Nowhere (Crimson Outlaws MC #1)

by Bink Cummings

  Jeez, when Wes gets to the point, he pulls no punches. Is he right about Nash, though? Does he use me?

  Nash turns his back to Wes, acting as if he’s not even in the room. “Don’t listen to him, Gwennie-bee. That motherfucker doesn’t know shit about us. About our family. He’s just tryin’ to get in the way because he got a taste of your pussy. When Steel told me about ya bein’ here, I had to come get ya. Now get your stuff. I’m takin’ ya home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Whoa. That came out without me having to think about it. It’s true, though. I meant it. I’m not leaving here. Not until I have to. And it has nothing to do with Wes and everything to do with Garrett. I’m not about to abandon him. No way. Not when he’s progressing so quickly. Not when I’m afraid my heart might break too much if I leave. I love that kid. Truly. He’s like the son I never had.

  Wes barks a laugh. “I told you she wouldn’t agree to leave. She’s here of her own free will. And I think you should show her more respect than that. Me having tasted her pussy has nothing to do with why she’s here. That’s just a new development. I’d call it a perk, on both of our parts.”

  It happens so fast that I barely see it coming. One second Nash is staring at me. The next he’s linebacker tackling Wes to the floor. What’s even more shocking is that Wes somehow anticipated this. So when Nash goes to slam his fist into his face, he blocks him. Toa takes a step back, and we meet eyes above the childish fight that’s filled with grunts and nasty curses.

  “I knew it’d come to this!’ he hollers over the dumbasses.

  I shrug in response. He’s probably right.

  An end table knocks over, and a lamp shatters. Nash slams his massive fist into Wes’s gut, at the same time Wes is elbowing him in the face. Blood gushes from Nash’s nose, and I have to hold myself back from getting in the middle of this. Boys will be boys. They will fight. I know they’re both smart enough not to kill one another. At least, I hope so. It’s good for them to let off some steam, even if it’s painful to watch. It serves them both right for acting like fools.

  A man in a black SWAT-like outfit sprints past me in a blur, headed toward the men. Just before he gets to Nash, to tear him off Wes, I grab his vest, tugging it. “Let them duke it out. They’ll feel better later.”

  Luckily, he heeds my words and retreats a few steps to stand next to me. “Are you sure? I’m under strict orders not to let anything happen to Mr. King or his family.”

  That’s sweet.

  I pat the big guy on the chest. Wes wasn’t lying. This man is, at least, seven feet tall, but agile as hell. I bet he’s a former SEAL. “They’re playing whose dick is bigger. Don’t worry. Nothing major will come out of it.”

  “Okay, ma’am. Holler if ya need somethin’,” the man comments before disappearing like a cloud of smoke.

  Crazy.

  “Fuck you!” Nash throws a punch at Wes’s face.

  Just like a scene out of an action movie, Wes catches Nash’s fist midflight, stopping the impact. Apparently, he’s a helluva lot stronger than he looks. Bucking his hips, Wes dismounts Nash in one swoop, crashing his back into the wall-to-wall entertainment center. The TV shakes as a vase falls over on its side.

  Aren’t they about done? The floor is already covered in enough of their blood. By the time they’re finished beating each other to a pulp, this room is going to need to be redecorated. Jesus. Do you see that smear across the rug? I don’t think that stain’s going to come out.

  More cursing and fighting proceeds. It’s almost comical to watch as they begin to wear each other down. Both of them are disasters. Wes’s white t-shirt is torn, showing off his eight pack. Nash’s hair is stuck to the sides of his sweaty, blood coated face. They’re both heaving for breath with busted lips.

  Laying belly down on the floor, Nash slaps the side of Wes’s head that is lying a few feet away in the same prone position.

  This is pathetic. I can’t take it anymore. “Are ya done?” I scold, then turn my sights to Nash’s club brothers who are standing on the side of the room, in front of the bay window, talking amongst themselves. “Boys, why don’t you step out for a bit? Let me handle this. You can come back in two hours. Nash’ll be ready to leave by then.”

  Toa kisses my cheek on his way out the door, as the rest of the brothers follow in his wake. “We’ll be back in two hours. Good luck,” Toa calls over his shoulder.

  “Thanks!” I yell. I’ve definitely got my job cut out for me.

  Shaking my head in exasperation, I wade further into the room, careful not to cut my feet on any broken glass. I nudge Nash in the side with my bare toes before I go and do the same to Wes, who groans when I touch his ribs. Yep. They’re bruised. “I’m giving you babies two minutes to cut your shit and straighten up. I’ll be right back with the first aid kit. By then, I expect you both to be sitting up so I can clean your bloody mugs.” My most convincing disappointed tone comes out perfectly.

  It works, too, because I hear them shuffling around, groaning in painful protest as I leave the room in search of the first aid kit. Not sure why I’m getting it. Probably because I’ll feel guilty if I leave them to fend for themselves—especially if one of their cuts gets infected. Men aren’t very smart about cleaning wounds. They’d rather run some water over it, and call it a day. It’s not always that easy. I tried to tell that to Nash the one time he cut his arm working under a car. Five days later, it got infected, and I had to drain it twice. It was disgusting, oozing puss and green shit. He probably should have gone to the doctor’s, but he refused. So I did it. He was lucky it didn’t get into his bloodstream. It took three weeks to heal.

  Five minutes later, kit in hand, I enter the room wearing a pair of flip flops. Wes has retaken his armchair while Nash is sprawled out on the couch, sans shirt and vest. I’d forgotten how delicious he looks bare-chested. All those tattoos and hair. It’s … yum. For a moment, I don’t even realize I’m staring, until he clears his throat, catching me red handed. Shit, I’m supposed to be all fire and ice. Isn’t that how Wes described me earlier today? It fits. I’m going with it. No more ogling hot, sweaty dumbasses. It’s time to get down to business.

  “Nash, sit up.” I use my thumb, gesturing the upward motion. “And Wes, sit beside him. I’m not going to walk back and forth across the room to clean the both of you babies.”

  They comply without complaint. Though they don’t sit too close to each other. God forbid they get cooties or something. It’s not like they don’t already have enough of each other’s blood painted on their faces.

  Pulling up an end table, I sit on it then dole out the bandages and antiseptic. Back and forth, I wipe their faces and hands with fresh pads before getting to the harder stuff, like their lips, scratches, bruises, and so on.

  “I don’t know why you had to tackle him,” I admonish Nash, dabbing his swollen bottom lip with a cotton ball.

  “He was talkin’ about your pussy,” he mumbles, trying not to move his mouth too much.

  That’s not it at all. There is no need to fight over that. Why would there be? It’s not like he was defending my honor.

  “I’ve fucked most of your club brothers, Nash. You’re not that sensitive.” We’re not getting into this conversation. It’s pointless. They were both willing participants. They’re both guilty. He needs to stop lying. “You know what, I don’t care. It was stupid. You are both adults, as am I. If I told you I didn’t want to leave, you should respect that. You shouldn’t have come in the first place. Did you think I’d listen and go with you? I have seventeen more days here. I made a commitment that I’m going to follow through with.” I move to Nash’s forehead, cleaning the oozing gash in his eyebrow. It’ll need some butterfly stitches. Beside us, Wes is relaxing on the couch with his eyes shut.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Wesley. I don’t know if you have a concussion or not,” I remark.

  Eyes still closed, he grins that same charismatic grin that makes me feel all fun
ny inside. “Thanks, Kitten. I’m fine. No concussion. Just giving you two some privacy.”

  Awe, that’s sort of sweet.

  Nash snorts. “Privacy. Sure. Whatever you say. You’ve already won.”

  Alright, I’m lost here. There were no winners in this match.

  I meet Nash’s beautiful eyes. One of them is partially swollen shut. “Won what? There were no winners here. You’re both banged up dumbasses.”

  “Not like that, Kitten. Nash thinks I won you. That you staying here means you’re mine. Not gonna lie and say it doesn’t feel good. But I know that’s not the case. What we have is too new, so I know you’re only staying because of Garrett.”

  See? Like I’ve said a million times, Wes somehow gets me. And to top it off, he doesn’t sound disappointed that I’m staying here for his son. That’s reassuring.

  Jerking away from my touch, Nash groans in defeat, leaning back into the couch. “There’s another guy? Who the fuck is Garrett?”

  “My son,” Wes answers.

  Evidently, Wes didn’t fill in the blanks for Nash and neither did that Steel guy, because he didn’t bother to ask. All this fighting and drama, and for what?

  I color in the details. “Wes made a bet with me at a race a few weekends ago. I took it and lost. I don’t need to go into details about it, except to say that I’m now tutoring Garrett, Wes’s son. That’s why I’m here, to begin with. To tutor. We hadn’t even had sex until this morning.”

  That confession must get Nash’s blood boiling again, because one second he’s sitting and the next, he’s pacing the room. So much for honesty. I should probably keep my mouth shut on an occasion. “Get him cleaned up, Gwennie, and then we’re going home.” His hands are tugging at his hair, face staring at his feet.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I thought I told you.”

  “I don’t give a fuck! I’m not gonna let you stay here for another seventeen days with this guy.” He points to Wes, still doing his step-step-step-pivot-step-step-step. What is it with the men in my life and pacing?

  “Why?” I snap.

  “Because, I forbid it. You shouldn’t be here, to begin with. And since when do you date men when you race?”

  Wait? What? Back the truck up here. He’s forbidding me? And he knows about my racing? Oh. Hell. No.

  He stops to look me in the eye. “Don’t look so shocked, Gwennie. Yes. I knew about the racing. Can’t say I was thrilled about it at first. But I knew it was something ya needed to do. Do you really think Trish keeps anything from me?”

  I’m going to strangle my daughter. Of course, she’d tell him. Why am I so surprised? I shouldn’t be. So much for mother, daughter confidentiality. Jeez, this day just keeps getting better and better. Fuck!

  Taking a page out of Nash’s playbook, I cross my arms over my chest and leer at him. “You’re not the boss of me, Nathaniel. I still haven’t forgiven you about Kelly and the blow off. Why in the world would I listen to you now? Right … I’m not. There is no real reason for me to go. So why would I? Wes is nice to me. I’m fed. Clothed. I have a lovely bedroom. And I get to help a boy out that I love to pieces. I’m not abandoning him. I’m not like his mother, and I’m not your mother.” That perks his ears right up, now doesn’t it.

  I’m not done. “Now, tell me why you’re here, Nathaniel. I’m done playing this wishy-washy, back and forth.”

  “I broke up with Kelly after I found out you were here,” he blurts.

  “Why in the hell would you do that? I thought you were in love with her.” I’m not upset in the least by this. Sayonara, bitch.

  Nash shrugs, indifferently. “I can’t be in love with a woman who’s not all mine. I cared for her, sure. But her boss over here,” he flicks his eyes to Wes then back to me, “could fuck her anytime he wanted, along with any of the high-paying customers at the strip club.”

  Note to self: Murder that two timing slut when I get home.

  Then again, that’s too much to deal with right now. At least, he knows, though. I guess.

  Poor Nash.

  My family mode kicks into high gear. “I never liked her, anyway. You’re too good for her. She was a slut.” So am I. Don’t hate me, I tack on in my head.

  Nash ignores my words when he commands, “I’m not staying another second in this house, Gwen. So go pack your things. We’re leaving.”

  Does he really think that’s going to work? I sincerely hope not. If so, he doesn’t know me at all.

  Holding my head high, I straighten my spine to square off against him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Get it through your thick skull, Nash. I’m tired of this fighting. You want to kick each other around like babies. Fine. Do it. But I’m not going to be dragged away from Garrett because you’ve decided you want to be in my life again. Wait your damn turn.” With that, I stand and amble toward the exit.

  “Now where in the hell do ya think you’re goin’?!” Nash booms so loudly his voice echoes off the walls.

  I peer over my shoulder. “Where does it look like, Nash?” I raise a cocky brow. “Away from you. You can see yourself out. I’ll be home in seventeen days. If I fucking feel like it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some sunbathing to do.” Whipping my head around, hair flying, I walk straight out of the door, leaving Nash and Wes in my dust. Does it feel good to stand up to them? Hell yes, it does. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. That’s the beautiful thing about my pride. It’s keeping me afloat right about now, because if I didn’t have it, I’d probably be bawling like a baby on the floor from all this stress. Yep, I really do need to throw on my bathing suit and soak up the sun. Maybe that’ll relax me. If not, I dunno what will.

  “I’m not leaving here without you, Gwen! You’re coming home with me one way or another. Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming,” Nash growls to my retreating back.

  Wes barks a laugh in response. “Go put your bathing suit on, Kitten. I’ll take care of this.” As always, he’s as cool as a cucumber. One of the things I’m growing to love about Wes.

  “You’ll take care of jack shit, motherfucker. She’s leaving with me, or I'm not going at all!”

  “Do you always act like such a child? It makes me wonder what she sees in you at all.” I can sense his eyes rolling from here as I slow my strides on my way down the hall.

  “Go fuck yourself, Wesley!”

  “No thanks. I got plenty of that this morning.”

  Uh oh…

  There’s a thunderous roar, and then the sound of more glass breaking. Jesus. Nash really needs to get a handle on his anger issues. I don’t remember him being such a loose cannon. Oh well. I guess it’s time to catch some sun. I just pray they don’t kill each other in the meantime. That’d be a shame. They’re both amazing men that I happen to care a lot about. Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses. Or Nash will. Wes seems to keep his most of the time. Remind me to thank him later for handling this for me. I think I’ll give him a blow job as payment.

  I’ll see ya later.

  It’s time for me to grab myself a snack and catch some rays. Maybe Garrett will be home soon so we can read together. That’d be nice. I already miss him.

  The End… For now…

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