His face turns beet red but he gives me a warning stare before shuffling back off to his table.
“Sorry about him, he’s still getting used to the idea that I chose the club.” She gives me a stiff smile.
“Don’t worry about it, so have you?” I ask, already getting tired of this charade.
It takes her a moment to catch on. “Oh, Jacques. Not since last night when he gave me a ride home.” She blushes but hides it quickly.
“Shit,” I say out loud and she flinches. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her face turns to worry and she starts biting her bottom lip while looking behind me. I turn my head and realize she’s staring at Smokey and he’s burning a hole right back into her, only his face looks a little menacing. I chuckle, I guess she turned him down.
“Well, thanks anyway, Poppy. Word of advice? Stay away from Kirby and Marshall.” I point out the two letches snorting coke off some broads rack.
“Err, thanks… I guess,” she stammers and I walk away wondering why in the hell I just said that.
I take a shower and curse at myself as I think about Jacques. Why haven’t I just called or text him? I pull out my cell and scroll through my contacts but can’t find him under Jacky Boy, so I keep scrolling.
Shit hot brother
I snort, he’s been on my cell again. Shaking my head, I press the call button but it just rings out. I hit end call and type out a text to him.
Shit hot brother? Really, Jacques? Shit-for-brains more like, you’re a big boy now but a text to let pop know you weren’t coming home wouldn’t go amiss. Where the fuck are you?
I throw it next to me on my bed and flip through the channels on the old TV set in the corner of the room. I sigh when nothing comes up and decide to go shoot some pool in the common area. Reaching for some sweatpants, I throw them on, pull a black t-shirt over my head, pocket my cell and head out the door. My eyes widen as I enter the common area, we need to start setting some boundaries.
I turn around the way I came and stride off toward Pres’ office. When I get there, I bang on it with my fist until he swings it open.
“What?” He grinds out, clearly annoyed by my persistent knocking but I don’t give a shit.
“We gotta talk about the shit that’s going on in the common area. This is a clubhouse, not a brothel. And since when has it been okay for the brother’s to snort half our shipment?” I ask, trying to tamp down my temper.
His brow quirks up as a smirk graces his face and he walks out toward the common area. He leans against the wall and watches as drugs are passed around everywhere and Smokey has Ella, one of his favorite club broads, up against the bar giving us all a show.
“Didn’t take you for a prude, Bear,” he states.
“You can’t seriously tell me you’re okay with this?” I wave my hand around the room. “We’re an MC, not a drug den. You sure as hell know that this shit wouldn’t fly back in the day, so why you letting it happen now?” My temper has got the best of me and I raise my voice, getting a little too close to him.
He presses off the wall he’s leaning against and braces up to me, standing to his whole six-foot, but it’s nothing on my six-foot three height.
“You questioning my authority again, Bear?” He growls. “I think I’ve had enough of your opinions, don’t like how we run things here? You know where the door is.”
Only he and I both know it wouldn’t be that easy. They’d come after me, I know too much to not only incriminate this chapter, but other chapters of The Crows Rebels too.
We both stand there, chest to chest, neither one wanting to move before the other. Probably a stupid move, but I decide to taunt him. “The only reason you’re letting this shit go down is because you’re clutching at straws, you know as well as I do that they’d replace your ass in a heartbeat if you didn’t let them get away with this. You took their right to vote away from them three years ago and you know they haven’t forgotten.”
My lip quirks up into an arrogant smile, thinking I’ve won as he turns to walk away. That is until I feel his fist slam into my jaw before I’ve even registered he’s turned back around.
I run at him and tackle him to the ground, raining punches down onto his face, one after the other so we’re rolling around the floor tearing into each other. Or that’s what’s happening in my head. Instead, I stand there, rooted to the spot, chest heaving wanting to pound ten tons of shit into him, but he knows I won’t. He could have me dead with a click of his fingers.
He smirks at me and looks around the room at all the brother’s who haven’t took their eyes off us.
“If you don’t have a set of balls, I want you out of this clubhouse,” he growls, eyeing all the broads in the room when they don’t move.
“Now!” He shouts.
They all squeal, grab their things, and run out the front door.
“And all of you lot, clean up this clusterfuck, the fun’s over!” Pop chimes in.
Pres eyes me and pop and nods toward his office. I guess the fun isn’t over just yet.
I can’t focus on anything else but the pain. It radiates from every limb, crevice and part of the body that I can name. But nothing hurts as bad as my spirit. I’m trying to be strong, to keep that part of me ticking over but it’s only a matter of time before he breaks me.
No! You’re stronger than this, Keeley! I tell myself.
I imagine the faces of everyone I love, or should I say Sam’s face. She wasn’t just a friend to me, she was my sister, is my sister regardless of who we were born to. Then I picture Lewis’s face, I was just starting to get to know him but I already saw him as a good friend. He’s loyal and kind and I needed that in my life more than I realized.
I smile at the same time as a lone tear makes a track down my face, and I swipe it away as I hear footsteps walking toward me, not wanting him to see me cry. I brace up against the wall, steeling myself for whatever he has in store for me next.
He walks in with a first aid box and I scoff at him.
What is his deal?
He sees me eyeing it.
“Can’t have you dying on me from an infection, can we?” He quips, humor dripping from his voice.
He’s not right in the head, he never has been. He motions for me to sit in the chair again and gives me a look of disgust as I woozily stand up. “You fuckin’ stink, come with me.”
He grabs hold of my wrist and I struggle limply against him, I don’t have the energy to fight and I feel like I’m going to throw up at any moment. He drags me down the dirty hallway into a room with a sink, making my knee scream out in pain but he doesn’t stop, roughly pushing me into the wall and warning me not to move. I watch him as he disappears. This is it, my chance to escape! I limp to the door but I’m pushed back by a hard body.
“Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” He asks in frustration.
Backing me up into a corner, he turns and starts filling up a metal bucket he brought in with him and I try to cover my body as he leers over at me.
Once it’s full, he turns around and leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Strip,” he sneers.
My eyes widen and I cross my arms over my body and shake my head. There’s no way I’m doing that.
Clicking his tongue, he stalks toward me.
“I. Said. Strip,” he spits.
“And I said no,” I manage to grind out.
He roughly grasps me by the chin and squeezes. “You want to be left caked in your own filth? Be my guest.”
My chest heaves and he just stands there, assessing me, wondering what I’m going to do. I don’t know myself, this may be the only chance I have at washing the dried up blood, puke and grime off my fragile body.
I turn around, my feet crying out for the comfort of the black fluffy rug that’s in my bedroom, and start to take off my soiled clothes. My shorts go first, then my tank top. I’m left standing in my bra and panties and I stave off a whimper as I u
ndo the clasp of my bra and let it fall to the floor. His hiss of breath makes me feel sick and I hurry to take off my panties.
I feel disgusted at myself, at him. I feel violated. My hands cover up all of my important parts and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, taking me far away from this place. I’m taken back to the beach in Little Hollow, what is a harsh reminder of a tragic accident for Sam, is a happy place for me.
He runs his calloused fingers down my spine and I tense up, wishing for it to be over. He walks away and I hear the the sound of metal scraping against something, putting me on high alert and I curl in on myself as the first bucket of icy cold water hits my skin. It feels like a thousand little pin pricks are hitting me all at the same time.
I shake profusely, awaiting the next one as he fills the bucket up again. “You’re going to have to turn that sweet little ass around if you want me to get all of you.”
I stifle a sob as my teeth chatter, keeping my eyes tightly closed, I turn around and immediately the bucket of water is emptied over my skin. He does this several times over but I don’t feel clean. I feel dirty at the thought of his eyes perusing my body. Seeing for the first time what I’d never let him see when I was younger.
I dare to take a look out of one eye when the water stops and he’s standing there, hand in his jeans, stroking himself. It makes me whimper and I sink to the floor, wishing for it to open and swallow me up.
I hear him grunt and his retreating footsteps tell me he’s gone. Should I make the move now? I can hardly put any pressure on my leg because of my knee so I don’t know how far I’d get, but my thoughts are interrupted as five minutes later, he comes walking in the room and an itchy blanket is wrapped around my shivering form.
He tries to get me up but I’m stiff. My bones are that frozen to the core that he growls in agitation and picks me up instead of waiting for me to hobble back to the prison he’s keeping me in.
I feel like prey. Like a cornered, helpless animal unable to do anything against the predator that is trying to break me before going in for the kill.
Surprisingly, everything is clean when he places me on the chair back in the room. He must’ve cleaned up my puke and blood. Why?
He’s still standing over me and I flinch as his hand wraps around the blanket and he tucks it over me. He stalks around the back of me again and I instantly curl into myself as he swipes my dripping wet hair to the side to look at the wound he’s created.
“Would you stop shaking, this needs to be stitched and I can’t do it with you moving about like that,” he bites out.
I squeal and hop out the chair, jaring my knee as I do so but not really caring as I press my back against the wall to get away from him.
“You’re not going anywhere near me with a needle!” I scream in fright and his lip curls up.
“Sweet girl, you’re forgetting my number one rule. What. I. Say. Goes.” With each word, he takes calculated steps toward me.
I’ve had enough. “And I think you’re forgetting that I don’t give a flying fuck what you say!” I grit out.
His face changes from surprise, to humor, to anger all in the space of ten seconds and I await my punishment on baited breath. He’s an inch away from my face, so close I can smell what he ate for lunch mixed with body odor and leather. “Fine. I hope it gets infected and you rot from the inside out.”
He kicks out my good leg and I land with a thud onto my injured knee, crying out.
He just couldn’t stand that I won that one, and it won’t be the last either, I won’t let him break me. I watch him leave me there on the floor and I shiver and cry for all I’m worth.
“You think you can do a better job at being Pres than me?” Pres asks as soon as the door to his office is shut.
Does he really want me to answer that?
“I warned you, Bear. I told you to bring anything straight to me, privately.”
His fists slam down on his desk and I just sit back in my chair lazily, unaffected by his show of authority. “I think you’re forgetting I did. You’re the one-”
Pops gives me a shake of his head.
“I’m the one that what, Bear?” He hisses, narrowing his eyes at me.
“If you had better control, Pres, this shit wouldn’t be happening. And you know I’m not the only one that thinks it,” I counter, raising a brow at him.
He sits in his chair and runs his fingers through his salt and pepper hair, but doesn’t say anything.
I continue, “Taz is your downfall, he always vetoes anything you ever say. He has no concern for the safety of this club, he enjoys getting fucked up and fucked so much that it’s made him blind to what really matters here.”
“That’s my brother you’re talking about,” he warns.
I sit forward, leaning my elbows on my knees. “You think I give a rats ass about who he is? You know as well as I do that everything I just said is true.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Not now!” Pop shouts.
“Err, Bear, Snake? You’re needed out here,” a muffled voice calls through the door.
“We said not now!” Pres shouts.
“Jacky Boy is back, he doesn’t look so hot,” they say again, and I’m out my chair quicker than the both of them, throwing open the door and running toward the common area.
My fists ball up as I take in the sight before me. Jacques is swaying side to side with a bottle of jack attached to his hand, taking long glugs straight from the source. He has a cut on his eyebrow and his jaw is starting to turn a nasty shade of purple.
What the hell has he been up to?
We all stand and watch until his eyes roam the room, landing on me.
“‘Sup, bro,” he slurs with a lazy grin.
“Jacques, you alright?” I ask, proceeding with caution.
There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before, one I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Pop asks, interrupting us.
I close my eyes and sigh as Jacques throws the bottle back and gulps before answering him. “I’m a big boy now, don’t have to let you know where I am twenty-four seven, pops.” He laughs it off but he’s being deadly serious.
“Pop, I’ll look after him tonight.” I say and he nods. “We’ll continue our conversation in the morning.” I direct the words at Pres and he scowls at me but I ignore him, I’ve got more important things to worry about.
Where’s Jacques been? And who would mess up his face like that?
Whoever it was, I’m going to kill them. Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it.
When I turn to help Jacques to my room, he’s gone. Prospect Whitey points to the back door and I push it open leisurely to find him sitting at one of the benches outside with a bottle of vodka he must’ve snagged on his way out. I sit down next to him and rest my elbows on the wooden top, looking up at the stars.
“It’s a big ass world out there, full of more people than you could possibly ever meet. And you happen to manage to bump into people that would have a problem with you.” I state but he doesn’t say anything. “Where’ve you been, Jacques?” I prompt.
He sways and looks sideways at me but doesn’t say anything. His face is full of anguish, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this, not since mom died anyway.
He looks away and lazily picks up the vodka bottle but I take it off him before he puts it to his mouth.
“No you don’t, I think you’ve had enough.” I state.
His face changes and he seems to sober up a little. “Fuck you, Hunter. You’re not my pop.”
My head jolts back as if he physically hit me. He’s never spoken to me like that in all his eighteen years, and I sure as shit won’t put up with it now. I grab him by his t-shirt scruff and pull him toward me.
“No, I’m not. I’m your brother! Don’t ever talk to me like that again. If I say enough is enough, you fucking listen, got it?”
I’m inches away from his face so I s
ee the telltale sign of the waterworks starting and pull him up and through the side door so no one will see him. I’m practically dragging him as he hangs his head in his hands and sobs, real heart wrenching sobs.
My heart constricts.
Something’s not right.
I get him on my bed and he rolls onto his side, hugging the pillow for comfort. I’m completely out my element, I don’t know what to do, so I just let him get it all out until I hear the sound of soft snores telling me he’s passed out.
I sit on the edge of my bed and hang my head in my hands. Seeing him like that tears me up inside, there’s ten years between us but we’ve always been close. We’ve always done everything together. I’ll get him to tell me what’s up in the morning, he needs to open up to me so I can get to the bottom of this.
Fuck! Has he been in trouble this whole time and I didn’t notice? Why hasn’t he told me?
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He cries and I jump at the noise.
At first I think he’s talking to me until his snores resume. He’s sleep talking. What’s he sorry for? And who is he talking to?
“I had no choice.” He slurs again.
Now I know there’s something up. My knee bobs up and down in an agitated rhythm, I can’t get to sleep in this mood. I don’t want to leave him on his own for too long but I need to get myself a drink to help lull me to sleep. I pull the door shut behind me and walk down the hallway, I don’t hear any noise so everybody must’ve cleared out or gone to bed.
I silently thank Jacques for that one, I can’t be bothered to deal with anyone right now, I can’t answer the questions they’d want to know the answers to. I step behind the bar and add ice cubes to a tumbler, the front door to the clubhouse opens and before I’ve even had a chance to think, I’m ducking down hiding from whoever it is. Like I said, I can’t deal with anyone right now and by the sounds of it, they aren’t in a much better mood than me.
A crash echoes in the empty room as if something has been thrown against the wall, then the slur of curse words come shortly after. I don’t even need to look over the bar to see who it is, the harsh tone of the voice giving him away.
When I'm With You (Little Hollow #2) Page 12