all about?
There’s tension behind my eyes, and my head starts pounding as my body shakes. Not only have I been transported to what seems to be a different universe, in one day been told there’s quite possibly a killer after me, and I’ve also been insulted by one of the club members. Now their sergeant-at-arms has shouted at me. And all on the top of jet lag. It’s too much.
“Wraith, I want to go back to my room, please. I need some time alone.” I’m fighting back tears, annoyed at my weakness. In truth, I want to go home to my own familiar surroundings in England, bury my head in the sand and forget all this is happening to me.
“Hey,” Wraith crouches down in front of me, “I think Peg’s tryin’ to help you.”
“He’s a bully. If that’s his way of helping I think I’ll pass!” I retort, but my hearts not in it. “Just let me have some down time, will you?” I wish Horse was here, not that I know him that well either, but he’s been the one constant over the past few days.
Wraith’s hands touch mine and the day gets even worse when I feel his warmth on my fingers; my body’s reacting to him and if I wasn’t on the verge of crying before, I would be now. I look up him, his brow creased in concern, dark brown eyes staring into mine as if trying to read what’s hidden in the depths there. He’s a strikingly attractive man; he could have any woman he wanted. He might be the first since the accident to arouse feelings inside of me, but he’d never reciprocate them in a million years. Like everyone else, he’s just feeling sorry for me. For a second the idea of him looking at my disgusting stump fills me with horror; I couldn’t stand to see the inevitable revulsion on his face.
Briefly, he squeezes my hand, regards me intently, and then gives a quick nod as he comes to a decision. “Let’s get you back then.”
I want to be out of this clubhouse, away from the bikers that unnerve me, so I make no protest as he takes charge, pushing my wheelchair. It doesn’t take long before we reach the suite where I’m staying, and after one last concerned look, Wraith leaves me alone.
In my room I transfer myself to the bed, and lie back, my arm over my eyes, fighting to keep back the tears which have threatened all day. What have I done to deserve all this? All I did was give Zoe the money that should have enabled her to get away. If I’d known how Ethan would retaliate, would I have still gone ahead and helped her? I’d like to say yes, but a selfish part of me is screaming that there’s no way in hell, and I admit to wishing she’d never come to my door that day. Then I’d still have my leg and wouldn’t be in this position. Why do bad things always happen to me? When will the world decide I’ve suffered enough?
Gradually my jumbled thoughts slow. The jet lag and the gruelling events of the day have taken their toll, and I drift asleep. I’m awakened abruptly by a loud banging on the door.
“Who is it?” My voice shakes and my hands grow clammy. What if it’s Buster come calling? Although I said I was okay about Horse leaving, I wasn’t really. God, I wish I didn’t feel so helpless and alone.
But then comes a familiar voice, “It’s just me, Wraith. It’s five-thirty, and Peg wants you to meet him in half-an-hour.”
Remembering how the burly man had yelled at me, that’s the last thing I want to do. “I don’t want to go,” I call out, sounding as petulant as I feel.
“Can I come in?”
I heave a heavy sigh, “Yes, okay.”
The do
or opens, and Wraith enters. He comes over, and stares down at me; his face is set, his lips pursed, “I think you do, sweetheart. You’d have to be a braver fucker than I to ignore an instruction from our sergeant-at-arms. Come on, let’s get you up and sorted.”
Shit. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get out of this. Why does everyone think they can just push me around? “I don’t need help,” I reply tersely, pulling myself to a sitting position to demonstrate the point. Pausing just for a moment for my equilibrium to orientate as I move from horizontal to vertical, I reach for my wheelchair and shift across. “Just give me a minute to use the bathroom, and I’ll be with you.” I don’t want to go. Half of me wants to protest, and half of me is scared not to see what Peg wants with me. I don’t know the rules here, and without Horse, I’m at the mercy of these intimidating men.
And that’s why just before six o’clock I’m back in the bar area of the clubhouse waiting for the man who’d been so abrupt and scary earlier. My hands twist in my lap, and I chew on my lip as I wonder what on earth he could want with me? To try and take my mind off unanswerable questions of what Peg’s got planned, I glance around the room. There are a number of bikers around, some I recognise, some I haven’t met yet, as well as a few girls already scantily clad. I notice the latter seem particularly interested in me and not in a good way, unlike the old ladies I was introduced to earlier, and who’d made me so welcome. I begin to get suspicious about their role in the club, but if they think I’m looking to get between them and their men, well, they’ll soon realise unless it’s someone who ‘ain’t so particular’ as Buster, I’ll be no threat.
On the dot of six Peg strides into the room. Had I not seen his prosthesis with my own eyes, I’d never have known he was wearing one. He walks so confidently and surely as he heads straight to me, throwing a chin lift to Wraith before addressing me.
“Good, you’re here. You wouldn’t have wanted me to come and get you. First rule, darlin’, don’t cross me and we’ll get along just fine.”
Turning Wheels (Satan's Devils MC #1): A Blood Brothers Spin off Page 11