Unsound

by Chantal Fernando

  “I’ll let you get to it then, doll,” Bull says sweetly, stepping around me, his hand brushing along my lower back as he passes, causing me to hold in a breath.

  “Hey, Babs, I can’t cook for shit. Think you can make me some eggs if I buy some?” Shadow asks, coming into the kitchen behind Bull.

  “You can’t cook eggs?” I ask, laughing.

  “Nah, my bitch of a mother never taught me,” he says, running his hands through his black hair.

  “I just bought some eggs, hun. I can whip you up some,” I reply, taking a sip of my hot coffee. Every time I have come around the club before I was hired, Shadow has always clung to me, asking if I needed help with setting anything up for family parties, or just generally talking to me. He’s damaged in the worst possible way because of his mother, but he has some light in there. It will just take one hell of a person to pull it out.

  “Me too?” Bobby asks, shoving through the kitchen doors. Bobby, with his wavy blond hair and blue eyes, looks more like a surfer than a biker. I’ve just started to get to know him since I’ve been working here the last two weeks. Bobby is… he’s Bobby.

  “You got it, babe,” I laugh, grabbing a pan to heat up.

  “Seriously?” Bobby asks, his voice laced with surprise. I love to cook, more so for those who appreciate my cooking, show up and eat my food around dinner, and engage in conversation with me. I close my eyes, my mind swimming in the direction of mine and Locks’ failed relationship.

  “Of course, babe, I’ll make you anything, long as you ask nicely.” I reach for the fridge and grab the carton of eggs.

  “Fucking A,” Bobby mutters, making me smile.

  After the boys have eaten all the eggs and drank all the orange juice, they head into their daily meeting. I sit on a stool to write a list of things to get at the store.

  “I thought for sure you would have gotten the idea I didn’t want you here.”

  I look up from my pad and come face to face with Locks, who has Candy wrapped around his middle. I growl in frustration. I am not about to let this fucker talk to me like this, treat me like this.

  I climb off the stool and brace myself for the conversation I have been dreading. I take my gaze from the waxed wood floor to his chocolate eyes.

  “Freckles,” Locks muttered, his hand spreading across my breast. I looked down at his hand, then back at his brown eyes.

  “You have never ending eyes, Babs. I could get lost in them and not care less if I ever made it back,” he whispered, laid out in front of the fireplace of our shitty apartment. We had been together for a year and things were moving so fast.

  “I love you, Locks.” I suddenly gasped, the thought that had been plaguing my mind for the last couple of weeks slipping its way past my tongue.

  He winced, looking at the crackling fire. I closed my eyes tightly, afraid of what he was going to say next. Surely in a year’s time, he felt something for me.

  I felt his hand on my face, making my eyes dart open to his chocolate ones.

  “I love you too,” he whispered.

  Fake giggles take me away from Locks’ eyes, away from reminiscing, and to the cheap slut standing behind him. I close my eyes, fighting the stupid memories and the puppy love of our younger years when we used to be happy and laugh at each other. Now when we’re near each other, all we do is fight and glare. It’s depressing. It angers me when someone else makes me feel happy and beautiful and it’s not my husband, like Bull does. My hands sweat and my mouth goes dry at the impulsive thought swimming my mind.

  “This, uh,” I stutter, frightened to admit my first love is nothing but a distant memory. I glance at Locks, his eyes ruthless and mocking, nothing like a couple years ago. “This is not working Locks; you and I clearly have grown apart.” Before I can finish, Locks has broken from Candy’s hold and rushes at me. I inhale deeply, sucking in the scared woman who he has carved me to be and exhaling the brave courageous woman who I am.

  He thrashes his hands forward and grabs ahold of my cheeks harshly.

  “You are my ol’ lady till I say so,” Locks snarls. He’s hunched down and right in my line of sight. I try to pull from his grip, try to shove him away, but it’s no use. His grip just tightens painfully.

  “You will be mine till the day you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He leans closer to my ear, his grip not letting up. “Try and run, and see what happens,” he whispers, his tone threatening.

  I reach up and grab ahold of his hair, pulling on it so hard I hear the strands snap.

  “Fucking bitch!” Locks shouts, letting go of my face, grabbing his head where I pulled his hair.

  I look over Locks shoulder to see Candy chuckling, leaning against the wall.

  “Fuck you and your stupid whore,” I insult. “You both better get used to seeing my face a lot around here, cause I ain’t going anywhere.” I grab my notepad off the bar and sling my purse over my shoulder as I head toward the exit. I put my hands on the door and push it to open, but stop. I look at Candy and glare. Her blonde hair is in a tight ponytail and she’s wearing a skimpy black dress. She raises an eyebrows at my sudden hesitation.

  “If I catch you fucking my ol’ man, I’ll cut you, bitch,” I threaten. Not that I give a shit anymore, it’s about respect more than anything.

  “I will be seeing you at the house tonight, Delilah!” Locks shouts, his voice angry and threatening as I leave, flipping them both off in the process.

  *****

  I’ve looked all over the house for a gun, but Locks must have removed all of them. Afraid I would shoot him when I found out he was cheating on me probably. I lean against the counter, tapping my nails against the top, trying to think. I am angry, very angry, but not hurt. What does that say about me and Locks? I’m more pissed off at the disrespect he has displayed by sleeping around on me and everyone knowing but me and the way he hit me like I was nothing more than trash. My nails dig into the counter when I think about his words.

  “You will be mine till the day you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I want to run, to start over somewhere that doesn't involve Locks. But that would be like running from the heat while the flames of Hellengulfs you.

  I knew what I was getting into when I accepted that fucking property patch of Locks; he laid all the laws of the club out for me. But I thought I was so in love I didn’t care what he said. Now I’m stuck in a marriage I can’t escape, my life nothing but forgotten dreams and a future of solitude.

  The house phone rings, making me jump.

  “Shit,” I mumble under my breath and answer the phone.

  “Aunt Delilah, this is Scarlett.”

  “Hey, baby, when did you get out?” I ask, gripping the receiver tighter. To hear my flesh and blood makes me smile.

  “A few days ago. My mom is gone. I went to the house and it’s empty,” she cries into the phone.

  “What do you mean gone?” I question, curious where the hell my sister has gone.

  “I mean she is gone. My things are just thrown out into the lawn and the house is empty. Do you know where she is?”

  “I don’t. I’ll come get you. Stay there,” I reply, hanging up. Fucking Ruby, what the hell is she thinking and where the hell is she? I dial her number, my fingers punching the buttons with anger.

  “I’m sorry, but this number is no longer in service,” sounds through the phone.

  “What the hell?” I shout, slamming the phone down on the counter.

  I grab my purse and keys and head for my truck when the front door is slammed open, ricocheting off the wall.

  “Going somewhere?” Locks asks maliciously, his eyes squinted at the corners and his strides casual and collected as he moves forward. His tattoos shadow his arms as he walks through the dim lighting of the house, his leather cut topping off the level of danger pouring off him.

  I point at him, backing up into the kitchen slowly.

  “Don’t you fucking come near me, you p
iece of shit!” I scream at him.

  “Oh, come here. I’m sorry about earlier, babe,” he says, his voice deep and eerie. “Now, let’s just put that behind us and go make up. What’d ya say?” He leans his head to the side and smiles. This banter between us, where he is an ass and then comes back to me acting like prince charming, it’s just a game. A game I’m tired of losing.

  “What’s wrong, your whore busy with someone else tonight?” I question, my voice hateful.

  “Now I’m trying to be nice. Don’t piss me off,” he threatens.

  “Fuck you. I might be stuck with your old ass, but I’m going to make it fucking hell every step of the way, buddy,” I laugh, more out of fear than anything.

  He grabs me by the throat, his face turning red with anger.

  “I own you, and you will do what I say. I am the fucking vice president and you’re mine,” he snarls in my face, his words forced out and not making any sense. He squeezes my throat tighter, making it nearly impossible to breathe. My heart thumps against my chest in fear as I realize he is not going to let go, scared he is going to kill me in the kitchen. My eyes start spotting with little black dots, my hand scratching at his to let go of my neck when my nail clips his wedding ring.

  “Will you marry me, Delilah?” Locks’ asked on one knee, the entire club cheering and yelling in the background. It was just like any other family night at the club. I cooked and served with the ol’ ladies, and the men drank and hollered. To find Locks’ on one knee was a surprise I surely didn’t expect.

  I gasped, looking down at the tiny little rock in the blue box Locks held.

  “You gonna answer me?” Locks asked, his voice shaking nervously.

  “Yes!” I screamed, happy to have finally found the one.

  I trip over my own foot, knocking me from memory lane. The grip of Locks’ hand on my throat tightening from my weight as the footing is kicked out from under me. My hand flings to grab onto something when it lands on the frying pan sitting on the stove. I grip the handle tightly and thrash it against Locks’ head with every ounce of muscle I have. He falls to the floor, causing me to fall with him. The pan clattering to the floor, I gasp and choke on the cool air entering my lungs.

  I look down at Locks, noticing the red seeping through his blond hair on his head from where I hit him. I look at Locks, really look at him, and realize I am not in love with him today, or yesterday for that matter, but the Locks from a couple years ago. When did it stop? It's like it slipped away so slowly neither of us noticed it. At first it was just little things that stopped, like taking me for rides on the motorcycle or walks around the block, and wrestling in bed on Saturday mornings. Eventually, he didn't even say goodbye, much less give a goodbye kiss when he was heading out. I would turn around and he would be gone. Life sped up and there wasn’t time for that kind of stuff anymore. But I can’t look over the cheating and the abuse. Maybe Locks’ behavior comes from his father, Baruskey. Locks told me his father snapped one day, nearly beating his mother to death, then went to the local donut shop early in the morning, walked out, and shot at a couple cops, crippling one. All for no reason at all. Some say Baruskey was trying to commit suicide, that there was no other explanation. The judge didn’t grant the fucker such luck though. He’s serving life in prison. Locks’ mother wants nothing to do with either of them. After Locks was patched into the club, his mother was afraid Locks was walking the same footsteps as his father. Maybe he is, maybe it’s in his DNA to snap the way he is.

  “Fucking asshole,” I mumble. I grab the frying pan and slam it on his face just for good measure. I climb out from under his limp body, pull out his wallet and take his cash. I’m going to have to put Scarlett in a hotel until I can find something else. I’m not bringing her here in the middle of this. I grab my purse and leave.

  BULL

  Shadow and Bobby just left, taking some girls with them for company. I grab a beer from the bar fridge and am heading toward my room when Babs walks through the front door.

  “What are you doing here so late, babe?” I ask, surprised to see her at this hour. Her hair is a mess and her clothes are all disheveled.

  “You okay?” I ask concerned, stepping toward her.

  “You think I can sleep in one of those rooms tonight?” Her voice shakes and her hands worry the purse in her hands. My eyes widen with surprise. Why would she want to stay here?

  “Why, what happened?” I ask, my brow raised with curiosity.

  “I was going to stay at a hotel, but they only had one bed and my niece is staying there—” she begins to babble.

  “I didn’t say no, babe. Just why?” I ask, cutting her off.

  Getting closer, I notice bruising around her neckline. My eyes furrow with anger and my lips parts with disbelief.

  “Locks do that to you?” I accuse. My fingers softly trail the bruised tissue around her silky neck.

  She looks away, ashamed. Her tongue runs along her bottom lip as she avoids eye contact.

  I run my hands over the scruff of my face, thinking. Her silence and avoidance answer my question. Having her stay here will cause some serious shit between me and my VP if he finds out, but I can’t send her back to him. Apparently, things are getting out of hand at their house, and I know with her defiant attitude and Locks’ dominant ego, someone will end up seriously hurt or killed.

  “You can stay with me. I’ll sleep on the floor,” I suggest.

  She nods and looks up at me with relief, tears running down her face, making her mascara run.

  I grab some blankets and extra pillows from the linen closet and head toward my room. I make a pallet on the floor and kick off my old boots.

  “You sure?” Bab’s stares at my attempt of a pallet, her eyes raised with a disapproving look. “I can sleep on the floor,” Babs offers.

  “You ain’t sleeping on the floor, doll,” I answer. I look up from unbuckling my belt to find Babs’ eyes staring at my hands intently. I watch her body suck in a breath when I drop my jeans to the floor.

  I shake off my cut and hang it on the back of the door carefully before taking my shirt off.

  “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” Babs quickly announces.

  I smirk and watch her scamper off toward the bathroom.

  I lay on my shitty made pallet and cross my arms behind my head, waiting for Babs to turn the lights off.

  She opens the door, her face cleared of smeared makeup, and her wrinkled clothes folded in her hands. My eyes skim down her porcelain skin, black bra, and black panties, making me the one sucking in a breath now. She is not skinny; she is thick, but not fat. She’s a woman, and proud of her figure. She’s a woman with curves, and damn if I don't like that.

  “Don’t look,” she requests sternly. I smirk at the childish demand and turn my head toward the door.

  “Don’t forget to turn the lights off,” I remind her.

  “You’re closer,” she argues.

  “You’re the last one up,” I counter.

  She growls and steps over me, her legs spread across my face, giving me the perfect view of her silky black panties covering her as she leans over and flips the light off.

  I exhale slowly and turn over, my boner making it hard to lay on my stomach. Babs is such a beautiful woman. Why Locks treats her the way he does is baffling.

  *****

  I wake up the next morning with my bed made and Babs gone. I put on some clean clothes and head into the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee brewing inviting me.

  “Should be ready any minute, babe,” Babs says, handing me a mug. I smile at her and take it. Her green eyes smiling back at me, causing fluttery shit to happen in my chest. What the fuck is wrong with me, feeling all giddy and shit? I run my hand through my hair and inwardly groan. I look at the coffee mug, then back at her. A bemused look on her face makes me smirk. Yeah, she’s going to be trouble, I can already tell.

  I am going over some of the numbers Hawk passed my way when I see Babs pulling a bucket o
f water along the floor in front of my office. She has on a loose, red, silky top that showcases her tits enough to make a grown man growl and tight ass black jeans. I try to look away, mind my business, but I can see the bucket is obviously too heavy for her to lift with the way she is pulling it with all her might, water sloshing over the side with every tug she gives it. I chuckle and get up from behind my desk to help her.

  I reach down to grab the bucket, my hands accidently grabbing the tops of hers instead of the bucket. Her skin is soft, silky. My dick pulses from the skin contact, making me let go quickly, causing gulps of water to splash all over her.

  “Oh, shit!” I curse, trying to grab hold of the bucket before it spills everywhere. I wait for it, the moment she cusses me for getting her pants and boots soaked with mop water. I look away from the wet floor to Babs laughing so hard she can’t breathe. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her face is red from the lack of air. I don’t think I have ever seen her laugh so hard before. She looks so youthful and carefree.

  I notice a drop of water above her red lip and slide my finger over it without thinking. Her laughter stops, her gorgeous green eyes pinning me. I take my other hand and cup her cheek, wanting to feel more of her silky skin. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the fuck I’m doing. She leans her head into my touch, her lips parting with a rush of air she exhales, her eyes silently accepting my touch. A door down the hall slams, breaking us quickly. I walk back into my office, my heart racing, and close the door, cursing myself.

  I can't resist the way she draws me in, even though I know it’s wrong on so many levels. I can feel myself stepping over the line from brother to traitor with the feelings I have for Babs. I wake up eager to see her, my dick vibrating with the need to have her. This can’t be good.

  *****

  A few months have passed and Babs has stayed a few nights with me along the way when things between her and Locks get rocky. Luckily, here recently, Locks just stays at the club overnight instead of going home to Babs. I haven’t touched Babs, afraid to cross that line again, but have wanted to. My fingers literally twitching with the urge to fondle her. Locks has never laid another finger on her, and I made sure of that, hiring a local thug and his crew to find Locks and rough him up a bit. Letting him know she better never be seen with a mark on her again. He doesn’t know it was me who sent them, because he came to me about it after it happened. Of course, he left out the part about the warning of Babs never being touched again. He played it off as it being a beat down for fooling around with some guy’s wife. He knows I can’t stand a man who hits a woman, treats a woman the way he has Babs. There have been a few times I wanted to take that fucking vice president patch, but what would that say about me, pulling a patch of a man who has been my brother for years, who has grown up with me in this very club. Both of our dads reigned over this club before us. They were the kings of this place. Locks and I would play here with our toy guns and cheap fake cuts, swearing that one day we would be just like our fathers. I saw my father with other women, seen the look of a woman coming to pleasure before I was ten years old, while Mom was at home, not allowed at the club. Maybe that’s why I feel for Babs the way I do…