“Blaze said he had to work. Does that mean you’re in charge? What’s his place here?”
“I’m not in charge, no.” She giggles. “This is an MC club for men, but I am the president’s ol’ lady, so a sense of responsibility does fall to me. Especially when they have a job to do or whatever. They don’t tell me much as far as that’s concerned.”
“That sounds like a lot resting on your shoulders—a lot of responsibility.”
She waves it off, relaxing back and crossing her legs. “It’s the life I know, the life I love,” she concedes. “As for Blaze…I’m not sure what exactly I should tell you about him.”
“Anything, please. I don’t think he’s planning on letting me go anytime soon, so any information about the man would help.”
She nods. “Hmm, I probably shouldn’t. After being around you the past few days, you’re actually not that bad, though. At least not what I was expecting, anyhow. If only you’d change your perspective on the club and the members, maybe things could be different. Anyhow, Blaze…” She trails off and taps her chin, clearly thinking of what to share with me. I am the enemy here, after all.
“Well, I can’t talk about club stuff, it’s against the code. I can let you know that he’s my husband’s cousin and a good friend of mine. He’s a vital member of this club and an officer. He had a really rough life growing up…umm, what else? Well, he’s made some serious changes on how he treats women, and he’s been my personal protector since he showed up here, years back. This is all stuff you could find out just by hanging around here.”
“Wait, he protects you?” I butt in, unable to hold my building curiosity.
She offers a wide smile, not put off in the slightest by my inquisitiveness. “He nearly died to protect me. That was one of the worst days of my life, and he stood in front of me and took a serious beating from a rival club. They cut him up pretty badly and even shot him. He managed to pick off as many guys as he could before they got to Bethany and me. It was a dark day. He’s stuck to my side like glue. This job they’re on now is the first time he’s not stayed back with me.”
“Wow,” I breathe, conjuring the image of him being brutally injured and not enjoying the feelings it gives me in my gut.
“He’s been through some serious stuff, for sure. He wasn’t always a good man. He was probably worse than you can ever imagine, but all of that’s changed. He may come off as cocky to you, but that’s because he’s a Casanova around here. The ladies absolutely love him. He makes us laugh a lot, and if you ever see the man dance…” She whistles low.
My brows raise, and she grins. “Dance?”
“Yep, when Blaze parties and gets some liquor in his system, he ends up on the bar top, shirtless, abs on display, dancing like he’s straight out of Magic Mike.” She giggles again, and I smile. I wasn’t planning on watching something of that nature, but when it was on TV, my curiosity won me over. I may’ve watched some of it and understand her reference.
“I clearly don’t know him, it sounds like,” I mention, and she shakes her head, agreeing with my statement.
“I wish you got to meet him under different circumstances. You’d have a different opinion of him for sure.”
“It’s hard for me to think like that when he drugged and kidnapped me. He’s holding me here with threats of disposing my body if I misbehave.”
She shrugs as if it’s nothing. “We all do shit we’re not proud of. Have you ever considered that maybe it wasn’t his choice?”
“You mean like he was following someone else’s orders?” I ask, and she nods. “No…I just assumed…”
“Exactly. You assumed. But in your defense, you didn’t know any better. Now, you do.”
“You’re saying that it wasn’t his idea, that he did what he was told to by someone else.”
She stares into my eyes and seriously answers, “I’m not saying anything. Just think of things differently.” She winks, and my mind is exploding with a burst of new thoughts and scenarios. Could Blaze be innocent in all of this? Well, as guiltless as possible? He’s clearly still at fault for executing the order, but her comment has my mind spinning.
I upset the club, so they sent in someone to deal with me. Blaze is just doing what he’s told. If I think of it as a job, it makes sense. Granted, it’s not the same thing, but it helps me understand him a little better.
“Thank you, Princess,” I say, truly grateful for the small kernel of information she’s offered.
She beams. “Now, eat up. I’ll grab you another robe, so you have something clean to wear after you shower.”
She made me promise yesterday before the ol’ ladies came into the room that I wouldn’t tell Blaze if she let me borrow a robe. She didn’t think it would be comfortable for me to be naked while surrounded by other women, playing cards. I’d never been so grateful for a piece of clothing before. It may’ve only been a thin robe, but it gave me a shred of my dignity back.
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab the muffin she offers and take a decent-sized bite.
I met Cherry yesterday, and she was telling me all about her baking. I’m betting these are from her. She’s talented. I savor each bite as the muffin’s flavors are like a burst of sweetness as I chew. Last week I’d never have grabbed for a muffin, but here, you take what you can get I’ve quickly learned. It’s been an adjustment for my stomach, for sure, but I’ve also been secretly enjoying the carb overload I’d never allow myself to have outside of here.
Princess sticks out her tongue, being silly at my ma’am comment and hands over a bottle of orange juice with the lid off. I’m still tied to this long rope that reaches across the room, so normal things like twisting my wrists to remove a lid is still a difficult task.
I hand the juice back to her, and she sets it on Blaze’s dresser before leaving to grab me a clean robe. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll eventually bring me some yoga pants or something as well.
I’d tried to explore Blaze’s drawers when he initially put me on this rope leash thing, and I was finally able to walk around, but they didn’t hold anything interesting. I figured being a guy, he’d have a pocketknife stashed somewhere or some other small weapon type gadget that I could use to assist in getting me free, but there was nothing. His dresser is surprisingly tidy too. The bottom drawer was loaded down with mechanic and travel magazines. I’ll admit, I was shocked to see that he reads. I know that’s biased, but it is what it is. I judged him, but clearly, he’s judged me as well. The other drawers are neatly stuffed with underwear, socks, and white undershirts.
I wanted to toss a shirt on but held back for multiple reasons. For one, I can’t get it on while my hands are tied. With the robes, Princess used the sash to tie around my boobs, so it sort of drapes over me like a short, silky dress. The other reason was because of his warnings. I don’t want to anger him and make him treat me worse, from not following his directions of staying naked. I took the robe more than willingly because it was offered by someone he trusts. I wanted to slide a pair of his underwear on too but couldn’t get over the thoughts of how many women he’s slept with and if he’s ever bleached them. If there was a washer and dryer in here, I’d do it myself, but his room’s sparse.
The bathroom isn’t much of an improvement, either. The man is a minimalist. Under the sink, he has more soap and shampoo, which smells far too good. He has some deodorant, body spray, hair gel, detangler, toothpaste, and his toothbrush. I don’t know if he hid the razors before bringing me here or what, but I haven’t seen anything sharp since arriving.
His room is almost too clean if I’m being honest. Did he tidy it up before I got here? Or rather, did someone else clean it? He doesn’t strike me as the type to clean anything. If what Princess says is true, I have no idea what he’s really like outside of being my kidnapper.
She’s back in a flash, helping me out of yesterday’s robe and into the shower. The position’s awkward, though, my rope doesn’t reach far enough for me to really get under the spray. After fightin
g with it, I finally huff and hang my head in defeat. I can’t believe I’m in this position in the first place. I was an idiot to ever think I was safe. I hate to admit it, but Blaze is right. If times were different or something happened, I’d need him to protect me. That thought drives me crazy inside for some reason. I hate needing anyone, and especially a man. I’m independent. I always have been, but he’s opening my eyes to other possibilities. Sure, people have spewed things in the past, but I never stopped to listen. With him, I have no other choice but to hear him out.
Looking at the circumstances I’m in now, would I be here if I’d had a smart, strong husband to help protect me? Probably not, and that’s a big pill to swallow. At the very least, that alpha would be losing his mind right now over trying to find me. As it stands, I have no one looking for or missing me. That’s a hard reality to grasp.
This is Blaze’s fault. He’s kept me here, made me ridiculously vulnerable, and it’s making me think things, like finding a man when I get out of here. If I ever do, how do I find one who is big and strong like Blaze, who I could possibly put up with and not want to toss my drink in his face at every meal? Blaze is a brash and headstrong man, but I’ve quickly learned he’s also very intelligent. He’s rough around the edges, but he also feeds me and keeps me warm. It’s reducing things to the basic nature and what science often attempts to prove about women and men being on an animal level with one another.
Princess uses a big cup to get me wet enough and runs her hands caked in soap over my body. She kneads my back, shoulders, neck, and head. It feels divine, and I’m understanding more each day why the president of the MC married her. She’s a great caretaker, even I can see that. “Do you have kids?” I ask out of the blue, and she pauses.
“No. Maybe someday.” She answers quickly and pours water to rinse me off. There’s no lingering touches and orgasms like the previous shower. I was a little apprehensive getting in here, but also a tad excited at the thought of her touch. It’s on the forbidden side, and I’m stunned that I enjoyed it so much.
“Why are you with the president if you like women?”
She snorts out a giggle. “Women aren’t my main interest. Besides, Viking wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I spin around, eyes wide, “D-did he kidnap you too? Or force you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Our story is between him and me. I will say it was crazy and fast, but I’d never want another man. He proved to me that no other man would ever satisfy me the way he does.” She pauses and then smiles softly. Her head tilts as she says, “I’m going to divulge one thing, but don’t you dare judge him on it.”
My brows raise. “I’ll try not to, I promise.”
She nods. “I don’t know why I care what you think, but I don’t want you to have a bad opinion of him because of it. My ol’ man has his reasons why he does the crazy stuff he does.”
I nod, intrigued.
“He found a rival of the clubs trying to hurt me. I was all alone, fighting, and Viking helped me.”
I smile. “Why would I ever judge him wrongly on that? He did the right thing.”
She agrees. “He killed him for touching me.”
I gasp because that’s just plain crazy.
Her brow furrows, and she steps out of the tub. She reaches for the towel. “You promised. You can’t jump to conclusions. Around here, you don’t know the whole story behind things. Try to remember that.”
I swallow, my voice wanting to come out as a croak. These men kill, and she just reminded me. It’s easier to try and forget those savage parts, to pretend like things around here aren’t so serious. It’s been helping me cope, but it’s not reality. “How can you love him, knowing he’s killed someone?”
She shrugs. “He’s killed many people. That doesn’t determine whether I love him or not. How he treats me, how he makes me feel…that’s how I love him. I won’t lie to you, his killing doesn’t bother me, not like it should. Maybe I’m broken inside?” She implies it as a question, but I don’t think she truly believes that. I think she’s a product of her environment. Being around such acts can shape a person and determine their norm.
For me, it’s outrageous and alarming. Has Blaze really killed people as well? If so, how many and why? When you strip away his cocky attitude he carries during the day, and it leaves the warm comfort of him at nighttime, it’s hard for me to picture him as a ruthless killer. I could be wrong about it like Princess implied that I don’t know the full intent of each person around here. I don’t think I am though. I believe Blaze has killed people in the past. The scariest part of that revelation? I still want to see him; it hasn’t shunned me away completely like it would’ve prior to being kidnapped.
Is this the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome? “Shit.”
“Whoa, did you just curse? And not while playing Bullshit?” Princess gawks, drawing my attention back to her and the robe she’s busily tying around me.
“Uh, did I say that out loud?”
She nods, gazing at me curiously. “I haven’t heard you swear before. Well, aside from the Bullshit game, anyhow,” I swallow tightly again, my chest feeling hot.
“It’s because I don’t curse.” I slam my eyes closed, cringing at the revelations. “I have to get out of this place…” I whisper, knowing that I’m already beginning to change.
***
Blaze
I embrace each of our Nomad brothers as we all crowd into a secluded area. We’d rode down I-10 for a beat before Viking had us turn off at an old dilapidated adobe house—what remains of it, anyhow. It’s not easy to tell what it was without being up close. Half of the place is falling down, and it’s about the size of a shack. Hard to imagine someone or multiple people once lived in this tiny shit hole. There’s a dirt road that runs alongside it, the path carrying on as far as my eyes can see.
“Where the fuck are we, bro?” I ask Ruger. He’s a Nomad who I instantly clicked with when the Widow Makers merged with the Oath Keepers, and I was patched over into the hybrid charter. Viking used to ride with the Nomads before the shit hit the fan, and we patched over to form the hybrid Oath Keeper charter.
He exhales and digs out a flask. It’s probably full of moonshine. Chaos has the Nomads hooked on the shit. “Out in bum fuck Egypt, brother.”
“You been riding on that dirt death trap for long?” I ask, referring to the rocky dirt road they’d come from. The same one that doesn’t seem to ever end.
He nods. “That ride is slow, long, and fucking stupid.” He uses his bandana in an attempt to wipe away some dust from his face. With his dark hair and scruff, he looks like a hajji. All of the Nomads are heavily caked in the shit. It looks like they’re a bunch of dirtbags. I suppose it’ll help them blend in, though.
I chuckle to myself at the reference.
He sips from his flask and continues, “But it’s our way in. The tiny border patrol station there allows us to make our runs and doesn’t see shit as far as weapons and ammunition are concerned. Good bunch of guys stuck in that spot. Frankly, I think they’re just grateful to have some sort of backup occasionally in BFE. Can’t say I blame ‘em either.”
“Bet.” I nod, my relief written all over my expression. I wasn’t looking forward to possibly getting popped and doing time since I’m strapped the fuck down with various weapons. I would do time for my club, but it doesn’t mean I want to.
“Brothers,” Exterminator interrupts. He’s the longest riding Nomad out of their group. Viking, Nightmare, Saint, and Sinner were all a part of their little group until Vike set down his roots. “The road ahead is bumpy as fuck. We’ve gotta take it slow, so it’ll feel like it takes for fucking ever. We’ve got a spot set up on the other side where you can sleep and eat. Watch for coyotes, and if border patrol stops us, don’t pull any weapons. If a Mexican cop stops us, shoot first and ask questions later. Any cops that stop us are on the cartel's payroll and were sent to kill us. They make their money from promising illegals passage for payment, the
n they kill them.”
Various grumbles ring out, and I’m thinking the same damn thing. This situation is fucked.
Spider speaks up. “It’s a shitastic condition, but it’s not why we’re here. We’re headed into Mexico to deal with the cartel. We have various cells we’ve been tracking with the approval of our government ties, but there’s not enough of us. We need to hit the cartel like we did with the Iron Fists. If we take them out one at a time, they’ll either overtake us or else get away before we have a chance to move on their location.”
Mercenary interrupts. “When in the fuck did we start doing shit for the government?” He’s salty as fuck because the cops where he’s from hate his troublemaking ass. I would too if I were them. Merc stirs up all kinds of shit. Vike had to hand him his ass when he first showed up. Our prez doesn’t put up with any bullshit.
Viking glares at the newest member. “We’re being paid, and our club’s being left the fuck alone. You gonna cry like a bitch, then take your ass back home and make some fucking sandwiches.”
Mercenary growls then shuts the fuck up. He doesn’t want to push the prez too far, or else he’ll end up with an ass beating like he’s never experienced. That’ll be the end of it, though. We handle our issues swiftly and effectively, but I don’t envy the brother on the other side of Viking’s temper.
Exterminator continues. “We’ll pick back up when we get to our spot. We have some images of key players to pass around. We’ll be paid much more if we can come home with a few of those fuck sticks alive. Either way, we have a job to do, and I’ve already made it crystal fucking clear that our lives come before any sniveling motherfucker.”
Viking nods and orders, “Let’s fucking ride.” The roar of our engines shakes the ground, and our group pushes forward.
Chapter 15
My ass is chapped and sore by the time we get into Mexico and are able to stop again. I’ve got dust and grime in places it shouldn’t be, and I’m pretty sure I smell like a dog. Asphalt, dirt, exhaust, sweat, and Mexico will do that to you. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a decent length run, and aside from the dirt road, I’ve missed it more than I realized. There’s something freeing about riding and just zoning out in the wind.
Heathen: Oath Keepers MC Page 13