Claiming His Forever (Battle Born MC Book 8)

by Scarlett Black

  Chapter 22

  Jazzy

  My phone beeped with a missed call from Abuela. I inwardly groaned and called her back. She informed me there is a new member of the club, and there will be a party tonight to welcome him. That’s why she wanted me to call, so she could confirm my attendance. Abuela also requested my help cooking, which is complete bullshit. I play along because it’s her and I promised not to be so distant. I grew up there with my dad and tíos. No way could I stay away forever. I may as well bring in my reinforcement, so I text Angie.

  Me: Club party, pick you up at 4.

  Angie: Fooook yea! See you laters, babe.

  Sighing, I wonder who this new club member could be. Probably someone affiliated with one of the sister chapters, and I would bet even from the Las Vegas chapter. I haven’t met too many of them from their clubhouse. It should be interesting. Angie is always up for a party at the clubhouse. I used to be, but with the past still lurking around me, I’m not that enthusiastic to be reminded of those memories. When it is a family party I love being there. It’s when the partying kicks up I leave. It reminds me of the uglier ones Kilo created a dark shadow over. I’m not in a place where I want to hook-up or start up anything with a member of the club. With Abuela insisting I be there makes me suspicious with her scheming a new guy for me. I’ll be polite and show then haul ass out of there.

  My focus is moving forward and not living in past. To do that, I’ve been making changes, and have been watching the real estate market. Maybe I could buy a house for myself. A change of scenery would be good. It’s going to take me months of saving though since I’ve drowned all my savings into my business. I’ve also been thinking I should start meeting new people. Angie would go out to bars to meet new guys we haven’t been around. I’m just not ready for that part, getting to know them and being open to trusting them. Hell no. So a new house it is. After marking a few of my favorites, I close my laptop and set up for my next tattoo appointment.

  It’s not only a new tattoo but from one of my favorite people. Outside my office, the door dings and Vegas and Blade stand in the entryway. We are close in age and she has always felt like the sister I never had. Blade’s gaze scans the shop and nods at the setup. I take a little pride in that because Blade works hard and is meticulous in nature. Vegas spots me coming toward them and waves before she elbows Blade.

  “You’re a little early today. I wasn’t expecting you for another half an hour,” I comment on my way. Not that I’m complaining. Were they already in town?

  Blade and Vegas follow me to my room while looking around. “It’s a very sweet shop. Too bad you never wanted to take me up on my offer to work for me in Reno,” Blade taunts. He’s asked me about a thousand times to work for him.

  “I wanted to open this place for Dad. Mom told me he was saving to open his own. I guess you could say it's our place.” I move around the room, grabbing the supplies Blade will need for my tattoo. Handing him the stencil I want, I ask, “What brings you to town anyway?” I thought I would have to meet him in Reno for an appointment.

  “We had to meet with Fuego. It worked out to come here since I couldn’t do your tattoo before you had to leave.”

  “Plus,” Vegas adds, “I couldn’t be happier to come visit. The kids are with my mom and dad for the weekend.”

  Blade looks over the drawing, a simple heart outline over the initial A. He doesn’t ask why, just, “Where are we sticking it?”

  Sliding the gray and white flannel from my arms, I sit in the chair and point to my left wrist. He straddles the small seat beside me and rolls on a pair of gloves. He spreads a cool ointment on my skin, then presses the drawing to transfer it. “You want to look at it?” he questions, scooting back.

  “No.” Shaking my head, I keep my focus straight ahead. Today was hard to wake up and think about her. I’m holding in the hurricane of emotions that want to be set free. I want to see it when it’s done. “I trust you and I don’t want to look at it just yet.” Moisture fills my vision. Rapidly, I blink away the tears. When the machine springs to life and the sound echoes, I start to relax. The sting of the needle is a therapy I desperately needed. The pain in my heart will always be there, permanently with me and never forgotten. But like the tattoo, I will heal.

  It doesn’t take him long. The tattoo is all black with minimal shading, just how I want it, something close to my dad’s black heart on his chest and the initial A for my angel. My little girl is in heaven with him. Blade wipes it clean with green soap. The sting from it is a finishing touch to a moment so bittersweet, I will never forget it. “Thank you,” I whisper. Getting ink is so personal, and I couldn’t ask just anyone to do it. Some bonds we share with people are too raw to expose ourselves to.

  “You’re welcome.” Blade pats my shoulder and rolls back. “It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for us along the way.” What I appreciated more than anything was that he was quiet. He doesn't ask me anything and lets the ink do its magic. It is mine, one I needed for myself.

  Vegas raises her head from the book she was reading off her phone. “Are you ready for a drink?”

  “Now more than ever.” Having her here was perfect. It’s like old times when we got into trouble, but my life feels completely changed. The person I am today is different. Having her here is refreshing. Some people never leave or walk out of your life. You grow together as one and are better for it. Seeing her and Blade together is a gift and one I hope to have for myself someday.

  “Meet you at the clubhouse soon,” she confirms before leaving.

  “Right behind you, prima.” Sliding my flannel back on, I stand before the mirror in my room, look over the small tattoo, and smile. She claimed my heart and is always with me. Always.

  Chapter 23

  Spider

  If you would have told me a year ago that I would be standing here, in the Sacramento Battle Born clubhouse as a new chapter member, I would have told you to fuck off. Here I stand nonetheless, taking in the members, their Ol’ Ladies, and the club bitches off to the side. None of them are keeping their side glances to a minimum, in fact, most of them are openly staring.

  I keep the scowl on my face at their blatant disrespect. It’s my first day, so I work hard at not being too big of an asshole. I have one goal in mind here and she is not here, yet.

  “Hola, mijo.” Abuela slides a beer in front of me with a wide smile. “She will be here any minute now. Espere, hold on.” She pats my hand and turns toward the room. Abuela notices the same thing I did moments ago. Placing both hands on her hips, she scolds, “Por mi santa madre, what are you staring at? ¡Qué la chingada! Mind your own business!” The room collectively whips their heads around, starting to mind their own damn business. Shit, I think Abuela likes me and must really want me to stay. She walks off into the kitchen mumbling about not wanting another one to leave her. I assume she’s talking about Jazz moving to Nevada. I doubt that will ever happen—I moved here for a reason.

  A hand lands on my back and a chuckle erupts from the man who slides into the seat next to me. “Well, mi madre favors you. She usually doesn’t cuss out an entire room with ‘qué la chingada’.” Fuego, the Prez of this chapter, sits next to me. Then his VP, Ghost, sits next to him. “We got your request to join our chapter.” He stalls, grabbing his own beer. “It still needs to go to vote. Ese tipo,” he points a beer towards the man known as Kilo, the motherfucker I want to kill for touching Jazz, “that guy will not make this transition easy for you. ¿Sabes? You understand? The rest should be bueno.” He can try to make it hard for me, but it won’t work, and if he dares make a move on her, I’ll slice his fucking throat.

  Taking a drink of his beer, he leaves the rest to Ghost. “I’m not sure how long you plan on living here, pero, bienvenido a la vida aquí. Welcome.”

  “I’m here for as long as I’m needed.” I assure them I’m committed. Truth is, all I need is Jazz on board with us, and I’ll never leave. As much as I like
this MC, it doesn’t matter which chapter I’m at ‘cause it wouldn’t be home without her in it.

  “Tequila then, yes?” Fuego phrases it as a question, but the prospect clearly hears it as a request. He pours a tray full of shots before passing the rest of the bottle over the bar to us. The tray is passed around. Once everyone has a shot raised, he begins his toast. “To our brother. ¡Salud!”

  Tossing back the alcohol out of respect, I allow the burn to wake up my senses, but it’s nothing compared to the burn of the dark eyes that collide with mine. My mouth stings with the remnants of the alcohol and the stark reminder of the past. Jazzy’s brunette hair hangs down her side in long thick curls. Gone is the color and is now the same deep tones. A change from before. My tongue sneaks out to lick the remaining tequila from my lips and for the curvy woman in front of me. I would give her the same attention, given the chance to taste her again. That’s right, sweet cheeks, Daddy’s home.

  Jazzy

  Holy mother of fucking shit!

  Spider stands in the main room of the clubhouse and my chest feels tight with dreaded anxiety. I waltzed in thinking I could appease Abuela and then get home, in and out. But the gods have thrown a major curveball my way. Am I happy, excited, pissed, or worried about what this means? In the split three seconds it takes for me to figure out who the new member is, it is the same three seconds that alter my life.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” Angie gloats happily next to me. “Yep, that cocky but sexy as hell smirk he’s giving you says it all.” She waves toward him. Spider doesn’t acknowledge her but intently keeps his dark, beautifully destructive intentions on me.

  “I don’t know what this means,” I stutter to Angie. “What do I do?”

  “Introduce your friend. It’s rude.” She nudges me forward and my feet drag along as if they were hundred-pound bricks. I don’t even have to make introductions because she’s all too happy to jump headfirst into my dilemma like a true friend only can. “Angie,” she peps with an extended hand. Spider shakes her hand briefly. “As charming as you are, we have work to do in the kitchen.” She begins to drag me away, but Spider’s grip on my other arm stops me in my tracks.

  “I’m taking you home. Don’t get any ideas,” Spider demands clearly. I’ve missed his voice. The low grit to it when he speaks just for me to hear. His meaning is crystal clear—not to disappear like I have in the past. My heart flutters in my chest with hope, but I tamp that down quickly. Yes, we do need to talk. I also need to keep focused on what’s best for me and my future.

  “I’ll wait.” I chance a glance up and find his face, which went from tight to relaxed in a matter of moments. I was serious when I said I was done with the tug-of-war between us. Doesn’t mean I’ll jump into his bed either. Moderation. I got this shit.

  His fingers drag down my arm, not really wanting to let me go, but he does. In the corner, Kilo shoots daggers at our connection. Tingles of awareness and pain shoots up my spine. When did he get out? I can’t stand to be in the same room with him. Disgust and hatred rolls through my stomach. I will kill him if he gets within ten feet of me. Angie follows my gaze and pushes me in front of her. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving your side. We’ll figure this out. Take a big breath, and don’t let him shake you.”

  My whole body screams with adrenaline, wanting to flee. Angie and I meet Abuela in the kitchen to find that she doesn’t need help at all. “I knew he was getting out, pero mija, we have to show him you won't run. You stay in here with me, yes?” She wraps me up in her arms and whispers, “The worst is over. You trust me?”

  “Always, Abuela,” I croak back.

  “Bueno. Then you show him the woman you are. Más fuerte. Be very strong and he won’t win. Be a warrior, mija, and he will not touch you.” I can’t help but feel she is giving me a message without saying the words. The inclination comes over me that Spider is my protector. This confuses me, but like all things with Abuela, the cryptic messages will make sense in the end. I will trust her. Her touch is enough to expel the feeling of terror that wreaked havoc over my body moments ago.

  Clearing my throat, I pull away and look around her perfectly cooked and cleaned kitchen. “How surprising, you have it all done.” I mock my surprise and place a hand on my hip, giving her a pointed stare.

  “Mijita, I just need your help taking these out. It’s a big night. I didn’t know how busy I would be. It turned out good, no?” She holds her mischievous grin, proud of her meddling.

  “I’m not even going to scold you for what we both know is the truth here, Abuela. I’m not so hopeful that Spider cares for me like you think. I have had bad luck. I need some time.”

  “¿Para qué? To get old and lonely like me? No. You need un hombre fuerte, a strong honorable man. You never picked those, that’s why I—” She abruptly stops herself.

  “Why you’re being nosy and butting in? What did you do, Abuela?” I add in.

  Angie laughs, picking up a taquito and jamming it into her mouth, watching us. Abuela makes an exaggerated huff, “I’m always nosy and I haven’t done anything… yet. It’s never bothered you before. Now, cálmese. Go take these trays out to the tables.” She shoos us out of her kitchen with the food.

  The second the food touches the tables, the line has already started to grab plates and pile on their food. One thing I have always respected is that women get a plate for their men out of love. It’s a shared task and the brothers will grab a plate for their Ol’ Ladies, like Fuego does now for his wife, Cindy. She is too busy with Vegas and the twins to do much else, so he pitches in and takes care of his family.

  Watching them, I didn’t see it at first, the man who was watching me. My lungs squeeze painfully, and the air is caught in my throat. Spider sits at the bar as he normally does—alone. It hurts because at one time I thought maybe we could have these things. Possibilities that he stole with what he did. Awkwardly, I give him a small smile and wave, lifting my hand up to my side before it falls, though he doesn’t return. His posture is too pensive for such small gestures, but I don’t know how to start to move forward amicably. Rambling thoughts filter through my head. Why would he leave Reno and come here? Most of all, why is he watching me as if he hasn’t seen me before? His eyes roam over my face as if he can read the truth that lies inside my head, truth that not even I have allowed myself to confront. How does he do that?

  It is a side of him he hasn’t shared with me, openly showing me interest, and it’s unnerving. The act is more intimate than the times we’ve been alone. The girl I once was is gone. There was a time when the younger version of me believed that love conquers all. Now, the woman in me believes in loving people who love you back as fiercely as you do. That is why I turn my back on him and the room to find a quiet place, alone. Love and trust go hand-in-hand, and Spider has not earned either of those two things from me. I promised myself to be selfish with what matters most, and I plan on doing just that.

  Chapter 24

  Spider

  I see the softness of her gaze while watching the Prez and his family. In that moment, her walls were down, and it feels like I’m looking directly into her soul. Jazzy was full of passion and wings before, unattainable and free. I thought it was because she didn’t want a relationship, and that served me well. Now, I can see how our baby has changed her. Her gaze is more thoughtful while she watches the room. She stops to think of not only her actions but of those around her, assessing what their small movements mean and how they relate to her. Jazzy now understands the woman she has been hiding away from the world and from herself. She knows exactly what she wants—a family.

  I’ll fully admit, I’m a selfish bastard to take up her time not knowing what could happen between us. She may be looking for someone better than me. I’m greedy and I want to steal her away for myself, and fuck, if I don’t know how wrong that sounds. But I can’t stop the pull to find out what we could be together. I could mess this up even more than I did before. But like an asshole, I want her an
yway. A better man would stay away, but I know I’m not.

  My moment arrives when Jazz gets up from her table and starts to gather her drunk friend. Snake swoops in and takes the keys from Angie, playfully tapping her nose with his fingers. Angie, the hopeless flirt, flings an arm around his body, grabs a handful of his ass behind everyone’s backs, and agrees to her “ride”. He shakes his head at her. “You ready, Jazz?”

  Before she can answer him, I’m up and eating the distance between us. “She promised me a few moments of her time. I’ll give her a ride home.”

  Fuego’s old eyes crinkle and Ghost mutters, “Fuck me, now I get it.” It’s low enough that only his wife and I can hear it. Resting my hand on her lower back, I lead Jazzy through the crowd. Possessively, I take her with me because she’s mine. I’ve watched all the men around the room and Gringo had his eyes locked on her. He could be a problem. How much of a problem will be up to him. Gringo needs to know now why I’m here. I don’t have a problem staking my claim on Jazzy.

  The gathering is crowded and it becomes difficult trailing behind her. Gringo reaches for her, clearly not seeing me closing in. Before he can get his hands on her, I tug her back by her belt loop and tuck her into my side. My arm snakes around her body, making it very clear she is with me. Jazzy’s feet stutter as she turns into my body, her hand resting on my chest. For a moment, our eyes lock and a small smile stretches across her gorgeous, plump lips.

  Gringo’s brows raise and he drops his arm. With his chin up, he steps back. He quickly recognizes the history and chemistry between us. Acknowledging our familiar, comfortable touch, he backs off. I take in Jazz’s heat, instantly warming a part of me that welds my broken parts together. Missing the feel of her flesh and scent, recognition creates an ache from within. She is my home. We are nudged forward by the weight of the crowd. Our moment is pushed aside in order to keep moving along through the rest of the crowd.