Devil's Ruin (Rawlins Heretics MC Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  “And she thought you should keep caring,” Oz says and plops onto the couch.

  “I told her right off how I wasn’t looking for a date. Friends only. She was fine that night. Sweet and sane. Then she showed up the next night and tried kissing me. I told her that I wasn’t into dating anyone. She said we could fuck. I said no. She cried. I told her that it wasn’t personal.”

  I stop pacing and exhale slowly. “Then she kept showing up, and people started thinking she was my girlfriend. I tried blowing her off like a nice guy, and then I tried as an asshole, but she wouldn’t stop hounding me. I started calling her by the wrong name, but she acted like she didn’t notice. I had to leave whenever she showed up somewhere. That’s when she started messing with my house. Now you saw how she showed up here. I don’t know how to end it. I can’t call the cops or kick her ass.”

  “Let’s have the crew handle her. They’re perfectly cool beating on women. Now that you’re dating Yarrow, Annie is their problem too.”

  The possibility of the Annie problem going away should fill me with relief, but I’m unaccustomed to trusting good news. Eyeing Oz, I’m unaccustomed to trusting him too.

  “Do you plan to tell the club bros that I didn’t fuck Annie?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t care if you do,” I lie.

  “Then why ask?”

  “To prepare for the ribbing that I’ll get if you did tell them.”

  “Uh-huh,” Oz says, smirking again. “You don’t have to worry about me telling them. Of course, I have to tell Ginger, and she’ll have to tell the crew. So if the club bros find out, it won’t be from me.”

  Nodding, I size up the TV hanging on the wall. “Looks good.”

  “Seriously, man, a pink elephant?”

  “She wanted it.”

  “Still.”

  I roll my eyes as he starts laughing. Even if Oz keeps the Annie thing under wraps, I know he’ll tell everyone and their mother about the pink elephant on my wall.

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  By the time Blackjack and I finish shopping, my clothes are nearly dry. We return to the townhomes where I help him carry our purchases inside. Soaked again, I leave Blackjack with the promise of returning for dinner. He walks me to Ginger’s back door even though I don’t need him to. Standing in the pouring rain, Blackjack watches me until I hurry upstairs for a shower.

  As I strip out of my soaking clothes, I think of him doing the same on the other side of the adjoining wall. I can’t wait to see the tattoos hiding under his clothes. I want to run my fingers through his chest hairs. Maybe I’ll tug at his fur as if ready to cause him pain. Then Blackjack will give me that look he always gives me when I act weird. I very much love that look.

  “What did you do today?” Ginger asks after I step into the hot shower.

  Before I close the curtain, I notice her jump up to sit on the counter. “We went to Denny’s, a trailer park, and Wal-Mart.”

  “What did you do at the trailer park?”

  “Checking on the whores.”

  “Anything you need to report?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Why not right now?”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Okay,” she says in a soft, unhappy voice.

  I peer out from the shower curtain and find Ginger frowning. “Why are you sad? Is Oz not putting out?”

  “You sound like Clove.”

  “Yeah, she says you’re really horny,” I tease before returning to washing my hair. “Blackjack makes me really horny.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s because he’s sexy. Isn’t that why you get horny for Oz?”

  “Yes, but I’m...”

  “What?” I ask from behind the curtain.

  “You’re not on birth control. We need to fix that.”

  “I don’t want to take birth control.”

  “You’re not ready for a baby.”

  Opening the curtain, I shake my head. “I don’t want more pills.”

  “You can get a shot.”

  “No,” I say, glaring at her now. “Shots hurt. Why can’t he use a condom?”

  “I guess, he can.”

  “Don’t cry.”

  Ginger’s frown gets angry. “I’m not crying.”

  “You could have fooled me,” I say and turn off the water. “You should be happy that I’m not trying to kill anyone.”

  “I am. I want you to be happy, but maybe you’re rushing into this thing with Blackjack because you’re upset that I married Oz and you have to share me now.”

  “No,” I mumble from under the towel. “I like having Alani and Makoa here. Oz is okay, and I like Tana. She smiles when I help her cook. I was scared when you started dating Oz because it was new, but it’s nice here now. It’s better than Little Memphis.”

  Ginger smiles at me for the first time since I told her about dating Blackjack. She worries about me, and I worry about her. I had to learn not to stab the man she loves, and Ginger will no doubt learn to do the same. Just like the crew told me years ago, friendship involves compromise, and compromise means I couldn’t steal food from their plates whenever I wanted. Well, Ginger and I are now learning about compromise when it comes to men.

  I stand naked in front of the mirror and frown at my reflection. “Are my boobs weird-looking?”

  “No.”

  “I want Blackjack to think I’m pretty.”

  “He does.”

  “Are we going to kill the deputy that arrested me?”

  “Do you want to?” Ginger asks while playing with my wet hair.

  “I don’t know. I think the cops need an ass-whooping around here, but I don’t want to cause trouble for the crew and club. What does Oz think?”

  Ginger’s eyes light up. “Do you really care what he thinks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I want us to be happy here, and he knows Rawlins. I also think he should make Blackjack his VP because I think Blackjack is better than the others whose names I don’t remember.”

  “Well, there you go. No better reason.”

  “Oz is smart, right?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t like killing cops,” Ginger says and then adds, “Or women or anyone really. He’s a gentle spirit in the body of a god.”

  “Okay,” I mumble since I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. “I don’t know what Blackjack wants. I’m still getting to know him, but I think he’s nicer than me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “He is attracted to me because I’m broken, and he likes to save broken women. I’m attracted to him because he’s sexy and I like sexy men who are tall and muscular and have nice hands.”

  “The other club guys are tall and muscular and have nice hands.”

  “Really? I never noticed that about them.”

  “You never noticed him either,” Ginger mutters. “Until you did.”

  “Yeah, and now I want to hump him.”

  “Because of his hands?”

  “And the rest of his body, but he has nice hands. They have tattoos on them. I like when they touch me.”

  “Sex is natural.”

  Blinking rapidly, I feel like she’s talking in code. “I know.”

  “You seemed grossed out when I had sex.”

  “I was scattered then, but I feel better now. I like it here. I’m happier now.”

  Ginger wraps a towel around me before our hug. This is her silent reminder that running around naked isn’t acceptable for most people. I forget sometimes all the rules about being normal. Wear clothes. Don’t steal. Use my words. Don’t bite people. Plus, little things like how close I should stand to people and how loud to talk.

  With Blackjack, I’ve done good at remembering the rules and controlling my moods. An entire day together might prove too hard, so I decide to take a pill and increase my odds of remaining on my best behavior.

  Chapter Nine

  L
ife Lesson #9: the only monsters are mankind

  ➸ Blackjack ★

  Arriving at the back door, Yarrow looks ready for bed in her purple and white flannel pajamas along with orange Tweety Bird slippers. Her shiny, brown hair cascades down her shoulders. I notice under her arm is an orange fleece blanket covered with white skulls and bones. Yarrow looks both wickedly sexy and sinfully young.

  “Are you planning on staying the night?” I ask, taking her hand to guide her into a twirl so I can check out her outfit. “The bed has plenty of space for two.”

  Yarrow smiles big for me. “I will have sex, but I won’t sleep here. I don’t like this townhome.”

  “Not even with Dumbo on the wall?”

  “What’s Dumbo?”

  Frowning, I can’t believe she’s serious. “Haven’t you seen the kid movie about an elephant?”

  “Of course not. Why would I?”

  “You hang out with kids.”

  “I don’t like cartoons. They’re not real.”

  My brain tries to imagine how Yarrow sees the world. “What about the cartoon character on your slippers?”

  “It’s a bird.”

  “You don’t know who Tweety Bird is, do you?”

  “And I don’t care either,” she says as her palms greedily stroke my chest. “Are we going to eat? I’m hungry, and I like to eat when I’m hungry. The behavioral therapist said I should eat when I get that urge because I wasn’t eating enough.”

  “Well, we can’t piss off the behavioral therapist.”

  “Are we getting something delivered?”

  “The only thing that delivers around here is pizza.”

  Gripping my shirt possessively, she says, “No, the Chinese place does too. Clove called them.”

  “Do you want Chinese food?”

  “No.”

  “Of course, you don’t. Why would you?”

  “I don’t like broccoli.”

  “No one does,” I say and lean down to nuzzle my lips in her soft, scented hair. “Never trust anyone who says they do.”

  Yarrow bounces away from me and toward where I hung the elephant painting. “It’s so pretty. I want to send a picture to Ginger so she can see.”

  While Yarrow sends pictures of the elephant along with the lava lamp sitting nearby, I pull up the local pizza place’s website on my phone. Done sending photos, she walks to me and tosses her cell on the couch. Her arms wrap around my waist before she snuggles her cheek against my white T-shirt.

  “You smell like soap and cum. Did you masturbate in the shower after we got back?”

  “No, but thanks for making me self-conscious.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Yes, I am. In fact, I never get self-conscious about anything.”

  Yarrow licks her lips. “I don’t like peppers or onions or pepperoni.”

  “What do you like?”

  “Chicken and pineapple.”

  “I think that might be a deal breaker,” I mutter, frowning down at her. “You’ve spent too much time with Oz if you think pineapple and pizza go together.”

  “I don’t want vegetables at all. Ham is okay.”

  “You like meat, so we’ll get a mega meat pizza.”

  “What about the pepperoni?”

  “You can pull them off.”

  Yarrow starts bouncing. “Okay. Can we watch TV and make out until the food arrives?”

  “Sure, but let’s lock the doors and close the shades, so your friends don’t cock-block me again.”

  “Ooh, I’ll do that,” she says before kicking off her slippers and running for the back door.

  I suspect Yarrow gorged herself on sugar before showing up. What else explains her hyper behavior? She turns on the TV and jumps around the room to music only she can hear.

  “What’s this?” I ask, gesturing at her shaking ass.

  “One of my meds makes me super happy for a little bit. I’ll settle down soon.”

  I watch her dance around the room. Her arms lift, tugging up her shirt to expose her pale, thin waist. I’m startled by how fragile she seems suddenly. I can’t imagine her fighting off even the most pathetic man with such a wiry body. A vulnerable Yarrow makes me want to keep her locked away from the world and my desires.

  “Pizza’s on its way,” I mumble when she focuses on me.

  Yarrow nudges me toward the mahogany-colored, soft leather couch where she straddles my hips and wraps her long, thin arms around my neck.

  “I’m glad we went shopping,” she whispers.

  Before I can speak, her lips cover mine. My need to protect Yarrow struggles against my long-dormant and now violent reignited lust. The battle is short-lived. Once her hips slide forward, my cock enjoys the heat hiding under her pajama bottom. I haven’t felt a woman’s touch in what feels like a fucking eternity. The pleasure my hand provides can’t compete with even a hint of Yarrow’s affection.

  Her hunger infects me until we’re alone in the world. Nothing outside this townhome matters. No one exists beyond her. My past is gone. Lost in the raging lust she’s ignited, I’ve officially given up having any control.

  ➸ Yarrow ☆

  Blackjack tastes so good that I struggle not to take a bite. I repeat in my head how people don’t like being bitten. Don’t piss off the sexy man whose hands are sliding under my shirt.

  Between my legs, his erection struggles against his jeans. I press my hips lower, craving more pressure from his cock against my pussy.

  “Wait,” he mumbles when I unbutton my shirt.

  “No,” I say and cover his complaining lips with my hungry ones.

  “Stop.”

  Blackjack grabs my upper arms and forces me away from him. I try to break free, but he’s too strong.

  “I want to fuck,” I say. “My pussy is so hot right now. It hurts and needs sex.”

  Blackjack leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Crap. Stop talking about your pussy before I come in my pants.”

  “Come in my pussy instead. Why are you telling me to stop?”

  “I’m old-fashioned and think a man should wait until after the pizza arrives before he plows a woman for the first time,” he says and then looks me in the eye. “Preferably, our first fuck won’t be on the couch either. I’d like to have you stretched out and at my disposal.”

  Trying to wiggle free, I study his face. “I’m horny now.”

  “Think of sports.”

  “No. I want to think about cock and pussy and putting those two together. Now let me go.”

  “If I let you go, you need to sit on the other end of the couch.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll eat my pizza alone.”

  “You can’t kick me out.”

  “I’ll leave then.”

  Even believing Blackjack is full of shit about leaving, I won’t chance him going. Today’s been one of my favorites, and I don’t want it to end.

  “I’ll sit over there. I promise.”

  His dark eyes narrow, clearly distrusting me. I smile for him, but I don’t know if I look honest or crazy.

  Blackjack lets go of my arms, and I slide off his lap before crawling to the other end of the couch.

  “See?” I ask, and he nods. “I don’t get sentimental about sex, but I’ll behave if you can’t handle your feelings.”

  “Well, I can’t,” he says, adjusting his jeans. “You’re gorgeous, and I want to fuck you, but not now and not here.”

  “Okay.”

  Silence hangs in the air for a long time. I look around the living room and like the changes Blackjack made. The TV on the wall seems better than on a tiny stand. The new lights make the house less gloomy. The lava lamp is really cool, but my favorite change is the colorful picture I bought.

  “Elephants are so weird-looking,” I say, leaning closer to the painting. “I didn’t think they were real when I saw them on TV, but then we went to the zoo last year. They seem like monsters, and I was scared when we stood too close to t
he enclosure. Then I realized they were lazy and didn’t do anything.”

  “Everything is new for you.”

  “Before Ginger, I only cared about eating, fucking, sleeping, and shitting. I didn’t think there was anything outside of the two rooms. There was mine and the room I saw when the door opened. I thought everyone lived in that other room. I didn’t know where food came from. It just all magically happened in the other room. In my room, there was mostly darkness. The TV played people talking, but they made no sense to me. I talked to them sometimes, but they didn’t answer me, so I stopped.”

  Blackjack stretches out his legs on the coffee table. “I can’t imagine so many years in the dark.”

  “Sometimes, I could remember when I was younger and how there was more than just the two rooms. Except I couldn’t be sure the memories were real. They were scary too because I remember the world outside the rooms as really loud and bright. People were always yelling, and I remember feeling pain. I remember someone shaking me and screaming in my face. I don’t know who that was except it wasn’t my father, Hal. I knew his face, and he didn’t yell. He mumbled words and I didn’t understand most of what he said. He clapped and snapped his fingers to get me to move. I would watch him and wonder if he was speaking a different language than the people on the TV. Nobody made any sense to me.”

  “But you understand now.”

  “Mostly. Sometimes, I watch TV and don’t understand. I have trouble thinking of the entire world because it seems too big. Like how the planet is just one of many and the sun is a ball in the sky. It makes my head hurt sometimes. If I think of living a life in the way Ginger lives hers, I can follow things. I know how to cook and where food comes from. I know hamburgers were cows, and I know what cows are, but I sometimes forget that pork is from pigs. So, I understand enough, but not everything.”

  “Do you understand what you do to me?”

  Grinning, I peek down my shirt. “I make you feel horny, and your dick gets hard, and you want to see me naked.”

  “You also make my heart hurt.”

  “How come?” I ask, no longer smiling.