by Addison Jane
“I got this, man. Go, take a break.” I patted him on the shoulder, and he nodded stretching his body up and rolling his shoulders. He’d probably been standing there for at least a few hours. He raised an eyebrow, questioning me.
“Go. Get a coffee, call someone else to come watch her. You have more important shit to be doing.”
“You got that right,” he muttered under his breath. I knew Drake didn’t like Lauren, he hadn’t since we were kids. But the disdain had grown stronger recently.
I ignored him and walked to the end door and knocked.
“Yeah?” her voice was tense and unsure.
“It’s Ripley.”
It was only a few seconds later that the door swung open, and I took a deep breath. One of her eyes was swollen and bloodshot with a purple shading beneath it. Her lip was completely split in the center and was raw and looked pretty damn painful. She had on a thick hoodie and baggy sweatpants, so I couldn’t see much more, but the way her shoulders slumped told me more than I needed to know.
She stepped back, and I walked in letting her close the door behind me as I took my cell out of my back pocket and placed it on the small counter off to the side before taking a seat on the edge of the small, hard bed.
This was me giving her my attention.
Lauren folded her body in, her arms coming across her chest, and her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry you had to ride all the way back. I know you’d only been down there since yesterday. I tried to tell everyone it could wait, but my dad...” she cringed and shook her head, “… he won’t take no.”
“What happened?”
The question made her instantly look away, her eyes dropping to the ground. I let her have a moment, and she took a deep breath before looking up at me again, this time with tears brimming her eyes. “I did some stupid shit while I was away at college, Rip. I thought I was invincible. I thought that it was my time to escape my parents. Be the person who I wanted to be for a while. Let loose.”
I nodded.
I fucking got it.
Her dad, Pound, was one member that I just didn’t vibe with. He was older, set in his ways. Lauren was, what I guess you might call, an afterthought in his life. She didn’t come along until he was over fifty, and was the product of him knocking up a drug addict and paying her to go away after she had the baby.
Lauren didn’t have the best start, but she had family around her. Old ladies, club girls, other members who all helped to raise her to be strong despite the strict lessons her dad laid on her. Which is why it didn’t surprise me to hear that she rebelled the first chance she was given.
“I managed to get myself into some shit with one of the local dealers, and I have a feeling that shit may have followed me home,” she explained on a whisper, completely avoiding eye contact. “The guys who jumped me last night, they knew me, my name, the club, and they were talking about paying what I owed.”
The bristles on the back of my neck were starting to ruffle. I cared about Lauren, she’d been close to a sister for a long time. But if I was dragged back here because she fucked up and didn’t pay for a point bag, she was going to end up with something more than sympathy.
“You give me his name, I’ll sort it out,” I told her sternly as my cell began to ring on the small counter.
I got up, but she stepped in, the tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Rip, please. I need help. More than just help for this.” I froze, looking down at her and the way she looked up at me like I was her hero. I wasn’t anyone’s hero. “I don’t know who to ask because my dad, he just brushes it off, but I’m so sick of the pressure that’s sitting on my shoulders every damn day.”
She was breaking, and suddenly, the ringing phone was forgotten. “What are you talking about?”
“There comes a point where I wonder if it’s worth it. I’m never going to be the person he wants me to be. I’m never going to be the Old Lady he wants me to be.”
I grabbed her shoulders and held her still looking down into her eyes. “Hey! Look at me. What is going on?”
She reached down and pulled back her bangles and thrust her arm forward.
Scars.
Fresh cuts.
Still red.
I chewed on my lip and tugged at the hem of my shirt, waiting and waiting. “Momma?”
When no reply came again, I began to wonder what she could be doing. What if she was sick? What if she’d fallen asleep? What if the shower overflows like Dad did to the laundry downstairs that one time?
Puffing out my chest and drawing back my shoulders, I decided I’d need to be brave. To make sure she was okay, and that Dad wouldn’t be angry when he got home because Momma had forgotten to switch off the tap.
So, I pressed my hand against the door.
And I pushed it open. “Momma?” I murmured, stepping inside as the steam that had filled our tiny bathroom escaped out the door. It was wet against my skin, and I had to squint really hard to try and see through it.
Another footstep inside, and instantly, I jumped back as I felt like I’d stepped into a puddle on the floor. The quick movement made me slip and while I tried to catch myself, I landed with a thud on the hard tile, tears quickly pricking at my eyes as a sharp jolt went up my back.
I was stunned for a moment, trying not to cry. I lifted my hand to brush away the escape of several tears, freezing just before I swiped the back of my hand across my face, the bright red stained liquid on my skin catching my eye.
It ran down my arm, dripping from my fingertips, and the more I followed it with my eyes, the more I found. It was all over me, it was all over the floor, it was splashed across my shorts and my shirt and my legs, and I still had no idea what it…
I stopped.
The foggy mist had cleared from the bathroom, emptying out into the hallway, meaning I could see everything now.
Everything.
I could see the pile of clothes next to the bath.
I could see the pink and green shower curtain which was pulled almost all the way across.
I could see the razor blade that Dad had always told me never to touch lying on the floor.
And I could see the pale arm that hung over the side of the bathtub with blood dripping from the fingertips.
It wasn’t moving.
And I couldn’t either.
I stumbled backward, fighting hard to breathe and trying to focus my eyes. “Lauren,” I croaked. “Tell me you aren’t… that you wouldn’t…” I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know what to say.
My chest it hurt to breathe and talk, and I was staring across at this girl who I considered a friend—fucking family—with her telling me that she was giving up. I felt like I was that child all over again, the one looking at his mom like he’d do anything to help her like he would fight the biggest dragon if it meant she would smile again. I was too small then, I didn’t have a big enough voice or a strong enough sword, but things were different now. I couldn’t let another person in my life go down that road and slip into that scary place where life becomes too painful to bear.
She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “You know what it’s like, don’t you? To try and live up to someone else’s expectations? To fight so fucking hard to make them happy, and then just have them look at you like trash.” She sobbed, and I reached out and grabbed her, pulling her in just before her body crumbled to the floor.
Every single fucking word hit its mark.
I loved my mom. I fought so goddamn hard to have her to see me differently, to get her to give a shit, but she still looked at me like I was the scum that ruined her life. And even to this day, I would have done almost anything just to have her smile at me once.
We both sunk down, my back against the wall as she curled into me, bawling, fighting for breath through the tears. The very real fucking tears.
“Lauren, I promise I will always be there to hear you,” I told her honestly despite the fact I wanted to get to my feet and rip this fucking room to shreds.
All I could see in that moment was my mom’s face, and how bad I wished someone had been there for her, telling her that there was more. “I have responsibilities that sometimes take me away, I have other shit going on, but I promise if you call, I’ll pick up.”
This was family.
Family was losing your shit at them one day but promising to have their back when they needed you the next. And hoping like fuck they knew that.
“You hear me?”
It took her a moment to catch her breath, but I felt her nod against my chest. “I hear you.”
I wouldn’t lose anyone else.
DAKOTA
The struggle to avoid anyone and everyone for the past three days was hard.
After the attack, I was left with bruising all across my stomach and a black eye which, no matter how hard I tried to cover with concealer the day after, would not disappear. Home remedies were my best friend for those first two days. I tried anything and everything to take away the swelling of my cheek and hide some of the bruising.
I tried vinegar. I tried pineapple—which I held on my eye for over an hour before I reread the article which only suggested eating it. And I tried some weird concoction of Vaseline and cayenne pepper which only made me cry a lot.
I told everyone I had a stomach bug and was highly contagious, which worked until yesterday when in true Meyah fashion, she came knocking, and I had to put the pineapple back on my eye and pretend like I was using it as some new face rejuvenator. She left after I started telling her how horrendous my diarrhea still was.
Thank God Ripley was back in Vegas dealing with Lauren’s attack. Because it made me want to vomit lying to Meyah, and if it had been Rip, I don’t think I would have been able to get the words out.
And while I wanted to be angry at how he’d dropped everything and left the moment shit hit the fan with Lauren, and how this would have never happened if he was here—the guilt that had been building in my gut over the past couple of weeks was the only emotion I could feel at that stage.
It was consuming me.
And I was thankful that he had some kind of distraction because it was getting to the point where I just wasn’t sure I could do it anymore.
By Thursday, I managed to leave the house looking less bruised and more like a low-class hooker with the amount of makeup I was wearing, but that was already more than Caleb deserved anyway, and I hoped people judged him for being out in public with me.
Caleb placed his hand on my back as he directed me into the upper-class restaurant.
I instantly pulled away, narrowing my eyes up at him. “I agreed to do this, but I never agreed to let you touch me. So, keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the evening,” I warned, before adding, “Or you might find yourself in the emergency room with a fork protruding from one.”
I caught the way his lip twitched, letting me know that my words had agitated him, but we were in a nice place, a place where he wouldn’t want to make a scene, which was exactly why I’d chosen it. Still, I knew I shouldn’t push my luck because once I overstepped that line, I was in for a shitload of trouble from a whole lot of crazy.
Caleb thanked the waiter who quickly deposited us at our small and intimate table before rushing off, mumbling something about water jugs and clean glasses. Caleb was a little more tense than usual, I could see the way his eyes moved around the room like he was expecting someone to jump out at him any moment. It made me nervous, but also had me wondering what the hell he’d done or was about to do that could have him freaking out.
It took a few minutes, but his body began to relax into the chair. He casually picked up his menu, his eyes scanning over it. I refused to do the same, instead, choosing to tap my foot loudly on the wooden floor.
His eyes looked down then back up at my face. “People are staring, Dakota.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what the hell you want, so I can get out of here and leave you to your dinner for one,” I responded, hating this just as much as he was, but refusing to let him know how fucking petrified I really was.
“Glad to see even through all this that you haven’t lost that sass I so love.” The sarcasm dripped from his words, laced with confrontation, daring me to fire back. “Maybe it’s time to start considering growing up, Dakota.”
I couldn’t stop myself. “Maybe it’s time you pulled that huge carrot out of your ass, Caleb,” I threw back with absolutely no hesitation. “It’s got to be pretty rotten by now.”
That was all it took. His hands gripped the edge of the table, and before I had time to brace myself, the small two-person table was suddenly shoved straightforward, the hard edge connecting with my ribs and knocking the air from my lungs. I coughed and choked holding onto the table and trying to push it back and away from me as I fought to get the oxygen back. My eyes watered from the pain, and I was trying hard not to let the wave of nausea take over.
The table was pulled away just as the waiter suddenly appeared beside me. “Oh dear, are you okay?” he asked in a panic as he placed the jug of water and two glasses onto the table. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as I fought past the pain and struggled to breathe.
“Here, honey, have some water.” Caleb’s fake sweet voice made me want to flip the entire fucking table upside down and beat him with it. “Wouldn’t want to make a scene, would we?”
My breathing slowly began to come back, and I finally managed to look up at him as he sat back, sipping at his water, his brow raised in a challenge.
The waiter was still staring down at me with a worried expression looking between the two of us like he couldn’t quite figure out what the hell had happened, or why my date wasn’t helping me.
“I'm okay,” I managed to finally cough, forcing a thankful smile at the young man. “Thank you for the water.”
The waiter took a step back, his eyes flicking between Caleb and me. He knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out what, so instead, he just dipped his head and stepped away, his brow pulled together in confusion.
“My patience is wearing really thin, Dakota. So, it might be smart for you to keep your fucking mouth shut and not be such a smartass little bitch,” Caleb ordered quietly, his words soft but sharp so he knew I was getting the message, but that it couldn’t be overheard by the people sitting around us.
“I just want to get the hell away from you, so what the fuck do you want?” I rasped, my hand pressed tightly to my ribs to try and stem some of the pain.
He smirked and shook his head. “You honestly have no idea when to stop, do you?”
“No, I’m just not going to let some asshole like you break me,” I told him fiercely, forcing myself to sit a little taller.
“There’s still time,” he mused, taking a large drink of water and placing the glass on the table. “Unfortunately for you and your amateur stalling techniques, I have other jobs that I need to get to, other criminals to destroy.”
“And other innocent lives to tear to shreds?” I added.
“I don’t have time to be playing these little games of avoidance,” he finished, ignoring my comment. “So, we’re stepping things up a little.” His eyes moved around the room checking to make sure there was no one close by watching us.
That alone made my stomach drop, so when he reached into his pocket and placed something on the table in front of me, I was already ready to vomit.
He pulled his hand away, and I gasped, instantly snatching up the little bag and pressing it into my lap. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded under my breath. “You can’t just hand me a bag of ice across a dinner table in the middle of a restaurant.”
I knew exactly what was in the bag. I’d worked in bars and nightclubs for long enough to know my shit when it came to illegal substances. The Brothers were actually very open with the staff about showing us what they looked like, so if we saw people with anything suspicious, we could let the boys know to remove them. That was one sure fire way to give your club a bad name, and
have it targeted by police, or have some stupid idiot overdose in your bathroom.
Caleb leaned back in his seat and chuckled. “That’s what scares you? Wow! Should have whipped this out in the first place. Maybe I would have got this done a lot fucking faster.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to ask, but I knew he wasn’t just giving me a bag of ice for fun. “What is it for?”
His eyes lit up, and if I hadn’t already known, it would have been that moment where I realized that there was something seriously mentally wrong with this man. “You’re going to use it to get me what I want.”
My gut sank, and I could feel my hands shaking. “I don’t know what that means,” I replied through gritted teeth, even though I was pretty sure I knew what he was intending on doing with it.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head back and forth. “Dakota, come on… I know you’re not that stupid.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed dramatically and leaned in. “I’m going to give you some more of that stuff, you’re going to take it to the club and you’re going to plant it. In lockers, on the boys’ bikes, in some of the staff drinks, any fucking place where it’s going to give me probable cause to tear their fucking shit apart until I find something useful.”
“The club is against this kind of stuff,” I hissed, scrunching up the small package in my hand, desperate to throw it back in his face. Maybe spike his water with it and hope for the best.
He laughed loudly. “And I thought you weren’t naïve. I haven’t met an MC in my life who hasn’t been running drugs through the city. It’ll be there, and I’ll find it, but I need an entrance.”
I didn’t know what else to say or do. My entire body was shaking with anger and fear, and the both mixed together made everything tremble. I needed to get out of there. “Are we done?” I snapped, pushing my chair back from the table.
He snorted. “Sure. Everything’s been delivered to your apartment. Saturday night, 11.00 p.m. is when the raid will happen. It’s also when I’ll have eyes on your niece, so if it’s not done…” he let the words hang, and I swallowed back a sob before I got up from my seat and walked toward the door.