Crush

by J. C. Emery

  “So—what do you want?” I ask.

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and blows out a breath. He stares off into nothingness for a solid minute before he finally turns back to me and raises both eyebrows.

  “You,” he says.

  Now I’m the one raising an eyebrow and working hard to keep my composure. The butterflies are flipping the fuck out in my stomach, and I’m turning bright red. I can’t freaking breathe, and my hands are shaking. Dad always says to listen to the words that people speak, but take their actions to heart. Because people are full of shit, and they’ll tell you whatever they think you want to hear, but it’s the way they behave that will show you who they are. Jeremy acts like a dick, but he’s here. For me. And I want him. I want there to be an us. But I also don’t want to be a stupid girl who falls for a jerk’s lies.

  “You could have had me,” I say. “Before you fucked my best friend. Before you let Chel suck your dick. Before you were a total asshole.”

  I want him, but apparently I still have some anger issues to work out.

  “We weren’t together,” he says and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He walks forward, casting a shadow over me. I prepare myself for him to bump into me like he did the last time I saw him. When he stops just before touching me, I fight back the disappointment. I was a little excited over the idea of him walking me back to the brick wall and mauling me. I’m ready for it this time.

  “I still want to shoot you for it.” Because I do, but only just a little.

  “Let’s get this straight,” he says. “When you’re my girl, you’re my girl. Stop texting that fucktard. You tell him who you belong to. When you belong to me, I’ll keep my dick wherever you want it—preferably in you—but I guess that can wait for a little bit. Point is once we’re together, we’re fucking together. Until then, you got no reason to be pissed at me, and if I fuck up when we’re together, then you can go ahead and fucking shoot me.”

  Now gasping for breath, I look down at his boots to try to hide how his words affect me. He’s freaking insane. So bossy and assertive. He came in here looking like he was going to apologize and ask for forgiveness. This total alpha-male mood swing catches me off guard.

  It’s hot.

  Really fucking hot.

  “Tracie was my best friend,” I say and look up to meet his eyes. He had me the second he started barking orders, but I’ll die before telling him that.

  “Your friend is a whore,” he says. “She fucked Diesel right before fucking me.”

  “Yeah, her place is on your dick, right?” My voice is so small. The words he said to me don’t make me angry. They just make me feel sad. Like there’s no way I’m ever going to get over that.

  “That was fucked up.” He takes another step forward. He cups my face in his hands and forces me to look up at him. “I didn’t know Duke had set that blow job up for me. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Bitch out in front of the club? I look like a pussy in front of those guys and I risk my patch. They don’t tolerate weakness. You know that.”

  “Not the point,” I say. Though I am losing track of what my point is. He’s a smooth talker, that’s for sure. He knows just how to redirect the conversation the way he wants.

  “You’re done throwing shit in my face.” His voice is taking on that hard edge again. “And I’m done fucking pretending that I don’t miss you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.” I sound like a broken record, but I want him to admit that he’s fucked up. I mean, he kind of has, but it’s just not enough.

  “Look, the chicks I normally go for are some dirty bitches. They’re down for whatever. I’m not used to feeling shit for someone, and I got a little... excited. I forgot how inexperienced you are.”

  “You’re making this entire conversation worse,” I gripe. My cheeks heat as embarrassment floods my face. Intellectually, I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed for not being as experienced as him, but I can’t help it. I just wish we were on a level playing field, and his being a jerk and pointing it out doesn’t help one bit.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen—I’m going to kiss you, and this time I’ll respect your boundaries. You say no, I’ll stop. You won’t throw your dad in my face, and I’ll try not to be an asshole most of the time.”

  “But we’re fighting,” I say in confusion. When Dad and Holly fight, they can go on and on for hours. Dad and Mom don’t really fight because she’s never around, so I don’t really know how they fight, or how they used to. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jim fight like cats and dogs, and Forsaken members fight one another all the time. But it’s just not the same as what’s happening here. Usually there’s a lot of screaming before they start making up. We’re not even screaming right now. I don’t know what to do with this.

  “Not anymore,” he says.

  Waiting for him to kiss me is beyond frustrating, so I take matters into my own hands and stand on my toes and press my lips against his. I don’t know that his explanation is any kind of apology, or even if it’s one that I should be forgiving, but I decide to let my heart lead. My head leads me to being alone, but my heart gets me to second base, God willing.

  His arm circles my waist, and he draws me nearer. My arms wrap around his neck, keeping a firm hold on him. The kiss is mostly chaste, with a few peeks of our tongues here and there. His hand travels down to my ass, and even though my nerves are on edge with the idea of going there with him, I can’t bring myself to tell him to stop. My hormones are getting the best of me, but I don’t care. He grips my ass firmly and pulls me up against him. A tingly feeling starts in my belly and shoots down my legs, urging me to pull myself up his body. He bends slightly, not breaking the kiss, and grips me more firmly. He lifts me up easily as I wrap my legs around his waist. He turns us to the side and sets me on the pool table.

  He pulls away and pecks at my lips as he whispers, “You have beer.”

  “Not important,” I whisper back and peck at his lips.

  He kisses me again and nibbles at my bottom lip with teeth. With ragged breath, he pulls back and says, “Shut it.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask him between pecks.

  “You’re ruining”—peck—“this for me.”

  “What?” I nip at his lower lip.

  “Talking,” he says and kisses me in a much less chaste manner. His tongue slides between my lips. My thighs clench around his legs, and it’s getting harder to breathe. I just want to kiss him until I’m numb everywhere. I choose to ignore his comment even though he was the one who started talking first. He can win that battle because I’m about to win the war.

  “Who do I belong to?” I whisper as I pull back from his lips. He sucks in a ragged breath, and his cheeks are flushed.

  “Me,” he says and leans in to kiss me again. I lean backward and shake my head.

  “And who do you belong to?”

  He smiles wide. “I belong to you.”

  “Don’t forget that,” I say and smash my lips against his.

  I’m finally letting myself believe that this might work out between us when I realize that we have company, and I pull away. Ryan is like a spider, the way he sneaks up on people. It’s like, you may not have proof that he’s in the room, but you just know he’s there. Watching and judging and plotting. And then you see him, and all your suspicions are confirmed.

  He stands in the corner of the room near the entrance from the main room. A satisfied smirks plays at his lips, and his gray eyes are clearly amused. He’s an odd one, and he’s only getting worse as he ages. Back when Dad and Uncle Jim would ditch me in his and Ian’s care, he wasn’t so bad. Well, maybe he was, but Ian kept him in line. Ryan has always kind of been like the aloof big brother that I never asked for, never wanted, and tried to get rid of. But I wouldn’t want to get rid of him now. He’s grown on me.

  “Shouldn’t be doing that. Miss Priss is just a baby,” Ryan says.

  Asshole.

  “At least he’s my age. Your girlfriend is prac
tically still in high school.”

  “Wishin’ we hooked up?” he asks while pointing at himself.

  I roll my eyes and wave him away. “Hell no. Don’t you have someone else to irritate?”

  A smirk covers Ryan’s face. As far back as I can remember he’s had a ridiculously huge ego. On his way out, he says in a mocking voice, “ ‘Who do you belong to?’ ‘Oh, you Cheyenne Grady, I belong to you. I got no fucking balls, and I’m a total pussy. My name is Jeremy Whelan, and my favorite thing to do is to suck Ryan’s dick.’ ” His laughter trails behind him as he leaves.

  “He really lets you talk to him like that?” Jeremy asks in surprise while trying his best to ignore the goading.

  “What is he going to do about it?” I’m careful never to embarrass or disrespect Ryan in front of his peers, so I don’t see why he would get pissy about the stuff I say privately. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. “Plus, he’s obsessed with himself and probably doesn’t hear a word I say anyway.”

  “I heard that.” He gives Jeremy that head nod and says, “We got Church, and you got clean-up duty in the shop.”

  “I’m going,” Jeremy says and takes a step back. He mouths, “I’m sorry,” and walks away without another word.

  Ryan stands with his arms folded and looking at me with the most serious expression I’ve seen on his face in a while. “He good to you?”

  I shrug my shoulders and give him a smile. “I don’t know yet.”

  “He’s not, you tell me.”

  “Thanks,” I say softly, touched by his kind gesture.

  “His sister sucks dick like her life depends on it. Always wanted to see if Baby Boy can do the same.”

  “Oh my God, what the fuck,” I say in shock.

  Ryan gives me a wink and walks off. I sit there for a few moments before pulling out my cell and texting Alex.

  UR BF WANTS JER 2 SUCK HIS DICK.

  She responds immediately. HE’S A CHILD. IGNORE HIM.

  NOT THAT EASY, I text back.

  I’LL GIVE U TIPS. I can’t help but chuckle at her response.

  Everything is working out really well now. I mean, I know I’m letting myself get caught up in the excitement of a new relationship, but it’s ridiculous how much things can change in just a few minutes. I’ve barely had him, but already I know that it would break my heart to lose him. Everything is working out except for my investigation. That’s still at a standstill. I grab my beer and take another drink. It’s not as cold now and tastes even worse, but I power through it.

  I wish I had access to more club business than I do. It’s just hard because Dad doesn’t like paper trails, so he only has what he absolutely needs to have. The clubhouse gets loud as the men all trail in for Church. One deep voice barking orders after another fills the space, making it feel much smaller. When their voices fade, I can only assume they’re in the chapel now. If only I could be in there with them.

  I hop off the pool table, and I grab my phone out of my pocket again and send Alex another text. NOBODY TELLS ME NETHNG.

  THEY NEVER WILL, she says back. I’m trying to fish for information on how to get further in my investigation, but she didn’t really bite. Maybe I just need to be more upfront.

  I NEED INFO, I say and pray she doesn’t tell her sadistic guard dog.

  DANGEROUS, she says back.

  I KNOW. MY CHOICE. NEED TO KNOW.

  PAY BETTER ATTN, she says. NO MORE TIPS. TROUBLE.

  Gah, she isn’t freaking helping me at all. I read her last few texts again and blow out a frustrated breath. The guys are all sitting around the chapel and talking about stuff I could really use to help Holly and Mindy. It’s not fair. I just want to help, and nobody is making that feat any easier on me.

  Pay better attention, she said. I think on that for a minute. Maybe that’s her way of helping? I think back on what she told me about getting in trouble for listening to her father’s business. Scrolling up, I find the text and eye it until the idea comes to me.

  They’re in Church, down the hallway, discussing club business.

  Club business I could use.

  If they catch me, I’m in some serious trouble. I take a sip of my beer and set it down. Freaking gross. I don’t think I’m ever going to like that crap. I nervously tap my foot and think it over.

  I’m still thinking it over as I walk into the main room. I’m certain this is a horrible idea as I make sure no one’s around and turn the corner down the hallway. My hands shake. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I crouch as silently as possible in front of the double doors to the chapel anyway. I press my ear to the left door and close my eyes, doing my best not to bump into the wood.

  “Jennings is awake and recovering,” Dad says. His voice barely makes it through the thick wooden doors. There’s a few displeased rumbles from around the room and some cursing. “Apparently, since FBPD doesn’t have any solid enough leads to arrest anyone, they kept the asswipe’s progress quiet to keep him safe.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t we know about this sooner?” Wyatt snaps.

  “Gonzales was taken off the case,” Dad says.

  “That asshole Mercer?” Wyatt asks, referring to Lieutenant Harry Mercer, who is Holly’s uncle and Mindy’s dad. “I’m fucking sick of that prick.”

  The room is quiet for half a minute before Jim pipes in. “Mercer complicates shit, but he’s a friend to the club.”

  Damn straight he is, Uncle Jim! I can’t say I have any personal positive stories about Harry Mercer, but Holly loves him, and he’s been fiercely protective of Mindy since her attack. Dad says he can respect a man who guards his kid like Harry’s been doing. The club barely got to see Mindy after she was released from the hospital, and even then, it was a short visit. I managed to get it out of Holly that she was allowed more time with Mindy but that Harry thought it was enough for the day when he and Ian had some words. But that was a while ago. Nobody’s said a word about Mindy in weeks, and it’s starting to worry me. Out of nowhere, a hand wraps around my face and seizes my mouth, clamping down and suppressing my scream. My stomach lurches, my heart beats frantically, and I desperately try to breathe, but the hand not only covers my mouth but my nostrils as well. Before I can kick at the door to signal someone that I’m in trouble, I’m dragged backward down the hall as my lungs fight for air.

  CHAPTER 18

  February

  14 months to Mancuso’s downfall

  I kick my feet in the air in a pathetic attempt to free myself but can’t make contact with anything. The hand at my mouth moves slightly, allowing me to suck in a ragged breath through my nostrils. I’m assaulted by a familiar masculine musk that I know all too well. My body relaxes instantly as it recognizes his scent. It takes my mind an extra moment to realize who it is.

  Jeremy.

  Shit. This is so not good, but I guess being busted by the brand-new boyfriend is better than being busted by anyone else. Snooping on Church won’t just get me grounded. It’ll get me in hot water at a club level. I knew I was asking for trouble when I walked down that hallway. I knew the risk and decided it was worth it. But now, after having gotten very little information, I regret my choice. Knowing that Darren is awake and recovering doesn’t do much to help me. I mean, I guess I could go talk to him. But then I risk exposing myself if he’s not cooperative. Either way, I fucking blew it. I can’t take another chance to listen in on Church.

  “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he whispers in my ear. His hand slides away from my mouth. I take a deep breath and let myself feel the stress of the situation. I’m still hauled up in his arms. There’s a creak as he walks us through the now open door. The palace. I hate this room.

  Once inside, he sets me on my feet and reaches past me to close the door. I don’t dare turn around for fear of seeing the angry look on his face. I’m trying really hard, as I take one deep breath after another, to not act like the baby that everybody still thinks I am. I’m an adult, and I can accept responsibility for t
he things I’ve done—but that doesn’t mean it won’t suck to be yelled at.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” he hisses in my ear. The pure disgust in his voice makes my stomach churn.

  The tension in the room is so thick it’s uncomfortable. Too thick. I fold my arms over my chest and focus on the doorknob in front of me. If I thought he was mad the last time he caught me somewhere I shouldn’t have been, then I was dead wrong.

  The clanking of metal objects sounds behind me, and a child’s voice whispers something inaudible. I spin around to find Chel and her son, Xavier, on one of the long couches. Xavier has a pair of toy metal motorcycles in his hands that he’s clanking together in his lap. He’s still little, just barely three. He’s got naturally tanned skin and jet-black hair. His brown eyes shine as they land on me. He smiles wide and waves a motorcycle at me. I like the kid well enough. He’s always been easy when I’ve babysat him, and until last month, his mom was always good to me. Not that she knows she did it, but girl did me wrong.

  My attention redirects to Chel, who has a textbook in her lap. She’s nervously tapping a pencil on a notebook that hangs off the side of her textbook. She’s studying to be a nurse, and I’ll give her credit for that, but for the time being, she’s just a whore. I let my inner bitch rage and think over the fact that I’ve never heard her give mention of Xavier’s father—that is assuming she knows who that even is.

  Chel gives me a tentative smile that falls the longer I look at her. I turn my attention to the wall of mirrors to my side. The expression on my face is clear as day. I’m not happy. My mouth is turned down in the corners, and my eyes are narrowed. My jaw is set in a hard line, and my nostrils are flaring just like my dad’s do when he’s mad. Seeing a miniature female Sterling in the mirror is almost enough for me to force a fake smile to my face. Almost.

  “Everything okay, Jer?” Chel asks. Her eyes shift to Jeremy, which just raises my hackles even more.