Rooter (Double H Romance)

by Smith, Teiran

  His eyes go wide with shock and he takes a small step forward. “What?”

  “That’s right. Babe is one hundred percent take it up the ass gay! I’m not fucking anyone and I’m not a slut.”

  I turn to walk away, but am brought to a standstill by Rooter’s firm grip on my arm. He spins me around and crashes his lips against mine.

  I shove Rooter away and slap his face with all my might causing him to grimace and his body to tense. Both of us are panting.

  “Don’t touch me!” I roar.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathes with a pained expression. “I shouldn’t have—” I don’t allow him to finish.

  “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have.”

  But then the memory of his lips on mine, however brief a time it was, comes to mind. They were so soft, and warm, and their sweet taste still lingers. My mind races. I’m pissed off and confused. I hate the way he’s treated me and the things he accused me of. But I’ve wanted him for so long. Part of me still does. A really big part. But not this way. Not like this. I turn to walk away, and to my surprise, relief and dismay, he lets me go.

  The moment I close the living room door, tears pour from my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but rather because I’m utterly overwhelmed.

  “Oh my God.” Miranda rushes to my side. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Rooter accused me of being a slut and we got into a fight and then he kissed me and then I hit him.” The words fly out in one rushed sentence.

  Miranda takes me by the hand and leads me to the sofa. She sits next to me and rubs my arm in a comforting manner. I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand.

  “He accused you of what?”

  “He thought I’ve been sleeping with Ryan, and then he saw me with Hayden last night, and then saw Ryan leave just now.”

  “Then why did he kiss you?” She asks, confused.

  “Because I told him Ryan is gay and that I’m not fucking anyone.”

  Her eyes go wide and a look of amusement forms on her face. “So, he was jealous.”

  I perk up. This hadn’t occurred to me due to my state of upset. “You know, I think you’re right.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow.” My mind goes back to the kiss, my mind stuck on the idea that Rooter was jealous. There’s no other explanation.

  “How does that make you feel? That he might have been jealous?”

  I take a deep breath, allowing myself a moment to think before answering. I feel a lot of things, and it’s all difficult to sort through.

  “Truthfully, I like it. But, after everything that’s happened, I don’t know…” I don’t finish the sentence. There’s no need because Miranda understands what I mean better than I do.

  Shortly thereafter I hear Rooter’s motorcycle as he speeds away.

  I sit with Miranda in her room, reading gossip magazines and smutty romance novels about highlanders and damsels in distress while she studies for her upcoming exam. Though we don’t talk much, her presence is enough to calm my nerves.

  Around five thirty she takes a break from studying and we head to the kitchen to cook dinner; ramen noodles—the college girl special. Beef flavor for her, chicken for me. We sit at the dining room table and eat in silence. The great thing about Miranda is she knows when I need to be quiet; when I need to take time and sort my thoughts, but don’t want to be alone while I do it.

  I take the last bite of my noodles when Rooter’s bike comes roaring into his driveway. After dismounting the motorcycle he stands, helmet in hand, staring at me as though he’s debating coming over. Again, I’m both relieved and dismayed when he opens his back door and goes into his house.

  “You want to talk to him,” Miranda says. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Yeah,” I admit, “but not yet. I’m not ready.”

  “Well, when you’re ready, I have a feeling he’ll be waiting.” She gets up, takes our bowls to the kitchen and places them in the sink while I continue to stare at Rooter’s house. “Want to watch a movie until we fall asleep?”

  Mike walks into the living room and plops onto the couch and turns on ESPN. It’s the only television with cable in the house. He pays for it so he can watch Sports Zone, so we can’t very well tell him to go away. He may not be reliable on the rent every month, but he makes sure to pay the cable bill on time.

  “We can watch a DVD in my room,” I propose.

  After changing into our pajamas and popping in a DVD we’ve watched a thousand times, we crawl onto my bed with a bag of microwave popcorn and two sodas. Twenty minutes into the movie, the light in Rooter’s room comes on and grabs my attention.

  He sits at the edge of his bed, arms on his knees, head in his hands. When he looks up his eyes meet mine. I watch as he pulls out his phone and types something. In an instant, my phone pings with his motorcycle ringtone. I pause the movie and grab my phone from the bedside table.

  Rooter: I promise to leave u alone, but I want to tell u I’m sorry. For everything.

  I stare at the screen, trying to process the myriad of thoughts coursing through my mind. I glance at him. He’s looking at his phone, perhaps awaiting my response.

  “Is it him?” Miranda asks and I nod. “What does it say?”

  I hand her the phone. She reads the text then hands it back.

  After a long minute and a half, I decide how to respond. I look to his window and he’s still sitting on his bed, but this time, looking at me with a forlorn expression.

  Me: Thank you for your apology. I haven’t decided whether or not I want you to leave me alone (and I will be the one to make that decision). I’ll let you know when I do.

  I hit send and watch as he reads my text. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. He shakes his head and types again.

  “What did you text him?” Miranda asks and I hand her the phone. It pings again, and she gives it back.

  Rooter: That’s fair.

  Assuming our conversation is over, I lay the phone next to me and we resume the movie. Although the movie is one of my favorites, I can’t concentrate on it. All I can think about is the way Rooter’s lips felt against mine, and the somber, sincere expression he wore when he was sitting on his bed texting me.

  A half hour later, Rooter’s bedroom light goes out. My window is open, allowing in the cool evening air. His bed faces his window so if he’s in it he can see me. I wonder if he’s watching me. My phone pings.

  Rooter: Good night Sophie.

  A warm feeling falls over me and I smile. I bet he’s watching me.

  Me: Good night Rooter.

  I’m in a deep sleep when I’m abruptly torn from my bed. A deafening scream escapes my lips and a large hand covers my mouth to quiet me. I bite down on the skin until I taste blood. A man curses and I scream again.

  “Let me go!” I thrash about, trying to pry myself from his grip, but it’s useless. He’s too strong.

  I try to remember the instructions my self-defense teacher gave me, but I draw a blank. Not knowing what else to do, I continue screaming and writhing, terrified, trying desperately to get away.

  “Shut up, or I’ll kill you right now,” the man snarls and hauls me from my room.

  Miranda is screaming as I’m being dragged down the stairs. She and her captor are following behind. Once we’re downstairs, the men toss us onto the living room floor. Mike is tied to a dining room chair across the room, his mouth covered in duct tape. He’s crying.

  “On your knees,” Miranda’s captor commands us.

  I scramble to my knees and peer up at our assailants. The two of them are wearing all black with matching face masks.

  “Your boy here owes us a lot of money,” the man continues. “We’ve waited patiently for him to come up with it. We’re done waiting.”

  My captor walks to where Mike is sitting. “We aren’t leaving here until we collect in either cash or blood,” he explains.

  A chill creeps up my spine. This is the kind o
f story you hear about on the news and read in the paper. You never dream it will happen to you. My entire body trembles and my breaths are fast and shallow. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I don’t know how much money Mike owes these thugs, but based on their actions, it must be a lot. Neither of us have any money. I presume there’s only one way this standoff will end; with one or all of us dead. I glower at Mike, disgusted. How did he lose his way to this degree? I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize it was this serious.

  “Mike says knows where he can get the cash,” the other man says.

  “You girls are going to be—”

  Before he can finish his sentence, Rooter comes around the corner, grabs him by the throat and puts a gun to his temple. Rooter’s eyes flash to mine then to the guy standing above Miranda who reaches for his own gun.

  “Move another inch and I’ll put a bullet through this fuck’s skull,” Rooter threatens menacingly, eyes bulging, nostrils flaring.

  Chapter 11

  Double H Protection

  “Sophie,” Rooter says, never taking his eye off the perpetrator, “go get your gun.”

  Without hesitating, I sprint up the stairs taking them two at a time to my room to retrieve my thirty eight from my purse. I dash back downstairs and point the gun at the man across the room from Rooter. No one has moved a muscle.

  “Keep it on him,” Rooter tells me and then forces the man he’s holding the gun on to the floor. “Tape his feet together,” he tells Miranda.

  She jumps up from her position on the floor and hurries to follow out Rooter’s orders.

  “If you even think about touching her, I’ll blow your brains all over this floor,” Rooter growls at the guy as she wraps the tape around his ankles. “Make it tight,” he instructs.

  When she’s finished with his feet, Rooter tells her to tape his hands behind his back. Once finished, Rooter moves to the other guy and points his gun at him. “I’ve got him,” he tells me. “Watch the other guy.”

  I back away and stalk to the thug on the floor and point my gun at him.

  “Tape him up same as the other one,” Rooter instructs Miranda, and she quickly complies.

  Rooter places the men side by side on the living room floor. He kneels and shows them the tattoo on his inside of his forearm. Overlapping H’s. Their eyes go wide with fear.

  “That’s right bitches, I’m double H. And that girl right there,” Rooter points at me, his voice low and menacing, “the one you snatched out of bed in the middle night to do God knows what with; she’s mine.”

  His words cause my heart to flutter even though I know he’s only saying them as a scare tactic.

  “You fuck with her,” he continues, “you fuck with my club. I’m sure you’ve heard what happens to people who fuck with my club.”

  “I didn’t know she was your girl, man,” my captor squeals.

  Rooter pushes the barrel of his gun to the guy’s temple. “So what? You think it’s okay to go around hurting innocent women?”

  “We didn’t hurt her, man,” the guy shrieks.

  “There’s blood on her face!” Rooter shouts, furious, and I fear he’ll pull the trigger.

  “That’s my blood. The bitch bit me!”

  Rooter hits the asshole in the face with the butt of his gun. “Do not call her a bitch. Why are you here?”

  “He owes Viper three large,” Miranda’s attacker says. “He sent us to collect.”

  Rooter saunters over to Mike and rips off the duct tape covering his mouth causing him to grimace. “This true?” He asks him.

  Mike nods, too scared and ashamed to speak.

  “You’re fucking pathetic,” Rooter spits. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  “I should call the police,” I say.

  “No!” Rooter barks. “The police can’t help you. Viper will just send someone else to finish his dirty work. I need to handle this.”

  My mouth hits the floor. “Do you know Viper?”

  “Yes, and we need to finish this shit tonight.”

  How the hell does he know Viper? “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to send Viper a message.” He turns and glares at the perps on the floor. “That this house and its inhabitants are under Double H protection, and that the debt will be considered paid in full for the attack on you.”

  An instant later, the front door flies open and in walks Bear, followed by three other Double H members all of whom are rather large and scary looking. I’ve never felt safer in my life. The men take in the scene before them. First, Bear looks at Rooter, then to the two men on the floor, then to Mike, then to me, and lastly, Miranda. His eyes linger on her. She’s wearing a revealing white satin pajama cami and panty set. He grabs the throw blanket from the back of the sofa and hands it to her so she can cover herself. The guy may never smile, but he’s chivalrous. Who would’ve guessed it?

  “Everyone okay?” Bear asks.

  “We’re good. Put these two in the van,” Rooter instructs him, pointing at the goons. “Take them to the warehouse.”

  I watch as Bear and another club member hoist one of the men up and carry him out of the house.

  “You okay?” Rooter asks and takes my gun from my hands and sets it next to his on the table.

  I’m still shaking and can’t answer his question. My breathing is erratic as the enormity of what just occurred hits me. He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. Before this moment, I hadn’t noticed he is shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark gray sweats. I press myself against him in an attempt to lose myself in the comfort of being in his strong arms. The warmth of his skin against my face and the sound of his steady heartbeat is soothing. I try to mimic his even breaths. Just as I’m calming down, I’m startled by Miranda screaming.

  “How could you do this to us?” She yells at Mike and slaps him in the face. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “I’m so sorry,” he cries.

  “If it wasn’t for Rooter, we could all be dead right now!”

  Bear walks back into the room. “They’re loaded,” he says to Rooter, taking notice of the way he’s holding me. “You staying?”

  “Yeah. I’m not quite finished here,” Rooter says signaling to Mike.

  “All right,” Bear looks at Miranda then back to Rooter. “Need anything else from me?”

  “I’ve got this. Take care of them,” Rooter says, referring to Viper’s thugs. “I’ll catch up with you when I’m done here.”

  “All right, man.” Bear nods at me and Miranda before turning to leave.

  “Okay, everyone have a seat,” Rooter commands. “We’re going to have a little family meeting.” He motions for Miranda to take a seat on one end of the couch and leads me to sit on the other side. He pulls Mike over in his chair so he’s facing us and then takes a seat in the middle of the couch and wraps his arm around my waist.

  “Are you going to leave me tied up?” Mike asks.

  “You will speak only when I’ve given you permission. Do you understand?” Rooter threatens, his tone ominous.

  Mike doesn’t answer, but it’s clear he understands.

  “You,” Rooter points at Mike, “are moving out first thing in the morning. I don’t care where you go or if you even have anywhere to go, but you are leaving.”

  Mike struggles not to argue, but remains quiet. Rooter turns to Miranda.

  “Do you have a problem with this?”

  Miranda cowers and glances down at her hands which are folded in her lap. “I agree that he needs to go, but…”

  “No but’s. I won’t allow him to be here if Sophie’s here. Do you want Sophie to leave instead?”

  My head snaps in Rooter’s direction. He won’t allow him here with me? I glance down at his arm hugging my waist. Possessive. Protective. And sexy as hell. I like it. A lot.

  “No.”

  “Then he’s gone. First thing.” He looks back at Mike. “If I need to, I’ll personally see to it. I don’
t want you coming anywhere near this house or Sophie without my prior knowledge.”

  “That’s a little extreme,” Miranda complains.

  “Extreme?” Rooter shouts. “He almost got you both killed tonight or have you already forgotten?”

  Miranda shrinks back. “No, but he’s my brother. This is my house. I’ll decide whether he can come here.”

  I turn to Miranda, incredulous. “How long are you going to accept the shit he puts you through? The shit he puts both of us through?”

  “You’re acting like I should write him off. I can’t do that,” she cries. “He’s the only family I have left.”

  “Fine.” Rooter pulls me closer to him. “Sophie will move out first thing in the morning.”

  “What?” Miranda and I say in unison.

  Rooter turns to me. “I won’t have you here if he’s here.”

  I’d venture a guess that tonight puts me and Rooter back in the friend zone, but he’s acting like more than just my friend. He’s being possessive in a boyfriend-y kind of way. I like it.

  “Rooter, it’s not that simple,” I argue. Where does he expect me to go?

  “It is that simple, Sophie.” He looks at Miranda. “So who’s it going to be? Your loving, reliable best friend or your precious brother who almost got you both killed?”

  Miranda sniffles and wipes her face. She looks from me to Mike. Honestly, I’m hurt and offended that this decision is difficult for her to make.

  “You have to go, Mike.” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper.

  “But,” Mike starts and Rooter shoots forward in his seat promptly shutting him up.

  “You heard her,” Rooter says. “You’re out. And I better not hear of any retaliation against these girls over it.”

  A few minutes later Rooter removes his restraints and Mike rushes upstairs without a word.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Rooter reassures Miranda.

  She nods but her expression is sad and unsure.

  “Thank you for helping us tonight,” I say to Rooter. “I thought we were dead.”