Enough

by Jade Chandler

  After a few minutes of getting organized, the girls headed to the dance floor. The guys stayed behind to drink. I glanced a cute redhead at the bar, working the eye flirt and body twist from the dance floor. He pushed off from the bar, moving toward me, an intense stare on his face. He didn’t break eye contact as he wound through the crowd, heading straight for me.

  Once in front of me, he bestowed a full smile before he bent close to my ear. “I’m John. Dance?”

  Prickles of anticipation tickled my arms. I rested my hand on his wide chest, body-builder wide, and leaned up to reach his ear. “Lila. I’d love to dance.”

  The DJ spun a fast song, and I shook everything my mama gave me. Unfortunately, John wasn’t a great dancer. The next song slowed, and his hands clasped my hips. He gyrated in time with the slower music, his junk brushing my leg. And, I was done.

  Dancing done right was intense and intimate, almost like sex with your clothes on, but by no means did that mean to literally dry hump me on the dance floor. I twirled away to Avery, drawing her from a much better behaved dancer toward the ladies’ room. Rachel had disappeared into the crowd, probably in pussy pursuit.

  “What?” Avery snorted. “Not into the fuck and twist?” She burst into a laugh at her own wit.

  “Not hardly.” I groaned. “He’s so stacked, but terrible on the dance floor.”

  We finally made it into the bathroom. I peeled off the cropped jacket, already too warm. Straightening my dress, I was ready to head back to the table. We moved out of the bathroom and ran smack into Glory, who pushed us back inside. Rachel burst in minutes later.

  “Are you okay?” I put my hand on her arm.

  “Yeah.” She gulped. “Um, they’re here.”

  “Who?” Avery crowded in close to Glory.

  “Bikers, like six of them.” Rachel growled. “Dare’s here too.”

  Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

  “Is he...” I couldn’t say the rest.

  “Alone. They all are.” Glory wrapped her arm around mine.

  She didn’t say it, but I heard it. How long until he found someone?

  Avery gasped. “I did this, I think.” She cringed. “I told Rock about where we were going, and how you were shaking off your man-blues tonight.” Her lips flattened. “I didn’t think he would tell everyone.”

  Why did Rock or anyone care what I did?

  And then it hit me. My status or soon-to-be status with Jericho.

  “You look pissed.” Glory stepped back. “What are you going to do?”

  Fuck it. Fuck them.

  No one owns me.

  Rage colored my vision. Why did they always take more? One more lick of the fist, one more point, one more...until no more existed.

  Not this time, if you pushed me into a corner, I’d claw my way out. Shove me down and I’ll stand up. The air vibrated around me and I embraced my rage in a way I never had before. Tonight I’d go down swinging, because Red had returned for one last ride.

  “Dance.” I ground out the word. “And fucking kill the first biker who speaks to me.”

  “Hell yeah. Those boys need to find some damn manners,” Rachel yelled. “Give ’em hell, Lila.”

  I stomped out of the bathroom with Glory and Avery trailing me, babbling about being safe and how I needed to calm down. But there was no stopping me.

  I moved to the floor, and my two friends flanked me. I lost myself in the crowd and began dancing. A man could join my dance or not.

  Before two songs passed, my new friends surrounded me on the floor. Jericho and his crew leaned against the bar. Tension coiled inside me faster than I danced it away. I’d landed in the middle of West Side Story—was I with the Sharks or the Jets?

  I want to be me.

  I spun out of the center of the group and into a group of guys who appeared single. One moved across from me and the others melted away. This guy danced with grace, and I liked the looks of him. He had dark hair, almost black, and Hispanic features. We danced through song after song. I lost myself in the music, and the man with the dark walnut eyes. Eventually the music slowed. He tilted his head, asking permission, I think. I nodded, and he moved closer. His slow dance was intimate and sexy, but didn’t resemble dry humping in the least.

  Anticipation combined with the high of dancing, and flutters of attraction skittered through me.

  Thank God, I still feel it.

  I’d worried Dare would be the only man I was ever attracted to. One slow song morphed to two. My hands skimmed his chest and back while his fingers trailed the bare skin on my back. Whispers of heat remained everywhere he touched. He tightened his grip and brought me closer. I could’ve easily resisted. I chose not to. His lips fluttered over mine in a gentle first kiss before he pressed harder. He flicked his tongue with smooth expertise through my parted lips.

  The song wound down, and we moved apart. The hot man in front of me had kissing skills to match his dance skills.

  And nothing, no chemistry.

  No quickening low inside me, no need to push for more, nothing other than knowing I’d been kissed by a world-class kisser.

  Why the hell didn’t my body react?

  From the heated glow in his eyes, I’d say the lack of feeling was only my problem.

  He mimed a drink, and I nodded, following him from the floor with my gaze on him. I didn’t need to see the Brotherhood. The guy stopped before we’d made it to the bar, and I looked up and into Zero’s face.

  I wanted to scream to the heavens, throw a tantrum or kick someone in the balls. But Zero was only the messenger. He wore his cut, and said something to the guy ahead of me. The guy melted away, not even glancing over his shoulder at me.

  I reconsidered kicking Zero, but I decided to save it for Jericho. Zero bent his head to follow him with an expressionless face.

  Did he think I betrayed Jericho?

  My life was out of control. The last thing I wished for was the only option left to me. But I’d set the bastard on fire in my final act of destruction.

  Zero led me to Jericho. He smiled wide and drew me close. “We had a deal.” He spoke into my ear.

  Rigid with fury, I shot him the bird, but it was only the beginning of what I had in store. He studied me and motioned to the door. I went with him because I had some shit to say. Dare avoided my gaze as I walked by him. He knew the truth.

  Why did he scowl at me?

  I sucked in the fresh night air, but it didn’t cool the volcano in me. My guts burned and shot heat up into my throat.

  “You can’t go off script without telling me,” Jericho growled when we were clear of the club entrance. “Rock came to me worried you’d do something reckless. What was I supposed to say? Don’t worry, it’s all a joke. And then he’d come to claim you.”

  “I am not a fucking possession!” I yelled the words. “I do not belong to the Brotherhood.”

  “Afraid the club doesn’t see it that way.” He glared at me. “This isn’t news to you.”

  I grabbed my hair, hoping the pain woke me from the nightmare.

  “And our thing, it isn’t real,” I shot back at him.

  “Are we breaking up?” His condescending words blew my temper wide open.

  “Oh yeah, you controlling, backstabbing motherfucker. Did you learn manipulation at your mama’s tit?” I stalked closer, shoving my finger into his hard chest. “I see now how you worked it all out to get what you wanted.”

  For whatever reason, he’d decided I was something he wanted, not to fuck, to care for the club or for another brother. I had no idea, but I did know staying wasn’t worth being controlled. I’d had a lifetime of controlling assholes, so I had gotten good at spotting them. Except I’d expected better from Dare, what a mistake.

  Jericho stepped back, and there was Dare
hanging behind his master.

  “You two are a fucking pair. One I beg, and the other pretends to save me.” I laughed. “I give, I try.” I speared them with my gaze. “Only to be a tool to use.”

  Dare turned from me.

  “You proud of how you used me, twisted me up, tied me down until nothing—I have not one thing left here.” My voice broke, pissing me off to a whole new level

  “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” Jericho suddenly looked apologetic. “Shit, I never meant to hurt—”

  “No one ever wants to hurt me, but they do. You do.” A tear escaped. “Well I’m done. Never think I don’t see you.” I stood chest to chest with the man who I’d thought a friend. “Consider this my two weeks’ notice. And you and your precious club can fuck yourselves.” I turned and stomped down the street. Mascara ran as the tears flowed freely, now. Rage and soul-deep despair fueled my meltdown. How could I have thought any of them cared about me? Pathetic.

  I heard boots on the pavement behind me. Hands grabbed me.

  “Goddammit, Jericho, let me...” The words died as I faced Dare.

  God really hates me.

  How many times did this man get to see me in tears? Why was I still being punished for loving him? I refused to fucking take any more.

  “Lila, honey—”

  “You, take your hands off me.” I growled the words. Rage snapped my spine straight and stopped the tears. “You lost the right to even speak to me, let alone touch me.”

  He stepped back. “I hate to see you torn up.”

  “Then don’t look.” I almost spit the words at him. “You and he can both fuck off. I’m done paying for the fucking sin of loving you. I’m gone. Gave my two weeks. I suggest you stay away until I’m gone. You two find someone else to mind fuck.”

  I spun and ran around the corner. Dare didn’t follow and in a few steps I collapsed onto the sidewalk unable to move. Sobs racked my body.

  A car stopped in the street by me. Glory and Avery rushed to me.

  “Come on, honey,” Avery soothed. “We got you.” They scooted me between them on the bench seat of Glory’s car. I folded in to the seat, unable to care what happened. “Don’t worry, I brought your purse and jacket.”

  I hadn’t even thought about them. Too busy burning my last bridge to the Brotherhood. So much pain—hiding my feelings and trying to play by the rules—to only end up in the same damn place I always did.

  Why did I think I had changed the pattern? The only thing different was I’d told off the losers before I ran away. But it didn’t feel like progress. A weary bitterness settled over me.

  Bad men. Losers. Men who had to control me—all I ever attracted. Funny how I just realized those words described the Brotherhood.

  How could I have missed it?

  * * *

  Jericho sent me a text Sunday morning after I refused to answer my door or my phone.

  You’ll be paid two months’ severance. Take the computer. And you don’t have to come in. Best luck, Mama.

  I wept. I’d had the best time of my life with the Brotherhood in this nothing Oklahoma town. Grown into a kick-ass version of myself, only to discover the man I loved didn’t return my love and the idea of safety after it was over, it’d all been a scam. I didn’t know why, all I knew was I’d never had a chance.

  Broken men had found their place to belong in the Brotherhood, but no room for me here. I wanted to hate them. I’d spent hours trying to turn my love to hate. If they were always assholes, it’d be easy to hate them, but those guys were part of some of my best memories too.

  While Jericho used me, he also gave me this job and loved Dare like a brother. I didn’t hate him. I would never hate Dare no matter how he’d shattered my heart. My stubborn love wouldn’t allow hate, and I’d even resigned myself to living with only part of my heart.

  Pain ricocheted through me, randomly lighting up memories, intensifying my hopelessness.

  A gasping sob escaped, and I shoved those tears back. Time to stop that shit.

  I stared at my phone. Part of me thought of hateful words to tap out, but really why bother. Why pretend a hate I couldn’t embrace?

  In the end I texted: I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Thanks.

  The words of a vicious bitch—not. Maybe in my next life.

  I used the computer to search for a new life. I’d decided on a city—Dallas/Fort Worth to be exact. I wanted to be lost among millions. Apartment hunting filled my hours, since this time I wasn’t leaving penniless.

  I also started dismantling my life here. Dinner with Avery and Glory hurt us all, but they understood my decision. I picked up boxes at the supermarket and started packing. Rachel swung by and helped me pack, bitching about bikers the entire time.

  In eight months I’d changed so much, and yet I found myself without a home, again. Dare had been right about one thing—I’d burned bright here. Now I was leaving sooner than I ever expected.

  Tired and drained, I’d shooed Rachel out by nine and fallen asleep in minutes. A loud pounding woke me in the middle of the night. I sat up and turned on my lamp. Dare’s voice shouted through my closed door and his fists, most likely, rattled it.

  And the freak show never stops.

  I blew out a breath, steeling myself for the scene to come—not that I knew why he’d come. I opened the door to an incredibly drunk Dare weaving on his feet in front of me.

  “Red, I need you.” His words slurred together.

  I wished to be anywhere but here. His stark face was as beautiful as the first day I’d almost drooled over him in Marked Man.

  I considered closing the door on his drunk ass, but then he’d be driving again. One day he might kill himself, but I wouldn’t send him out to drive when he had no business on the road.

  I stood back and he stumbled inside and collapsed in the chair. He shut his eyes and laid his head back. I trudged to the kitchen and fixed him two sandwiches, hoping to soak up some of the alcohol. I grabbed more pain reliever and two bottles of water. This was the last time I could help him.

  “Gotta talk to you.” He spoke slowly, his head weaving, like it was too heavy for him to hold up.

  “We’ll talk after you eat and drink all of this.” I handed him the two PB and J sandwiches and a bottle of water.

  He closed one eye and stared at me. I suppose he saw double. “Eat the food. I’ll be back.” I hurried to the bathroom and locked myself in. I stared at my reflection, wondering how to survive this.

  You can do it. Say goodbye to your heart and tuck him in one last time. A few days and I’ll only have memories. One last glimpse and one more time to be there for him. Yeah, I could do it.

  I splashed cold water on my face, thinking I sucked at pep talks. The only way through was forward, so I’d push through tonight and soon I’d be safe, far away from the man I loved.

  I walked toward him, hoping he’d passed out. Instead he appeared more alert.

  “Did you mean it?” His words were crisper now.

  “Yeah, I’m leaving. See the boxes full of my stuff?”

  “No. You said you...loved me.” He stared down.

  Son of a bitch. I’d hoped it had sailed over his head during my tirade, but no such luck. I debated what to do.

  Do I tell him the truth? Sure, nothing to lose.

  My love meant less than nothing because he didn’t love me.

  “Yeah, I did, or do, love you. But it doesn’t matter, I’m going.” The words drained my energy and I sunk into the couch.

  “I fucked us up so badly. Sorry, done it all wrong.” He still didn’t meet my stare.

  “Apology accepted.”

  “It’s my fault...no good. If you knew me, my secrets, you couldn’t love me.” I barely heard the words.

 
I stayed silent.

  What to say? He had to believe in us, and if he didn’t I’d never convince him.

  He glanced up but quickly covered his face.

  “I got to tell you about my past. If you can still love me...then I want to love you too.”

  Joy surged through me. He loved me. I knew without a doubt nothing he told me would change my feelings for him. If it were possible, I’d have killed my feelings long ago.

  Not so fast, stupid. My brain shouted the words. Never again.

  My elation died a quick death.

  “Stop.” I held up my hand. “You talk to me sober, or don’t talk to me at all. I don’t need half-remembered, drunken confessions.”

  His hands scraped through his hair. “I’ve only told one person, and I was drunker than this. No way I can do it sober. No way.” He shook his head back and forth, back and forth. Fear fell with his words.

  I sort of understood how hard this was for him, but I refused to accept less than everything. He’d torn me to shreds with his secrets and careless indifference. What if he left me again? I’d never survive it. He’d punished and I’d bled, and he’d bled too, but we needed to clean our wounds if we held a hope of starting over.

  “Then we’re done. Dare, I may always love you, but I deserve your story from sober lips. Drunk confessions lost their appeal before I turned eighteen.”

  “Where’s my soft Lila who helps everyone?” He mumbled the words.

  “Gone. Along with the time for half-ass shit.” I banished my tears.

  He tried to stand and fell back into the chair.

  “You aren’t leaving this living room.” I stared him down. “Sleep on my couch. It’s the last time I can make sure you’re sober when you drive from here.”

  “Why do you even care?” He stood again.

  I grabbed his arm and swung him toward the couch before letting go. He stumbled back and thumped over the arm of my couch. Eyes full of unending sadness stared up at me.

  After I covered him up, I traced his jawline. “I’ll always care but I can’t wait for you any longer. I’ll be gone in four days. You have that long to grow a pair and tell me sober.” I kissed his cheek. “Get some sleep. Love you.”