Tattered on My Sleeve

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Maybe ten minutes before class ends, I glance up and find Trinity standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and a solemn expression in place.

  Unfortunately, Whisper notices her too.

  When the class ends, I still have to spend some time talking stuff over with a few of my kids. Normally, I don’t mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trinity approaching and wrap things up.

  “I had no idea,” she says.

  I take the towel out of her outstretched hand and rub it over my face. “What’s that, babe?”

  “You. Teaching kids. Being civil.”

  Whisper chooses that exact moment to join our conversation. “Lookin’ good, Trinity. What’re you doing here?”

  “She’s with me.”

  Trinity turns pink. “I’ll be in the office.”

  When she’s gone, I poke my finger in Whisper’s chest. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  His eyes widen and he steps back, hands in the air. “Chill. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. She’s helping me out with some stuff. That’s all.”

  Nerves have been rattling through me ever since I handed Wrath those exercise drills. He knows what he’s doing. I don’t. I probably insulted him.

  I don’t know what to make of the ten kids I caught Wrath teaching self-defense moves to. With his impatience and general dislike of most of the human population, he’s the last person I’d expect to spend an hour a week with a bunch of sullen teenagers.

  Who knew?

  A thump against the door makes me glance up. Jake’s filling the doorway, a mischievous grin curving his ridiculously sexy mouth. “How’s Wrath’s girl doin’?”

  Stunned, I sit there with my mouth hanging open. “I’m not Wrath’s girl. Why would you say that?”

  He stands straighter and enters the room. “Come on. It’s so obvious.”

  “How? Did he tell you that?”

  Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “He doesn’t need to say anything. He’s never brought a woman to work with him. Never threatened to dismember me over one.” He jerks his chin at the desk. “Never lets any of us use his office.”

  Wrath’s a quiet, sneaky fucker when he wants to be. One minute, Jake’s standing in front of me sharing his asinine theory, and the next, Wrath’s behind him with an elbow around Jake’s neck. “You’ve got your own office, dickhead,” he growls at him. Jake’s apparently as stupid as he is good looking because he laughs.

  I shoot out of the chair so fast it hits the back wall. “Wyatt, stop before you hurt him.”

  “I can get out anytime I want, Trin,” Jake assures me.

  Wrath tightens his arm, and Jake’s smug face vanishes. “You sure about that, Snake Charmer?”

  Jake gasps. “Don’t. Want. To embarrass you in front of your girl.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Wrath grumbles, releasing him.

  Jake stumbles forward coughing and laughing.

  I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Wrath. “What’s the matter with you?”

  His eyes widen into this boyishly innocent face he makes when he knows he’s been up to no good. “What? Just practicing my choke hold.”

  Jake flashes a thumbs-up at me as he leaves.

  “Feel better, caveman?”

  “Much. Why was he bothering you?”

  “He wasn’t. We were just talking.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. “About what?”

  “How to get a quickie in without you noticing,” I snap. “I’m getting tired of you acting like I’m going to jump on every guy I see.”

  He drops the cocky smirk. “That’s not what I was thinking at all, Trin.

  He’s full of shit, and we both know it. “How come I never knew about your soft side?”

  He makes a big show of patting himself down and checking over himself. “Nope, nothing on me’s soft.”

  “No? So what do the kids in your kiddie class call you?” I prompt with an exasperated sigh.

  His forehead wrinkles. “Mr. Ramsey, what else?”

  I don’t know why, but I find that insanely funny.

  As I keep laughing, he smirks at me. “And they’re hardly kids. Most of them are an arrest away from prison.”

  “Please. One of them looked barely old enough to shave.”

  He chuckles. “That’s Twitch. He’s very skilled at lock-picking and breaking into safes.”

  “People still do that?”

  “It’s a dying art.” He shrugs his massive shoulders.

  I finally get it. “You’re looking for potential prospects.”

  “Ding, ding, ding.” He grins at me. “Where do you think I found Birch?”

  Never gave it much thought, honestly. I still don’t buy it. He was enjoying himself way too much. “Still, that’s a lot of time to devote, hoping to find one or two prospects.”

  His face lights up in his favorite cocky smirk. “Anything for the club, babe.”

  I nearly trip Saturday morning when I enter the kitchen and find Trin bent over with her head in the refrigerator. She’s shoving what looks like ten dozen cartons of eggs inside. Or trying to.

  “Whatcha doin’, Trin?”

  “Can you help me?”

  I cross the room in a hurry and take the cartons from her. “What’s all this?”

  “For you. I found this great website with meal plans during pre-fight training. I haven’t had a chance to shop all week, so I got up early today and did it. You’ll be eating lots of egg whites, lean protein. I got these from the farmer down the road, so there’s no nasty antibiotics or anything.”

  I’m so stunned I don’t know what to say. This is Trinity though. If you give her something to focus on, she fucking runs with it. Just like she did with the circuits she put together for me. My core’s still burning from the Front Levers she thought were so sexy.

  I manage to mumble out a thank you. While I’m waiting for her to do whatever she’s doin’ in the refrigerator, I spy a box of what looks like chicken breasts on the counter.

  “Chicken?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nods absently while she’s rearranging stuff to make room for the eggs.

  I’ve always been a clean eater before a fight. No drinking. No weed. I guzzle a gallon and a half of water every day. I don’t tend to eat fast food even when I’m not training, so that’s never an issue. But Trinity? Girl’s taking things to a whole new level for me. I’m impressed and some other emotion I can’t really put my finger on.

  Touched?

  “I went to the farmer’s market too. Kale.” She shakes a bunch of the dark, leafy greens at me. “Lots of kale. It’s supposed to be super good for you.”

  Of course Z has to walk in at that exact moment and ruin everything.

  “Looking good, Trin,” he says to her ass.

  Without turning around or taking her head out of the fridge, she calls out, “Hey, Z.”

  Z makes a what-the-fuck face at me, and I shrug. “Uh, brother, why you holding like a thousand eggs there?”

  Trinity tsks at us. “It’s only five dozen, asshat. Okay, I think I got room. Can you hand them to me one by one?”

  Actually, it’s awkward to juggle them all. Z makes himself useful for a change.

  She grins at us when she’s finished. “I’ll make up a bunch of stuff and pack it up so it’s ready during the week.”

  “Damn, Trin. If I take up fighting, will you feed me all my meals too?” Z asks.

  I hate the way she giggles and shoves him away. It’s just a goofy friend gesture. Still fuckin’ hate it.

  When they’re done messing around, she takes a folder off the counter and hands it to me. “Here’s the meal plan we’re following this week.”

  Z plants a quick kiss on her cheek. “Gotta go, mama. Later, bro,” he says, waving at me.

  Happy he’s finally leaving, I have trouble focusing on the papers Trin handed me. When I glance up, she’s nervously chewing on her thumb.

  “Do you not like it?
I got it from—”

  “No, it’s great.”

  “You’re okay with the fish?”

  “Yup, that’s fine. There’s not much I won’t eat, Trin.”

  Her mouth curls into a wicked grin. “That’s not true. You never eat my ginger cookies.”

  That makes me laugh because she bitches every Christmas about how I won’t even try one. “Okay, this year, I promise I’ll try one.”

  My promise puts a smile back on her face.

  I’m not sure how the bitch standing in front of me managed to find her way to our clubhouse again. She’s been here once or twice before with Roxy or Ginger. Tonight she was bold enough to come up and introduce herself. Cherry. Probably as fake as her hair, which is like something straight out of a circus—red, wide, and curly.

  She leans into me and in an ear-splitting whine asks, “What’s your name, big guy?”

  Why am I doing this? My eyes skip through the room, seeking Trinity, but not finding her.

  “Wrath,” I finally answer.

  “What? Like the thing you put on your door at Christmas?”

  Christ this bitch is dumb.

  “That’s a wreath, babe. Wrath.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Seriously? Where do these chicks come from?

  The memory of the first time Trinity and I met comes rushing back.

  “Brrr. Scary. Are you an angry fellow?”

  Jesus she was so fucking cute.

  Cherry’s still yapping away, but I barely hear a word passing her tacky red lips. I scan the room again for Trinity.

  A few months ago, my plan would have consisted of something designed to keep Cherry’s mouth full, eliminating her endless yammering. But I can’t call up an ounce of interest tonight. My dick’s begging me to stick him anywhere but in this dumb bitch. There’s only one girl I want.

  “Want me to show you how I got my nickname?” she asks with a flutter of her eyelashes.

  Please. Every MC I’ve ever heard of has at least one club whore named Cherry. She’s not the special snowflake she thinks she is.

  She blinks several times, waiting for my answer. Except, one of her spidery lashes must be fake, because half of it’s hanging at a weird angle. Gross.

  There’s not one fake thing about Trinity.

  “‘Scuse me, Cherry, I gotta go find someone.”

  “Okay. Come back and see me when you’re done.” She trails her fingers over my bicep and I give her a curt nod.

  It’s a small party, more girls here than guys. The perfect set up to indulge in some of my usual favorite filthy activities.

  Not tonight.

  Kitchen seems like the most logical place to find Trinity.

  And that’s exactly where I find her. Sitting on the counter. With Z between her knees. They’re not naked or anything. They seem to only be talking, but their pose is awfully intimate for some chit chat.

  Trinity and I have been spending every day together. We’ve argued a couple times, but it seems to blow over quick. Body-wise I feel better than I have in years and I attribute it to her hard work. We haven’t once spoken about her relationship with any of the guys. We haven’t fucked again either. I’m starting to wonder if that old superstition about no sex before a fight is true. I’m coiled so tight, I might explode any second.

  I clear my throat and they glance over. Z lifts a corner of his mouth in a smirk. “What’s up, brother?”

  What’s up is, Why the fuck you two all up in each other’s shit? is what I want to say. Instead, I jerk my thumb toward the hallway. “The chick with the clown hair’s fuckin’ annoying.”

  Z chuckles and steps back. I notice Trinity staring at a bandage wrapped around her hand.

  “You okay, Trin?” When the fuck did she hurt herself? Why is Z the one fixin’ her up instead of me?

  She tips her head up and gives me a tired smile. “Yeah. I cut myself.”

  “Just patching her up,” Z explains.

  “Wrath! Brother, I need you.” Dex calls to me from outside. God dammit. With a lingering glance at Trinity, I storm out the back door.

  “What?” I snap the second my boots crunch down on the gravel. Dex points at two hangarounds trying to bareknuckle box or some shit in the driveway. “Why is this my problem?”

  “Come on, one of them’s gonna get hurt.”

  They both look old enough and no one seems to be forcing them, so it ain’t my problem at all. “So?”

  Stalking back inside, I find the kitchen empty. The fuck? Pushing through the crowd in the living room, I catch a glimpse of Trinity heading upstairs with Z. Motherfuckinghell. This can’t be fucking real. We’d been doing real good lately. What did I do now?

  A soft touch on my arm stops me from tearing upstairs after them. “Hey,” Cherry says, her freshly glossed lips curling into a smirk.

  Well, at least I have a way to get even.

  If this is getting even, it’s pretty fucked up. Because it feels more like punishment. Except I did it to myself.

  Cherry’s eager enough. Drops to her knees the second I close my bedroom door. Doesn’t bitch about the rubber I hand her either. Her eyes are still freaking me the fuck out though. She fixed the one lash, but they’re still all spidery and creepy. Each time she glances up with what I assume she thinks is coyness, I feel skeeved. Maybe that’s my own doing because I know how wrong this is.

  Her hands work my belt loose and I close my eyes pretending I’m anywhere else. With anyone else, so I can get this over with, and get her out of my room. Revulsion burns the back of my throat like fire.

  I’m hating every second of this whole thing. Not even my suspicion that Trinity’s across the hall doing something similar, makes it any better.

  My hand intercepts Cherry’s as she dives for my dick. “Stop.”

  She blinks and stares up at me.

  “Come on, get up.” I wrap my hand around her bicep and pull her off the floor.

  “Wait. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s not you—” It is absolutely her. She’s not Trinity. But I don’t see a reason to be cruel to this chick I barely know.

  Her hand reaches for my crotch again. “You probably just drank too much. Give me a second.”

  I block her easily and squeeze harder. “That’s not the problem.”

  Since she can’t seem to find the door, I open it for her. At the same time, Z’s door swings wide. Trin pops out, laughing and thanking Z for something. Both of their gazes lock on Cherry leaving my room. Trin’s jaw drops. The devastation on her face cuts me deep. I slam the door.

  Fuck.

  Dropping on my bed, elbows on my knees, my head falls forward into my hands. She’s not going to care that I didn’t go through with it. Hell, she’s not even going to believe me if I explain myself.

  What the fuck did I just do?

  Sharp pain throbs in my chest at the sight of Cherry leaving Wrath’s room. I can guess what happened on the other side of that door. I glance back at Z. He only brought me up here to re-bandage the cut on my hand. It wouldn’t stop bleeding so he wanted to use some liquid bandage he had stashed away. Obviously Wrath thought Z and I were up to something more.

  We’ve been spending every waking moment together training for his fight. Stupid me thought maybe it meant something.

  Clearly it didn’t.

  First chance he got, he brought one of the newer girls up to his room. I get it. We’ve been working hard but haven’t slept together. But why didn’t he ask me up here?

  Once Cherry’s out of sight, I cross the hallway and rap on the door.

  “Trinity, don’t bother,” Z warns.

  Inside, Wrath snaps. “What?”

  The sight of a condom wrapper on the floor assaults my eyes.

  He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down. Looking as close to broken as I’ve ever seen him.

  Hardening my heart, I sharpen the blade of my tongue. “Have fun breaking in the new girl?”

>   He slants a look at me. “You’re up to your old tricks, so why not?”

  Holding up my injured hand, I quietly inform him, “Z had some liquid bandage in his room he wanted to use, because my cut wouldn’t stop bleeding. But it’s good to know what you really think of me.”

  Disgust, horror, self-loathing all flash across his face. Or maybe that’s my wishful thinking. I want him to hurt. Because he’s crushed me and made me feel pathetic and stupid. Whatever lines we’d blurred these last few days of working together to get him ready for his fight, he just replaced with barbed wire.

  I want to shake off the feeling of betrayal. We were after all, trying this friends thing out. Obviously, it’s not working. The idea that he could ever want me to be more was ridiculous. Foolish. I’m nothing but another Cherry or Roxy to him. It’s time to accept that.

  He did me a favor, really. Clearly I needed to be reminded of what my place in the club really is.

  Choking back a sob, I back out of the door. Heat radiates over my face, burning my eyes, blurring my vision. Like a fucking moron, I just spent ten minutes downstairs telling Z how Wrath and I have been getting along so well and maybe…

  Dammit, I’m such an idiot!

  I refuse to cry in front of either of them. Z will look at me with pity eyes and try to cheer me up with a joke. I can’t stand the thought of it.

  Nope. I’ll suck those tears in until I’m alone in my room, where no one can see me. I can’t afford to show weakness around anyone in this house.

  Stumbling downstairs, the sickening images of what just happened in his room invade my imagination. What I should have done is brushed it off. I should have spun around, grabbed Z’s hand, shoved him into his room and fucked him loud and hard. I should find Teller, or a prospect or anyone with a dick to help me ease this pain.

  I pass Cherry on the way to my room. Everything in me screams to take her to the floor and choke the ever-living shit out of her. But I hold my head up and ignore her. It’s not her fault.

  The fault’s all mine.

  One idea after another flips through my brain as I sit in my room staring at the floor. How can I make this up to Trinity? Nothing I come up with seems appropriate. The doorway is empty. She’d gone without closing the door. Z stands across the hall staring at me.