by Shari Slade
“Sweetheart, you keep calling me God like that and I’m gonna lose my mind. Probably do something stupid like fuck you when I’m supposed to be working. You’re gonna get me killed.”
Chapter Four
Inside the club it’s not the wall of noise and heat that buckles my knees. It’s not the men with guns and the half-naked women. It’s the smell. Smoke, sweat, stale beer, motor oil, and a hint of something sweet. A spritz of cheap perfume over the wreckage of a bender.
The signature scent of my childhood.
It wraps around me like an unwanted hug, dank and cloying. The memories are ashes in my mouth. A fist around my heart. They are a papery hand on my thigh and my eyes locked on a pineapple air freshener swinging from the cracked rearview mirror while I press my knees together so hard it leaves a bruise. Aloha.
I breathe in shallow pants, just like I did back then, trying not to fill my nose—my lungs—with the stink. I don’t want it inside me. The smell is more of a wake-up call than a pot of coffee.
I hadn’t escaped my old life. I’d endured it and crawled out of the rubble, clawing my way to a subsistence existence. For what? To walk into this pit a willing victim? Giving up every inch of ground I’ve managed to gain? For a thrill ride? For an orgasm or three? God, what the hell have I done?
Noah clamps his arm around my shoulders, holding me up and herding me along. “It looks worse than it is.”
His touch grounds me in the present, pushing back some of that old panic. These are hands that have protected me and pleasured me, cleansed me and claimed me. My scalp tingles at the memory of his tender touch.
There are people everywhere. Crowding a makeshift bar, flanking a pool table. Laughing and shouting. Fucking and fighting. Two topless girls maneuver through the crowd, each with a tray of shots. Their denim cutoffs are so short the pockets hang below the frayed hems like little white flags. Waitresses. I wonder if they picked their uniforms. If they paid for them. Somehow I can’t imagine these outlaws with their grizzled beards and 1% patches offering a 401k and clothing allowance. Shit, it’s not like Jimmy does either.
I lean into him, drawing strength. “It looks like hell.”
“You’re a guest of the Devil’s Host. Where else would I bring you?”
The demon patch I’d studied while riding behind Noah is everywhere. Goat horns, flaming eyes, a hollow skull. It stares at me from every broad back. It laughs at me from a banner over the bar. But this isn’t hell. Hell is a pineapple air freshener and a roaming hand. Hell is an empty stomach and no food for days. Hell doesn’t have music or cold beer or guys getting blow jobs in the corner while everyone else goes about their business.
A man hooks his arm out and snatches up one of the waitresses. The tray of shots crashes to the ground. Glass breaks like tinkling bells, adding another layer of grit and booze to the already sticky floor.
She squirms in his arms, but her laugh is so loud. “You greedy fucker. Now I’ll have to clean that shit up.”
She slaps him, and it’s like slow motion—her small hand flying across his hard face. My stomach drops. I can’t watch what happens next, but I can’t look away. I brace for it.
The big man with greedy hands just smiles. “I’ll have a prospect push a mop. You’ve got better things to do.”
She climbs his body like a tree and kisses him like she owns him. Like it’s her right.
I wonder if ownership works both ways. If the owned have their hooks in just as deep. I look up at Noah. “What would you do if I slapped you?”
His eyes narrow, and he pulls me tighter. “That depends on whether or not I deserve it.”
“Is that how all this works, you get what you deserve?”
“No, baby. Here you get what you take and you keep what you can hold.”
Two men approach us slow and steady. If the club is a lawless jungle, they are the big cats stalking in the darkness. One is broad and blunt, solid as his name. Stone. The other is lean and feral with a smile that never touches his dead eyes. He looks almost scrawny compared to Noah and Stone with their thick necks and thicker arms. But there’s a fierceness in his features that tells me this is not a man to fuck with. The ink on his arms is all black and gray, subtle, spiderwebs and skulls and cold black stars. When he smiles at me, my skin crawls. Noah stiffens.
“The prodigal son returns. And he comes bearing gifts.” Dev—it has to be Dev—takes my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. I jerk my hand back like he’s touched me with a lit match. His dead eyes flicker. “Did you get lost on the way to grandmother’s house? What’s your name?”
A sinking feeling washes over me. I’d been outraged at the idea of fucking Noah as payment for Harry’s debt and then intrigued. But right now I’m starting to think I might have to do more than just Noah.
“You don’t need her name. She’s a guest,” Noah all but growls. “My guest.”
Dev smirks and drops my hand. “I thought maybe this sweet piece was here for our tweaker friend. A little leverage. He’s a guest too.”
“Harry is here?” My heart races, and I instantly regret speaking at all. Noah hadn’t even wanted to give Dev my name, but he seems to know who I am already.
“He’s hanging around here somewhere.” Dev turns back to Noah. “Let’s give your guest a tour. I thought I was going to have to send you out to pick her up, looks like you were planning ahead.” Dev turns back to me. “Come on, Star.”
Yeah, he knows exactly who I am. Stone’s eyes widen and Noah’s mouth flattens into a thin, hard line. “We need to talk about some business, Dev. Luca’s. Jimmy’s. Shit is going sideways.”
“Not in front of company.”
I’m company. An outsider who already knows too much and now it’s clear Dev knows that I know. Both Noah and Stone seem surprised by Dev’s knowledge. Between this revelation and the stuff about Luca at the strip mall it’s obvious that Dev is working some angle his men aren’t aware of and wouldn’t approve. But they’re both cautious, calculating glances passing between them. When they fall into step behind Dev anyway, I don’t have any choice but to follow the monster into his lair.
The tour is just a walk deeper into the warehouse. In a back room that might’ve been an office in another life, I see Harry strung up against a wall. Coarse rope wraps his wrists and pulls his arms high above his head. This exceeds my worst fear. “Oh God. Oh God. OhGodohGodohGod.”
I cover my mouth because I can’t seem to make myself stop crying out any other way. Red welts streak his bared chest, and his face is swollen. My eyes sting from the smoke and unshed tears. It’s awful seeing him like this. Frail and exposed. Broken. But he’d taken their money and he’d run. Did he deserve this? No. I couldn’t believe that. Nobody did.
Noah looks at Harry and looks at Dev. “You’ve been entertaining yourself.”
His voice is so flat, like he’s working very hard to keep it that way. I wonder if he thinks Harry deserves this. And I think maybe his answer is very different from mine.
Dev’s lip curls into a sneer. “I had to do something when you weren’t returning my calls.”
Stone interrupts, and I’m reminded of the lengths he’s gone to, to help Noah. To save him from Dev’s wrath. “Smitty picked him up on the interstate. This shithead went on the run with an empty gas tank.”
“This shithead won’t tell me what I want to know. Maybe he will now that we’ve got her to persuade him.” Dev picks up a branch leaning against the wall beside Harry, bends it and lets it snap back. It has to be what he’s been using on Harry, a stick, a switch—and his fists. Harry and I both flinch.
Well, I flinch. Harry jerks against his bonds. “I swear to fucking Christ, Dev. Nobody else is moving product in your area. She don’t know anything. I never took her on any runs.”
“She’s not here to answer questions. You’ll be doing that. We know you like her. Everyone seems to like her.” Dev’s gaze flicks to Noah, and my whole body goes cold. Maybe I’m leverage for mor
e than just Harry. Dev could use me to get to Noah too. “Unless you enjoy listening to a lady scream.”
My heart hammers out of my chest, and I am falling. I see Noah wrestled back by three men in leather vests. I hear his roar. Then everything goes dark.
Chapter Five
“Shhh.” Noah shushes me as I wake. He’s all around me, the heat of him and the weight of his shadow. He holds me still with one hand around my throat, cupping my chin, and the other threaded through my fingers above my head. It’s like the reverse of when a mama cat grabs a kitten by the scruff. I want to lean into that touch, use the weight of my body to show him how much harder I’d like it.
“Mmm,” I whimper.
When I move my head, my brain sloshes a half a second behind the motion. A fog curls between my thoughts. It feels a little like that time I popped an Ambien from one of the girls at work and chased it down with half a beer. There’s a sour taste in my mouth. Bile. I’m not just stilled by his touch. I’m pinned to the wall with the sick taste of fear still thick on my tongue. Topless.
Oh God.
My shoulders are on fire. I try rolling them to ease the ache, but I really can’t move. My hands are trapped, bound above my head with more than just his grasp. My feet barely touch the floor. It’s not Noah holding me up.
My eyes fly open, fear stripping away the last haze of sleep—or unconsciousness—and all I can see is Noah’s face inches from mine. Panic rips through my body as I tug and jerk against the scratchy rope wrapped around my wrists. “What the f—”
Noah releases my neck and clamps his hand over my mouth.
“Shhh, shhh. Be still. You’ll hurt yourself.”
A terrible laugh catches at the back of my throat. I’m already hurt, hurting, will hurt again. Being still won’t stop that. My breath puffs against his fingers in short pants; the fine hairs on his knuckles tickle my nose.
“You fainted. It’s okay. I’m here. Shhh.” Noah smooths my hair back as he shushes me. My heart slows, but my mind races. Noah is here. They didn’t take him away. But nothing else about this situation is okay. His eyes are sad, almost pleading. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry. It’s better this way. I couldn’t let Dev be the one to…”
He brushes his lips against my forehead in a trembling kiss. It hits me that he’s scared too. Or worried at least. I hadn’t thought he could be worried. Inconvenienced maybe. Or annoyed. Worry is frightening.
He steps back, dropping his head like he can’t bear to look at me. I want to ask what he shouldn’t have done, what he’s sorry for, what’s better, but all my words are twisted into a shriek when Dev steps out of the shadows and a sharp pain sears across my arm.
My whole world narrows down to a stinging strip of flesh and the gravel of their voices. “Enough with the tender-mercies bullshit. Unless you’re going to fuck her for my amusement, get to work.”
Heat spreads over my cheeks, and there’s a sick churn in my belly. Embarrassment for a thing that I would have liked, turned twisted and cruel. I would have wanted Noah to fuck me for someone’s amusement. Would have wanted him to take me rough against a wall. Just not this wall. Or for this man’s amusement.
Dev. Scary, feral Dev. I shudder.
Noah snarls back at him. “This isn’t work, you sick bastard. It’s a carnival freak show. You want me to earn? Give me five minutes with Harry.”
“You had a whole day. And all you did was chase some tail. Now you don’t even want to share your toy. A few hours on her back can’t buy what I’m after anyway.”
Noah’s gaze licks over me like brush fire, hot and possessive. He lunges at Dev, and three guys are on him in seconds. It takes all of them to hold him back. The muscles in his arms, the tendons in his neck bunch and flex with the strain. He’d been barely contained menace in the diner; now he’s all checked fury and regret. “She’s my responsibility. I brought her here. If something needs doing, I’ll be the one doing it.”
“Did you leave a little of your brain on the side of the highway somewhere? There’s no if, Noah.” Dev studies him with that calculating lizard glare of his, cold and heavy-lidded. I can see him searching for weak spots, taking Noah’s measure and finding him lacking. “This is about loyalty. You seem to have lost that too. Maybe it’s running down the inside of her thigh? We should check.”
Noah jerks, and two more guys step out of the shadows. They stand like bookends beside Dev. Noah doesn’t have anywhere to go but I get the feeling he’d be pacing like a caged tiger if he could move. One-on-one, Noah could break Dev over his knee, but fair fights aren’t for outlaw bikers. Together, they could kill him. Tear him apart with their bare hands.
My mouth goes bone-dry. That’s exactly what will happen. If Noah doesn’t go along with whatever they want, they will kill him. And they’ll kill me too.
“I’m loyal, but I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Enforcer. It’s right there in your fucking title. Force. You signed up to hurt people. For the club.”
Noah drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. “Not women.”
Dev laughs, and the sound is so shockingly out of sync with everything about him I break out in goose bumps. “Quit stalling, or I’m going to peel that patch off your body, shove it down your throat and make you watch while I—”
“I’ll do it.”
“I’m running out of patience. Make the bitch scream or I will. And I won’t stop with her.”
Dev’s commands slice me deeper than the switch. Noah can be strung up here beside me, both of us victims of Dev’s tender mercies.
Or Noah can hurt me.
I’d wanted Noah to hurt me anyway, to fuck me up and push pause on all my failed plans. The kind of hurts I’d imagined seem almost sweet now: teeth, nails, the bruising force of his cock, a dirty mouth to flay me open. All my dark secrets exposed and examined. I wanted his big hands collaring my neck, reminding me—no matter the darkness—how precious every breath can be. But we’re not alone in my apartment anymore. We’re deep in his world, and the rules keep changing. Or crystallizing. You keep what you can hold.
Noah can hold me with each flick of the switch. The sharp breath before every scream, immeasurably precious. He can keep me. Marked, owned, used…but alive.
It’s only pain.
Noah squares his shoulders and white-knuckles the switch in his left hand, the hand inked with LOST.
I want to tell him that it’s okay, that I can take it, that I’ll pretend we’re alone and I might even like it, but I don’t think Dev would appreciate my willing participation.
A battle plays out on Noah’s face; there’s a hard beauty in it. Fear and frustration. Duty and desire. I remember the way he cupped my hand outside and gritted his teeth at the sight of my scratch. Nobody hurts what’s mine. Not even you.
Not even him. I can see that in the set of his jaw and the way he still won’t look at me.
I need him to look at me. I force my body to relax and put as much forgiveness into my voice as I can. “Noah, please.”
I hope Dev thinks I’m pleading for my life. I guess in a way I am.
“You hear that, Harry? Your cousin begs so pretty. I hope you hold out for a little while. I want to watch her dance.”
Noah lifts the switch.
Oh, the relief. That Dev is buying it. That Noah is going through with whatever terrible bargain he struck with himself to save me from Dev.
His eyes finally meet mine, and there’s so much sorrow there it squeezes my heart. I’m the one tied to the wall, but he’s bound more tightly than any ropes could manage.
There’s more than just our lives and his loyalty to the club at stake here. He’s going to give up a piece of his soul to do this.
“I told you to run, Star.”
“I’m sorry.” I say it again and again. Litany, benediction, prayer. I don’t know. The closest I’ve been to church in years is when the Lutheran men’s group says grace over their Sunday lunch. I am sorry. Not that I cli
mbed onto the back of his bike, but that he’s suffering. And I’m glad that he has more honor than he needs. More than enough for the both of us. Because I have none. I’ll do anything to get us out of here.
And now so will he.
The first strike is tentative. A caress. But I cry out like he’s branding me. I add please to the litany. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”
I put on a show until Noah’s mouth is a grim line and Dev’s eyes shine overbright in the darkness. Until I don’t have to pretend anymore, because Noah has found a rhythm, found the quiet place inside himself that lets him endure what needs to be done.
I know it well.
I’d thought my past was dragging me down, but it was all me. Unable and unwilling to let go until this moment. I brace for the burn. Nothing matters but now. The next fifteen minutes. And living to see the fifteen after that.
We’re both in the quiet place together. Surviving.
We’ll get out of here alive, but we won’t be the same. I’ll be whole, and Noah will be irrevocably broken.
He’s not my self-destruct button. I’m his.
Chapter Six
I go somewhere in my mind. A place with soft grass instead of corrugated metal, a place that smells like honeysuckle instead of dank sweat. I stay there for a long time. There’s a green field beside a lake, and Noah is rising up out of the water naked. His body is beautiful, the hard planes covered with wildflower colors. The stars are out and the sun is shining and nothing hurts. He reaches for me again and again. When he does, I dance to music only we can hear.
The lake is my tears. The switch, cutting through the air, is our song.