Burn

by R. J. Lewis

  I screwed up my face at her. “Really, Tessa?”

  “You must! I mean, he’s never, ever, ever, ever, ever slowed down with a woman before. Ever. Never ever–”

  “I get it. Never.”

  “Yeah, which means you must be the lay of his life.”

  I laughed weakly with her. There was no way I was going to admit that in actuality I certainly was not the lay of his life because we’d never fucked or even gotten passed the make out stage. I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready for it either. Sure, my body wanted it whenever he kissed the hell out of me – and God, that man could kiss – but my heart was protesting with full force, and I was listening to it for once.

  “Edge is still staring at you,” she muttered.

  I glanced at Edge, and my cheeks went crimson when I caught his eyes. He was terrifying. I’d rather be looking into the eyes of a lion. I looked away quickly and went off again in search of Mathew and Jake. Those boys would forever keep me moving, and that’s exactly what I needed right now.

  *****

  “Why don’t you wear shit like them, Sara-bara?” Logan asked me a while later after the boys were ushered off to bed. Logan motioned to the hangaround hos that were currently intoxicated and dancing sloppily to the music. They were also barely wearing anything at all and must have been a part of the same “desperate for a Jackal, will dress slutty” groupie club because they had the same kind of clothes on: leather, skin tight skirts that reached the bottom of their ass cheeks, and loose, billowy singlets with their bras pushed all the way up to their friggin’ chins.

  “My hooker days are over, Logan,” I told him dryly.

  He laughed and then his face went still. “You were a hooker?” Logan was… not the brightest crayon in the box. Couldn’t decipher the ABC’s if his life depended on it and never caught on to sarcasm of any kind. His mind was always wandering. I chalked it up to the fact he was a young guy only thinking with his dick. He was always rooting around with girls, and they loved Logan. He was a beautiful looking guy – kinda too pretty for my type – and never played hard to get.

  “Yeah, I was a total hooker,” I lied, fighting a smile.

  Now curiosity filled him. “What kind of shit did you do?”

  “What do hookers do, Logan? Come on now.”

  “But like… you’re not a hooker-type. You’re more an escort-type. Is that what you were? An escort?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling cruel for feeding his fantasy. “Oh, yeah. Totally.”

  “Did you do crazy shit?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Are you for fucking real?”

  “So for real.”

  His green eyes gleamed with fascination. “Do you still–”

  “No.”

  “But would you–”

  “No.”

  “But we could–”

  “No.”

  He exhaled in frustration. “Fine! Have fun with Reaper instead. The Logan train is moving on forever, Sara-bara.” He stalked off, glaring at me with the kind of petulance I’d seen in kids like Jake. Minutes later and he was immersed with two women, ready to let them on his Logan train no doubt. Chugga-chugga-ho-ho.

  I made my way to the bar where Wilson was serving up drinks.

  “Sara!” he greeted me with his warm smile. “Wanna hear a joke?”

  I sighed. “Not right now, Wilson. I’d like to keep my food in my stomach, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself. What do you wanna drink?”

  I kept it strictly to beer. There was no way I was going to get drunk around new Jackals, especially when they were rowdily making their rounds from woman to woman. I needed to be sure on my feet. I didn’t have Remy to hide behind, and I felt a weird pang at that. Even after all this time since the bunker I was unsure how to act on my own without him there to guide me.

  When I took my bottle of beer, I watched Wilson go from happy to seething, hurrying to Tessa and arguing about her state of undress. I turned away from the bar and went smack dab into a massive wall of a chest. I looked up and stifled a gasp when I made contact with the lightest brown eyes I’d ever seen. They belonged to Edge, and they were intimidating as hell.

  “I want you in the hallway, stomach against the wall, ass out,” he ordered me in his deep, growl-like voice.

  I stood still for a second. His words hadn’t gotten through to me yet. I repeated them inside of my head for about a dozen times and–

  “Now,” he demanded, nose flaring as if I was pissing him off.

  In the hall. Stomach against the wall. Ass… out.

  I burst out laughing, and this was majorly uncharacteristic of me. I should have slapped him. Cursed at him. Hell, I should have kneed him in the balls.

  “Something funny?”

  I laughed harder and stifled out, “You’re shitting me right?”

  Now he looked damn offended. “No, I’m not shitting you.”

  I pointed to the crowd of women taking centre stage in the room, overly grinding their bodies against each other. “Go ask one of those girls. I’m sure they’d lick you up top to bottom.” And they would. His bad-assed look won brownie points in my Jackal book.

  He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into him even closer. “You think this is a fucking joke? You come to this place and you’re expected to open your fucking legs!”

  “I’m not opening anything but a can of fuck you!” I snarled, fighting to take my hand back.

  His eyes widened, and I thought for sure I’d be getting my ass handed to me. Instead, he looked at me with enlightened eyes and a small smirk. “I get what I want,” he simply stated. “And I want fresh meat.”

  I looked for signs of help around me, but most of those around us were from his chapter and occupied in their own shit, and I highly doubted they’d want to get in the way of Edge anyhow.

  “You aren’t getting anything,” I then said, determinedly keeping my voice as tight as possible. “I belong to Remy.”

  God, I hated saying that, but it was the only way to get him to move on.

  Now his smirk turned into a cocky grin. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Nobody belongs to Reaper.”

  “Well, I do.”

  We glared at one another for several long moments.

  “Let go of her, Edge.”

  Edge turned to Remy who came right at him with… a bag of cereal in his hand. “I’m not going to fuckin’ repeat myself, Edge.”

  His brows shot up. “You serious? How many other pieces of pussies are there–”

  “She’s my girl, you dipshit.”

  “She’s your old lady?”

  “She’s my girl.” Remy repeated through gritted teeth.

  “But not your old lady.”

  Well, this was awkward. What was the goddamn difference? If anything, I’d have preferred Remy call me his girl instead of his… old lady. That shit just sounded mean. Old? Old?! I’m young, dammit. I’ll be called old lady when I’m ninety, minimum.

  But the way they were staring at each other over these two different words… you could cut the tension in the air with a damn butter knife.

  “I am his old lady,” I snapped at Edge, glaring the most evil glare I could muster. “I just prefer to be called his girl.”

  Edge suddenly looked disinterested. “Yeah, sure the fuck you are.” He let go of my arm, but still stood there, staring at Remy. “Since when have you gone solo? You used to stick it everywhere.”

  God, why were men so damn crude?

  “Since when have you ever thought you knew me at all?” Remy snapped. “Last I remember, you wanted nothing to do with me. So fuck off or get out.”

  Ooh, there was nothing good between these two. Edge looked about ready to fight him, and suddenly everyone around us had caught the gist of what was going on. Silence impeded us.

  “Sara,” Remy said, without taking his eyes off Edge, “go to our room. Now.”

  Despite wanting to know where this was going, I hurried out of there. When Remy s
poke to you in that no-bullshit tone, you damn straight better do as you’re told!

  *****

  As I lay in bed waiting for Remy, I attempted sleep, but it wouldn’t come. As usual, my tireless mind ventured off to Jaxon. Who was he in bed with right this moment? Was she beautiful? Did he love her? All poisonous questions based upon the awful reality that time changes people, especially when you’re not there to witness it. They could be meaningless little changes, ones that those close to you won’t pick up on because constantly being around someone dims your awareness of it. You evolve with the person, share in their change and grow together. But to outsiders, small accumulated changes can turn one being into a stranger. I was frightened this was happening to us.

  I’d get an exasperating urge to call him. I still had his paper hidden in the pocket of the very same jeans. Of course I talked myself out of it every time. I’d gotten off the phone quite dramatically. Calling him up after so much time lapsed would be undoubtedly wrong and unfair on him.

  But who put the paper in my pocket? That question eluded me. A Jackal had done it, as they were the only ones I’d been around. But who? And, more importantly, why?

  The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. This made no sense. If someone here had intentionally helped Jaxon get a message across to me, what else had they done? I saw the faces of every Jackal in my mind that was there that day.

  If I was the loyal type, I’d have told Remy. Told him there was a snitch here following orders from a Scorpion. That he needed to watch out in case something bad happened.

  Ha, you’re a fucking idiot. As if you’d tell Remy anything that would antagonize Jaxon. This was true. I never intended on telling him because the order had been given from Jaxon. Because a part of me knew this was instrumental to him. And because a part of me didn’t want to sabotage this barrier of communication in case he ever wanted to speak to me again. The latter was obviously the weighted hope of a heartbroken woman who enjoyed dreaming.

  I was caught in the middle. Should I be loyal to a man I’d never have? Or to the man that was here with me giving me all of him? I loved Jaxon. He’d been the constant in my life before I fucked it all up, but I was feeling something for Remy, too. Sure, the beginning hadn’t been right. I’d been forced in a room for four weeks with nobody but him. My dependency for him had been inevitable. In my heart I knew he’d intended for this to happen, yet I didn’t hate him for it. Because being here, he’d given me a family of people that actually seemed to care. He’d been nothing but patient and affectionate to me, and I in turn knew at this rate I’d find happiness in him.

  Well, that was answer enough, wasn’t it?

  You’re loyal to Remy now.

  Interrupting my thoughts, the door opened. I watched Remy throw his shirt off before he climbed into bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tattooed torso. This beautiful man was a work of art; the intricate inked designs flowed together from a red dragon on his upper left chest to wispy looking branches that stretched to the other side of his chest that were bearing what looked like dates on the end. I wondered what those dates meant. Below the dates and starting right at his ribcage was the word HONOUR in bold letters.

  It was refreshing to see he didn’t sport any of the tattoos the other men in the club did. No pin-up girls or skulls adorned his skin. He had the emblem of the Jackals, but it only covered up his upper back. His arms were bare of tattoos, and same with the rest of him. I got the impression he was a very picky guy, and whatever he inked on his skin meant something important to him. I wanted to know what it was.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, everything is fine, babe,” he answered.

  He pulled me into his chest and wrapped an arm around me. We remained quiet for some time. I could tell by his breathing he wasn’t asleep yet. Something was bothering him.

  “Edge is a shithead,” he suddenly said, irritation thick in his voice. “He knew you were mine the second he saw you. He pressed you to do something to see where your loyalty rested. He’s done shit like this in the past.”

  What the hell? “Why would he do that?”

  “To look out for me, even though we’re not close anymore. We grew up together before he was taken up to Northam as a prospect years and years ago. He’s actually a good guy beneath his manipulative ways.”

  “So what he did down there, that was a test?”

  “Yeah, Birdy, that was his fucked up way of testing you.”

  That pissed me off. What a jerk! Despite his… oddly honourable intentions of looking out for his fellow Jackal, it didn’t make the situation any better. To be tricked sucked, especially when he was so damn convincing about it.

  “Did you know he was going to do it?” I then asked suspiciously.

  “No, I didn’t even know he was here. If I did, I wouldn’t have left you alone with them. They’ll be gone before morning, so don’t worry seeing him again.”

  Thank God for that. “You seemed really angry at him.”

  “We’ve been through a lot. Rough past I’d like to put behind.” In other words, don’t pry.

  I didn’t.

  He turned my face to him and gently kissed my lips. I closed my eyes and let him explore my mouth for a few minutes. He was always so gentle against my mouth, but his hands spoke a different story. He gripped my hip tightly, resisting the urge to roam.

  Then he pulled back like he always did. His breaths were heavy and his body shook a little, but he was otherwise in control. He turned me back around and cuddled up to me.

  “You’re insatiable,” he said into my ear. “Always taste so good.”

  “You don’t taste so bad yourself,” I smiled.

  He kissed my shoulder and ran his hand up and down my arm. I closed my eyes to the soft feel of him. How could such a scary man possess such a soft and tender side? I knew I was one of the very few people who got the chance to see this part of him.

  “By the way,” he muttered, right before I fell asleep, “why the fuck is Logan goin’ on and on about you being an escort?”

  I grinned and shook my head. That guy was such a moron.

  Eleven

  Why was he doing this?

  It was evening and I was on the back of Remy’s bike following the rest of the Jackals to one of their bars. This whole set up smelled funny. Remy had been adamant I come with him to the party. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked me to go with him. I’d tell him no and he’d never push.

  Until now.

  It was right before I’d climbed on that I heard Fritz bitch and moan as he always did. “Time to play nice with the fucking enemies,” he spat on the ground as he threw on his helmet, tucking his mammoth long hair behind his back. “Don’t know why we don’t just jump them and murder the fuckers. It’s time to get our town back, for fuck’s sake. They’ve not only stolen our businesses, but our fucking pussy too! Tired of the same bitches hanging around here.”

  “Shut up, Fritz,” Remy retorted. “You talk that way around them and we’re in for it. Last thing we need is a fight because of your crazy ass mouth.”

  My face masked the panic I was feeling on the inside. Why the hell was he taking me to one of his peace gathering parties with the Scorpions? They’d been throwing them frequently as of lately as a means to keep the two gangs chilled. Darcy went on that once they were drunk they all got along like old school buds. It’d been the perfect way to ease tensions and attempt to put the past under the bridge. So what did I have to do with this?

  The large bar we pulled into was old as hell, one of the first to open in town. It’d been later bought out by a Jackal and refurbished top to bottom. Upon walking inside, the bar was directly in your line of vision. The room itself, purposely vintage old with blood red walls and hardwood floors, was broken into several areas. There was a short walk up some steps into the seating area where timber squared tables were set up. Just beside the staircase was a dance floor, and it was crowded with Scorpions and women, drinki
ng and dancing and doing other… interesting movements I would certainly not consider dance moves.

  There was a corridor beside the bar area that extended to several other large rooms, and I could see Scorpions flowing in and out of these rooms looking dishevelled and barely zipped up at the pants. You didn’t have to be of above average intelligence to know what went on inside them.

  Prez, who I immediately learned was not of the faithful type, gripped a woman that went walking by around the arm. He brought her roughly to his chest and said something into her ear I couldn’t hear. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, widened her eyes in fear and nodded quickly at him. Still gripping her arm, he steered her down the corridor and into a room.

  Remy leaned into my side. “Find a table up there and I’ll get us something to drink.”

  He walked off to the bar and I squeezed past a throng of people. I climbed the few steps and, when I reached the top, wanted nothing more than to turn back around. Women were crowded around a few men in the very back, pressing themselves provocatively against them. My stomach turned in nausea, and I was glad as hell there was a free table at the front.

  I took a seat and stared down at my knotted fingers for all of three seconds before my eyes brushed the entire room again. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air, scream all kinds of insults, and shake every damn person here! This was just overboard. And to think I’d felt the clubhouse parties were rowdy – this was something altogether different.

  So this is what the Scorpions do, I glumly thought. This is the kind of shit I dodged. Thank fuck.

  I could never, ever have participated in any of this. It wasn’t the objectification of every women here that made me queasy, it was their easy submission to every man that walked by.

  Ugh. Why, Remy? Why did you bring me here?

  I scanned the bar in search of him. To my horror, he wasn’t there. He’d just told me to wait so he could grab us some drinks.

  Trembling, I stood up and continued to search for him. He wouldn’t. No, no, not Remy. He wouldn’t be in one of those rooms. There was only one reason he would be. Oh, fuck. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring me here and then abandon me to root some chick. You’re thinking the worst of him, chill the fuck out. Well, it was hard to chill the fuck out when he’d been sex deprived for how many damn months now?