by Nikki Groom
When Tex arrives, he fixes the huge hook of the winch to the gates, and Dev slams the truck into first and puts his foot to the floor. The gates burst off the hinges, scattering gravel and dust, and I turn Sadie away, shielding her from the debris with my body. Tex emerges from the cloud of dust and places a hand on my back. “What’s the deal, bro?”
I turn to him but keep Sadie close. She looks up at Tex but keeps her head pressed against my chest. She’s vulnerable, hurt, and so fucking scared, and that’s all the things I never want her to have to feel. A needy, weak woman would have me running for the hills, but Sadie isn’t needy or weak. Under that scared look in her eyes, is a fire. It never goes out, and every obstacle makes it burn brighter. She’s stronger and fiercer than most men I know, and the little chinks in her steely exterior are not weaknesses, they’re cracks of light in the darkness, and they’re my opportunity to protect her.
“Behind the office,” I tell Tex. “Take him to Jimmy’s. Just have a scout around and see if you can find anything that gives us a clue, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tex nods. “You doing okay, darlin’?” he asks, turning his attention to Sadie, placing one of his huge hands gently on top of her head. She nods and smiles up at him, and despite knowing he means well, I push my arm in between them and angle my elbow out toward Tex. He gives me a small eye roll, and I grin unapologetically. He’s lucky I love the big bastard, or I would have broken his fucking big banana fingers by now.
Dev pulls the truck up next to us, after having unhooked the wrecked gates, and Tex jumps in.
“Thanks, man,” I call out, banging the hood with the palm of my hand. Dev just nods. He’s zoning out, focusing his mind on the task that he has ahead—his fight tomorrow night. It’s always a pleasure to watch Dev fight. He’s almost poetic in the way he moves, and I have no doubt that tomorrow night he’s going to nail it for us. He’s not lost us a fight yet. The vicious, calculated bastard.
“Let’s go.” I take Sadie’s hand in mine and lead her away from the range as the boys take off up the track to secure the place, and put dear old Mac to rest. Usually, we would have the prospects digging out the back of the woods behind the range, but I didn’t think Sadie would like Mac to be buried this way. So Tex and Dev will take him to Jimmy’s to be toasted.
I ride fast but carefully back to HQ. Sadie holds on, but it’s not in the same way she usually would. She follows when I take her hand and lead her through the parking lot, but when we hit the bar, with its incessant pounding noise, the whores’ fake laughter, and the men jeering and calling out around the room, Sadie slows, her shoulders narrow as she starts to back out of my hold.
“No, I can’t do this, no, no …” her voice cracks as she starts to breathe faster and faster.
“Sadie, it’s okay, we’ll just go to my—”
“No, I’ve got to go.” She yanks her hands from mine, and I lunge forward to try and grab her, but she slips from my fingers and takes off out the door.
“Sadie!” I yell.
She sprints as fast as her legs will carry her across the yard, and being larger and heavier than her, I can’t catch up with her at such a pace. She runs into JJ and Lia’s car as they pull in, stopping momentarily to catch her breath, but taking off again and slipping in between the gap in the gates. JJ darts out of the car, leaving it running where it sits and grabs her around her shoulders. She fights him, thrashing wildly, then stopping to catch her rapid breaths and coming very close to hyperventilating from what I can see. By the time I reach them, JJ has her firmly in his grasp and has backed them up against the wall for balance.
“I got this, Ram,” JJ grits out through his teeth, concentrating hard on the hyperventilating girl in his arms.
“But—”
“Leave us,” he barks. Lia comes up behind me and takes me by the arm, leading me away. It’s hard. So fucking hard leaving my girl in another man’s arms. It goes against all of my instincts. But it’s JJ, and I trust him. He’s the one that insisted we keep her safe, so he’s not going to hurt her, is he? Maybe he found out shit today that I don’t know about.
I have to go and get her.
“Go to the bar, Ramsey,” Lia tells me, placing her hand over mine.
“But she’s—”
“She’s fine. You know she is.” Lia pushes at my shoulder until I give in and go to the bar. She might be a pint-sized little thing, but she’s got a way about her that makes it impossible to argue.
Luckily I give off the ‘talk to me, and I’ll cut your fucking throat’ vibe, and no one bothers me at the bar. Everyone continues around us with their games of pool and swapping spit like dogs in fucking heat, but they seem to have dialed it down a notch. Maybe I’m the one that’s blocking it all out. All I can hear is Sadie. All I can see is Sadie. What the fuck has she done to me? She’s turning into an obsession, an intense craving, a desperate desire that I need more than the air I breathe.
Three shots of bourbon later, and I’m still staring at the same spot on the bar top when someone appears in the corner of my vision. It’s Sadie.
“Hi,” she says quietly, looking embarrassed.
“Raven.” I jump up off the bar stool and take her face in my hands. “You good?” I ask, inspecting her closely. All the time I’m looking at her, checking for any visible signs that she’s not okay. I’m also telling myself that I’m a fucking idiot because she was with JJ, of course she’s okay. Shit going on has got me second guessing everything.
“I’m sorry, I …” she glances around, noting the prospect paying a little too much attention to our conversation. “Can we go somewhere quieter?”
“Yeah,” I grumble, picking up my empty tumbler and hurling it as hard as I can so it smashes at the prospect’s feet. “Next time you don’t mind your own business, that’ll be your head, got it?” I tell him. He bobs his head up and down like a hooker being paid by the job and mumbles an apology under his breath, but I don’t dwell on him.
I take Sadie back to my room and lock the door behind us. She perches on the edge of the bed, pressing her hands into her lap. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, paying more attention to her feet than me.
“And what exactly are you sorry for?” I take two glasses from my cabinet and pour her a large measure of whiskey. When I pass it to her, she takes it between her small hands and stares at the liquid before knocking it back in several large gulps. She gasps as it burns her mouth, throat, and probably her stomach all at once, but I say nothing and watch her reaction.
“It was a panic attack.” She hands me back the glass, and I give her my full one in exchange, which she gladly takes. “I didn’t want to melt down in front of everyone in the bar, or you, or JJ, but mostly everyone in the bar.” She takes a swig of the drink, but more carefully this time to avoid the burn. I just stand and listen, not moving to refill my glass for fear of her clamming up. Despite feeling a deep emotional connection with this girl, for the most part, she’s a closed book. She doesn’t volunteer information often, so when she does, I’ve learned to grab on to that moment. “They happen sometimes—have done ever since I was eleven years old.” Her voice fades to a whisper as she stares down into the glass she’s clasping tightly between her hands, and I feel her distancing herself from everything.
“Is that when your mom and brother died?” I ask, moving slowly to where she sits. She nods her reply, and I crouch in front of her, wrapping my hands gently around hers. “Sadie,” I say softly, and she responds, lifting her gaze, her dark, haunted eyes finding mine. “Never be sorry for shit that happened to you in your past. We all have demons, babe. Some bigger than others. You didn’t ask for it, but you dealt with it. Your strength is what sets you apart from everyone else. You think your troubles made you weak? They didn’t. They made you strong.”
“They made me a bad person.” She swallows hard as sorrow thickens her throat.
I stand, taking the glass from her hands and placing it down, then pull her up, so she’s standing in
front of me. She stands limply, her shoulders slumped, and her head hung back as she looks up at me like a lost child. I cradle her face in my hands as she grips onto my waist. I hold her gently, surprising myself that every time I touch her, that I’m capable of more emotion, a deeper connection, something meaningful, lasting, and real. “You’re not a bad person,” I tell her, my gut churning as I recall just a few of the really fucking awful things I’ve done in my lifetime.
Compared to me, she’s a fucking saint.
I tilt her head down and press my lips to her forehead, kissing her gently. “You just got a little bit lost along the way. But I found you. Make peace with your demons, Raven, I have. Maybe they might start to dance and sing together.”
She steps forward and presses her body close to mine as I breathe in the perfume of her skin and hold her as tight as I can. It’s surreal. A bond. A closeness I never believed in, certainly not for a man like me. An outlaw. A killer. But it seems that two tortured souls can come together and be stronger for it, and be something really very beautiful.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, reminding me that I have shit to do and places to be. At this precise moment, I would like to drown the bloody thing and ignore the rest of the world. But I have a duty, brothers to support, and a life that I can’t and won’t ignore. Shit might have changed around here, but it doesn’t change who I am deep down. I’m making her part of my world whether I should or not. I know I don’t deserve her, but I’m hanging on to her anyway because she’s all that’s truly good in my life—all that’s really mine, and it would take a very stupid man to try and take that from me.
“I got shit to do, babe.” I sweep her hair from her forehead, and Mac’s dried blood tangles in my fingers. “Why don’t you stay here. Shower, eat, sleep. I’ll have Lia come check on you in a while, okay?”
She glances down at her hands where Mac’s dried blood taunts her there too. “Okay,” she agrees.
“I won’t be gone long, just gotta check on the bar and catch up with JJ.”
“Sure.” She peels herself off me and picks up the glass of whiskey I set down earlier. “He was really sweet, you know.”
“Who? JJ?”
“Yes,” she nods, a softness in her eyes.
I huff out a laugh. “You don’t hear anyone say that about JJ, only Lia.”
“Well, it’s true.” She sips the whiskey as I grab up my keys and try not to seem too interested.
“What did he say to you?” I ask, the familiar monster of jealousy digging its claws into my throat.
“I don’t remember exactly, he just talked quietly until I calmed down. He helped me breathe slower, then told me to come and find you.”
I grin inwardly, smugly satisfied that he sent her back to me. I don’t like the thought of any man being alone with Sadie, but I trust JJ with my life, and I think he sees that I have the opportunity to have something almost normal with Sadie like he does with Lia, and we all know that he worships the ground Lia walks on.
“Try not to make the guy out to be a saint when he’s around to hear you, doesn’t need his ego inflating much more.”
I hook my hand around her neck, pulling her to me for a hard kiss and leaving our lips burning. “Go shower,” I order, stepping around her to grab my keys and smacking her ass as I come back past. I leave her standing in the middle of my room with a smile on her face and fire in her eyes.
I find JJ outside in the yard, sitting on the bench with his feet planted wide and his elbows resting on his knees. “Smoke?” I offer, waving the packet under his nose.
“Nah.” He continues to look straight ahead, staring at nothing.
I spark up a smoke and prop one foot on the bench next to him. “Sadie said you were really sweet.” I chuckle.
“Yeah.” He raises his brows but still doesn’t break his stare.
“What’s going on, man?”
“Honestly, Ram, I don’t know. Shit with The Wolves was never meant to be like this. I’ve never been afraid to shoot a man square between the eyes if I had to. But never was it supposed to be a way of life. I’m tired of watching my back. Tired of worrying about Lia and keeping her and every single person in this MC safe. That’s why I told you not to get involved with anyone. You couldn’t have possibly known how it feels until you found someone. You don’t get it ‘til you get it. Then it’s too late to back away because you’re in deep and suddenly shit matters more than it ever did. I even considered going straight for an easy life. I mean, can you see me going straight? Can you see anyone here going straight?”
“We’re outlaws, man. There ain’t no such thing in our world as being on the right side of the law.”
“Nah—because we are the law.”
“Right.”
“But it’s gonna get ugly, and someone’s gonna get hurt, or die. It’s only a matter of time.” He scrubs his hand over his chin, continuing to stare out across the yard.
“We’re ready for ‘em,” I reassure him.
“Yeah,” he answers unconvincingly.
“We are, Prez. And you need to stop talking shit about being tired, and start talking with the fire of a fight in your soul. Where’s your passion for the club? For the boys that have laid down their lives for you and everyone else here. You going soft? ‘Cos if you are, it’s ‘bout time you stepped down. When I think about all that shit you just said, I wonder if you’re strong enough to carry this weight. We have a reason to fight, a reason to shoot a fucker in the head, and a reason to stand our ground. For what we love. For what we believe in, and for the one passion that sits deep in your bones. This life, the open road, and The Steel Souls. Either you’re in, or you’re—”
“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Ram.” He stands, raking his hands through his graying hair.
“Good.” I stand and shove his shoulders with the palms of my hands. He looks up at me from under his tight brows with narrowed eyes and a dangerous spark starting to flare. “Start fucking leading the steel army like you promised to when you swore in as President of this club.”
His shoulders widen, and he inhales a carefully drawn-in deep breath, filling his chest. As he lets out the breath, he shoves me back with a growl. “Don’t ever question my loyalty to you and the boys. I’ve saved your ass, saved your fucking life on many occasions.”
I smile back at him and give a slow nod. “That’s the Prez I know.”
He takes a step toward me, snatches the cigarette out of my mouth and starts to smoke it himself. “What are you standing around here for? We got shit to do, don’t we?” He strides off across the yard toward the side entrance.
“Yeah, man. Got shit to do.” I grin, following his lead.
“Where’s the girl?” He calls out over his shoulder as he walks.
“Sadie?”
“Of course, Sadie. Why? Do you have any other girls you want to tell me about?” He stops but doesn’t turn back to me.
“Wasn’t aware I needed to keep you updated with my current fuck list.”
“When it puts your mind in the clouds, then, yeah, you do.”
I hold my hands up as he turns and gives me the best death stare he can possibly manage. I laugh because I know that right now, although he wants to beat the shit out of me, he won’t. “No more girls, nothing to report, boss.” I salute, and he mumbles something under his breath and keeps walking. “Sadie is resting in my room. I said I would have Lia go check in on her later.”
“Where are you going?” He swings the steel side door open which leads to the kitchen area, and waits for my answer.
“I need to make sure the boys sorted old Mac out, then check the address for the girl that didn’t turn up to work at the bar. She might have information on Len that she could tell us. I’m still trying to piece together all his contacts and pull that shit back to some kind of normality.
“Fine. Let me know what happens with the girl.” He takes one last drag of the cigarette and flicks the butt out of the doorway before striding off throug
h the kitchen.
I think deeply as I ride out to the girl’s apartment. JJ is a fucking good president, the right mix of hard and reasonable, mean and cool. The front he presents is nothing less than you would expect from an MC Prez, but his doubts, I’d be lying if I said they didn’t concern me. Because although I know he has enough fight in him to see us through this war with The Wolves, what happens next time the shit hits the fan? In the past, he would have been the first one to make a move. He would have been the one bundling Spice and Dago in the back of a van, torturing them for info. He wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have faced them head on rather than wait to see what they had. Maybe he is getting too old for all the fighting, or maybe I’m thirstier for it. Either way, the inevitable showdown is hanging thick in the air, and we need to be ready, so fucking ready to bring the pain, because if we’re not …I can’t even let myself think of the alternative.
The girl’s apartment is in the nice part of town. It’s a quiet block with well-tended flower beds around the parking lot and carefully maintained grounds. Something doesn’t sit right with me. It’s all too nice. Why would she work at a place like The Liquor Box when she clearly doesn’t need the money? And if she does need the money, she would need a darn sight more to pay for this place than she could earn at the bar, even if she worked all the hours the place was open. She stuck out in the bar like she didn’t fit in. She was too nice. Came from a good family with money. An innocent girl that all the bad boys wanted to use and corrupt. A target in my world—a sitting fucking duck.
I press the tiny button on the doorframe and hear a chime ring through the apartment. I listen carefully for footsteps, but nothing comes, so I knock hard. Still nothing. I turn the handle and shove my shoulder into the door to barge it open. My heavy-handed approach leaves me feeling really fucking stupid when I have to stumble over my own feet to stay upright as the door was unlocked all along. I straighten myself out and scan the room. It’s tidy, nothing really out of place, but not pristine. Lived in, but not messy. In fact, it’s the kind of apartment you would expect a young twenty-something like Jade to live in. I go from room to room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The bed is unmade and messy, and I look around for an indication that she might have had company recently. But still, nothing. As I exit her bedroom, I notice a chunky titanium chain on the carpet. It’s not delicate enough to be a girl’s, and the clasp is snapped. Might be something, might be nothing, so I slip it in my pocket and check the rest of the place. Milk that’s gone bad in the fridge, and a lack of any recent groceries tells me that she hasn’t been here for a good few days, and I come to the conclusion that she’s realized how tough shit is in the real world and has gone back home to live with mummy and daddy. Then I see her purse on the armchair. I tip it upside down, emptying the contents on the floor, cards, cash, keys, and a bunch of other stuff falls in disarray around my feet, and that’s when I know she hasn’t left of her own accord.