Inside was a massive workshop. Men scooted around a handful of cars and bikes, they were in full coveralls, covered in grease and carrying an assortment of different tools. I could hear the noise even through the closed car window, banging, crashing, grinding, yelling and all over a loud sound system that was playing a song by Guns and Roses.
I saw a young kid walking toward us, wiping his dirty hands on his coveralls and beaming a broad smile. He must have only been around seventeen. Kit jumped out of the truck and tossed the kid the keys, patting him on the back with a few words that only brightened the young boy’s smile. Just that small action made my heart warm a little.
Not wanting to be owned by Kit was never due to the fact that I didn’t think he was an amazing guy. His men loved him. They were loyal and supportive and never doubted him, and he always talked to them with respect. This was why he made a good leader. These men, they are loyal to their club. I knew without a doubt that they would lay their life down for one another. That they would do whatever was needed to protect each other from being hurt, especially their club president. But I wasn’t one of these men. I wasn’t a patched member of the club.
I was a club whore! The same rules didn’t apply to us.
And no matter how much of a great guy Kit was, how sexy or sweet, or what words came out of his mouth telling me he would give me everything and more, I was not one of his Brothers. He doesn’t have to keep his word to me like he does for them.
My door clicked open and Kit held out his hand. I took it, climbing carefully down from the truck but still feeling jolts of pain through my shoulder with every step.
“Del is waiting inside, let’s go get you fixed up. Then we can talk.”
I rolled my eyes but took his hand anyway. He kept it latched in his as he led me through two large steel doors and into a huge room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I managed to take in a few things as Kit directed me through the room. It wasn’t much different to our clubhouse. There were large seating areas, couches, tables and chairs, a bar lined with barstools. It was different but familiar, easing my nerves a little.
We climbed a set of stairs to the second floor which was lined either side with doors. It was apparent to the eye that this hadn’t been the original setup for the factory. But someone had put in a lot of work to create a hostel like feel to it. Many of the doors were open and I caught glimpses of what was inside. The rooms were small, but most big enough for a double bed, a desk and still space to move. Some were larger, some were smaller with only single beds.
Kit pushed a door open at the end of the hallway. This room was much bigger than the rest. There was a large bed in the center of the room, a massive mahogany desk off to the right and a bathroom tucked in across the opposite side. There was even enough room for a small couch which faced a large wall mounted television. He moved me toward the couch and gestured for me to sit down.
“Del!” he yelled.
I frowned, ready to say something about not being so lazy and going to get this person, rather than just screaming out and expecting them to come running. But that’s exactly what happened. A small brunette girl walked through the doorway carrying a large first aid kit. She was short, maybe five feet at the most. Her smile was sweet though. Unlike the man who walked in behind her, scowling like he was ready to rip someone’s head off.
“Hi Prez,” the young girl said as she came to sit next to me. “You must be, Harmony.”
I nodded. “Yes, nice to meet you.”
“Prez,” the grumpy man said with a chin lift as he lingered in the doorway.
“Hey, Brother.” The men embraced shortly before Kit turned back to me. “Harmony, this is Wreck and his Old Lady, Del. Del is a nurse at the hospital. She’s going to take a look at your arm.”
Del pulled on a pair of gloves and gestured to my arm, silently asking for permission to see it. It had been painful enough trying to get myself into my shirt this morning. After what had happened I was pretty sure it wasn’t coming off without being destroyed.
“Um, you might have to cut my top off. It’s pretty damn sore.”
“No problem, hun.” She retrieved a small pair of fabric scissors from her bag. “You want me to get them to leave?” she asked, eying the men.
I let out a little laugh. “No, it’s fine.”
She looked over my shoulder, no doubt checking with Kit first before attacking my shirt with the scissors, throwing the now destroyed remains on to the floor. “Ouch.”
I laughed again. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“We’re going to have to re-stitch it. It’s completely opened up again.”
I sighed. “Do you have the good drugs or do I need a bottle of rum?”
Del giggled and began cleaning the wound and slowly removing the broken stitches. “Sorry, babe. I don’t have the good stuff. Maybe a couple shots would actually help. Kit?”
“Yeah, I’ll get something.” I felt his lips lightly on the top of my head before his heavy footsteps left the room.
Del continued to clean my wound, apologizing profusely whenever I flinched. She tried to distract me. “So, Prez didn’t say much just that I needed to be here to help coz you were hurt. Are you part of the club up north, where he was visiting?”
“You could say that,” I muttered. Her eyes looked up at me, one brow raised obviously waiting for me to explain. “I’m a club girl.”
Her eyes widened a little and I saw them flick over behind me to her old man.
“She’s not a club girl anymore,” Kit announced as he strolled back through the door.
“So he keeps trying to tell me,” I whispered jokingly to Del who cracked a smile, but quickly covered it when Kit growled.
He knelt down beside me and offered up a bottle of whiskey. His eyes stuck to me, even as he said, “She’s not a club girl.”
“Not a club girl, just a normal girl. Got it,” Del said, clearly amused.
“Del,” Wreck said warningly from his post next to the door.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh calm down. Club girl, no club girl. No big issue.”
“I claimed her.”
Oh God, this was all getting too much. I snatched the bottle from Kit’s hand and held it to my mouth, guzzling back the liquid even as it began to burn down my throat and into my stomach. My body started feeling lighter almost instantly, a pleasant change. It wasn’t long before it was taken away and I pouted like a sulky child.
“You need to be numb, not fucking drunk,” Kit snapped. “We still need to talk after this.”
Kit stormed from the room, Wreck following close behind him.
Del still looked a little shocked, but the sweet kind smile quickly came back as she pulled out a needle and thread. “So…Prez claimed you?”
I snorted but nodded. “You think he has anything stronger hidden around here some place. I’m going to need it for this talk.”
Del laughed and began work on my wound. Maybe she thought I was joking.
I wasn’t.
I was somewhat glad that when Doc had done my stitches the first time, that I’d been drugged up to my eyeballs. Because this shit fucking hurt.
I almost dialed Caleb’s phone number, just to tell him I was going to make him pay for shooting me. Hell, was I going to make him pay? Maybe that old saying and eye for an eye would be acceptable in this instance.
Del was fast though. Thank God for that. She talked to me the whole time, gushing about how lucky I was to have Kit. She told me about how he was fierce and strong, perfect to be taking over from his father as president of the chapter. He was a natural born leader and his loyalty ran deep, but he was also very kind and full of heart.
Listening to her talk about him just told me everything I already knew. He was sexy and sweet and so strong. I absorbed her words, hoping that I would find something to hold onto. I knew that Kit wasn’t going to let me go easily and I also knew that deep down, I really didn’t want him to let me go. I wanted to believe that he meant every
thing he said, that I could trust him, but so far he had yet to prove to me that it was the case.
I desperately needed him to prove that I could lean on him and have him do whatever it took to keep me out of harm’s way. I needed him to start backing up his shit, because no matter how much I wanted to hold this stuff against him, and throw in his face that he’d left me to get hurt once again, I wanted him. My body knew it, my heart knew it, but my head was having a hard time keeping up with the play and making excuses left, right and center about why I couldn’t be with him.
“She good?” Kit asked, finally returning just as Del had finished wrapping my shoulder.
Del nodded. “Don’t get it wet. Try not to move it as much as possible. Coupla days rest and you should be okay.” She patted my arm in a very motherly gesture. “We’ll catch up soon, hun.”
Kit wrapped an arm around her as she moved to leave, giving her a tight squeeze. “Thanks, Del.” He shut the door behind her and dropped himself into the space she had just vacated. He wiped a hand down his face and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his spread knees.
“I’m sorry.”
I shifted, trying to get comfortable. “For what?”
He turned his head to look at me and nodded toward my now padded shoulder. “For that.”
“Did you shoot me?” I asked, throwing his words back at him from when we’d fought straight after it happened.
“I may as well have. I didn’t stop it, did I?”
Guilt buried itself in my stomach. I could see in his eyes how much it hurt him to know that he wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered, not believing the words had come out of my mouth even though I had spent that last twenty-four hours complaining about him not protecting me. Was I being unrealistic? Was I looking for some sort of reason to hate him for claiming me? For taking me when I thought I didn’t want it.
“Do you know why I want you so badly?”
The question threw me, but I answered honestly. “No.”
“I love my family. My mom was the most amazing mom and Old Lady you could imagine. She stood by my dad through thick and thin, she would never leave his side. And my dad? Well, he loved me, he cared for me, and he would’ve supported me with anything I wanted to do. Even if it meant not joining the club he had worked so hard to create.”
I listened to him talk animatedly about his parents, their love for each other, their love for the club and their love for him.
“Their relationship worked because my Mom was strong. She was hard-headed, opinionated, and loyal. But she knew when to have faith in my dad. She knew he made the rules and she knew he made those rules to keep the people he cared about safe. It takes a strong woman to stand next to her man and offer him her strength, knowing full well that her man’s word is law. She might have an opinion about it. She might even hate some of the decisions he has to make. But in the end, she will still stand there next to him and trust in him to do what is best for his family – club family, his wife and children.”
I stared at him in awe, not sure what to say.
“I see that in you, Harm.” He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you had a strength that could rival that of a lion.”
I leaned into his hand, enjoying his tender touch.
“I see you speak your opinion, but you always have respect for the club and its rules.”
“I don’t understand…” I whispered, moving a little closer to him, knowing that he was baring himself to me and wanting more, needing more.
“I don’t want a woman that’s going to sit by idly and let me walk right over her. I want a woman who can stand next to me and offer me her strength and her support, even when I might fuck things up.” He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. I could tell this was a struggle for him, bikers weren’t well known for expressing their feelings or letting their guard down.
“We moved a lot when I was young, traveling all over the place with different bands.” I looked down at my hands. I didn’t talk much to people about what I’d gone through as a kid, but I felt like he’d shared a part of him with me so I needed to share a part of me too.
His eyes caught mine and he stared intently, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m not sure who my dad is. I’m not even sure my mom knows who he is. But that was never an issue, I had plenty of substitutes.”
“Substitutes?”
I smiled. “The members of the bands we traveled with were mostly okay. Having a kid on tour wasn’t exactly ideal, but secretly I think they loved it. What was rough though was watching them leave.” I swallowed harshly. “Getting to know someone, looking up at them like they were a parent like they were your family, and then watching them walk away to their new venture without even a backward glance at you. It hurt.”
Kit nodded and I could see in his face that he was beginning to understand me. “You got used to it, huh.”
“I did. Some of the guys my mom got involved with, they would treat me like I was theirs. They taught me how to play guitar, what music to listen to, took me out places. Then after everything was done, so were they,” I said with a shrug. It no longer bugged me like it did back then. I’d watched my mother get attached over and over again, crying and bawling when things ended abruptly. The first few times I had cried with her. Wondering why they had been so nice to me if they were only going to leave us? But then I became numb to it. Knowing it was only going to happen again in a month or two.
“Harmony, you know the club, you understand what we are about. We don’t throw the words claim and Old Lady around like they are nothing. This isn’t something I’ve done just for fun. I’ve done it because I want you by my side. Not just until I get bored, but forever,” he explained, hooking his hand around my neck and squeezing gently.
“I’m starting to understand that. But it’s not something I can just change. Disconnection is what I’ve taught myself to keep my heart safe.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world, baby.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, they were soft and moved slowly, coaxing my lips open and delving inside to taste me. His hands gripped my hips and wound their way up to my waist. Kit worked my body like I was a puzzle. He was piecing me together, bit by bit, touch by touch, word by word.
I reveled in the moment. My body wanting to feel him, but my head reminding me that in the end, he would leave, just like all the others.
And I would fall to pieces all over again.
I sat on the edge of the bed with my guitar resting on my knee. Kit had demanded I kept my arm in the sling, muttering something about tearing my stitches out. I complied, having lost any type of energy I had to argue with him.
Even after our conversation where we had laid everything out there, as soon as he was gone I started second guessing myself and my decisions. Like every normal person, when I’m alone I started over-thinking things, going over possible but ridiculous scenarios in my head. This only made me angry and frustrated, and a little bit crazy too. Usually, I would pick up my guitar and play. I could do it for hours, just play and let the music take me to somewhere else. But that seemed to prove harder with a bullet hole in my shoulder.
I tried to maneuver my bad arm over the top of my guitar, trying to find a way to situate it so I could strum. My shoulder burned, but the need to play overwhelmed anything else and my fingers itched to pluck the strings. Finally finding a place that felt even slightly comfortable, I found the frets with my other hand and moved my fingers to a chord.
Avicii’s ‘Wake Me Up’ wasn’t too complicated, so I started with that.
Strumming down the strings I felt a sharp sting in my shoulder, I ignored it and continued to play slowly. I only made it through eight or so bars before the pain became unbearable and tears began to trickle from my eyes.
“Stupid! So stupid!” I gripped the neck of the guitar and threw it across the room. It hit Kit’s desk with
a loud bang and crashed to the floor, papers and other crap scattering around. I squeezed my eyes tightly together, willing the tears to stop unsuccessfully as I slid to the floor.
Music had been my outlet for as long as I could remember. When I was happy, I played. When I was angry, I played. When I was sad, or frustrated, or completely and utterly over the world, I fucking played. My guitar and music had gotten me through break-ups and break-downs and now, well now, I didn’t even have that.
I let out a frustrated growl and held my head in my hand. I don’t know how long I sat like that, but soon the door swung open. I didn’t even bother to look up and see who it was. I knew it was him. He didn’t say anything as he shut the door quietly behind him and walked over to his now messed up desk and picked up my guitar off the floor.
I cradled my arm close to my body. It was obvious how much of an idiot I’d been, trying to play with a bullet wound in my shoulder, as it was now throbbing in protest of my stupidity.
“It’s still in one piece,” he said.
I snorted. “I don’t care, it’s not like I can play the damn thing.”
“That what this temper tantrum is about?”
I looked up sharply, finally taking a look at him. He was shirtless, his cut slipped on over his naked torso and his white T-shirt tucked into the side of his pants. The sight of him made my body tingle, his well-defined abs glistening with sweat and stained with a few smudges of dirt. He had mentioned something this morning about going to help the boys in the scrap yard down the road, another business they partly owned. A small trail of dark hair led from his belly button down and disappeared under his low hanging jeans. I wanted to trace it with my fingers, knowing I would find a prize at the end. I shook my head, trying to snap out of my lust-filled mind.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said sternly, standing up and proceeding to pick up the few papers and knick-knacks from the floor, which had flown off the desk during said temper tantrum.
Harmony (The Club Girl Diaries Book 1) Page 11