by Paula Cox
I was alone. Henry wouldn’t come for a few more hours to start the day’s shift, and my guards were currently preoccupied grabbing breakfast. They’ve become used to seeing Breaker slip out of the room about now and probably consider me to be well-protected with him around. It would be so easy, easier than ever really, to just walk out of the room and run for it.
I’ve thought about it a few times since I began counting the minutes down and realized that Breaker may not be coming back this morning. At one point, I even grabbed my purse and loaded it up with a few snacks I had Breaker bring me from the bar a few nights ago. But as I touched the doorknob, I couldn’t make myself push that handle down and out. I was stuck; my feet glued to the cheap red carpet.
I tried to tell myself that it was because I couldn’t get away with it. Breaker was right when he told me that they would track me down. The emails from last night proved that he had the ability to get what he wanted and a network to back him up if he wanted. I was a girl with a face dozens of dangerous men have now seen and wanted. I couldn’t just slip back into my old life stealing and dealing my way through life with them on my trail.
However, it wasn’t like the Gravediggers really knew Houston. I didn’t either, but I could cut and dye my hair, wear some contacts, get a few quick tattoos, and become a new girl. I could find a guy to sucker for a plane ticket back to Hawaii. I could call up my sister and stay with her back on the island with her husband and their kids. I could be normal again with a normal job, a normal relationship, a normal life…
No. I can’t. Normal’s not in the cards for me anymore. Nothing could ever be normal when the truth of my situation is that I am standing in a hotel room, my hand holding tight to the handle of the door, and I can’t force myself to go another step.
The truth is, if I force myself to be honest, that I can’t go unless I know what happened to Breaker last night. Did Biggs know about us breaking into his office? I wouldn’t put it past him to have some undercover guys looking out for his stuff or a security camera none of his guys knew about.
And if he did know, what would he do to Breaker? He had already taken me away from him. That enough was a huge blow in the motorcycle club world. The boys talk about it as if he had cut Breaker’s head off and tossed it in the trash. The next step would be kicking him out for good or killing him in cold blood.
I can’t even think about that right now. I just have to focus on getting through this day without worrying myself to death. Breaker is a big boy and a strong one at that. If anyone can get himself out of a jam, it’s him. I have to have faith in that.
I nibble on some chips while doing my hair and makeup—just regular things that make the minutes past. Eventually, Henry arrives. His familiar knock doesn’t jolt me or disappoint me. It’s just a fact of life. He smiles as I open the door, clearly ready to go.
“Good. I want to get this over with early today so I can have dinner with a chick I met last night.”
I can’t help but ask, “A chick you met? Were you at the strip club with Breaker, by any chance?”
“Strip club?” He looks at me like he’s studying me for hints about if he’s going to walk into a trap. I don’t blame him. Girls and strip clubs can be a loaded landmine topic. Still, he brushes it off and replies, “No. I met her at a job. She’s not a street girl or anything, just a dealer. Name’s Marigold and has tits for days.”
“She sounds lovely,” I mutter under my breath. I am still not exactly used to the locker room talk. And even more so, he gives me absolutely no answers about where Breaker may be or what has happened to him.
“So, where do you want to go today? Biggs wants some big numbers from you, so I was thinking we hit the downtown area. It’s Monday. Lunchtime. I’m sure some slimeball bankers have wallets stuffed for their networking whatever…”
“Yeah. I mean, what does it really matter?” It didn’t matter. I thought that by doing my best work, by getting huge numbers of cash for the club, Biggs would let me in or at least trust me to not have this twenty-four-hour surveillance requirement. Maybe I’d even get my phone turned on. But after those emails, I knew the truth. This was just busy work until I could get him the real profits.
Of course, I completely forget that Henry has no clue what I am talking about. He wasn’t there in the office to see the replies from the club members with their questions and bids. He probably has no idea that Biggs is taking pictures of me under my dress and down my shirt. Henry doesn’t seem like the guy who would be part of it, even with his motorcycle guy swagger and his go-big-or-go-home bravado.
“What do you mean?” he asks, repeating himself a few times before it registers.
“Oh, nothing. It just doesn’t matter in terms of getting back in with Biggs’ good graces. That’s all.”
“Breaker’s working on that. It’s gonna take time. Fucking Breaker made the mistake and shouldn’t have questioned Biggs. We all know not to cross that damn line, but he can’t keep his shit together when he thinks he’s right.”
“I understand that.”
Henry points toward the blinding sunlight at an object stammering towards us, “Speak of the fucking devil…”
Breaker appears like a shadow, but even from a distance, I can tell he’s still drunk from last night. His shirt is hitched up around his waist, and his pants are unbuckled so that the giant metal clasp swings from side to side around his hips.
“He looks like crap,” Henry whispers, followed by a gruff chuckle.
I couldn’t agree with him more. I ask Henry for a minute before storming towards Breaker. He nearly falls backward into the dried up landscape when he sees me coming. We both stand in silence, waiting for the other one to say something.
It’s me, of course, who breaks first. My temper explodes on him. “What the fuck, Breaker? You don’t call? You don’t text? You don’t show?”
He sways slightly as he replies, “Why the fuck do you care, Aimee? After last night, you made it clear you don’t give a shit about what I do. Remember?”
I can’t tell if he actually remembers what I said either. His bloodshot eyes are barely open under those heavily, purplish eyelids.
“I fucking care when you don’t show up or bother to tell me what the hell is going on.” I reach over to him, grabbing him by the arm as I say in a low whisper, “I waited up all night for some sign of you.”
As I make contact with him, I catch a whiff. Not only does he smell like shit, but he also smells somewhat familiar. It’s a perfume, a particularly cheap perfume I wore as a high school freshman trying to land my first boyfriend. My sister used to call it “Smell of Skank” and here he was reeking of it under the layers of booze and cigarette smoke. I study him a bit more, noticing how his collar is ripped at the seams and he has nail marks up and around the back of his neck.
Breaker must know what he has inadvertently given away. He grows tense under me, growling to himself. He yanks away with such force that I fly backward, stumbling towards the ground. I manage to catch myself with the back of my palms before Henry runs over to collect me.
“What did you do?” I yell, not caring who can hear me. “Why were you gone all night, Breaker?”
Breaker shoots me an icy glare. “You wanna know the truth, Aimee? You really want to know?” he says, his tone just as cold as his face. With a deep breath, he then confirms it all. “I was fucking another chick. That’s what I was doing. Biggs got me drunk, and I woke up in some girl’s shitty apartment on the other side of town. I don’t fucking remember a thing after my fifth shot, and all I know is that I’ve got you on my fucking back, a hangover pushing down on my temple, and scratch marks burning all over my body.”
“Whoa,” Henry says, summing up just about every emotion I can let myself feel right now.
I turn to the other biker, fighting the quiver that’s creeping into my voice. “I want to go. “Let’s just get today over with.” I walk past Breaker, holding my breath, so I don’t have to smell that “Scent of
Skank” again, and towards the parking lot. I half expect Breaker to chase after me or at least say something in defiance, but the silence is somehow worse than either of those. The silence says so much more than his words or actions ever could.
For the rest of the day, I go through the motions. I bat my eyelashes at men in ties while fishing out their wallets with the hand they can’t see. I ask for money for my broken down car that doesn’t exist. I sell them fake pieces of jewelry for girlfriends they obviously don’t have. But I don’t stop to count the cash. I just pass it off to Henry as he leans up against the side of a pharmacy texting on his phone to, most likely, the dealer girl of his dreams.
Finally, he takes the cash and places it in his pocket. “I think we’re done for the day. There’s got to be at least a grand here.” He knew I wasn’t thinking about the bottom line. Between Biggs and Breaker, this was it for me—just go through the motions and hope it’s enough to not be killed or sold.
We walk a few blocks to the car we hid in the back of an alley, out of sight from any cameras or policemen. In the dark shadows of the alley, Henry clears his throat before starting up the car. “I’m not going to drop you off at the motel. Breaker wants to see you first.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to see him, and since Biggs took away my old lady status, I don’t need to follow his orders either.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, miffed at being told that I have to see him. I didn’t have to do anything now.
“Fuck. Don’t make me do this, Aimee.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun. My insides go numb as I edge towards the door. With a lowered voice, he urges, “Biggs put me in charge of you now, and you’re going to do what I tell you. And I’m telling you that you’re going to get out of this damn car at 9th street and listen to whatever the fuck Breaker needs to say to you. When you’re done, you go home with him.”
Damn. The guy’s voice rumbles through the car like thunder. I honestly didn’t know he had it in him. Henry’s always come across as the motorcycle guy with a heart of gold, but he’s just as fucked up and damaged as the rest of them. I’m back to learning how dangerous it is to trust anyone with my life but me. Buried underneath every person is darkness.
“You can put it away,” I say, my voice shaking as I fasten my seatbelt around my chest. “I’ll go. I’m good.”
“Good,” he replies as he turns on the car. “Because I’m not playing this high school bullshit game, you hear me?” I catch him smirking to himself before pulling the car out of the alley and through the backway. We disappear down the side streets towards the outskirts of the city, but he keeps that self-satisfied smile like a beaming fool.
Henry’s car pulls up at Anna’s Diner, a retro place in a cutout bus frame. Men just like Breaker and Henry hang outside, leaning against their cars as they whisper to one another with closed hands. I pause as I see him inside. Breaker leans up against the counter talking to an older waitress in a corny pink plaid uniform and apron. She writes down his order before disappearing.
I grit my teeth before walking in. I just have to listen to him. That’s it. Whatever he has to say to me won’t make up for the fact that he fucked some other chick and kept me up all night wondering where the hell he was. Still, I don’t want to give that away. I use the window in the entrance to puff up my hair, adjust my bra, and fix the smear of eyeliner near the crease of my eye.
When I approach him in the booth, I get my words out before he can say anything. “Henry told me that you wanted to see me. Can we make this quick? I want to get back to the hotel before it gets dark.”
“Do you want to sit or do I need to make you sit?” Breaker stands, using that great height difference against me. It reminds me of the first night we slept together when he slammed me into the wall with the weight of his muscular body. The place where his hips met mine mysteriously begins to ache. I opt to sit without fighting the point.
He looks at me up and down, his eyes burning holes through my skin. I hate this about him; how his stare can make me feel small and insignificant, yet desirable all at the same time. My arms wrap around my cleavage in some kind of deflection.
Breaker shifts in his chair and says low over the oldies music blasting on the speakers, “Listen, I know that I fucked someone last night. I’m not going to pretend that didn’t happen or it wasn’t a big deal. But that’s not why I went there. I don’t just screw random girls I meet.”
“Funny. That first night we met, I hid out under a bed while you went at some ‘ho,’” I shoot back, the sound of her grunting coming back to me like a master tease.
“Yeah. I get what I want. That’s no secret. You can ask any of the guys about that, but that’s not what happened last night.”
“You saw a girl, you screwed a girl, and you got a wicked hangover. Done.”
“I saw a girl. I didn’t want a girl. She and Biggs got me drunk out of my mind. And I made a fucking mistake.” His voice rises as he adds, “It’s a mistake I regret. You got it?” A fist slams down on the table, shaking the two glasses of water the waitress dropped off earlier.
Something tells me that he’s never admitted to anything like this before. He’s never had to be accountable to anyone like me either.
“Why do you think you need to tell me this—that you regretted it?” I ask, somewhat mystified.
“Because I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry about it. I promised you something, that I would get you out of this, and being with her… well, that wasn’t part of the plan. When I told you that you were my woman, I meant that.”
“You meant what?” My mouth goes dry as my mind spins. I could jump to conclusions, but I need to hear it.
“I live and die by a certain creed, you know. I take loyalty very seriously. That’s why I could have killed Biggs last night had it not been for the pledge I took for the Gravediggers. And I pledged to you to be your man. That comes with some obligations I take seriously.”
He certainly wasn’t the knight kneeling before his maiden, but his words rang true. He messed up, but it didn’t sound like anything he dared to repeat again.
I slip out of the side of the booth, careful to not catch anyone else’s eyes in the diner. Facing away from him, I place a hand on Breaker’s shoulder, moving slowly towards his chest. Without any emotion in my voice, I tell him, “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet me there in two minutes.”
Through his thin, button-down shirt, I feel his heartbeat skip.
Chapter Fourteen
Breaker
I said goddamn is this girl kinky. Aimee’s hair shines under the light of the bathroom vanity as she leans back on the porcelain sink. I push myself into her as she grabs and tugs at my jacket, forcing it off and onto the ground with her blouse that I’ve already ripped off. Her lace bralette was no match for me either as I tore it off of her shoulders and down the length of those tan, smooth arms.
I go to kneel down. With her in this skirt, all I can think about is tasting that warm pussy of hers as she holds onto the faucets for support. But she catches me, pulling me up by the armpits. Putting my arms around her neck, she pulls me towards her.
“Not this time, Breaker,” she says with a sly grin. “You had all the fun last time.”
She winks before I feel her hands move towards my hips. In one, swift movement my belt buckle loosens and then flies away. My cock practically bounces out of the zipper and against her waist. She lets out a small, light laugh. Nothing shocks this girl, and you gotta appreciate that.
I shimmy out of my boxers, dropping them in the pile that is building on the tile floor. Standing before her, exposed, we both seem to stop to listen to the sound outside. The diner was relatively quiet when I got in a little while ago, but now it seems to be rush hour, despite knowing the real time. Was she really going to do this? Was I going to let her?
Every echoed voice near the woman’s bathroom door sets my heart beating faster. I glance over to make sure it’s locked, but part of me knows I don’t care who the hell
sees this. I normally wasn’t for public fucking. It wasn’t my scene to do that kind of thing, but I want everyone in this hole-in-the-wall restaurant to hear her and me get it on. And by the way she stares back at me with playful, knowing eyes, it’s clear she’s got the same dirty things on her mind.
“Are you ready?” she asks, well knowing the answer. I was always ready for taking that pussy for my own. Without a reply from me, she adds, “Good.” Her warm hand fingers my cock, tracing the line up and down like a tightrope walker doing a well-practiced routine. My shaft grows longer, tighter, as she presses more pressure on the sensitive skin.
Aimee slips off of the sink counter and down to the floor. Her breasts bounce as she goes, and she spins so that I have to follow her lead. I wasn’t used to giving up control like this, but as she drops to her knees before me, I’m more than willing to play along.