Ride or Die 1

by Claire C. Riley

  I flushed bright red and smiled back. I dragged a hand through my still-damp hair, grabbing the back of my neck where it felt painfully tight. Her eyes traveled over me as if seeing me for the first time. Her gaze strayed to my bare chest, to where I knew the muscles were hard and firm, a V forming at the base of my stomach that looked like a fucking arrow pointing toward my dick. She swallowed, watching as I lowered my hand from the back of my neck and took a step toward her, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

  I opened my mouth to say something to her when my door opened and Hardy filled the space. He took one look at Laney kneeling on my bed, beer in hand, and her perfect ass practically hanging out of her cutoffs, and then he took in me with my own beer and just a pair of low-hanging Levi’s hanging from my hips.

  “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Jesse?” he growled out, and if I could have shriveled up and vanished right then, I would have. “This is Gauge’s kid, and you’re thinking of fucking around with her? Have some fuckin’ respect, boy!” He reached over and grabbed me by the shoulder before pulling me around to face him. He glared right into my face, anger pouring from his hellish eyes and boring straight into mine.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Hardy,” I gritted out. “I was just trying to get her away from the shit happening out there.” I jerked a thumb out the door, but I already knew it was pointless arguing with him. Shit had been getting worse with us the older I got—as if the more I grew into a man, the more he hated me. Clearly he saw something in me that he didn’t like, but I’d be damned if I knew what it was.

  “The shit out there?” he snarled, his dark eyes boring into mine like he was trying to drill a hole through my fucking skull.

  “The fuckin’ and shit,” I responded, desperately trying to contain my anger.

  “You puttin’ your brothers down now too, boy? There’s somethin’ wrong with what they’re doin’? I know you ain’t popped your own cherry yet, but you tryin’ to tell me you’re a faggot, boy? That you don’t like pussy?” He sneered at me, and though my chest burned with an anger so fierce that all I wanted to do was lash out, I refrained, knowing it would be pointless.

  My dad had been a fucker to me my whole life, and I had never known why. We’d come to live with him as boys, me more of a boy than Butch, and I had never felt anything but hate coming from the man, no matter how much I’d tried to please him.

  The man hated everyone and everything, and never had a good word to say about anything—me especially. And up until then, I’d never really cared. I stayed out of his way and he stayed out of mine. The way I figured it, soon enough I’d be a prospect and I’d force some damn respect from him, one way or another. Ain’t nothin’ I did gonna change the way he felt about me until I did—that much was obvious.

  But right then a hatred I’d never felt before blossomed to life in my gut, roaring its way up my spine.

  And he fuckin’ knew I’d popped my damn cherry too! Bitch named Apryl did that for me when I was barely fourteen years old.

  “No, sir,” I replied through gritted teeth. “Nothin’ wrong with fuckin’ women, and nothin’ wrong with what my brothers were doing, just didn’t think Gauge would want his kid seeing Pops banging some twenty-year-old bitch with her tits and cunt hanging out.”

  “Also, sir, if I can interrupt,” Laney said, coming forward with one hand on her hip. “Only uneducated fucking idiots use the word faggot, Sir—you’re not an uneducated fucking idiot, are you? I mean, this is a time for spreading love, not hate. At least if the sixties taught us anything. At least that’s what my mom used to say.”

  I saw the change in Hardy’s face—the look of utter shock that she had just spoken to him like that, because no one spoke to him like that, ever. I don’t think his own mother ever got away with speaking to him like that. And if it had been any other woman, she’d have felt his hand across her cheek and more, but Hardy couldn’t do shit to Laney because she was Gauge’s daughter. Though I had no doubt in my mind that Gauge would catch shit from Hardy for this mess.

  We were at a standstill: Laney with one hand on her hip and her eyebrow quirked like she hadn’t just called the meanest fucking president this side of Georgia a fucking idiot, me still held in Hardy’s grip and more in love with that woman than I was with my own dick, and Hardy looking like he couldn’t decide whether to kill me, kill this chick, kill us both, or walk away.

  Decisions decisions…

  “If you weren’t Gauge’s kid, I’d make you regret talking to me like that, girl,” he growled out, glaring at her, but she only smirked in response, clearly not afraid of anything.

  “For once I’ll be glad that I am then,” she retorted.

  “I should slap some respect into you!” he said like a dark promise. And I don’t know what happened. A switch flipped inside of me and I took a step toward him.

  “You ever fuckin’ touch her and I’ll kill you myself, Hardy,” I spat out, meaning every word of it.

  Hardy’s eyes went even wider, and if I thought he’d hated me before, it was nothing compared to what he felt for me then. His face went red and his grip tightened on my shoulder until I knew it’d leave bruises for days, his eyes practically popping out of his head. But I refused to show any weakness. Instead, I gritted my teeth and held his stare as he squeezed harder and harder until I thought he was going to break my shoulder. And even then I refused to back down.

  “Hardy?” Butch came to the doorway, his nostrils flaring and his eyes growing dark when he saw Hardy’s grip on me. “Gauge is on his way,” he said tightly.

  Laney was so close to me that I could feel her own anger radiating from her body. Hardy glanced between us, his features softening fractionally as he took in my expression before he finally let me go with a push. I stumbled but righted myself and held his stare, my shoulders back and feeling like I had a renewed sense of power.

  “If you’ve laid one hand on her—” Hardy began, his eyes still narrowed on me.

  “He didn’t,” Laney interrupted. “I believe in free love but I’m not about to get myself knocked up like my mom did.”

  My face was hot, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it hurt. I kept my hard gaze on him, not willing to back down that time, and I could see that it was getting to him, but neither of us were willing to break.

  Laney pushed past all three of us and out into the hallway. “Men are pathetic,” she mumbled as she walked away.

  I kept my gaze on Hardy and he kept his on me. Eventually he tapped the side of my face with his open palm, his mouth turning up into a sneer, before he turned away and followed Laney.

  Butch looked at me seriously. “You okay, Jesse?”

  My mouth turned up into a wide smile. “I’ve never been better,” I replied truthfully.

  He smirked before turning and walking away too, and I closed my door behind them all and went and sat down on my bed. I looked up to the poster and the new doodle Laney had added to it and I smiled, despite myself and despite everything that had just happened.

  And then I reached over and grabbed my pillow, pressing it against my nose and hoping that I could smell her on it.

  Something had changed that day.

  I knew it and Hardy knew it.

  What the repercussions of that change would be were anyone’s guess.

  Chapter four:

  present day

  Jesse

  Hands beat at me and Laney’s hysterical voice broke through my sleep and tore me from my drunken dream. Something hit me hard in the back of the head, and I rolled over to face her.

  “You bastard! How could you? How fucking could you?”

  I was lying on the practically new sofa in our living room, the cushions that Laney had so lovingly picked out barely six weeks ago either squashed to hell beneath my body or cast to the floor.

  “What the fuck, bitch? Are you crazy?” I grumbled and blinked up at her, wondering what the hell her problem was.

  She threw another shoe at me. �
��Don’t you dare fucking say that to me!” she screeched again. “And don’t call me ‘bitch!’”

  “Fuck, woman, stop already!”

  I looked up to see Laney standing in front of me, hands on her hips and eyes full of fire. But damn, she looked hot as fuck in her little gray AC/DC T-shirt and black panties. Her hair was wild around her beautiful face, and I must have still been drunk because I reached for her with a droopy smile, hoping to get a little action before I had to go down to the clubhouse. She slapped my hand away but I reached for her again.

  “Come on, baby.”

  She screeched and threw another shoe at me, the heel just missing my face by an inch.

  “What is wrong with you?” she screamed, batting my hand away, and then she dropped the rest of her ammunition—an armful of shoes—and stormed away from me, her hair flying up behind her like a dark cloud.

  I sat up and scratched at my beard, a little pissed off that she’d cock-blocked me so brutally. I pulled a shoe from next to me and flung it to the floor before reaching for an open bottle of beer on the coffee table and taking a swig. I looked down, seeing my clothes in a heap on the floor by the sofa that I was sitting on. I rolled my shoulders, my body tense and stiff after sleeping on the sofa, and I reached around to rub my neck when I felt the scratch marks on my back.

  “Fuck,” I murmured, dragging a hand down my face as I remembered the previous night.

  Losing my shit with Laney for no goddamned reason.

  Nearly kicking someone to death.

  Fucking some random piece of ass in the bar.

  Yeah, it was all coming back to me now, and I didn’t like any of it.

  “Fuck,” I muttered again, standing up. Though why I was so surprised by any of this was anyone’s guess. This was what I had wanted, right?

  I turned in a circle, taking in the mess I’d made when I got home—half-eaten pizza and empty beer bottles, but no Casa. I’m guessing he found warm space in someone’s bed last night. Down the hallway I could hear Laney crashing around, drawers and doors slamming open and closed, and I reached down and grabbed my jeans off the floor and stepped into them and then headed to our room to try and calm her the fuck down before she ruined our new furniture.

  I pushed open our bedroom door and found her suitcase open on the bed, several items already thrown inside it, and my heart slammed against my chest so hard that I thought I was going to pass out from the pain of it.

  She was leaving me. Finally.

  The pain in my chest tightened until I couldn’t see straight. This was what I had wanted—what I had been pushing for. I wanted her to leave me, get away from me before I ruined her like I ruined everything else. Yet, the thought of her leaving brought a fresh wave of pain. Almost physical in its strength.

  Fuck, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t lose her. I grabbed my head in my hands, my dirty hair falling in front of my face. I had wanted to do the right thing—I’d tried so hard to, but I couldn’t after all.

  There was no way I was letting her leave me.

  That was not fucking happening.

  Laney came out of the bathroom at that moment and looked over at me, guilt flashing through her eyes before she quickly looked away from me and threw the items—her shampoo and makeup—into the case. She turned and headed back into the bathroom.

  “You ain’t goin’ anywhere, Laney,” I called to her, but all she did was snort in disgust. “I’m fuckin’ serious, babe. You’re not leavin’ me.”

  I heard her movements stop in the bathroom, and could almost imagine her standing there, waiting for my next words. Her hands balled into little fists by her side like the proud, strong-ass woman she was. Her eyes squeezed closed, trying to stem the flow of tears that she was fighting against.

  “If it helps, it meant nothing to me,” I said after several moments of total silence from her.

  She came back out of the bathroom, staring at me with so much contempt it shocked me. “It meant nothing to you?” she said, her voice shaky when she talked.

  “Of course not,” I said, reaching for her.

  She stared down at my hand, her forehead creased in frustration. When she looked up at me, her frustration was gone and all that was left was anger and hate for me.

  “You say that like it means it’s okay, Jesse,”

  “Lane—”

  “Like I should just pretend it didn’t happen then, I mean, if it didn’t mean anything, no harm no foul, right?” She cocked her head to one side and looked at me.

  “Right,” I agreed, nodding my head, regretting it as soon as I saw the spark of hatred flare even brighter in her eyes. “Laney, come on, you know how it is. You know me. It’s just the way club life is.”

  I was saying the words, but I had no idea why I was fucking saying them. It was club life, but it had never been that way for us. Never. It wasn’t our club life. Never had been and never would be. That’s what I’d always promised her, and up to six months ago I had kept that promise.

  She shook her head like she couldn’t believe what I was saying, and I couldn’t blame her. I was being an asshole—a grade-A asshole—and I was losing her because of it, no doubt.

  “I’m done with your bullshit. I’ve tried, lord knows how I’ve tried to make this work, but I can’t do it any longer.” She threw the things in her hands into the suitcase. “There’s no fixing your kind of fucked up—not anymore.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” she replied, eyes full of fire. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Jesse. But you’re not the man I fell in love with.”

  I was standing, frozen to the spot, not sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t let her go, fuck that, I wouldn’t let her go, no matter what happened. My heart was beating again, faster and faster as the panic began to pump through me. If she went I’d be all alone, and there’d be nothing left and no reason to carry on. I had to fix this, despite knowing I shouldn’t.

  “I can make this right,” I said, sounding every inch like the fucking pussy I was. “I can, but you can’t go. I won’t fuckin’ let you leave me, Laney. That ain’t happenin’ so drop that thought right the fuck now!” I shouted.

  She shook her head in exasperation and turned around to face the dresser, and pulled the top drawer open before grabbing some more clothes. When she turned back around she glared at me defiantly. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “I get that you’re not leavin’ this fuckin’ house,” I snarled, feeling the familiar roar of anger inside me.

  “You don’t own me, Jesse. You never did. I stayed because I wanted to, not because I had to. That hadn’t changed until last night. But now I’m done putting up with your bullshit, and I’m done listening to your apologies. It’s over.” She put the clothes in the case, her face twisted in pain and anger at me. Her shoulders began to shake as she finally let the tears come, and when she looked back up at me a small piece of me died. My heart stopped, time froze, and the lifeline rang in my ears—a high-pitched ringing that signaled a flat line.

  “Laney—” I started, but she held up a hand to silence me, and I shook my head no. Fuck no, she wouldn’t silence me. No one fucking silenced me.

  I moved then, reaching her in two big strides, my large frame towering over hers, domineering the space in the room and demanding her absolute fucking attention. And then I dropped to my knees right in front of her.

  “Laney, I’m beggin’ you, woman, don’t do this to me. I’m fuckin’ sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” I grabbed at her legs and her hands went to my hair, her fingers running through it and making me feel like maybe this would be okay after all.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You need help.”

  “I do, I need help. So help me!”

  I looked up at her, hating that I’d hurt my woman like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not for us. But then nothing was as it should have been. Everything was wrong and fucked up now.

  “I can’t help you, I’ve tried bu
t you won’t let me or anyone else in. I love you, but it’s over, Jesse.” She started to pull away from me and I shook my head, desperate as I grabbed at her legs.

  She tried to pull away from me but I grabbed at her over and over, ignoring her slaps that rained down on me until I got a firm grip and I pulled her down and onto my lap.

  “Get off me, Jesse! Just get off me!” she shrieked and cried, her hands still batting at me, hitting me anywhere she could land a punch or a slap. I didn’t try to stop her; I took each hit, knowing that I deserved each and every one of them, and then some more. Fuck, I deserved a gun to the temple for the shit I’d done to her. The things I’d put her through these past months.

  “It didn’t mean shit, you know that. I don’t know why I did it!” I whispered into her hair as she quit fighting me and started crying again. And the crying hurt more than the hitting ever could.

  A man was supposed to take care of his woman, but I had done nothing but hurt her. I was fucked up and spiraling out of control, and I couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave me—fuck, it was what I’d been trying to get her to do for months now: leave so that she would be away from me and my poisonous world.

  But if it was really what I wanted, then why couldn’t I just let her go? And why the fuck did it hurt so damn much? Never known pain like I had these past months. Didn’t know things could hurt so much that you couldn’t catch your breath. Didn’t know that pain wasn’t just about the physical, but the mental too.

  Didn’t know a lot of things until these past few months.

  She cried and cried until I couldn’t take anymore and I would have rather cut off my own fucking ears than listen to my own woman crying anymore because of me. Again. God-fucking-damn it, I wished I could take it all back. Wished I could make it all go away. But I couldn’t. The pain that lived in me was as fresh that day as it had been six months before. If anything, it was more so.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered against her hair, my hands running down her back.

  “So stop it, Jesse, just stop doing it,” she finally pleaded, her words coming out between hicuppy sobs. Her body was tense and unmoving, not loving and soft like usual, and I kissed the top of her hair and breathed in her scent, willing her to forgive me.