by Marie James
She startles at the nugget of information I’m just making a stab in the dark at.
“If I’m going to have to look at your tits, you need to talk.” She clutches the sheet tighter against her body as her head shakes left and right. “Eventually you’re going to have to tell me what you got me mixed up in.”
“You’re not mixed up in anything,” she whispers.
“Bullshit,” I say rubbing my hand across my forehead. “Tomorrow you talk. Tomorrow you tell me why Grinder and two of his lynch men showed up at the clubhouse tonight hunting for you.”
I back out of the room when she whimpers at the information. The urge to hold her, beg her to tell me what the fuck is going on, and promise her I’ll protect her is too strong to stay in the room with her.
Chapter 7
Makayla
“Take it,” the hot rancid smell of Grinder’s breath rushes over my shoulder as he kicks my legs further apart. I know how this ends, but I can’t keep myself from fighting him. Refusing to give in and just let it happen isn’t in me.
One arm pinning my shoulder over the table, his other comes up and connects with my face. Searing pain blasts behind my eyelid, the warm trickle of blood already flowing down my cheek.
My lip is bleeding from biting back the screams in my nightmare when I finally break free of the entanglements of sleep. The nightmares are always the same; violent, horrific, and linger long after my eyes open. I rub the side of my face, phantom pain from his last strike against it as real as if he were in the room with me.
Even away from the clubhouse, the torture follows me, as does the morning routine. I barely make it to the toilet, completing the first step of almost every morning since I was sixteen. Next comes the scalding hot shower, which even if it were hot enough to peel my skin away, I’d still feel dirty.
The third is only accomplished after drying off and dressing, from head to toe this time. I grab the throw from the end of the bed and as quiet as possible make my way to the kitchen to caffeinate against the night of restless sleep. The sun hasn’t even peaked over the horizon, but the peaceful calm of the dock and lake out back have been calling to me since yesterday. With coffee in hand, I check out front ensuring that Dominic is still home and sneak out back. My socks and the bottoms of my thick pajamas dampen as I walk to the dock, the morning dew clinging to them. I smiled when I pulled out the clothes he had delivered to the house. You’d think he was dressing a Mormon convert with how much skin each piece of clothing covers. I’d never complain though because the flannel I’m wearing right now is perfect for the chilly breeze of the early morning.
Sitting Indian style at the very end of the dock, I drink my coffee and look out over the water. The ducks, having noticed my presence, begin to wag feathered little tails as they swim in my direction, only to seem insulted and swim away once they realize I don’t have a crumb of bread to share.
My mind wanders back to the clubhouse, and I smile but also want to cry when I think about Jasmine. The innocent little girl born into a life no one in their right mind would choose, the life her coked up mother chose for her from birth. Although she doesn’t have the life experiences to know any different, she has spoken to me more than once about the things she’s seen, the things she knows aren’t right even though she knows no different. She’s the reason I just can’t disappear and never look back. Guilt fills my blood for being gone as long as I have, even though I know I had to leave when I did because I can’t help either one of us if I’m dead.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the grumble of Dom’s voice behind me nearly jolts me to the point I end up drenched in the lake.
I whip my head around, spilling coffee in my lap in the process, fully prepared to yell at him for scaring the shit out of me. Only no words come out, my throat only allowing the tiniest of squeaks when I see him naked except for a thin layer of black boxer briefs covering him. I don’t question the gun in his hand; it’s a regular sight with all of the men I’ve grown up with.
“I asked you a question,” he says on a yawn pulling the back of his armed hand to cover his mouth.
“Drinking coffee,” I tell him holding up my now nearly empty cup. “Contemplating my next move.”
“Yeah?” He sits down beside me even though he has to be freezing.
I do my best to pull my eyes from the bunching and rippling of his abdomen as he settles beside me but I fail. Jesus, he’s kind of ripped for an old dude.
“How old are you,” I blurt.
“Forty-five,” he answers.
“Bullshit!”
Chuckling at my answer he gives me the ‘what? Don’t you believe me?’ look. “Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine in a few months.”
“Really?” I ask emphasizing my disbelief, thinking he was thirty-two, tops.
“Why do you ask it like that? You’re cracking my self-esteem.”
I huff. “I seriously doubt that,” I mutter. “You’re just…” I wave my arm up and down indicating his incredible physique.
“I’m what?” His mouth quirks right in the corner, but he stops himself before full out smiling. The playfulness is in full contrast to how he treated me yesterday, bi-polar almost, and it concerns me more than him acting like an asshole twenty-four seven. I can’t help but wonder if he’s manipulating me into talking which is worse than being a douchebag and demanding things from me. I know how to deal with men like that.
Ignoring his question I turn my eyes back out to the water. “You should wear more clothes.”
He laughs, actually laughs at my words. “Too tempting for you?”
“Fuck you,” I grumble. “You’re the one who turned me down yesterday.”
When I look back over at him, I notice his face is no longer playful, but his mask of seriousness is in place. “You set the alarm off when you came out here, Mak. Excuse me for not wasting time getting more clothes on when I was afraid something was wrong.”
I look over my shoulder back to the house. “I didn’t hear an alarm.”
“It’s silent. The app on my phone woke me up.” I nod my head in understanding. What he says seems feasible, but the Renegades don’t have that level of technology back in Durango.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. I just needed some fresh air.”
He doesn’t respond just looks out over the lake like I was doing a few moments before. I watch him, noticing the dark stubble on his jaw, as if I need another reason to find him attractive.
“Here,” I say opening the blanket around my shoulders and offering him half. His torso and arms are covered in chill bumps, and technically the blanket is his. “No sense in freezing.”
Surprisingly, he takes the offering and wraps it around his back. “You smell like me.” The gravel in his voice and the absence of the full wrap of the throw now covers me in gooseflesh, the tingle settling low in my belly.
“The soap in the bathroom is for men,” I explain. Knowing it’s the same thing he uses makes me want to go back to the house and live in the bathroom with it.
“I’ll have some girly shit delivered,” he offers.
“You don’t have to do that.” I resist the urge to lean against his big shoulder. The scent of his body wash has been wrapped around me for almost two days now, just the smell bringing a sense of safety and respite from the horrific things at the clubhouse.
“You said you were out here contemplating your next move,” he begins, changing the subject to one I knew he wouldn’t avoid for long. “Any clue what that’s going to be?”
“No,” I answer.
“I can help you if you tell me what’s going on, Mak. I’m not one to get in anyone’s privacy, but you leave me no choice.”
“I can’t,” I whisper. Tears sting my eyes at the thought of the trouble that I’ve brought on Dom and the Cerberus MC. “He’ll kill you.”
A genuine laugh fills the air around us, and I’m close enough to him that I feel the blanket shaking.
“You m
ean Grinder?” I stiffen. “I spent twenty years in the sand as a Marine, sweetheart. If those fuckers over there couldn’t stop me, some disgusting old biker won’t be able to either.”
I want to correct him, tell him the things I’ve seen that demented bastard do, but I bite my tongue to the point that I have to swallow the taste of blood when it wells against my teeth.
I shake my head again when he turns to look at me.
“Okay,” he says as he stands, the blanket falling limply to the wooden dock.
He doesn’t threaten me, insist I leave, or treat me badly to get the information he wants, but for some reason, the sight of his back as he walks away causes more fear than I’ll ever admit to.
Chapter 8
Dominic
Frustrated beyond words, I walk away from Makayla. I’ve never met a woman more obstinate in my life.
“Please,” she whispers. “H-he raped me.”
Warm blood, giving me life, runs immediately cold at her words.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I seethe without even turning around to face her.
I allow myself a few long breaths before turning around only to find her looking out over the water as if she wouldn’t be able to speak the words if she were looking at me.
“The bruises,” I begin, but her humorless laugh stops me.
She shakes her head then turns her beautiful face up to look at me. “This is what I look like when I fight back, and he doesn’t have enough time or privacy to finish the job.”
“The last time he—” Fuck, I can’t even get the words out. I’ve dealt with hundreds of women who’ve suffered sexual assault, but can’t manage to form a sentence with Makayla.
“A month or so ago,” she answers filling in the blank.
“The first time?” I know I’m going to hate him even more if that’s even possible when she answers, but I have an unexplainable need to know everything. I want to be able to look in his eyes, fully informed when I choke the life out of him.
“H-he,” she begins but has to take a moment to clear her throat and force down the emotion before she can continue.
I pad back down the dock, veins filled with rage and no longer feeling the chill in the air. I sit down beside her and pull the blanket back around my shoulders, if only to be near her, the only form of comfort I can offer right now.
“He used to touch me before my mom died, but never got the chance to go very far. My dad’s wife at the time was actually pretty decent. Calypso, did you know her?” she asks raising her eyes to me once again, close enough that I can feel her warm breath on my skin.
I look away, out across the water where it’s safe. “I didn’t. Cerberus didn’t start up until after she was gone.”
I remember the stories, though. “Breaker” Hanigan was always an asshole. As president of the Renegades, he believed any and all pussy belonged to him. Women were props, fronts for the police, and only good on their knees and backs. I know Calypso killed herself when now President Scorpion was only fourteen, his dad following her to the grave six years later in some kind of drug deal gone wrong.
“Calypso treated me like I was human. More than I can say for my father. I was eleven when she died. My dad didn’t want me around after that. I was sad that she was gone but grateful every day that I didn’t have to go back over there.” She turns her attention to the wringing hands in her lap. “I was sixteen when my mom died. With no other family, I had no choice but to go to the clubhouse. Two weeks after getting there, Grinder raped me the first time.”
The warmth of her body near mine is the only thing keeping me from jumping on my bike, driving the hour to their club and blowing the whole damn thing up. “I can’t fucking believe Scorpion allows that kind of shit in his clubhouse. I mean, I know everything they do isn’t above board, but I never imagined it was anything like this.”
“Scorpion doesn’t have a clue,” she explains. “Grinder would literally kill me if I spoke a word of it. Some of the other members have suspicions, but no concrete evidence that he’s been hurting me.”
A million questions run through my head. Why didn’t she just leave? Why would she stay quiet? Would Scorpion protect her if he knew? I know from my experience with this sort of thing that many women in these situations don’t always think straight. The pain and assault that they know may be better than what they will face if they leave.
“He saw me.” I feel her eyes on the side of my face, but I don’t have the strength to look at her. I’m already fighting every muscle in my body not to pull her to my chest. “DEA Agent Ryland pulled me off of the street and brought me in for questioning. Grinder saw me leaving the police station. I know he thinks I snitched him out.”
“Why would he automatically think that?” It’s been my experience in dealing with one percenters that they don’t let the women in the clubhouse know too many details about their illegal dealings. I can’t imagine Renegades are any different.
She huffs a laugh. “I told him I would. I told him the day before when he was hitting me that I’d had enough and I was going to the police. I didn’t mean it. I’d never jeopardize my life like that, but I couldn’t have predicted that the fucking DEA was going to snatch me off the street.”
“But you have shit on him? Things that would get him arrested?”
She nods. “He has shit on me, too.” A tear streaks down her cheek. “He’s forced me to help bury bodies. Held my finger on the trigger when he’s shot people. I’ve cleaned up more blood and entrails than I could ever remember. He’s threatened to go to the police. Says he has video evidence of the things I’ve been involved in.”
I shake my head. “You were under duress. Grand jury would never indict you.”
She gives me a knowing smile, one that says I’m a complete idiot. “You seriously think a biker princess has any pull or sympathy from civilians if it ever came to that? They’d lock me up and throw away the key.”
“And I’m sure that’s something that Grinder’s ass has been telling you for years?” Her face falls, and I know the truth without her verifying.
“I’m as good as dead,” she mutters like it’s a fact rather than a possibility.
“I think if Scorpion knows, he’ll be the first one to put a bullet in that motherfucker’s head. He’s a cocky asshole who doesn’t treat women with the respect they deserve, but I’ve never seen him be abusive or condone that shit from his men.”
She shakes her head again. “Scorpion isn’t concerned with what happens to me, brother or not, he has his own set of sins to answer for.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I try to keep it casual, my eyes staying on the water, so she doesn’t feel interrogated.
“What do you mean?”
I finally turn my eyes to hers. “You came here. You didn’t run to another state. You haven’t asked for money. I can give you everything you need, you know that right? If you want another identity, it’s done. We can relocate you, and you’ll never have to think about the Renegades again.”
“He’ll never stop looking for me, and he’ll find me. He always finds them, like a hound dog with a nose that sniffs out lies and the smell of fear.” At her words I see her eyes dart over her shoulder toward the house as if talking about Grinder will conjure him from thin air.
“Does he need a body? Because we can do that, too. Fake your death that is, give them something to bury so he knows the trail has ended.” She shakes her head again. “Give me something, Mak. I don’t have a damn thing to work with here. I don’t mind you staying here, but I also don’t know how you see all of this ending. There has to be a resolution.”
“This was the only place I could think to go, Dominic. I have no intention of bringing you in on anything. I don’t expect you or Cerberus to do a damn thing to help end the bullshit I’m in the middle of.”
“It’s a little late for that, sweetheart. If you think I can just sit by while you’re in danger and Grinder is still breathing, you don’t know me at all.
”
She glares at me, and I love the fire in her eyes. It’s so much better than the tears and self-recrimination. “That’s just it, Dom. I don’t know you. I have no desire to know you. If you want me out, just say it.”
I remain silent as she flings the blanket off of her shoulders and storms off the dock back toward the house. Sassy isn’t something I’m used to dealing with. If any other woman spoke to me that way, I’d tie her ass to my bed and spank the shit out of her until she relented. Control is usually something I always have, but knowing her story, I don’t imagine that would work out in my favor. Hurting her is the last thing I want. She’s been hurt too much, neglected for quite some time it seems. That shit stops now.
Her sulking off, saying that shit to me, however, will not go undealt with. I wad the blanket up and stand, following after her into the house. I may not be able to whip her ass like I want, but I’ll put an end to this nondisclosure bullshit.
Chapter 9
Makayla
My hands are trembling to the point I can barely get them to work to open the back door to get into the house.
No desire to know him. I don’t think a bigger lie has ever been told.
I place my empty coffee cup in the sink with more patience than I feel and head back to my room. I scurry faster when I see Dom heading back into the house. Refusing to meet his gaze through the glass of the back door, I enter the borrowed bedroom and lock the door. The urge to sleep for hours hits in a wave, so I shrug off the too hot pajamas and climb into the bed.
His footsteps bypass my door only to return thirty seconds later. The key in the lock has my eyes narrowing, glaring at him as he opens it and walks in like he owns the place. Well… damn it.
“Can I help you?” I mutter pulling the covers up to my chin.
“That little tantrum you pulled out there isn’t going to stop me from getting the truth out of you.” My eyes dart to his hands as he opens and closes his fists. It’s not predatory or aggressive, but more like he wants to touch me but is keeping his distance. I’m sure my admission on the dock is governing his lack of action.