by J. C. Cliff
Yeah, the big guy in the sky ain’t got a lick of pity for me.
“Was your hand everything you thought it would be?” she continues, sarcasm evident in the tone of her voice.
Pulling the pillow away from my face, I roll onto my back and shove it back behind my head. Before I can muster up a quick comeback, she continues her little rant.
“A word to the wise, next time you masturbate, you might want to try and be a little more inconspicuous.”
Glancing at her, I fold my hands behind my head and stretch my body. The sheet dips lower, exposing my abs and I watch as Ree’s gaze sweeps the length of my body.
“What’s the matter, princess, you jealous I didn’t call out your name?”
Her eyes slice back to mine and she scoffs, “Just because you didn’t say my name, doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking of me.”
“Is that right?” I challenge, even though I know she’s being sarcastic. “You know, you could’ve joined me in there. Seems like you’re all talk and no action.”
Crossing her arms against her chest, she lets out a huff and rolls her eyes. With her attention focused on the television, I study her profile a moment before deciding to cut her some slack. After all, she’s been holed up in my room for two days with nothing but shitty shows to keep her company.
Looking toward the television, I shake my head.
“You really dig this shit, huh?”
“No, but beggars can’t be choosey.”
I watch as she points the remote toward the TV and proceeds to channel surf.
“You would probably have more channels if antennas were still a thing,” she says. “Please tell me you’ve at least heard of Netflix. I mean, why else does someone buy a Smart TV?”
Fuck if I know.
“Oh, excuse me, princess,” I start off, “had I known I was going to be housing a spoiled brat, I would have prepared better.”
“Would you stop calling me that?” she snaps.
The woman is obviously not tired and won’t relent until she gets what she wants. Sighing, I turn my head and give in to her.
“How do you get this Netflix thing?”
She pulls another remote from the top drawer of my nightstand and starts rambling on about settings and apps—all shit I didn’t know I had. She starts to lecture me on my inability to keep up with technology and before I know it, I’m handing her my credit card.
She could buy a fucking car and I wouldn’t give a damn so as long as she shuts the fuck up. Lucky for me, it only costs me ten dollars to pacify her. By the time she finds a movie I find myself wide awake. We both settle into the mattress and begin to watch the movie. To my surprise, she didn’t choose a chick flick. Yet halfway into the movie, she’s tearing up.
“Do you cry over commercials too?” I ask.
Turning her attention toward me, my eyes widen as a tear slides down her cheek.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Wiping her eyes with one hand, she slaps my chest with the other and I catch her wrist before she has a chance to pull her hand away. Yanking her against me, she loses her balance and her torso lands directly on top of mine. We both grow quiet as we stare into each other’s eyes.
Something shifts in the air and I think back to our first date, before all this shit hit the fan. It was just the two of us on the beach in the middle of nowhere. She was happy and laughing all night. I couldn’t stop looking at her then and I can’t stop now either.
Catching me off guard, she makes the first move and closes the distance between us, gently nipping at my lower lip. Her kiss is soft but the moan that escapes her throat lets me know she wants me, that she’s thinking about the same things I am.
“Make sure you know what you’re starting,” I warn, my voice raspy as I push her hair away from her face. Licking her lips, she stares back at me with hooded eyes. “Because once we start, I’m not stopping until every motherfucker in this building hears you scream my name.”
“Promise?” she questions.
That’s all the encouragement I need before I take her face and crash my mouth against hers.
Game on, princess.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My eyes flutter open and I find myself pressed against a beautiful, hard, and very naked body. Lifting my chin from his chest, I take a minute to appreciate Blade’s handsome, rugged features. His dark-brown hair is all disheveled and his stark jawline is peppered with the start of a beard. He truly is a work of art—until he speaks.
His eyes open a fraction at a time and he yawns loud enough to wake the dead. His thick bicep flexes as he rakes his fingers through his hair and meets my gaze.
“Mornin’,” he whispers, his tone husky with sleep.
It feels all too comfortable, and too good to be true. His sculpted muscles etched with tattoos and the warmth of his body is all too enticing. I could forget the reality of my situation and get lost in him.
Leaning away, I try to put distance between us and get my thoughts together, but Blade has other plans. Rolling me onto my back, he shifts his weight onto me and pins me against the mattress. Conflicted by my thoughts and the way my body responds to his every touch, I bite into my lower lip.
“I need to pee,” I blurt, desperate for space and clarity.
Studying me for a brief second, he mutters something inaudible before releasing me and flipping onto his back. With quick movements I scramble off the bed and grab his oversized t-shirt from the floor. Throwing it over my head, I shove my arms through the sleeves and hurry toward the bathroom.
Once inside, I lean against the closed door and try to quell my anxiety. I shouldn’t have slept with him again. Just when I’m starting to find my backbone, I go and do something stupid. I don’t want to be that girl who spreads her legs on a dime just because a sexy guy shows me a little attention.
Having to be stuck in a testosterone-laden room all day while being sexually attracted to a biker is not a good situation. Reminding myself I’m a prisoner, the very last thing I need is to get wrapped up in this asshole. He’s gruff, he’s crude, and let me not forget, a criminal to boot.
Instead of getting swept away by his good looks and his cock, I need to stop being a fool and get the hell out of here. Forget staying a week—I’ll never survive.
Walking toward the sink, I bend my head and turn on the tap. Splashing my face with cold water, I try to calm my nerves. I need to focus on a solution—on devising a way out of this mess.
Ten escape scenarios run through my mind at once. I'm in a gated compound full of bikers I’m sure some of them wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. There's no way in the world I'm going to be able to get past them or their security cameras, and there’s definitely no way I can scale a barbed wire fence.
Aside from breaking a nail, I’d rather not bust my ass.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart pounds with violence against my chest as I concede there is no way out.
A loud knock sounds on the door, startling me, and I realize I’ve been in the bathroom far too long.
“Are you okay in there?” Blade questions as I turn off the water. “Ree, what's going on?”
“Just give me a second,” I panic. “I’m… I’m having a female moment.”
As the words leave my lips, I realize I may have just given myself an out. I make a made dash for the toilet and give it a flush. Gathering my courage, I brave a straight face before making my way toward the door. Pulling it open, I find his thick arms stretched out across the door’s frame, caging me in.
“I need to get tampons,” I blurt out. The panicked sound my voice carries, playing perfectly into masking my true anxiety.
“You're shitting me, right?”
I shake my head.
“It just happened,” I explain, pointing to the toilet behind me. I’m pretty sure he knows mother nature is a beast and decides to pop in whenever she damn well pleases—cycles be damned.
Blade sighs heavi
ly before crossing his arms and debating what to say.
“I’ll go ask if any of the girls have something they can give you.”
“No!” I shriek, grabbing a hold of his arm. I stall for a moment as I try to conjure up an excuse. “I can't share feminine products with those women. I'll probably get gangrene in my twat or something.”
His eyes go wide as saucers and I swear I see a flash of humor flit across his features, but he’s quick to mask it and shakes his head.
“You really are a fucking princess. There’s no way in hell I’m going to buy tampons.”
“Then take me to the drugstore so I can get what I need, because I’m not using anybody else’s products. Besides, I’m allergic to scented ones and I only use a specific brand. I’m picky that way.”
“You don’t say?” he ridicules.
I can see he’s just as much conflicted as he is annoyed.
“I’ll be quick about it,” I promise.
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbles. “You know it’s not safe for you to be outside of the compound.”
“I really need them,” my voice borders on hysteria. “You don’t understand.”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Fine. Hurry up and get dressed.”
Suppressing a smile, I scramble to find my clothes while he uses the bathroom. By the time I decide on what to wear, he comes back into the bedroom and is already pulling on a pair of jeans. He orders me to light a fire under my ass as he shoves his feet into his boots. Minutes later we’re both dressed and out the door.
Ten minutes later we pull into the parking lot of the drugstore and a bout of nausea rushes over me. My nerves are damn near shot just thinking of all the different scenarios and excuses I’ll need to get him off my tail. The roar of the engine dies down, then goes the kickstand lowers. I loosen my hold on him and I’m quick to dismount the bike.
I’m about to make a mad dash for the front door when Blade grabs me by the elbow.
“Not so fast. I’m going in with you.”
Of course, he won’t let me get out of his sight. He wouldn’t even allow me to make a phone call without hovering over me like I was a damn child. Ushering me into the store, I pull out of his grasp and grab a shopping basket. Heading toward the feminine products, Blade trails behind me, his boots swallowing up the space between us.
Reaching the aisle, I begin to stall by pretending I can’t find what it is I’m looking for.
“You’ve got five fucking minutes to get what you need. None of that shit where you go into a store for one item and come out buying twenty things you don’t fucking need. Just grab your damn tampons and let's go.”
“You sure are grumpy,” I tell him, unfazed by his demands. “Are you sure you’re not the one PMSing?” I half tease, glancing at him as he eyes all the packages that promise super absorbency, light days, sport days, and pantyliners. If I wasn’t so hellbent on escaping, I’d laugh at him. Nothing says out of place quite like a biker in the tampon aisle.
He watches me as I finger over each different brand, hoping he’ll grow either more impatient or uncomfortable. I squat down and pick up a box of douches and pretend to read the back of the box. With this act alone, I can tell he’s getting agitated, which is exactly what I want.
“Jesus H…” he murmurs under his breath then starts to dig into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. “I’ll be waiting outside.” With a quickness I’ve never seen from him before, he hands me a hundred dollars and adds with clear frustration, “Get one of everything. Fuck, get them all for all I care, just get what the fuck you need to get through and hurry the fuck up.”
Without a word, I nod as he mutters a string of curse words and stalks down the aisle. My heart races with every step he takes toward the front of the store. The second he’s out of sight I half run, half walk to the back of the store. My eyes land on the emergency exit and without worrying about the consequences, I hurry toward it.
I’m a shaky mess by the time I burst through the steel door and as the alarm sounds, I realize I suck at escapes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rubbing my face tiredly, I lean against my bike and reach into my cut for the tin of mints. Between these little things and the vape I picked up yesterday, I’ve cut down on smoking, but I think I may have traded one addiction for another.
Ree.
The woman’s got me fucking twisted. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. One minute I want to gag her, the next I want to fuck her senseless. I suppose there’s a happy medium to be found there, but before I let myself get intoxicated by her, I need to figure out what’s going on with her father.
Aside from the ex-husband who clipped her wings, she’s only shared the fact that her father is ill, and I think that might be why she was all emotional while watching that movie. If her father is on his death bed or extremely sick, I should probably try to arrange for her to see him. I would give my left nut to go back in time and say goodbye to my loved ones.
I might have a heart of stone but I’m not a dick, especially when it comes to family. Losing both my parents and Carrie, I have a ton of regrets when it comes to their deaths. I don’t want Ree to experience the same heartache. If her father is near the end of the line, she deserves the right to hear him tell her he loves her and the opportunity to say goodbye.
Popping another handful of mints, I grind them to dust with my teeth. As I continue to rake my mind over the situation with her father, I reach inside my back pocket for my vape—only I cup up short. She rushed me out the door before I could grab the fucking thing off the charger.
With no other choice, I pull the pack of cigarettes from my vest.
“Fuck it,” I mumble, flicking the lighter.
The first drag is like fucking crack and the tension starts to roll off me. With my head somewhat clear, I decide to reach out to one of my old contacts. If anyone can dig up a confirmation on how ill Ree’s father truly is, it’s Buzz.
Retrieving my phone, I scroll through my contacts and place the call. He answers on the second ring and I don’t give him a chance to say anything more than hello before I start demanding favors.
“I need you to do something for me,” I tell him.
Buzz and I go way back. He’s been my most trusted confidant and informant from my involvement with the mafia and he owes me.
“Yeah, man,” Buzz replies without hesitation.
“I need some information on a woman in her early thirties. Her name’s Annmarie Signorile. I need everything you can dig up on her.”
“Anything in particular you want me to focus on?”
“Her father,” I say. “I need to know everything about him, who he is, where he lives, what kind of fucking car he drives—you know the drill. Also, she’s claiming he’s on his death bed. I’m going to need you to verify if that’s true.”
“Not a problem. I can have something for you within a few hours,” he says.
I’m about to ask Buzz something else when a fire alarm sounds from inside the drugstore. My eyes slice to the building and my initial thought is that Ree is in danger. Quickly I disconnect the call and flick my cigarette to the side before bolting inside the store.
Passing by the only set of registers, I don’t see her. I charge down the aisle I left her in, glancing both left and right as I call out her name.
“Ree!”
The alarm continues to blare and red lights flash overhead as I dash through aisle after aisle, searching for her. Surely it can’t be this hard to find her, there was only a handful of people in the joint when we arrived.
Seconds continue to tick by and I come up short. Rage creeps into my body as I realize she’s not in the fucking store.
The bitch took off.
“Son of a bitch!” I shout as I stare at the emergency exit in the back of the store. Darting toward it, I bust through the door and scan the area. Again, there is no fucking trace of her.
Rounding the building, my boots pound the pavement as I make
my way back to my bike. I retrace my steps in my mind and decide there was no way we were tailed. Not only did I take the proper precautions, there wasn’t a fucking soul in the parking lot.
The thought makes me realize the little shit is on foot. How far could she possibly go? I spend the next ten minutes hitting every side street and glancing into stores.
She’s nowhere to be found.
With no other choice, I realize I have to go back to the compound and tell the boys she’s gone.
Once again, Ree has fucked me.
Too bad she missed the mark on the happy ending.
*~*~*
All eyes are on me as I stand before the table and rake my fingers through my hair.
“She’s gone,” I tell them.
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Rush roars, slamming his fist against the table.
“I mean she ran off,” I reply, exasperation radiating off me in waves. “She told me she needed to go to the drugstore, so I took her, gave her a hundred bucks for tampons and shit, and then she took off.”
“How the fuck can you lose a woman?” Brick pipes in.
“We gotta find her,” I say, ignoring the VPs outburst.
“Fuck you,” Rush sneers.
“She must’ve ran out the back door. The fucking fire alarm went off and by the time I got to the back of the building there was no trace of her. She doesn't have a phone,” I plead, “and a hundred bucks isn’t going to get her very far.”
Rush glares at me but seeing as I claimed her as my property, the club has no choice but to help me find her. Before anyone else can say a word, Wiz storms into the chapel, interrupting us.
“I got a match on the fingerprint,” he reveals.
“Jesus fuck,” Rush mutters. “Well, don’t just stand there with your dick in your hand—who’s the stiff?”
Just when you think things can’t get any more fucking twisted than they already are, a bomb gets dropped and blows everything to hell.