Without Consequence

by Victoria L. James

  Pushing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, I gave him a small nod before I sniffed up and cleared my throat as quietly as I could. “Got it.”

  “You okay?”

  “Champion.”

  “Tyson time?” he asked, letting the door fall to rest against his shoulder as he stood up straight and studied me.

  “Ayda time,” I responded flatly. I didn’t give him a chance to question me further. I could see that knowing look in his eyes that told me he was worried and that he wanted to press me on this. My bare feet started to move towards him, eventually sliding past his leather cut-clad body before I padded out into the main bar area of the hut. I knew me being out there without my usual gear on would be frowned upon, but with the ghost of Pete still lingering in my mind, there wasn’t too many shits to be given about it. My shoulders swayed as my feet slid across the floor and I made my way to the main window. The horizontal blinds had been opened just enough for me to stand at an angle, lean forward and take a good look through them without anyone on the outside noticing me.

  When I saw Ayda standing there in the yard, looking up at the patch of my pack like a deer caught in the headlights, I’ll admit to another small wave of guilt washing over me. But as Pete’s words of leadership floated through my mind, I felt myself tilting my chin to the side, never taking my eyes away from her as I spoke.

  “Kenny?”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Two things.”

  “Hit me.”

  “First, I want the slot machines moved to block off my bedroom door. I’m sick of you fuckers just striding in and interrupting me already. From now on, anyone wants me they get me in my office.”

  “Okay,” he answered, clearly confused.

  “Once that’s done, you put her to work. I’m not ready to see her yet. Whatever you do, don’t give her light duties. She’s in debt to the club. But anyone hurts her or abuses their position, they’ll have me to answer to. Make that promise known to everyone on this yard. No excuses.”

  Then I tore my gaze away from her and made my way behind the bar.

  I didn’t care what the time was.

  I needed whiskey.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ayda

  Rocking back in my chucks, I pushed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and looked the place over with an objective eye. From the outside, it wasn’t as intimidating as I’d expected. It looked like a building, mostly nondescript, other than the field of cars locked behind fences and razor wire.

  The skull insignia was probably the only indication that I was in the right place, and as I stared into the eyes of it, I felt a chill run down my spine. I was a lamb in a den of wolves, with the pack all circling the closer I got. I may not have been able to see anyone, but they could sure as hell see me. I could feel the eyes on me as I kicked at a stone and sent a small cloud of dust up in an attempt to build up the courage to walk inside.

  Rather than his attitude, it had been Drew’s kindness that had thoroughly cowed me. As odd as it sounded, it made him all the more foreboding – mainly because I no longer knew what I was up against. He’d been absolutely right at the game. I had pegged him with a stereotype, and never once had I let myself deviate from that image, until he’d surprised me. Didn’t that make me quite the hypocrite?

  Hearing a whistle come from the gates at the side of the building, I looked up in surprise. The guy was probably younger than I was, but from what I could see of his vest, he was a fully-fledged member of the group. I wasn’t sure he was gesturing to me until I looked behind, expecting to see one of their scantily clad women sauntering up and found nothing but blacktop and my car.

  My feet propelled me forward, and I stopped just outside the gate and offered him the ritualistic smile of greeting that was expected of me. As soon as I got closer, I thought I recognized him from Rusty’s.

  “You Ayda?”

  “Sure am.”

  He opened the gate further and stepped aside to let me in, his eyes moving up and down the road as I ducked under his arms and turned to peer over his shoulder. There was nothing there, but that didn’t stop his lingering look or the glance up at the camera that I hadn’t noticed.

  “How good are you with toilets?” he asked, slamming the gate closed and heading toward a door at the side of the building. The only thing even slightly personal there was a basketball hoop with a net half detached from it. It seemed to me like these boys would have done a bit better with a contact sport, but who was I to cast the first stone of judgment? And on their choice of sport, no less.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, rushing to catch up.

  “Why, what did you do?”

  “No, I mean what were you asking me?”

  “Toilets, lady. How are you with them? You ain’t squeamish, right?”

  “I live with a teenage boy. I think there are very few things that make me squeamish.”

  “Probably a good thing,” he said, his cryptic smirk telling me a team of teenage boys partying at my house after a Friday night game had nothing on these men and their lack of hygiene. Wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

  I followed him in through the door and into the muted light of what appeared to be a bar. The smell of smoke, sickly sweet residue of bourbon and stale beer backed up the theory. Even without the neon signs, I would have known. As much as my curiosity was nagging at the back of my head, I was there to do a job, and the sooner it was done, the sooner I could leave, even if I did have to be back at dawn.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll just go ahead and get started then. Where are the cleaning things and the bathrooms? And what do you need me to do after that?”

  “The cleaning shit is in the closet by the communal bathroom, where you’re probably going to want to start. Have fun. I'm Kenny, and I’ll be in the bar if you have any questions.”

  “I have one. Not to be rude, but where's Drew?”

  “He's indisposed, sweetheart.”

  I had no idea what that meant, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know when I caught the kid’s smirk. I had to remind myself it was none of my business.

  “I thought he’d be here, seeing as he told me to be here.”

  “I’m sure he’ll find ya if he needs ya. You’re here to do a job, though. Probably best to get it done, yeah?”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  He pointed me in the right direction before wandering off towards a beautiful redhead who was fondling a bourbon bottle in languid strokes, obviously designed to emulate a hand job. These poor men had absolutely no chance. I was pretty sure if I had a dick, I’d be hard. It was like watching soft-core porn on cable. Now was not the time to get horny, however, and I was actually glad that I had the disgusting task of cleaning out the bathrooms to distract me.

  To say they were foul would have been a gross understatement. Some thoughtful soul had been kind enough to equip the cleaning closet with rubber gloves that reached to my elbows and a pack of scented facemasks. At first it seemed a little extreme, but then I walked into the communal toilet and gagged, backing out as fast as I could as the smell permeated everything. I had a feeling I was going to need to burn my clothes if I got out of there alive.

  It took me an hour to clean the toilets, scrub the sinks, the floor and the mirrors, and though it was probably quite presumptuous of me, I found some acetone to wipe down the cheap stall walls and remove some of the cruder artwork that had been left there. It took another thirty minutes after that to make sure that you could eat off any surface in the place.

  I’d almost finished when a heavier gentleman in a leather vest walked in and almost skidded to a halt. His eyes went wide as he backed up and looked up and down the hall and stepped in again.

  “Damn, girl. You don’t do anything half-assed, do you?”

  “If you ain’t gonna do it right, it just creates more work when you get sent back to do the job again.”

  “Were you in the military?”

  “No, sir. Worse. I was involved in rush w
eek for a sorority. It didn’t work out, but this,” I said, waving my arms around, “Was almost as bad as the frat house I had to clean.”

  “Almost? Damn, we’re gonna have to try harder.”

  I ducked my head and smiled, cautious about how I chose to interact with the guy. Drew had made it more than clear he would prefer me to be respectful. I assumed that was not just to him, but the rest of his friends, too. I just wanted to get through these shifts without being yelled at, spat on, or smacked round, all of which seemed to be real possibilities.

  “Not tonight, though. We’ll let the boss see how sorry you are before we let those boys loose in here.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Hell, darlin’, I ain’t no sir. You can call me Deeks.”

  “Thanks, Deeks.”

  He winked and backed out of the room, the door slapping closed behind him. It hadn’t so much as kissed the frame when he pushed it open again and stuck his head back in. “Have you done the one down the hall yet?”

  “No. Not yet. Would you like me to–”

  He put his hand up to stop me. “Just wanted to make sure. You may wanna start with the private ones before you head in that direction.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “It’s survival, sugar.”

  He left me alone with the food for thought, and I gathered up what I needed to keep going. The place was a maze, and it seemed like no matter how many doors I knocked on, there was something more to do and someone else to help. I’d started a load of laundry for one guy, and now had a mountain of the stuff.

  I thought I was at least close to being finished, when I was directed to Drew’s office by another member of the pack and instructed to clean Mr. Tucker’s bathroom. I didn’t catch the man’s name, but he was taller than the others and a little more intimidating than most, although, compared to Drew, he was a pussy cat.

  I was tired, sore and resigned at that point, not even questioning the guy as I walked into a room that was probably the cleanest I’d seen up until now. The desk and chair were nestled in a corner, while the bookshelves that took up one whole wall were filled with mean looking dogs, motorcycle parts and photographs in diamond plate frames. Some of the faces were familiar, others not so much. I was just glad I wasn’t tasked to dust. I wasn’t sure my muscles would last long enough to wrestle the dust bunnies that hid in the corners of those shelves.

  I was so caught up in the mess that was behind me, I didn’t realize, until it was too late, that the bathroom I’d entered was currently occupied.

  I heard the water running before I saw him, but see him, I did. The glass was clear and his back was to me, but his sublime ass was what caught my attention and held it. The water clung to him, each droplet caressing the muscles and hugging the curves before joining with the others. My eyes followed the rivulets of water for what felt like a lifetime, but I must have made some kind of noise as my eyes lingered, because the cough that came was filled with amusement and belonged to none other than Drew Tucker himself. We stared at one another for a second before the connection was broken when he brought the heavy bottle in his hand up to his mouth.

  “Christ, I’m sorry,” I said, turning quickly and smacking my head on another open door, stumbling back so quickly I bounced off the glass of the shower before rushing from the room and pulling the door closed behind me with a thump of my head as I leaned back against it.

  It was only as the breath rushed from me that I suddenly came to the realization that I dropped all of the cleaning supplies when I smashed my head, because I’d needed my hands to grip the flash of pain.

  Of all the people who lived in the place, it had to be Drew I walked in on. What were the odds of that? It was just my luck, and now I was probably going to have to explain myself for that, too. I just kept adding to my constantly growing debt to this man and his club. At the rate I was going, I'd be an old woman by the time I was free of the whole place and Drew Tucker.

  Stuck without the things to clean, there wasn’t much I could do. I hadn’t so much as looked at the bathroom Deeks had warned me away from, and that was the last bathroom in the place other than the one currently occupied and holding my things hostage.

  “Shit, fuck and damn it all to hell.” I pressed my hand to my forehead and pushed my hair back with a nervous laugh. I might as well laugh while I could, because I hadn’t seen Drew’s face in all my fumbling around, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t see the humor in it. I guessed all I could do at that point was wait it out, and I wasn’t stupid enough to do that in the chair behind his desk, which left one place: the questionable couch that sat opposite.

  I didn't have long to do much more thinking, because between one breath and the next, the stream of water behind the door I was leaning against was shut off, and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Drew Tucker would be out there demanding answers and remittance again. I just wasn't sure I had anything left at all to say that wouldn't get me in even more trouble than I was already in.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Drew

  There was a part of me that wanted to open that door wearing nothing but the skin I was born in, but given the look on her face when she saw me in the shower, I wasn’t convinced she could handle it. The last thing I needed tonight was some woman passing out on my floor. I had enough messes to clear up as it was.

  I dried my body off as quickly as I could, running the towel around the back of my neck, up through my hair and down my face before I tossed it to the side. I would have gone out there with that piece of cloth wrapped around my waist, if only the fuckers who did the laundry around here had kept more of the things clean. Fortunately for Ayda, all they’d left me with was a small hand thing that wasn’t big enough to cover my left testicle, never mind my whole body. Picking up my sweats from the side, I slid my half wet legs into them, bounced on my toes and pulled the waistband down as low as it could go without flashing her my dick.

  I finally pushed the door open, not knowing whether or not she would still be in the room, when I caught her freezing in place between me and my dirty old sofa. Her body half twisted around, her head twitching back and forth as she tried to decide whether or not to look me in the eyes after spending so long looking at my ass. Ayda’s uncertainty around me amused me more than I cared to admit. It was almost addictive, finding ways to make her second guess herself all the time.

  All I could think to do was stand up tall in the doorway and fold my arms across my bare chest.

  I knew the moment she seemed resolved to her fate. Her shoulders dropped, her hands fell listlessly to her sides, and her feet twisted fully until she was facing me. “Sorry. I really am. Someone told me to clean your bathroom and grab the towels from your hamper. I didn’t know you were in there.”

  “You say sorry a lot,” I said smoothly, staring at her the whole time while she seemed to look at every part of my body but my face.

  Seemingly catching herself, her breath stuck in her throat, and her eyes closed as though it were the safer option. “I do that when I don’t know what else to say. I understood you were busy. I was just doing as I was asked before I tackled the last communal bathroom. I was going to start another load of laundry before I left for the night.”

  Her eyes opened and met mine.

  “I can’t imagine you never knowing what to say. Your snark usually rolls off the tongue without much thought around me.” My feet shuffled wider apart as I squeezed my arms tighter across my chest and tensed my jaw.

  She paused again, as though thinking about what she was going to say before actually saying it. There was a flash in her eyes, before something else extinguished it again. “I got the sense you didn’t appreciate that too much. I understand I have the tendency to be cynical and sarcastic. I also understand that I’m just digging a hole for myself every time I let my mouth run ahead of my brain.”

  “Saves me a job, I guess.”

  The color drained from her face. She knew exactly what I
’d just said and the intonation behind it. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid, Mr. Tucker.”

  “Mr. Tucker?” I smirked, raising a brow in her direction as I tried to stop the laughter from falling free. “One mention of me burying you and now I’m Mr. Tucker? I could have saved myself fifty bucks on Friday night if I’d known.”

  Both of her hands moved to her forehead, pushing the stray strands of hair back, the tendrils damp from sweat. She looked tired, mentally and physically. “I don’t know how to address you. Sir? Drew? Mr. Tucker? Fu–” She went quiet biting her bottom lip.

  My other brow rose to meet its neighbor as I tilted my head to one side and huffed out a laugh.

  “The last man who called me fucker regretted it. Don’t go there, darlin’.” Dropping my arms down by my sides, I exposed the tattoos across my chest and shoved my hands deep into my pockets. “And I’m sure you curse me under your breath as asshole enough already whenever I’m not around.” I sighed much heavier and much louder than I intended to. My body swayed forward as the weight of the room seemed to shift beneath my feet. It was as though the tiredness she was wearing so openly only helped to draw mine out even further. With the effects of the whiskey flowing through my bloodstream, I suddenly just wanted to go to fucking sleep and not wake up for a week. “Call me Drew, Ayda. It’s as simple as that. Drew.”

  “I wasn’t…” she shook her head and looked down at her chucks as her hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans. “That wasn’t where my mind went, Drew. I was going to be sarcastic, not rude.”

  “Is there really any difference?”

  “Well yes. One was playful and could have made you smile if I knew you a little better. The other, as you just pointed out, would have pissed you off.” Rocking back on her heels before rolling to her toes, she looked up at me, her features devoid of emotion. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, Drew. I’m sure the last thing you needed was some teenager breaking into your place, and I am sorry about that, so while I’m here, I will try and be civil.”