by Carina Adams
I stood straight, arms crossed over my chest, and stared back. There could be so many things he was talking about right now. “Really.”
“And Taylor…?”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish—he’d seen the ring. I knew what he was going to say because we’d had this argument before. “Has no bearing in this at all. This is my life. One I can’t live without the woman in there, and I shouldn’t have to.”
“No one said a fucking thing about living without her…” He stopped when the look of fury crossed my face, narrowing his eyes as he watched me. After a few seconds, his face cleared and he nodded. “Congratulations, Brothah. She’s a fuckin’ handful.”
I laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Tiny came around the corner, stopping abruptly. “Theah you ahh. We’re all waitin’.” Without missing a beat he asked, “Rough night, Mateo? Looks like you mighta forgotten somethin’ somewhere.” He tapped the side of his cheek as if wondering what was different about me, checking out my bare chest and feet.
I smiled. “Yeah. Jo’s holding ‘em hostage until I go back and finish what we started. This way I can’t run away.”
“Why in fucks sake would ya wanna run away?” Tiny whistled. “Ya bettah hurry. You don’t wanna keep a screamah like her waitin’. Fuck me! I’m gonna be dreaming of her moans for weeks.” I chuckled as I followed him to the common room. Jo was going to kill me when she realized everyone knew what we’d spent our morning doing. I couldn’t have been happier. Even if they hadn’t heard it, news traveled fast, and now every single one of these assholes knew that if they touched her—hell, if they even thought about touching her—they would have their ass handed to them.
I was surprised at the amount of people hanging around our main room. It hadn’t seemed like that many people were home last night. As we navigated our way across the room, I nodded to a few ol’ ladies and smiled at a couple of the girls. But, when a short redhead bounced off her stool and wandered towards me, a feeling of dread hit.
Fractured memories played like a movie—a hug, laughing as we took shots, a hand on my thigh, stolen kisses that made my blood hot. Every single one was a blur, a mixture of Jo’s hands and face and Rebel’s voice, or Rebel’s hands and face and Jo’s tits and voice telling me she loved me. I couldn’t tell what was real. Fuck!
“Mateo, you don’t have time,” Rob grunted, almost bumping into me when I stopped dead, but I only held up a finger.
“Mornin’.” I never took my eyes off her. She smiled brightly in answer and guilt hit. I’d known Rebel for a long time—almost as long as I’d known Joes. She’d been the comforting arms I’d fallen into more than once, and even though I knew she wanted more, I’d still taken what she’d offered and promised nothing in return. That was her job, but thinking about it now made me feel like a dirty old man. At one point, I had wondered if the two of us could have a future, but that had been before I’d met Taylor. Back when I was still struggling with the fact that I was in love with a married woman I didn’t think I’d ever have.
Even after I started dating Taylor, Rebel had made it perfectly clear she still wanted me. I’d ignored it, thinking she’d move on eventually. She hadn’t. I prayed to Christ I hadn’t given her false hope last night. I was a lot of things, but I would never intentionally hurt her or Joes that way. “I don’t have time to talk right now. Later, yeah?”
She put her hand on my arm, stopping my escape. “Was that her Mateo? The woman here last night?”
I nodded, not needing her to explain. I hadn’t fucked one of the Brats in years, and even though they still tried to steal my attention, they knew I had someone special. Searching her green and brown eyes, looking for any sign that she was going to drop a bomb and blow Jo and me apart, I offered her a small smile.
I couldn’t have been that drunk, could I? I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d had so much booze that I’d woken up and not recalled the night before—or the woman that was in my bed—but I hadn’t had that much last night. I could remember Rebel next to me, asking me what was wrong, but the next clear memory was a hand sliding up my thigh and grabbing my junk. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m never drinking again!
Hoping I was at least remaining calm on the outside, I nodded again. “Yeah. That’s her. She’s in my room now.” I wasn’t sure why I felt it necessary to add the last part, but something told me it needed to be said.
She sighed in a resigned way, as if she had something say. Then, as if thinking better of it, she shook her head and raised an eyebrow. “So that’s Jo?” I nodded. She pursed her lips. “She’s not at all what I pictured.” Why did everyone say that? Before I could ask, Rebel gave me a fleeting smile and let go of my arm. “If she hurts you again, I’ll kick her ass.”
I watched as she turned and walked back to her table. Shaking my head, I turned towards the end of the room, relief flooding me. If I had kissed her, or let her touch me, she would have said something. That meant the memories I had were all of Jo. I practically whooped in relief, but saw that Rob was holding the door open for me, the look of annoyance barely masked on his face.
The room was full, bikers squished in like sardines. I squeezed by my brothers and to my empty seat at the table, Rocker sitting next to me at the head. Scanning the room, I realized that all eleven officers were here for the first time in a few years, and almost every patched member of the Bastards had crowded in around us. I’d missed something. Something big.
My heart started to pound frantically as I looked around the table. My brothers looked worried. Across from me, Hawk shifted and I met his eyes. He looked half-panicked. Next to him, Tank was flexing his jaw muscles and kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Was he pissed that Rocker called him back early? He was supposed to be with his ol’ lady this weekend, right? That’s why Jessie cancelled last night. Or, were we about to find out about a job that would take us away from our loved ones for a long period of time? Fuck. I didn’t want to leave Jo already.
Rob called the meeting to order and the room fell silent. There was no beating around the bush this morning, as Rob’s speech was brief and to the point. Tinkerbelle, Tank’s Ol’ Lady, was missing. No one had seen her for more than two weeks. The neighbors said she left for work one night and hadn’t been home since, but the hospital where she worked said she called the same night and told them she had a family emergency out of state and didn’t know when she’d get back.
Robbery was out. Her house hadn’t been trashed, but it also didn’t look like she’d packed any clothes. The only thing Tank and Jessie found missing was her cell phone—even her iPod and laptop were left on her desk.
Tiny cleared his throat. “I hate to be the one that says it, ‘cause you all know my history with Pixie, but maybe she just didn’t want to see you, Brothah. You got out early, and she may not have been ready.”
History was the nice way of saying Tiny had staked a claim to the crazy bitch. She’d chosen to stay a club girl though, taking offense to the fact that Tiny already had a wife outside of the club. Tank had been smitten, and moved in on what Tiny had considered his, claiming her once he realized he couldn’t handle the idea of her screwing any of us. It had taken a while, but eventually she’d given in and agreed to be Tank’s ol’ lady. It’d been hilarious to watch unfold, seeing the little woman bring two giant men to their knees. In the process, her name had gone from Pixie to Tinker Bell, Tink for short, the latter fitting her so much better. To some of us, like Rob and Tiny, she’d always be Pixie though.
I nodded at Tiny’s point. “You didn’t exactly leave things on the besta terms. Maybe she needed a little more time.”
Tank slid the glare he’d been giving Tiny in my direction, and I tried to hide my smile. Instead, I turned to our Prez, curious as to why this was important enough to call court. Rob read my look instantly, jutting his chin in Tank’s direction.
Tank swallowed hard and then pulled a picture from inside his cut. “This was the
only thing out of place. She always kept it next to the bed—even when we stayed here. I found it on the counter in the kitchen, like it was left out so I wouldn’t miss it.” Hatred crossed his features as he held the photo out to me. “I grabbed it before Jess could see.”
I’d seen the picture before. It had been taken on a Toy Run a few years ago. Tink and Tank stood in front of his bike, the White Mountains in the distance. The image had been mutilated, though. An X was crossed over his face, while Tink’s had been scratched away, a giant number 2 in its place. Every ounce of humor left me as I realized what this was saying, and I thought of another number etched into a woman’s face. My fists clenched and I reluctantly passed the picture to my left. Bear tensed, hands gripping the edge of the table as he saw the message.
There were murmurs around us as the print was passed around. Any thoughts anyone had about Tink hiding herself or running from Tank evaporated as the reality struck. They’d said they were coming for us, and apparently, they were coming now.
No one knew who this elusive they was. Last summer, Bear had been out with his girl when they’d been attacked. He wasn’t wearing colors and there was no way to know he was a Bastard—unless someone had been watching him. A group of men had jumped them, dragged them into a van, and beaten Ian while holding a gun on her. Then, they’d taken turns brutalizing Ellie while forcing Ian to watch. He’d fought them with everything he’d had, but they’d only beaten him more.
When they were done taking turns with her body, they’d left the ultimate memory ingrained on her skin. A giant number 1 carved into her forehead. Then, they’d dropped them off the same place they’d taken them from with a warning for Ian—they were coming for us, and we’d never know when they’d hit again. I could still hear his voice telling us the story, and that, mixed with the image of a broken young woman in a hospital bed, made me sick to my stomach now.
The reality was sobering. Rocker tried to keep order, but there were panicked questions and angry declarations. Should we go into lockdown? Could it be a copycat? Why Tink and Ellie—what made them targets and were the rest of the Ol’ ladies safe? What else did we know? We needed to figure out who was behind this and take down these pricks before anyone else got hurt. We would find them, and we would kill them. Slowly.
In the end, Rob had to raise his voice to get control of the meeting. His words were stern, but we trusted him. There was no need for a lockdown because we wouldn’t be able to destroy an unknown enemy. However, like last summer, we would go on alert. Ol’ ladies, sisters, cousins, and protected moms would not be left alone. Children would be taken to and from school, and the clubhouse would become a daycare for non-school hours. The Brats, as our club whores called themselves, would buddy up—even if they objected—and would not go anywhere alone. We would be vigilant and more aware of our surroundings.
The vote went around the table and we agreed. The eleven of us sat as the rest of the club filed out, everyone somber and in a hurry to get home and hug their loved ones or pull one of the girls into their room and release some tension. As the door closed, Rob leaned forward, worry etched on his face.
“Tell me we’ve got somethin’ on this prick. Anythin’,” he demanded.
Wizard, our computer whiz kid that could find anything about anyone, shook his head. “I have her drivin’ through a traffic light on the way to work. She’s alone in the cah. She nevah pulled into the lot. So, somewhere from the light on Western Main to Elm, she went missin’. There isn’t a single security camera in the area. Whoever got her knew they were in a blind zone.” He sighed, tapping a few more keys on his tablet before adding, “The security system in her house wasn’t triggered. But, they were disabled ten minutes aftah she went to work, right about the time she was drivin’ through the light where I got a time stamped picture. Twenty minutes later, whoever was in the house left and reactivated the alarms.”
“Do any of you have any idea of possible perps?” Hawk asked, sounding like his dad. “I can’t plan an attack if I don’t know who I’m goin’ aftah. Give me somethin’, anythin’, to investigate, and I’m on it.”
King shook his head, typing away on his own iPad. “We’re still diggin’. We’re lookin’ at anyone that has a grudge. Every dad. Every husband, boyfriend, and sleaze ball. Every mom. So far, the only one that’s made parole hasn’t bothered to come home or even call his family.”
Wiz sighed. “If we just had one single clue, I’d blow it out of the watah.”
But, we didn’t. Whoever this was, he was smart. He knew we’d be watching. Breaking into her house while Tink was very obviously somewhere else proved that she hadn’t defaced the picture herself. Making sure she made it to the light, but not to the hospital, made it clear they knew where to kidnap her. Just like with Ian and Ellie, this was not a spur of the moment attack—it had been well thought out. There was no sloppy evidence left behind. We wouldn’t know who did it until they got sloppy or until they came forward. If they got sloppy, that meant they were panicking, which meant they would kill. A ransom demand would be much better.
As Rob closed the meeting and dismissed us, Neo caught my eye. He hadn’t said much during the meeting, but sitting between Tank and Wiz, he probably hadn’t had a chance. Now, though, he nodded his head to the side of the room and stood up.
“Drop L.K. off at the gym this afternoon.” I didn’t need him to explain more as I walked towards him. He knew she was the only woman involved in this that didn’t know how to take care of herself. “I’ll be there in an hour, and I’ll stay as long as it takes.”
I nodded, walking around him and into the main room. I was still numb. This was how we lived. When you were the vigilante group, you took on someone else's fight as your own, and fought their battles because they couldn’t. But, it brought the war to your front door. I hated that Joes was here in the middle of this shit now. I needed to get to my room, pull her into my arms, and prove to myself she was safe.
Then I needed to call my boss. There was no way in hell I was going back to Maine and leaving Jo here alone. Yeah, my brothers would keep an eye on her, protect her if she needed it, but, if something happened to her… I couldn’t even let the thought finish because it made me too sick. Maybe it was time for me to give my notice anyway. Jo was building a life here, and I needed to be where she was.
Chapter 25
Jo
I’d waited until long after I heard the two of them walk down the hall before I slipped from the bed and sprinted into the bathroom. I didn’t want anyone else to walk in the room and see me buck ass naked again. My cheeks were still burning. I’d never gotten caught going down on anyone before—not even my unpredictable roommate in college had seen me doing that to Will, and she’d come home at the most random times to find us in many sexual poses. Of course it would be Rocker that would literally catch me with a dick in my mouth.
Laughing to myself, I grabbed a cup of water, wrapped a towel around me, and walked slowly back to bed. I needed coffee, but Matty had told me to stay here and that was exactly what I was going to do. I’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime walking around this clubhouse alone, and I had absolutely no desire to repeat that mistake.
I propped myself against his pillows, smelling his musky scent on the bed, and smiled. God, I was so happy that I could seriously scream. Had it really been just over a week ago that I’d told Teagan I was sure Matty would never forgive me for moving to Boston? I’d been so convinced that I’d blown it, and now I was in his room, in his bed, and I was most definitely his.
Looking around, I realized that his room was exactly what I would expect—simple and tasteful, even in the middle of a motorcycle clubhouse. It was clean, unlike some of the other rooms I’d seen that had empty bottles strewn everywhere, and the light blue walls made the room seem larger than the others. It was quite bare. A giant Bastards flag hung on one wall and pictures of Sammy were on every available surface. Except for next to his bed. That held ‘our’ picture—the one I h
ad kept on my desk for years, and the one he had on the nightstand at our apartment. We were young, I’d been maybe 25 and he’d been around 28, just babies compared to now. His arm was thrown around my shoulders in that brotherly way he used to hug me, and we were laughing at whoever was taking the picture. We looked like a happy couple without a trouble in the world. It made me miss the kids we used to be.
I picked up my left hand, staring at the ring. Reaching out with my other hand, I twirled it on my finger. Yes, it was real. Matty had really proposed, and I’d really said yes. Holy shit! Young, womanizing whore Matty would never have asked me to spend eternity with him, so maybe I didn’t miss our younger selves as much as I’d thought.
The idea made me realize that there were so many things we needed to talk about, so many secrets we still had buried, and so many things to work through. I had been ready to demand answers when I’d gotten home last night, but seeing him at the bar, devastated and drinking his pain away, brought back every memory I had of him from ten years ago, when Bex had left him. That reminder was as effective as a sharp slap in the face. My life would be nothing without that man and I could not lose him. While I was still very curious about everything, I wanted to push it away and just be happy, at least for a little while.
Looking at the ring made me realize that, for the first time in years, I wasn’t worried. Being with Matty was so different than being with Will. I didn’t have to wonder if I was going to come home to a husband that rejected me and made me feel like I was hideous inside and out. Matty would spend eternity helping me battle those demons. And I would do the same for him.
Over the past few days, I’d come to the conclusion that even though I might not look like Taylor, or that beautiful girl that had been with him last night—Rebel was it?—I was what Matty wanted. Me. Cellulite, stretch marks, pudge, and all. It was my body that made him hard, my body that had him gasping out in pleasure for hours on end. It was my mind he loved. I was awkward, geeky, stubborn, and had the tendency to say the most inappropriate thing at the most inappropriate time. He loved me anyway.