Unbeautifully

by Madeline Sheehan

  I swatted at his head. “Yes!”

  He lifted his head and scowled at me. “What the fuck, Danny, make it quick.”

  “My dad’s gonna be back soon,” I said, dodging another kiss.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you going to talk to him? Tell him about us?”

  After spending so much time with Ripper, alone, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sneaking around the club just to be with him. I wanted to be with him everywhere and I wanted everyone to know it.

  Ripper moved off of me and into a sitting position. I pushed myself up and reached for his arm.

  “I ain’t gonna tell him shit,” he said, shrugging me off him.

  I gaped at him.

  “But why not?” I whispered.

  “Why?” he bit out, his expression hard. “Because the club comes first, you fuckin’ know that. And shit between your old man and Eva is fucked-up, meanin’ your old man is fucked-up. I spill this shit between me and you to your old man, and shit’s gonna go bad real fuckin’ quick, for me, for you, and for the club.”

  The club. The club comes first.

  God, I’d heard it enough over the years and even if I hadn’t heard it I’d certainly felt it. My father had always spent more time at the club than at home. He’d almost never come to school functions and not once had he come to a game to watch me cheerleading or to a single gymnastics competition. His excuse? Club business.

  “You said you loved me!” I yelled. “I should have known you were no better than him! Making me think you care about me, but really all you care about is your stupid club!”

  Ripper shot to his feet, startling me. “STUPID CLUB?” he roared. “You got any fuckin’ idea what’s been feedin’ you all these years, what’s been keepin’ you rollin’ in all that stupid pink shit you’re always wearin’?”

  My mouth fell open.

  “Yeah, bitch, that’d be the club you been livin’ the good life off of.”

  I jumped to my feet, furious. “I hate it when you call me a bitch! And if you consider having a drunk for a mother and a father who was never home, who prefers hanging out with Cage over me, living the good life, then you have a seriously messed up view of what the good life is!”

  “This ain’t about your cunt of a mother or your old man or your brother. This is about me and you and the club. You bein’ in my fuckin’ bed means you’re my old lady and you bein’ my old lady, you tellin’ me you fuckin’ love me, means you’re lovin’ the club too. And right now, lovin’ the club means we ain’t tellin’ your old man jack shit.”

  “Then maybe I don’t want to be your old lady,” I snapped.

  “Stop actin’ stupid, Danny. You don’t get to decide that. I do. So wise the fuck up and get rid of whatever crawled up that hot little ass of yours.”

  Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t smile.

  Just because he thinks your ass is hot doesn’t mean you’ve forgiven him for not wanting to tell your father about you and him.

  “Why you makin’ that face, baby? You gotta take a shit or somethin’?”

  My eyes flared wide. “You are sooooo gross!” I yelled, no longer able to stop the grin that shot out across my face.

  Ripper scoffed. “You like it.”

  “Don’t,” I shot back.

  “Do.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You do, beautiful girl. You like me dirty and the dirty shit I do to you.”

  “That’s different,” I said, my gaze dropping to his waist where, beneath his tattered jeans, he was quickly hardening.

  He grinned. “Like when you’re kissin’ me hard after I’ve been eatin’ at that beautiful pussy, and you’re suckin’ yourself off my mouth like you’re starvin’. Or when I’m fuckin’ you, got two fingers up inside that perfect ass and you’re movin’ those hips, fuckin’ those fingers, cryin’ for a third—”

  I put my hand up. “Okay!” I shouted, my neck suddenly hot from embarrassment. “You’ve made your point!”

  He took a step toward me, still grinning. “You want me to drive that point home?”

  I did. I so did. Just looking at his big, beautiful body made me crazy, but I was still mad.

  “No,” I snapped. “I do not.”

  He sighed. “Don’t fuck around, Danny. I don’t like playin’ these stupid games women are always playin’.”

  My jaw dropped. Next to my father, Ripper was hands down the most infuriating man I’d ever met.

  “I hate you,” I spat, pushing him out of my way.

  “No you don’t,” he called out.

  “Now I really hate you!” I yelled over my shoulder.

  “Don’t.”

  “Do!”

  • • •

  Ripper watched Danny stalk out of the living room, wondering what the fuck she’d expected.

  How the fuck did she think he could explain this mess to Deuce? Without getting killed?

  No matter what he said or how he said it, Deuce was going to flip his fucking shit.

  Prez, I’m feelin’ Danny and I thought maybe you’d be cool with me takin’ her out?

  He could almost hear the gun discharging.

  Prez, Danny and I been hangin’ and I’m wantin’ more.

  Yeah. Right.

  Jesus, what the fuck was he supposed to say?

  Dude, I’ve been fuckin’ your daughter since her prom night and I just wanted to give you a heads-up ’cause I ain’t gonna stop fuckin’ her.

  Yep, he’d die.

  He knew Deuce deserved his respect; he’d owed it to his prez to tell him the truth. In fact, he owed Deuce a lot more than that. The man had taken him in when he was still a kid, gave him a place to live and a family, a way to financially pull himself together. Deuce had been a father to him after he’d lost his.

  And how was he repaying him? He was fucking his daughter behind his back, something Deuce had made explicitly clear to all the boys they were not to do. They were not even to think about doing it.

  And he wouldn’t have.

  If it hadn’t been for Frankie fucking him up and the drunken wallowing that had followed, he would have never touched Danny.

  Too late, he thought.

  Not only had Ripper touched her many, many times inside and out, she was firmly rooted inside him now. He wasn’t giving her up. Not only that, but he didn’t want to have to keep her a secret.

  It wasn’t ever going to happen, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about her hanging off him at the club, wearing leather and heels, her eyes trained on him, looking at him in that hungry way she did. He wanted everyone to see her hands on him, her nails digging into his skin, claiming him. He wanted them knowing that her thoughts…were always on him.

  He wanted every motherfucker out there knowing her pussy was his, that when he went to sleep at night, he did it with her in his arms.

  Yeah, he wanted the whole fucking world to know that eighteen-year-old Danielle West, the most beautiful female he’d ever laid eyes on, loved…him.

  Jesus, he was hard again. As if he hadn’t already fucked himself into oblivion. That fucking pussy of hers was Viagra in the form of sweet and soft pink flesh.

  But there was no way…

  “What the fuck!” he bellowed, seeing Danny exit his bedroom, fully dressed in head-to-toe pink, her stupid bag with some weird cat on it slung over her shoulder, heading for the front door. Moving fast, he made it there before she could.

  “Move,” she ground out. “I’m leaving.”

  “Nope, and no you’re not.”

  “Fine,” she hissed, spinning around. “Then I’ll call my dad for a ride!”

  Ripper gritted his teeth. Bitches. Crazy. All of them.

  Dumping her bag out on the floor, she bent over, reaching for her cell phone, forcing her skirt up and giving him a first class view of her ass.

  “You wanna play it that way, Danny?” he growled, fighting the urge to slam her up against the refrigerator and take her fro
m behind. “Fine. You either do what I say or you can act fuckin’ stupid and let your old man in on the secret. And if you choose actin’ stupid, you can take to the fuckin’ bank that I’m gonna be tellin’ your old man this shit was your fault, that you’d been beggin’ me for cock all summer.”

  She went still and for a moment he thought he’d won whatever round of stupid female shit she was forcing him to play.

  Then, standing up straight, she slowly turned around. “Go ahead,” she spat. “And I’ll tell him everything you did to me! In detail!”

  Holy hell. If she was anyone else pulling this shit, he’d slap that attitude right the fuck out of her.

  “You do that, baby,” he gritted out, “and it’s my funeral. Is that what you fuckin’ want? Me goin’ to ground?”

  “I’m sure Kami will be devastated,” she hissed.

  “Jesus Christ, bitch!” he yelled. “Who’s fuckin’ talkin’ about Kami! The only pussy I’m wantin’ is yours, you crazy shit, only right now I’m wantin’ to slap it!”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know about us!” she cried and he half-expected her to stomp her feet like a cranky toddler.

  He was going to kill her. Right now. She was going to be dead in about five seconds.

  “Ripper!” she cried out as he barreled into her, hefting her over his shoulder “Let me go!”

  “Did you hear what I fuckin’ said?” he yelled, slapping her ass. “You ain’t leavin’!”

  “You can’t tell me what to do!” she shrieked.

  In his bedroom, he threw her on the bed and bent over her, bringing them nose-to-nose.

  “I can and I will, ’cause you actin’ crazy like this isn’t gonna do nothin’ but get us caught and me sent straight to ground. And bitch, if your old man caps me, you better be front and center at my fuckin’ funeral, cryin’ your goddamn eyes out.”

  She went quiet and the angry lines in her face disappeared.

  The next thing he knew she was giggling.

  “Laugh it up,” he bit out angrily.

  And the crazy bitch started laughing even harder.

  Since it didn’t look like she was going to stop anytime soon, he figured he had two choices to shut her up. Knock her out or…

  He slammed his mouth down on hers and kissed her hard, ignoring her protests and pathetic attempts at fighting him off, until she was kissing him back with equal desperation and turning him on something fierce.

  “You’re gonna drive me motherfuckin’ crazy, ain’t you, baby?” he mumbled against her mouth as he pushed her thighs open and settled his hips between them.

  “Excuse you?” she demanded, digging her nails into his back. “Me? Drive you crazy?”

  Ripper grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it up to her neck, baring her upper body. “Are we fighting or fucking?” he growled, roughly fondling one firm, perfect breast. Quivering, covered in gooseflesh, her nipple peaked, begging him to suck it inside his mouth.

  Her blue eyes positively burned holy hell fire and his cock swelled at the sight of them. Danny was going to drive him crazy, but fuck him, if she wasn’t going to be worth every crazy moment of it.

  “We’re fucking,” she hissed.

  “Damn straight,” he muttered and slammed up inside all that eager sweetness.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Where the fuck is Ripper?” Deuce demanded, glancing around his office at all his boys. He pinned Mick with a glare. “I told you to have everybody here when I got in.”

  Arms folded across his chest, his VP shrugged. “Called him six fuckin’ times, Prez. He wasn’t even tryin’ to pick that shit up.”

  “He got outta here pretty quick after lockdown,” Hawk said from across the room. “Probably shot outta town and is shacked up in some no-tell motel, stackin’ pancakes as we speak.”

  Deuce shook his head. “If he can’t drag his sorry ass outta bed when I call a meeting, I ain’t repeatin’ jack shit for him. One of you assholes will have to tell ’im.”

  “This about Big Jay?” Tap asked.

  He nodded. “Hit went down last night. Demons took him out clean, half his crew too. The rest scattered, some were caught, are bein’ interrogated as we speak, and some got away. Way it goes.”

  “What about his bitch of a sister?” Cox growled, his hand automatically going to the piece he kept under his cut.

  Deuce eyed him; Cox and Ripper had always been tight, only a year apart and had been brought into the club around the same time, no family, no friends. They’d grown real close real fast and Mama Vi had specifically threatened Ripper.

  He shook his head. “No one knows. But she hasn’t surfaced as of yet and Preacher doesn’t think she’s gonna, not without backup. She wasn’t the brains of the operation, just the muscle, and by muscle I mean a big bag of crazy willin’ to do whatever’s necessary. Ain’t too much she can do without the big man tellin’ her which way is up, but still keep your eyes out for her or anyone else outta LA who might be nursin’ a revenge hangover.”

  “That’s it, right, Prez?” Jase asked, his eyes on the door, obviously itching to see Dorothy after a week on the road.

  “Respect your prez much, asshat?” Hawk muttered. Jase’s narrowed gaze shot to Hawk and the guy met him stare for stare.

  “Brother, what the fuck is your problem?” Jase asked, jerking his chin up.

  “I ain’t your brother,” Hawk shot back.

  The occupants of the room went eerily still. It was a low blow for any Horseman to say that to another, even worse because these were two of his lifers, patched in and loyal to the fucking bone. Whatever was going on between them wasn’t going to fly, and needed to be reeled in right the fuck now.

  Cursing under his breath, Deuce pushed his chair away from his desk and got to his feet.

  “Explain yourself,” he directed at Hawk. “Now.”

  Just as Hawk’s mouth opened, Dirty was suddenly beside him, shoving the guy toward the door.

  “Hawk’s been pukin’ his guts up the whole time you fuckers were gone,” Dirty said over his shoulder, smacking Hawk’s head forward when the guy kept trying to glare at Jase. “Had a fever and shit. I’ve been sitting by his side, holding his hair up and rubbin’ his tummy and shit, and he still ain’t feelin’ so hot.”

  The door slammed behind them and Jase turned to him. “What the fuck?” he shouted. “Prez, you gonna let that shit stand?”

  Feeling more like an elementary school principal than an MC president, Deuce turned to his VP. “Somethin’ go down around here that I need to know about?”

  Mick gave him a blasé shrug. “Fuck if I know what these fuckers are doin’ with themselves. I got kids and shit, can’t be babysittin’ grown-ass men all the time.”

  “Get out,” he said irritably, gesturing to his office doors. “All of you, get the fuck out.”

  One by one his boys left until only Blue remained.

  Deuce eyed the old man. “Somethin’ you need?”

  “Worried ’bout you, boy,” Blue said quietly.

  He gaped at him. Who the fuck called a fifty-year-old man a boy? But then again, nobody knew Blue’s true age. Never had any of the brothers known Blue without a full head of long white hair and an equally white beard. The man’s eyes were a milky cataract-infested mess, his teeth long ago rotted out, and his skin nothing but a mass of mottled wrinkles. Yet, he was healthy as a horse and could throw back a bottle like he was twenty-five when in all likelihood he was a hundred and sixty.

  “You’re hurtin’,” Blue continued. “And ain’t no one blamin’ you for that. You and Eva sure done been through some shit. But, Deuce, this shit ain’t your fault, it ain’t Eva’s fault, it ain’t no one’s fault ’cept for Frankie and he’s long gone.”

  Used to these longwinded bullshit speeches from Blue, Deuce sat down heavily in his desk chair and prayed it would be over soon.

  “I get you, always have,” Blue said. “Reaper was a special brand of bastard, we
all knew it, and we all watched you growin’ up fightin’ for your next breath. You never knew nothin’ else, always fightin’, even with Eva you were still fightin’. You don’t gotta be fightin’ anymore.”

  “I ain’t fightin’ nothin’,” he growled. “You—”

  “You got ghosts,” Blue interrupted. “I know it. Hell, we all fuckin’ know it. You got ’em followin’ you everywhere you fuckin’ go. You got Reaper breathin’ down your neck and now Frankie’s back there too. You ain’t gonna move forward unless you dig yerself a hole and throw that bullshit six feet under, set it on fuckin’ fire and bury that shit. Otherwise you ain’t no good to no one, least of all yerself.”

  Fuuuuck this shit.

  “Shut up, old man,” he bit out. “I’ve had enough motherfuckers tellin’ me what I should and shouldn’t be doin’ lately.”

  “She loves you,” Blue continued, ignoring him. “A fuckin’ dumbass could see that. You’re pushin’ her away again and she’s leavin’ this time, mark my word, Deuce. She’s leavin’ you this time.”

  “She ain’t leavin’,” he said through his teeth. Was she? Did he even care?

  His jaw clenched. Yeah, he did and no way was she leaving.

  Blue shook his head again.

  “You stupid? Ain’t no woman gonna walk away from a man just ’cause he’s crazy or ’cause his job ain’t all sunshine and roses. Fact, you bein’ crazy, this life bein’ what it is, is probably only makin’ her love you more. Women are stupid like that. But you’re fuckin’ yourself. You don’t start givin’ that girl what she needs and she’s gone, and listen to me when I tell you, you ain’t never gonna find a woman who loves you like that one does.”

  Deuce closed his eyes, remembering.

  Bending down in front of Eva, he looked into her eyes. “What do you want, babe?”

  She turned away from him and hid behind her hair, but not before he saw her turn bright fucking red.

  He filled with primal male satisfaction. She wanted him. Her, a fucking angel in a mess of demons, wanted him, one of the biggest fucking demons he knew.

  “Say it,” he said harshly.

  Fuck. What the fuck was he doing?

  She turned back to him and tucked her hair behind her ears. God, that face. That sweet, perfect face.