I sigh now, looking down at the two of our hands clasped together. My head is spinning as I tell myself to back off, to step away, to not push it. I was very close to the edge back up in my room earlier, and the more this tension builds, the more dangerous it gets for me, for the animal inside.
But Darcy is looking at me with those soft brown eyes now, and in her eyes I can see the woman that my little sister has become. And it is that woman who is calling to me now, daring me to step forward, daring me to challenge her, claim her, dominate her.
I shake my head now and blink. Do I really see that in her eyes? Or am I seeing what I want to see? Am I already past the edge without realizing it? Maybe I am. Maybe I am.
So I exhale and look into my sister’s eyes, and with a tight smile I gesture with my head for her to get on the bike.
“One drink,” I say to her. “Just one drink.”
11
DARCY
Three drinks later, I am feeling tipsy and slap-happy. I’ve been drunk before, sure, but my tolerance is real low. I puked a couple of times in college, and it taught me enough to know that three drinks is just perfect for me. No more. Three drinks gets me happy and loose, but certainly not out-of-my-senses drunk.
I watch Cam now as he stands beside me, one hand on his belt, the other holding a beer. He is drinking slowly, I can tell. This is just his second beer, and although I’d trust my brother with my life even if he was blind drunk, I know he is holding back because I am with him, because I am his responsibility right now.
This makes me feel a sudden rush of love for Cam, a strange sort of love that is certainly simple and innocent for the most part, but has the undeniable tension of something deeper, something dirtier, less pure.
Listen to yourself, I think as I shake away my thoughts and sidle up to Cam. I slip my arm around his waist, and he instinctively pulls me close to him like I’m his girl. Oh, God, this feels so right. This feels SO right, Cam! Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?
Cam is excitedly talking to an older guy standing next to him at the bar. The guy is big, with a salt-and-pepper beard and some seriously weather-beaten skin, but he is smiling and listening to Cam with genuine interest as Cam goes on and on about his new bike.
I glance around the bar once more, my head unconsciously bouncing to the hard rocking beats pounding over the crackling speakers in the corner. The place is actually pretty big, and it seems to go way back around that corner at the far end. Maybe some private rooms or something. VIP area?
I almost laugh when I think VIP. This place isn’t seedy or dirty, but it certainly is gritty and rough. I wonder what kind of person is a VIP at this place.
There are a few loners sitting quietly at the bar, and three or four different groups of people hanging around the room, some at the pool tables, some near the dartboards, others walking in and out of the front door so they can chain-smoke their filterless cigarettes. There are a few women here, but it is mostly men. Still, the vibe feels good, and I keep bouncing my head as I smile and people-watch with delight.
“Yeah,” Cam is saying as I feel his arm get tighter around my waist, now moving up, his fingers just under my bra, now sliding dangerously close to that warm space under my boob. He has finished his second beer and the bartender has already placed a new bottle in front of him. Cam glances at the beer, but he grabs it and takes a sip without hesitation even as I feel his hand move against my body, caressing me in a way that is making me hot again as I snuggle into him and try to act like his girl.
This older man is looking at Cam’s jacket, and I listen in as they talk.
“. . . and that’s from the 2006 AIDS ride down in Arizona,” the man is saying, looking closely at one of the patches on his jacket. He keeps going, checking out the other patches and insignias on the sides of the jacket. “Some of these I don’t recognize,” the man says now. “But they look cool. Nothing that’s . . . well, you know what I mean.”
Cam laughs and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I looked them all over. There’s nothing on there related to a club or anything. I know better than to wear an MC’s logo if I’m not part of it.”
I look up at Cam as he says this, and now I understand why he scanned all the logos and patches on his jacket before putting it on for our ride. He was looking for anything that could get us into trouble.
I smile now, once again feeling safe and protected in my brother’s arms, under his watchful eye, his hard grip. You know what, I think as I finish the last bit of my third drink, I am his girl today. Fuck it. I AM his girl.
And as if the universe is backing me up, the older guy leans past Cam and looks at me, smiling and making brief eye contact. He does a quick double-take as he perhaps realizes that I am way too young to be in here, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he looks down at my jacket, and furrows his brow as he stares at the insignias sewed into the leather.
“And let’s see what your girl’s got going on with these patches,” he says now as he leans closer, nodding and squinting.
“I figure they’re the same as mine,” Cam says as he takes a long swig of his third beer. “The jackets are a set, so the logos should all be the same.”
I smile again as I bask in the awesome feeling of being called Cam’s girl. I like how Cam confidently said the jackets are a set, they belong together, just like him and his girl. I also like the head-buzz I got going on right now.
The older man is still squinting at my jacket, and now I see his expression change and the color leave his face. He glances up into my eyes once more before quickly straightening up and looking at Cam with a narrow gaze that makes a chill run down my spine.
“Listen,” the guy says to Cam now, his voice low, almost down to a hiss. “You and your girl need to leave right now. Forget about the drinks—I’ll cover them. You take your girl and you walk straight out that door. Walk straight out, real casual, and then just ride, son. Just ride. Do it now.”
Cam has just drained the last of his third beer, and I’m not sure if he heard this man clearly.
“What are you talking about?” he says, loudly, too loudly.
Now the guy stands up to full height and brings his face close to Cam’s ear. “Listen, kid, you didn’t check your girl’s jacket well enough. She’s got a patch on there that you don’t. Trust me, you don’t want those guys on the porch outside to see that patch. They haven’t seen it yet, and if they do, I . . . well, just trust me on this. Take your girl, and get the hell out of—”
But the man does not finish his sentence, and I can see him look past Cam, look past me, his eyes widening and then quickly narrowing. Now he slowly turns his head and looks straight at the bottles all lined up behind the bar, lifting his beer with what I swear is a tremble in his hand.
I am still staring at Cam and this older man who is suddenly quiet, but now I can smell the strong odor of cigarette smoke to my left and I turn. It is a tall man, sturdy and broad, maybe thirty-five or forty years old. His beard is solid black and thick, his hair long and greasy with sweat from sitting outside in the sun. He smells of cigarettes and alcohol, gasoline and grease, and he is leaning on the bar as the bartender lines up two shots of whiskey and a beer for him.
But the man isn’t looking at the bartender. He isn’t looking at the drinks. He’s looking at my jacket. And now he’s looking at me.
He’s looking at me.
12
CAMERON
I see it now. Oh, fuck I see it now. In my haste to get out of my room, to get out of that situation where I couldn’t trust myself around Darcy, I didn’t inspect both jackets closely enough. I just figured that since the jackets were a set, the logos and patches would be the same, with maybe a couple of personal touches here and there. And at first glance they DO look the same, except for this one small insignia sewed onto the left side of Darcy’s jacket.
Fuck me. How could I have miss
ed that, I think as I watch this big motherfucker stare at my sister up and down as he takes two shots of whiskey like it’s nothing.
I can feel the muscles in my gut tightening, my fists clenching, my jaw going taut, my eyes getting narrow. I am focused on this guy now, watching him closely as he puts down the empty shot glass and picks up his beer. He hasn’t said anything, but from the way this nice older guy reacted, this guy is someone who would recognize the patch on my sister’s jacket, recognize that it shouldn’t be on there.
I maintain my grip on Darcy, holding her close to my body as I feel her tense up. I can’t read this guy quite yet, but I am ready to fight if I have to. Fuck it. That energy inside me was going to come out one way or the other. That beast was going to get unleashed. It’s either sex or violence, isn’t it, I think. They run on the same engine, don’t they?
My vision is narrowing now, focusing on this guy who is still staring at my sister, his gaze now moving away from the jacket to her cleavage, now up to her innocent eyes and back down along her tits as she shifts uncomfortably as I pull her closer. If this guy even reaches out one finger to touch my sister, he’s going down. I don’t care if I get beaten to death by his buddies or whatever. Touch her and it’s on, big guy. It is fucking ON!
I am trembling with the adrenaline-rush now as I imagine myself pulling Darcy out of the way and landing one square on the guy’s jaw. I don’t care how big you are, if you get hit just right on that pressure point on the lower jaw, you’re going to drop, at least for a few seconds, long enough for me to kick him in the face and then get Darcy the hell out of here.
The man has not looked into my eyes yet, and I can tell he is thinking. He knows I am staring right at him, and I can see an arrogant smile curling its way onto his nicotine-stained lips, his dry, cracked skin opening up like a dried-up river bed. Now he nods at the bartender and slowly turns away from us, grabbing his beer. He’s still got that smile on his face, and I keep staring at him as he slowly walks back towards the front door, pulling out a cigarette from his scrunched up pack using his teeth.
And suddenly he is out the door and it is over. I feel the tension leave my body in a rush, and I almost sway on my feet as I feel Darcy trembling under my touch. The older guy next to me is still staring straight ahead, and I just glance at him, exhale, and then pull my sister towards the front door.
“We’re fine, sis,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m right here, babe. I’m right here.”
She nods, and I get the sweet smell of her shampoo as I nuzzle her hair from behind. She is pushing her body backwards into me, and I cannot stop myself from leaning in and planting a quick kiss on her neck from behind.
Almost immediately I feel my cock stiffen once more, and my head is buzzing again. I feel very drunk suddenly, and the mixture of alcohol, adrenaline, and arousal is giving rise to an almost uncontrollable urge to . . . to . . . to . . .
I almost SHOUT out loud now, my emotions and energy are so raw and mixed up. I want to fight, I want to fuck, I want to . . . AARGHH! GOD! What is WRONG with me!
Now Darcy starts to move towards the front door, pulling me with her. I walk with her, with my sister, my girl, my woman for today. My bike is just outside the front door, shining and ready to take us the hell away from here, back home where Darcy will be safe. Safe from these guys, at least. But how about safe from me? Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. First things first—right now, we need to walk through that door.
We are close now, and I can see that big mo-fo through the window. He is smoking with three other men, all of them equally bearded and sweaty. They are talking, and one of them looks very animated, his face twisted into an expression of anger, his fist clenched and pumping as he speaks hard and fast to his buddies, now pointing towards the bar, then shaking his head and mouthing something that looks like, “Fuck that!”
“Easy, sis,” I whisper into her hair as we walk together. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone, but walk cool, with confidence. We’re almost home, baby. We’ll be home soon. I’m right here, sis. I’m right here.”
But even as I feel Darcy relax, I sense a chill rising up my spine as I see the four men outside toss their cigarettes over the porch and slam the rest of their beers like they are getting ready to go somewhere. For a moment I let myself believe that they are just leaving, hitting the road. But I know in my gut that they aren’t heading out.
No, they are heading in.
They are heading in.
13
DARCY
The sunlight coming through the doorway is suddenly gone, blocked by the large bodies of four hulking bikers. Black, unwashed, stringy hair on all of them, sickeningly dark beards that are smeared with booze, coated with nicotine, shining with grease from whatever the hell they were eating. I am shivering uncontrollably, even under Cam’s hold, even though I know he would protect me with his life if it came to that.
Don’t be ridiculous, I think now as I feel Cam stop and hold me close to him as the four men slowly walk through the door. It is broad daylight and there are other people in this bar. There are stores and restaurants down this street. There is a gas station and a busy highway just across the way. I’m in no real danger here. Maybe there’s some tough talk, some pushing, but obviously the bartender will call the cops the moment there’s any sign of real trouble, right? And if he doesn’t, then that sweet old biker who was talking to Cam will step in and either help or dial 911, right? Of course. Of COURSE.
Cam and I are still standing there together, in the middle of the bar now. I feel exposed as these four men look me up and down, but at the same time I feel strangely excited as Cam grips me tighter, pushes his face closer to mine from behind, whispers for me to stay calm, that he’s right here, protecting me like a brother protects his sister, like a man protects his woman.
“This is just some macho bullshit,” he whispers in my ear. “Don’t be scared, sis.”
I shift my body against his, getting a strange feeling of wild, reckless confidence as my drunkenness mixes with the burn of adrenaline, making me almost giddy. It is almost like the fear is fueling my excitement right now, the danger heightening my senses, bringing me to a state of mind and body that is exhilarating, raw, primal.
“Excuse us, boys,” I say now, surprising myself with how loud my voice sounds, even though I can tell it is shaking. I gesture towards the door with my head. “We’re late for church.”
Almost immediately I hear murmurs rise up around me, and the sound of chairs and stools scraping against the rough wooden floor makes it clear that the few other people in the bar have now gotten to their feet. A moment later I see these other folks quietly walking out of the bar, no one making eye contact with us, certainly not with these four big guys. Are you kidding me? What the hell?
The bar is suddenly empty, and these guys are focused on me now, two of them staring at my mouth like they are shocked I had the guts to speak, let alone with some snark and confidence. The third guy is just ogling me up and down, his eyes moving rapidly down past my hips, up to my cleavage, down to the V of my crotch. The fourth guy, the biggest guy, the one who was next to me at the bar . . . well, he’s just staring at that patch on my jacket, that same arrogant smile on his grimy face.
Now the bar is empty and I am feeling nervous again. Cam is still behind me, and he is saying something, but I cannot understand him because of the blood pumping in my ears, the buzz of alcohol and adrenaline in my head.
I follow this biker’s gaze down to that patch on my jacket, and I grab a hold of it and pull. At first it doesn’t come off, but then I slide my fingers under one side and slowly manage to break a few stitches. Whoever put it on didn’t do a very good job, and within a few seconds I have ripped it right off.
Now I hold up the patch, my eyes wide as I stare at this big guy. “Look,” I say. “If there’s a problem with me wearing this, I swear I di
dn’t know. I just got these jackets from that used store. I had no idea. Here, take it.”
And without thinking, I toss the patch towards the bikers, feeling a sinking pull in my gut as I watch the innocent patch of stiff cloth fall to the dusty floor of the bar. Almost immediately I know I have made a mistake. If wearing that patch was disrespectful, then ripping it off and tossing it on the floor probably won’t go over too well.
“Oh, sis,” Cam whispers in my ear now, his breath hot, spit flying as I sense his anger. “Oh, babe, what have you done? I told you to stay calm. I told you I was here, that I would handle it. But you can’t hold your fucking tongue, can you? You can’t follow simple instructions, can you? When will you learn, sis? When will you learn that when I ask you to do something, I expect you to fucking DO IT!”
And Cam just fucking YELLS those last two words and pushes me away from his body, off to the side as he takes two steps forward, fists clenched, clearly ready to fight these four guys. I am shocked at Cam’s anger, almost scared at his rage, part of which is directed at me, I know.
Now I look around the bar as Cam faces off against these four guys. There is no one else in here besides the bartender, and so I look at him and scream, “What the fuck? Do something! Call someone!”
The bartender doesn’t even look at me. He just smirks and shakes his head, slowly backing away from the bar, then turning and walking off towards the back. Now suddenly Cam and I are alone with these four guys, and it seems awfully dark in here, smells awfully bad.
“Fuck this,” I mutter as I watch two of the bikers slowly walk up to Cam. “This isn’t happening.”
Now I slip my hand down my pocket, reaching for my phone. My jeans are tight, and my new smartphone is awesome but big, so I curse as I suck in my stomach and try to pull my phone out.
I almost have it now, but just as my hand emerges from my front pocket, I feel someone grip me and I scream.
My Stepbrother, My Dom Page 5