by Nicole Fox
“Is … this your apartment?” I asked. It certainly smelled like him. The delicious scent of it at once made me dizzy and exhilarated.
“Yes,” he said. “A modest place. When the club doesn’t cover the rent, I help Joey out at his car shop. He’s doing well.”
“You, too,” I said, impressed. It was certainly much classier than I would have expected. Which did not allay my nervousness, by the way.
“So,” I ventured, “What exactly are we doing here?”
I didn’t mean it to sound stand offish. It did, but I hadn’t meant it to.
He hesitated, opening his mouth as if to say something. Nothing came out. It felt like a solid ten seconds he stood there, just looking at me. Then, he said, “I’m here to make you dinner.”
“Dinner?” I blurted. I couldn’t help it.
“Yeah,” he replied. “You’ve been eating nothing but fast food crap since you arrived. Aren’t you in the mood for something nice?”
“Well, yeah!” I exclaimed. What the fuck was going on? Why was he being so nice? Hours ago he had seemed interested in punishing me for sneaking out to rescue Honi and fucking me into oblivion.
“Good,” he said. “I got chicken or pork. Which would you prefer?”
“Uh, chicken,” I said. I figured it was the harder of the two to fuck up. Despite Connor’s many admirable qualities, I would not guess that he was a good cook. I knew few bikers who were.
Still, within minutes, I heard the sound of hot oil popping and the bitter scent of onions being sliced. Connor bid me sit down on the couch while he cooked, and I did so, feeling really awkward.
What should I be doing? What was I supposed to do? What would a whore do? I thought I knew the answer to that one. They’d change into lingerie or get naked.
I had no lingerie, and something told me that getting naked was not what Connor was looking for—at the moment, anyway. If he’d wanted me naked, we could have just stayed at the clubhouse.
Could he just want to spend time with me? I thought. No. That would have been ridiculous. He had made it pretty clear that this was a whore/biker relationship and nothing more.
Then, as I heard him humming Johnny Cash to himself and flicking the spatula against the frying pan, another thought occurred to me:
He was buttering me up to get me to tell him the truth about me and Honi. I knew he sensed it. In fact, it seemed fairly obvious at this point.
So why wasn’t I telling him?
I need to protect Honi, I thought.
That was partly true. In order for her to keep living out her fantasy, she needed people to keep believing she was Farrah Michaels. And yet, this put her in even more danger, so I don’t know if my thinking was sound.
I need to protect myself. Bullshit. I was in about as much danger as could be.
I need to protect my aunt’s name. There was something to that. I needed access to that envelope. I needed to make sure she hadn’t died in vain.
I didn’t know if Connor could be trusted to help me. He obviously would protect me if he could. He had already proven that. But he had also proven that the club came first. If he had to choose between me and the club, I knew exactly what he would pick.
Which led me to my final realization.
I don’t want to disappoint Connor.
How mad would he be when he found out I’d been lying to him all this time? And how upset would I be when I was no longer his whore? Of course, I no longer wanted to be thought of as a prostitute, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stop belonging to him.
Christ, Farrah. You’re in deep.
That was true. And what was also true was that the smells coming from the kitchen were delicious.
After a few more minutes, I heard the click of the stove being turned off, and Connor waltzed in carrying two heaping plates of steaming food. Before I could even look properly, my mouth began to water.
“What is it?” I asked as he sat down beside me and handed me a plate.
“Chicken stir fry on couscous,” he said. “My dad’s old specialty. One of the very few things I have of who he is.”
I took a forkful. “Well, it’s delicious,” I said, not caring that my mouth was full. That’s how good it was, especially after all the fast food.
Connor sighed. I noticed he was only picking at his meal, while I was devouring mine. His gaze kept flicking to the picture over the mantle. Now that I was closer to it, I could see that it was a picture of a middle-aged man leaning over the edge of a boat and holding an enormous, freshly caught fish. He had a broad smile on his face, and I realized he looked an awful lot like Connor.
“Is that him?” I asked between mouthfuls. “Your father?”
He nodded. “He used to love fishing. He’d take me and my mother out, a long, long time ago. Those were good days.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Do you have a picture of her?”
Connor’s expression darkened. “No,” he said. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t show it. That bitch tore my father’s heart out. It’s what killed him in the end.”
I winced, hearing the way he said the word, ‘bitch.’ That tone was too familiar.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She left us. Left him. I wasn’t older than fucking four.”
He slammed his plate down on the coffee table.
“And after she was gone—taking all of his fucking money. The house. The boat. Everything—my father just kind of lost it. He went sailing in a storm. Never returned. Whether he did it on purpose … I’ll never know.”
I listened, letting the tragedy of the story wash over me. I wasn’t used to hearing such emotions in Connor’s voice, and they fascinated me.
He sighed and plucked his plate up again, pushing the bits of meat and stir fry around at random. “Anyway,” he continued. “After that I was on my own. You know anything about foster care? It fucking sucks. I thought that was it. And then the Devil’s Wings took me in. They’ve been family ever since.”
I blinked in amazement. So this explained Connor’s loyalty to the Devil’s Wings! At first, I had thought it had been a simple monetary, power thing. It gave him access to violence. But then, I realized that wasn’t it; it had given him access to family.
No wonder he did everything to put the motorcycle club first.
Finished, it was my turn to put down my plate. “I know a little bit about foster care,” I admitted. “My parents also died when I was young, and I was briefly in the system until Aunt … until Venus Michaels took me in. It wasn’t for long, but it was long enough to show me what a good woman Venus Michaels was.”
“She had a great reputation, even among bikers,” added Connor. “That’s really rare for a woman.”
At his words, I suddenly felt my grief welling up in me once more. Not knowing if it was okay, not knowing if he would get angry or kick me out, I leaned over and settled myself against him. My hand crept across his chest and rested contentedly over his beating heart.
I closed my eyes, waiting for his reaction. Would he be upset?
No. He wasn’t. Instead, he shifted as well, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and letting me lie close. It seemed crazy to me that this was the same man who had fucked me so violently earlier.
As if reading my mind, he suddenly whispered, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I when we found you at the Minghelli place, and I almost shot you, I was scared. And when I get scared, I get angry, so …”
I turned and kissed him on the jawline. “It’s okay,” I murmured back, closing my eyes again.
We rested like that for a few minutes while I breathed in the smell of him, wishing that that moment could have lasted forever.
Chapter Thirty
Connor
I was startled when I saw Princess trying to cuddle with me. I had figured she would be scared around me after how hard I’d fucked her, but I guess that wasn’t the case. In fact, she seemed to want to be even closer to me. What the hell? Not that I was complaining. Her
hair sure smelled nice right beneath my nose.
I let her rest like that. I figured that she’d been through a lot. Just as much as I had been, these past several days. Both of us needed to let loose. Relax a little bit.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Speak of the devil.
It was Joey, coming to see what I was up to. He seemed surprised to see Princess there, but knew better than to say anything about it. He knew that my sex life was my business, and mine alone.
“Hey, Connor!” he declared, as if everything was normal. “After all that craziness at the Minghelli estate, I figured it was time for us to have a little fun. What do you think?”
Princess stirred, extracting herself from my arm while I grinned back at him.
“Sure thing,” I said. “The casino?”
I knew it was a favorite of Joey’s, especially after a dangerous experience.
“Hell, yeah!” he agreed.
I got up, went to the closet to get my favorite leather jacket, and then returned to the couch for Princess. I noticed that while I was changing she’d had the decency to bring the dishes to the sink.
“Good girl,” I muttered. Then, to Joey, I said, “All right, Joe. I can meet you there. I just gotta bring Princess back to the compound—”
“Aw, come on,” he complained. “That’s miles out of our way. I know! Why don’t we bring her with us? It could be good to have a little arm candy there. Maybe she could snag us a few free drinks!”
I glanced at Princess. Even in the hodgepodge outfit she had pieced together from the whores’ clothes at the compound, she looked amazing.
“All right,” I said. “But we both have to keep an eye on her. This one has a knack for getting into trouble.”
She chuckled. This made me feel good, that she was able to laugh at herself and what had happened. “Don’t worry. I’ll behave!” she declared. “Besides, I love gambling!”
That didn’t surprise me. Princess had demonstrated her ample skill with money. It was only fitting that this would carry over into gambling.
“All right!” said Joey. “Let’s go!”
Together, we headed outside. Joey had parked his motorcycle right next to mine, and he mounted first, leading the way. Feeling energized, I leapt onto mine in a flash, and felt Princess mount the bike behind me with a really sexy amount of grace.
I revved the engine, and we were off!
The casino wasn’t far. In fact, it was right near the bay, very close to the Berth of Venus. I wondered how that would make Princess feel. Would she be sad? Relieved? I couldn’t be sure. Sometimes, she seemed more mysterious to me than any other human being I’d ever met. She was definitely excited to go to the casino. I could tell by the way she whooped with excitement on every turn of the bike.
At last, we arrived. In typical casino fashion, the parking lot and buildings were enormous and confusing. They wanted people so drunk and baffled that they had no choice but to return to the casino rather than finding their cars. Joey and I, however, had been there plenty of times, and knew all the tricks for finding close parking spaces and an easy way in.
We marched inside. It was an Indian casino, so it was done up to look like fake tribal lands, including a magnificent waterfall fountain at least thirty feet high right at the atrium, decorated with fake rocks and trees. Hundreds of people milled around it, often stopping to toss in a coin and make a wish. I studied them, loving the feeling of measured chaos I always sensed in a casino. There was heartbreak and rapture. Despair and hope. Riches and debt. Drunk people. High people. Smart people. Dumb people. You could find every kind of person there was at a casino, except the cautious.
And a Devil’s Wing was never cautious.
Not sure what Princess would prefer, I led our group first to the slot machines. I figured that they were easy to play and didn’t require that much skill. Princess seemed to notice, however, and raised an eyebrow at me.
“You’re a slot machine man?” she asked in disbelief. “I thought you’d be interested in something a little more aggressive than that.”
I cocked my eyebrow right back at are. “Like what?”
She nodded towards the back of the casino, where the private rooms were. “Like blackjack,” she said.
Joey’s eyes sparkled. He loved blackjack, even though he wasn’t really that good at it. “Come on, then!” he exclaimed. “As her majesty wishes!”
I rolled my eyes. Hey, if they wanted to lose money, that was their business. It occurred to me as we sat down, however, that Princess was unlikely to have any money at all. I leaned over to her and whispered, “Hey, Princess, what exactly did you plan to gamble with?”
She glared at me, completely unabashed. “Well, I was going to ask you for a loan of $100, with a promise that I will triple it before the end of the night.”
Joey heard and raised his eyebrows. “Triple?” he gasped. “Yeah, right.”
I scowled at her. “And what happens if you don’t make that money back?”
She shrugged and looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes. “Well, I’ll have to pay you back in kind, won’t I?”
Joey laughed and clapped her on the back. “Come on, Connor,” he needled. “Give her a shot. I like what this bitch is thinking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine! Triple it, Princess. Let’s see your stuff.”
I reached into my jacket for my wallet and pulled out several twenty dollar bills. Princess grinned greedily at the sight of them and snatched them from my hands. I expected her to sit right down at a table, but she didn’t. Instead, she gazed around the room, sizing up the different gamblers and dealers there.
“We want that one,” she said at last, pointing to a table in the far corner of the room. Her choice worried me. Grouped around that table were a large assortment of rich businessmen. I could tell by their expensive, hand-tailored suits. They looked way too wealthy to be dealing with the likes of Princess. Still, she seemed so sure of herself that I allowed her to go and sit down among them. Joey joined a lower stakes table nearby, while I decided simply to watch.
Let’s see those moneymaking skills prove themselves here, I thought.
Ten minutes later, she had turned my one hundred dollars into three hundred. I expected her to stand up and brag but she didn’t. She kept playing, her brow furrowed in thought even as her tits jutted out sexily. With some surprise, I noticed that many of the men sitting around that table were paying just as much attention to her as they were their own cards. She bit her lip, and I swore half of them sighed with longing. I suspected her strategy and found myself smiling.
Not long after that, Joey appeared by my side. His thumbs were sticking out of his pockets and he had an expression on his face that I knew meant that he had lost.
“You all right there, Joey?” I asked him.
He chuckled. “I’ll be all right,” he said. “How’s Princess?”
I nodded towards her blackjack table. Judging by the collective groan of the men seated there and her winning smile, she had just won another couple hundred dollars.
“Kicking ass,” I said.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Joey. “How did a whore learn to be so smart? It’s funny. If I didn’t know any better, I would say Princess is the real Farrah Michaels. Minghelli obviously wasn’t too impressed with the girl we rescued from his estate.”
I opened my mouth, unsure of how to respond. Should I tell Joey about my suspicions? It seemed a little too soon for that. I didn’t want to look like an idiot.
Princess rescued me from a response, for a second later she was up from her table and walking over.
“Here’s your threehundred,” she boasted, eyes gleaming. “And two … three … four hundred for me!”
“Why did you stop?” asked Joey. “By the looks of it, you could have cleaned those guys right up.”
Grinning, she pocketed the money. “You never stay at one table too long,” she said. “After a while, people start to figure
out your tricks, or at least that you’re tricking them. People are most vulnerable when they think they are safe.”
Joey and I gasped. We had heard that same quote before, plenty of times. It was something Sam Michaels used to say before dangerous ventures. Smitty had inherited it, and now almost every one of the Devil’s Wings took it to heart. ‘People are most vulnerable when they think they are safe.