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Still Standing

Page 35

by Kristen Ashley


  This was met with silence.

  Then Buck asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  My head shot back, and I glared at him.

  “Part of what I get is not having to discuss this,” I repeated.

  His hands went to his hips. “I heard you, babe, and I still don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

  “I ask no questions, you tell no lies. I get it.” I stood and ignored his brows snapping together. “I get it now. Lies tear people apart. If you don’t have to lie, then that lie won’t tear us apart. So that went down. We ignore it. I go to your house and you do what you have to do. It didn’t happen. It doesn’t happen. It happens for you, but it never, never, Buck, it never happens for me. That’s what I get. You get what you get, but that’s what you give to me.”

  I knew, but didn’t care, that the snake was uncoiling when he said, low and lethal, “Clara, I’ll ask you one more time and then I’ll find another way to get you to tell me what in the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

  “I know who she is,” I announced.

  “Yeah, babe, you saw her ridin’ Gash. I know you know who she is.”

  “Right,” I stated like that said it all because it gosh darned did!

  “Right?” he asked like it didn’t.

  “Don’t you stand there and lie to me, Buck.”

  “Babe, I’m warnin’ you, this shit, it’s pissin’ me off, and I don’t even know what this shit is.”

  That was another lie.

  It wasn’t pissing him off.

  One look and the sound of his voice, I knew, for some insane reason, he already was.

  He was pissed at me after his other woman walked in when he was still inside me.

  “I can’t believe you!” I shouted.

  “What the fuck can’t you believe?” he fired back. “Not ten minutes ago, your pussy’s wrapped hot and tight around my cock and you’re holdin’ on like you’ll never let go, and now I got a whole other woman on my hands, babe, pullin’ fuckin’ multiple personality bullshit on me.”

  “Oh no, you did not,” I whispered. But it wasn’t a whisper when I said, “Do not turn this on me!”

  “Babe, for fuck’s sake, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he shouted, and he’d never shouted at me.

  Not once.

  Not ever.

  And it snapped something in me.

  I marched to him and shoved his chest then leaned into his face, in his space, up on my tiptoes.

  “I was about to tell you I love you!” I yelled.

  I watched his head jerk but kept right on ranting.

  “Then your…whatever you call her…other woman, mistress, plaything, whatever,” I screeched the last word, “walks in. I know who she is to you, and I know I have to put up with it. I also know that you are supposed to hide that stuff from me. And now something beautiful has turned nasty and you’re making it worse by standing there lying to me.”

  “Jesus, fuckin’ shit, Toots, you know this. I told you this the first goddamn night we met. I do clean!” he yelled.

  “What?” I yelled back.

  He bent, and I got off my toes or his angry face would have hit mine.

  “I fuck clean. I only fuck clean. In any way I can get that clean. Nails is so dirty, the bitch is polluted. I do not fuck dirty.”

  At that, I whispered, “What?”

  “Yeah,” he clipped. “You are clean.”

  I stood still and stunned.

  I pulled myself out of it and told him, “I saw you kissing her.”

  “The fuck you did.”

  “I did!” I snapped, my temper flaring again. “It was the day I went shopping with the girls that first time. I saw you sitting on a picnic table, kissing her.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, and then his eyes narrowed before he continued, “No, babe, you saw me sittin’ on a picnic table coverin’ for Gash. An old lady hits Ace at the same time a boy’s hittin’ a piece who’s not his old lady, we cover.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I hissed.

  Even though I knew it wasn’t. I’d seen Cruise jump into action to do that very same thing.

  “And I wasn’t kissin’ her. Fuck, her mouth’s been everywhere. I don’t share that shit with my brothers. They do. I don’t. Which is exactly my point.”

  “I saw it,” I asserted.

  “And I’m tellin’ you, you did not,” he shot back.

  “I did!”

  “Clara, Nails,” he shook his head, “not too smart. You know the use of one kinda woman, the kind like you. You know the use of what you call groupies, women that like to have a good time, no hang-ups, they just wanna party. Then there are women like Nails. Nails, she thinks she can lead a man around by his dick. And she is not wrong. I’ve seen her do it. It doesn’t last, but she gets off on it while it does. And she does it gettin’ him addicted to her snatch. She opens it, wide and free, doin’ that makin’ it so she’ll never really hook a man. And that isn’t about her getting around. It’s that she’s stupid and she’s ambitious. She aims high and her aim is me. So she fucks who she wants with an eye to me. And men will take what she offers, but they won’t do it for long when she makes it obvious she’s with one man and she’s gagging for another one.”

  Well then.

  That did sound stupid.

  And ambitious.

  Buck wasn’t done.

  “So she’ll take what she can get, a boy lets her in, but she’s been comin’ after me. When you rolled in with the girls, Gash got the heads-up, he rolled Nails out, and I kept her occupied so Gash could get her washed off him and get to Minnie before Nails did something stupid if she got to Minnie. She had my attention, and Clara, that was the first time she had my attention, but she didn’t see it for what it was. She was stupid enough to think she had a shot. She took it. She got in my space, and I let her. But she didn’t kiss me. I didn’t kiss her. No fuckin’ way.”

  “You had your hand on her,” I informed him.

  “Yeah, so? It wasn’t down her fuckin’ pants. It was to keep the bitch from getting any closer to me.”

  This was true.

  It wasn’t down her pants.

  “The girls told me she was yours.”

  “The girls would think that seein’ as their boys told them that to save their own shit. She hangs around and she does it a lot. She’s got a use, or she did, now she’s out. But she had a use, they used it. Gash and Cruise aren’t gonna say she’s around so they can get a fuckin’ blowjob anytime they’re lookin’ to get off.”

  Oh dear.

  That made sense.

  They wouldn’t say that.

  In fact, the rules were, they couldn’t.

  “Ink?” I asked quietly.

  “Ink nailed her before Lorie. Ink finds a woman, he’s like me.”

  “And, um…” I hesitated then went on, “what are you like?”

  He scowled at me but didn’t deign to answer.

  Oh dear.

  “But, uh…you’re like that, but when we saw Gash, you were angry at him just for being what you called stupid.”

  “Yeah,” he clipped.

  “Stupid, Buck? Stupid enough to get caught?”

  “Tell me, even though Minnie’s a tough broad, she’s good to the bone. Tell me what’s more stupid than riskin’ losin’ her by hittin’ a rank piece like Nails? Or any piece at all?”

  Nothing.

  Nothing was more stupid.

  It was dawning on me I’d made a big mistake.

  Though, since we were clearing the air…

  “Who’s Nonna?” I asked.

  “Nonna’s clean. I’ve hit Nonna. I’ve hit her more than once. She’s here and she knows you are, and she knows who you are and what you are to me, so Nonna’s smart enough to stay the fuck away from you and from me.”

  “I think…” I hesitated again then carried on, “I may have made an error in judgment.”

  His brows shot up. “You
think?”

  “Buck—”

  “Now that your fuckin’ head’s straight, what I wanna know, you stood there tellin’ me you love me at the same time you stood there tellin’ me to do what I had to do, and I get it that you meant put my dick where I wanted to put it, and you didn’t give a fuck that where I put it wasn’t in you.”

  Uh-oh.

  I had a feeling biker babe orientation and training had gone off the tracks somewhere along the line.

  At least where Buck was concerned.

  “Buck—”

  “I gotta say, babe, I do not share. I don’t know what fucked-up shit this is, but if you think you can let me be free so you can spread your legs for whoever you wanna take, I am not down with that.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I hope fuckin’ not, because you think that, we got serious problems.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I repeated.

  “Good, then now we gotta talk about why you wouldn’t, but you got no problem lettin’ me.”

  “Um…” I mumbled.

  “You had no issue a minute ago spewin’ shit, Clara, so speak the fuck up.”

  Okay, I was sensing he was mad. Madder than he’d ever been at me.

  So I explained hurriedly, “Minnie, Lorie, and Pinky were Professor Higginsing me.”

  His head jerked again, then he asked, “What?”

  “I told you weeks ago. They were Professor Higginsing my Eliza Biker Babe. Minnie was with me when I saw you with Nails. They gave me the lowdown about how I had to put up with certain, uh…things…if I wanted to keep you.”

  He stared at me hard a second, then he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his hand clenched around the back of his neck as he looked to the ceiling, muttering, “Fuckin’ shit.”

  “They were trying to help,” I told him quietly.

  He dropped his hand and his head to look down on me.

  “Yeah, they’re good women. They tried to do right. It was you who fucked up.”

  “Sorry?”

  “A-fuckin’-gain, you didn’t read me. You didn’t pay attention to the things I was sayin’, and I’m seein’ now you sure as fuck didn’t pay attention to a fuckin’ thing I was doing.”

  “Buck—”

  “Babe, I like your tight jeans and I like your sexy boots, and you can keep wearin’ ’em, if you like ’em. If you’re tryin’ to be something for me, you are not cluein’ in, because I hooked you because of who you were, tight skirt and high heels that showed off your ass, but you had no fuckin’ clue they showed off your ass and how good they did it. Thankin’ me for offerin’ you fuckin’ refreshments when I was playin’ you. Prim and fuckin’ proper until I got that skirt around your waist and your ass in my hands and fucked you against the wall, then you were hot, and your mouth and pussy, babe, hot and sweet. And nothing’s changed, even when you wear your tight jeans and fuck-me boots. The world and me, we get the cute librarian, but you’re in my bed, it’s only me that gets the wild sex kitten, and I like it like that.”

  I felt that familiar warm rush glide through me as I stared up at him and lamely murmured, “Oh.”

  “Oh,” he bit back.

  “Buck,” I whispered.

  “No, Toots, nope.” He shook his head and stepped away from me. “Months, I been there. Months, we been together. You didn’t ask me about those picture frames, even though, more than once, I saw you studyin’ ’em. It was me who had to come clean about that shit. Months, not only those frames, but you never asked dick about me. Now I find out, months you think I’ve been steppin’ out on you, with fuckin’ Nails. Christ,” he clipped. “We were even both together when we saw her with Gash, and you didn’t say a fuckin’ word.”

  “Buck—”

  “You just kept your trap shut, ready and willing to let me be an asshole and play you, but it’s not me playin’ you, is it, Clara? It’s you who’s been playin’ me.”

  I felt my stomach drop as I whispered, “Sorry?”

  “Babe, I’m seein’ you’d put up with a lot and do what you gotta do, anything you gotta do, to keep a roof over your head, your belly full and money in your account.”

  I took a step back.

  He didn’t just say that to me.

  “Did you just say that to me?” I asked.

  “How long’s it gonna last?” he asked back. “’Til I find Tia, or confirm she bit it, then you take what you can get and motor?”

  He did.

  He said that to me.

  All of it.

  And he thought that about me.

  He thought that about me.

  I was in love with him. I even told him that. It was in a rant, but he heard me.

  And he thought that about me.

  I stared at him and didn’t say a word.

  I was wrong.

  Again, I was wrong.

  I had no stinking clue what love was.

  Sure, I could see, considering he didn’t do what I thought he did, not only didn’t do the actual act with Nails, he just didn’t do that at all, that he’d be angry I thought he did.

  And I could even see he’d be incredibly angry about that. He was entitled. I’d feel the same way if the tables were turned.

  I’d messed up.

  Huge.

  What I could not see was Buck saying I was trying to live in his world to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach.

  I wasn’t doing that.

  I was doing it because I was falling in love with him.

  I turned to the dresser where my purse was, opened it, pulled out my wallet and cell phone. I walked to the bed, flipping through the bills, keeping only what I needed, which wasn’t much. Then again, I’d never needed much. I threw the rest on the bed and tossed the cell phone he bought me next to it.

  “Clara—”

  My head snapped around to face him but only for the briefest of moments.

  Then I aimed my eyes at my boots, turned and walked his way.

  But I only headed in that direction because that was where the door was.

  He wrapped his fingers around my upper arm, and I stopped.

  “Fuck, Clara—”

  Viciously, I yanked from his hold. “Your new office girl can call Mrs. Jimenez if she has any questions about where to find anything. I’ll call her back.”

  “Jesus, babe,” he clipped, grabbing hold of me again.

  It was then I looked him dead in the eyes.

  “We’re done, West. I’m out. And you can hold me where I want to be, but you can’t force me to be where I don’t want to be.”

  “Babe—”

  “Take your hand off me.”

  “Toots—”

  “Take your hand off me!” I screamed.

  He didn’t take his hand off me. He tried to draw me in front of him.

  I didn’t let him.

  With a savage twist I tore free.

  Then I ran, fast.

  I was wearing high-heeled boots, but Buck was barefoot, bare-chested in late October and his boys were drunk, randy and having a good time, thus it was not easy to get their attention.

  Therefore, I got away.

  Kind of.

  See, running down Bell Road in a blind search for a payphone to call a cab, a car stopped beside me.

  The door was thrown open, a man got out and hooked me at the waist, pulled me into the car with him and reached across me to slam the door.

  Then he ordered the driver, “Go.”

  The car shot forward.

  In the throes of yet another kidnapping, thus in a panic, I looked at the driver.

  It was Tia.

  27

  He Has No Problem Branching Out

  I looked from my place on the couch across the open-plan living room into Detective Rayne Scott’s kitchen, and I stared at Scott and the tall, handsome, dark blond man Tia called Damian.

  “Clara, honey, you okay?” Tia asked me, and I turned my attention to her sitting
close to me on the couch.

  “No,” I whispered, “but I’m glad you are.”

  “Honey,” she whispered back.

  “I thought you were dead,” I told her quietly.

  “I’m sorry. I tried to call, but by the time I could, I called Mrs. Jimenez and her number had been disconnected. I didn’t remember her cell number, and those aren’t listed. Damian sent a man to your apartment, and the man said you and Mrs. Jimenez both were gone. I didn’t know how else to reach you.”

  “She moved, and got a new number, but she told me she arranged the service so her new one was announced,” I explained.

  “It wasn’t.”

  Oh dear.

  Perhaps we should have checked.

  I stared at my friend. Then I hooked her behind the neck and pulled her forehead to mine and closed my eyes.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said softly, opened my eyes and looked into hers. “You’re here now.”

  “Yeah, Clara, I’m here now,” she replied, just as softly.

  We stared into each other’s eyes, and I watched her smile. Then I let her go but we both only moved back a bit.

  “I’m sorry that here is here,” she said to me.

  “What?”

  “Detective Scott’s place. I know that you…that he…” She shook her head and continued, “He’s Damian’s friend. I told Damian you wouldn’t like it, but he said it was safe for you and for me.”

  A police detective’s apartment was probably as safe as you were going to get.

  I nodded.

  “And I know we both decided to actively hate him for the rest of our days, but I’ve found out he’s kind of a nice guy,” she went on.

  I looked into the kitchen to see both sets of eyes, one light brown (Scott) one hazel (Damian) aimed in the direction of the couch.

  They didn’t look away.

  I did.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “But let’s talk about where the heck you’ve been for-blinkety-blank-ever.”

  “I want to talk about why you were running from Ace in the Hole,” she said to me.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Your car was found filled with blood. That story takes priority. Any story that includes pools of my best friend’s blood takes priority.”

  Her face got soft.

 

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