by Snow, Nicole
I held my breath. The man had balls, and he was fighting for us in his own twisted way. I couldn't deny him that.
The older man's fist jerked – down to his side. With an angry swipe of the arm, he gave Brass a hard push. He caught himself against the wall, never taking his eyes off Crack's snarling face.
“Just get 'em the fuck outta my sight!” the VP roared. “You'd better make sure their mouths are sewn shut for your own damned sake. I won't hesitate to take you out back and use the Mauler on you myself if I hear a peep about either of those bitches going to daddy's old friends. The last fucking thing this club needs is cops sniffing around when the cartel's at our throats.”
Brass didn't say anything. He nodded once, then turned, leaving the raging volcano behind.
When he caught up to me, he grabbed my hand more fiercely this time, throwing open the door. We headed for a rusted old pickup and he opened the passenger door, waving Jackie and I inside.
I helped my sis get in and climbed in myself while he took the driver's side.
“Cover your eyes 'til we're through the gate,” Brass growled, backing the truck down a small parking strip. “Can't have either of you looking at this place and it's layout. I'll tell you when it's okay to see again.”
Jackie gave me an uncertain look. “Do it,” I mouthed silently, covering her eyes with one hand.
She struggled against me for a second, but then relented. We rode for about five to ten minutes in pure silence, listening to the truck's engine humming.
Keeping my brain from going to a thousand pitch black places was a constant struggle. I didn't want to believe he was going to hurt us or drop off our lifeless bodies – especially not after he'd put up such a convincing show – but I just didn't know.
I didn't know anything about this man except that he was a slightly smoother cog in the brutal machine called the Grizzlies MC. Trusting him wasn't going to happen – not without knowing we had our lives.
“Okay. You can open your eyes now,” he said firmly.
Uncovering Jackie's first, I looked out through the windshield into the night. We were definitely back in town, judging by all the bright lights. Just in time to watch him turn down a narrow residential street I'd seen a few times before.
We pulled up next to an old square three story building and he killed the engine, then reached past Jackie and I for the glove compartment. I watched him pull out a plastic tag and hang it on the rear view mirror.
“What're we doing here?” Jackie asked, beating me to the punch.
“Sleeping, eating, shitting. Looking pretty.” I frowned at his crude answer. “Whatever the hell you girls do in your off hours. This is your new home.”
I swallowed. It was too good to be true. Well, as 'good' as having a bland new apartment handed to us by a thug like Brass could be.
He got out and slammed his door without saying another word, stopping by the building's glass door to wait for us. I held Jackie's hand until she shook me off.
Whatever, as long as she was following my footsteps.
The place had that eighties feel, and it smelled just as old too. But after three days in the stinking clubhouse, anything was an improvement. Brass led us up a small staircase and stopped at the second door on the right.
“Number 205. That's your new place.” He shoved a key in and popped the door, holding it open for us.
We stepped inside. The biggest surprise was seeing the place fully furnished. The couch, chairs, and little dining table next to the kitchen weren't going to win any awards for fashion, but they looked clean and functional. I walked around, eyeing my new home, leaning close to the tacky brown sofa and giving it a sniff.
Thank God. The smoky old stink of the clubhouse wasn't bleeding out the cushions, so he hadn't gotten it from there.
Jackie walked straight into the little hall. I joined her a second later, wondering why she looked so perked up.
“Two bedrooms!” she chirped. “That's a lot better than the crap I thought he'd –“
She stopped, swallowing her words. Brass stood at the other end of the hall, his arms folded, looking seriously scary in the darkness.
I reached for a switch in the bathroom and flipped it on. The light did a lot to take the evil edge off him, but he still looked like he'd leave scorch marks if I got too close. He was all muscle, all fire rippling in his flesh, and he held every last key to our fate in his big calloused hand.
“Catch.” He threw me the small bundle of keys and I threw my hands out, wrapping my fingers around it.
“You're paid up through the end of the month, and I'll chip in something for next month too, as needed.” He turned.
I followed him into the living room while Jackie lingered in the bigger bedroom. She'd already claimed hers. Not something I was going to fight her about.
“The couch folds down,” he said, flopping on it in front of me. His leather cut jumped up his stomach for a second, revealing a tight set of abs I hadn't seen on a man outside underwear ads in magazines.
I quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter? Something tells me we're not allowed to have any guests.”
“Fuck, yes, it matters. This is where I'm gonna crash while I keep an eye on you two.”
My heart sank. Of course. Just because he'd moved us to a better prison, didn't mean we were home and free.
And why not? My first instinct alone would've been to grab Jackie, head for a hotel, and spill my guts about this nightmare to the first cop I saw.
“It's been a long fucking time since I lived in an apartment,” he said, stretching his huge body out on the cushions. “You'll have the place to yourselves most of the time. Club business keeps me busy during the day, you know.”
Duh. We'd been left alone for days, never knowing when he'd blow in, or what he'd do with us. His 'business' only fed the hellish uncertainty filling our lives.
I cautiously planted my butt in the wicker rocking chair next to him. “Fine. What about school for Jackie? She's been out all week dealing with my father's death, but she's supposed to be back on Monday...”
He shrugged. “Tell 'em she's sick. I fucked off in school all the time and turned out fine. Guess I'm lucky nobody asked any questions in those days.”
I wanted to burst out laughing. Was he fucking serious? Whatever he'd been when he was young, he was an outlaw biker now!
A killer. A thief. A brute.
All the evil things it was hard to visualize when he was right in front of me, looking sexier than any criminal should.
Somehow, I held the crazed, panicky laugh in my chest. Good thing too because if it got started, I knew it wouldn't stop until I was paralyzed on the floor in tears.
“Brass, she's fourteen years old. Her father just died from cancer and her older sister led her right into a pack of –“
Devils. Fuckers. Assholes.
No words were adequate for how the Grizzlies treated us. And I still got angry and sad every time I thought about daddy too.
Leaving us with nothing would've been better than what he'd dropped in my lap – why the fuck did he think I'd have any idea how to handle this? Why did he die painting a target on his daughters' backs?
Because the cancer rotted his brain. Or maybe desperation did. I didn't like that answer. It filled my skull with cruel cement.
Brass threw his feet on the floor and straightened up. “What were you gonna say? You don't have to self-censor here, babe. I've heard it all. You think calling me a rude name's gonna hurt my widdle feelings?”
Bastard. He made a puppy dog face and grinned. I shrugged, guessing it was better than having him jump on me and throw his hand on my throat for the stifled insult.
“We both know what happened,” I snapped. “There's no need to resort to name calling. I don't need to sink to your level.”
He laughed. A low, rich, smoky baritone sound, older sounding than his face suggested.
“Sure wish you would. Might help you blow off some fucking steam. Christ
, I know I need to. If you think I like having to deal with this shit – hostages – you're wrong. Deadly fucking wrong. I'm doing the best I can to make my brothers happy and keep you alive.”
He had me there. After bringing us here, I was starting to believe his bullshit, and that made me hate him even more. I shot daggers out of my eyes as I looked at him, annoyed that his face looked too handsome to cut.
If only he could've been a total gargoyle...feeding the hatred would've been so much easier.
Damn it, why did he look so different from most of the other guys in his club? Rude, savage bikers who acted like demons shouldn't wear the faces of angels.
“You've done enough. I don't like this crap, but I'm not an idiot, Brass. I won't go out. I won't say anything unless I get your permission, sir.” I practically stuck out my tongue when I said it. “But Jackie...I can't give up on her when she hasn't gotten started yet. She needs an education.”
Brass stood up, growling. He moved fast, pacing the room like a frustrated tiger in its cage. I wondered if he was about to kick over the brand new coffee table next to my legs when he stopped next to me and reached for his wallet.
“Here!” Crumpled up bills landed at my feet. “It's all I got 'til the next share comes in from the club. Pull the girl outta school and buy her some fucking lessons. Five hundred's gotta get something. I can't fucking risk her breaking down and tattling to teacher. You'll listen to these lessons and make sure she doesn't say anything she shouldn't.”
I was frozen in disbelief for at least a solid minute, looking at his dark, angry eyes. Jesus.
He was very, very good at making it hard to hate him, especially when the way he'd given me the money should've made it easy. Hell, five hundred dollars didn't make a dent in the two million we'd lost.
It wasn't yours, a sad voice in my head reminded me. You didn't do anything to deserve it, and whatever your father did was evil.
Ignoring the sly voice in my head, I scooped up the money, stuffing it into my pocket. Brass took two more long walks through the room, shaking his head. It was like watching a grenade having its pin stuffed in before it went off.
“Look, I'm really fucking sorry all this shit had to come down like this. I know it was your daddy who sold us out and not you. You and your sis got in the way. The guys are so fucked up and stretched to their limits they would've killed you if I hadn't been there...I stopped it. I saved you.” He held up a hand as I opened my lips. “I'm not looking for any gratitude, so you can shove that shit right back down your throat. I'm just looking for an understanding, babe. You gotta tell me you get what I'm trying to do here. This little tango is all that's gonna save all our lives – including mine – because I'm the lucky fuck who's responsible for you two. You fuck up, hurt the club, and we all die together.”
My eyes burned hard, just looking at him, thinking even harder.
Ugh. He'd never stop being a bastard, but right now, he was right.
“I understand, Brass. I hate to admit it, but I do. I'll try to cooperate.”
“Try?” He snorted. “You're gonna have to do better than that, babe. If you ever wanna go free, you're gonna have to prove to the club you can be trusted.”
No! There's no fucking way...
My head started spinning all over again. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“You saw the state the clubhouse was in – shit, you smelled it.” He paused. “You need money, right? I talked to Blackjack, and he's willing to have you around to clean shit up. We'll pay you two or three times what some maid would get because you've got extra incentive to keep your pretty pink mouth shut.”
I was shaking my head before he finished. Started shaking it even harder when he added that last part.
I couldn't go to that stinking, filthy, evil place again. And I definitely didn't need this sick attraction going both ways.
“No.” Brass blinked in surprise after I said it. “I'll wait this out. I'll find a different job. I can't go back there again...I just –“
“You can, and you will,” he growled. “Babe, much as I wish I was offering you a real choice, it's a fucking illusion. You're gonna do this for me, and you're gonna do it right. If we're lucky, we'll be too busy focusing on our war to get in your hair. If the guys believe you're really my old lady, they won't give a shit if you fade into the background, and neither will I.”
Old lady? He'd said that word before. It was strange – crude like everything else that came from his wicked lips.
“Okay, you need to tell me what that means. You talked about me with that man, Crack, like I was your...” The word stuck in my throat. I had to force it out. “Property. Does old lady mean slave, Brass?”
“Slave to the heart, maybe. Being claimed is the best damned thing a girl can hope for hanging around men like us. You become an old lady, you get special privileges. You're not like the rest of the whores and sluts.” He grunted, struggling to explain, his face turning red as he eyed the confusion on mine. “I didn't marry you or nothing, babe. But if you still don't get it, taking a wife's the closest equivalent in your world.”
My heart skipped a beat. Shit, maybe ten.
I started to slump back in the chair, feeling the tremor rising in my body. Horror, rage, and hate shot to my throat. I coughed once to push it down. No use.
“You can't be serious! And you waited until now to tell me this?” I shook my head for the hundredth time that night, feeling blood rattle in my temples. “You're sick. This whole fucking thing is. God, I'm starting to wish you'd let the rest of those animals pull the trigger.”
Brass moved like lightning. The rocking chair was tipped back and he was face to face with me, all rage, a rough glint in his dark green eyes that turned my skin into goosebumps.
“Shut the fuck up. I know you don't mean that shit, but I'll be a goddamned devil before I let you say that fucking bullshit to my face again. You'd better learn to control your tongue, babe, or someone a whole lot shorter fused than me's gonna cut it right off.”
I stopped thinking. My hand went up and grazed his face, slapping him across the cheek.
I didn't care what happened anymore. This hot and cold, good cop-bad cop act had to die, or else I would first. I flew out of my chair before he could grab me and hit the couch.
Rolling, I wondered why he wasn't holding me down, laying into me with words or worse.
What the hell? Brass wasn't even looking at me.
He was staring at Jackie, who'd just come into the room and stood staring at us, one hand clenched on the corner of the wall.
“It's okay!” I spat, twisting my feet to take a normal sitting position. “We were just talking about work...a job opportunity...”
I looked at Brass, hoping he'd give me a little support. His face was completely cold, if it wasn't just pure fire.
“We're done talking. I'm heading out 'til later.” His eyes drilled deeper into mine. “I gave you some shit to think about and said everything I needed to. You're gonna mull it over and find a tutor for your sis while I take care of business.”
He turned, heading straight for the door, and slammed it behind him without another word.
I hated him even when he was gone. He'd just forced me into this hell's tightest corner: trying to convince my sister everything was all right when I didn't believe it for a second.
I didn't hear him come in that night. When I woke up and padded to the bathroom in the morning, I saw the lumpy blanket thrown across the couch, but he wasn't there either.
It wasn't until I went into the kitchen to check and see if we had any food that I finally saw him. He was leaning on the counter, shoveling a bowl of food into his mouth with a spoon.
“Eggs, hash, and sausage. There's more underneath those lids on the stove if you want it. You find a tutor for your sis, or what?”
“Just barely started looking,” I said. “Had other things on my mind.”
It had taken an hour just to calm down and convince Jacki
e everything was okay. By the time I got on the crappy old computer he'd left us and started to look, my brain was overwhelmed with my own selfish problems.
Rock met hard place the instant I held Brass' dirty money in my hands. The bastard made me realize there was no way out unless I did exactly what he said. I hated it, and hated even it more that I couldn't deny it.
Brass finished his last bite and dropped his bowl in the sink. It landed with a clatter that made me jump. Annoyed, I straightened my long pajama shirt and looked at him.
“Listen, I thought about what you said last night...” I waited until he looked up. “Your club's full of the most disgusting pigs I've ever seen. But that doesn't mean I want to live like this forever. I can't be a prisoner, and neither can Jackie. If I have to clean up their messes to get away from this and get on with my life...I'll do it.”
He cocked his head. Red shame flooded my cheeks. Jesus, who was actually saying these words? I felt disembodied.
“Good. Had a feeling you'd come to your senses eventually. Go clean up, babe. You're heading in with me today.”
Panic clogged my throat. “But...Jackie doesn't have a tutor yet...”
“So? You said you're working on that,” he said, taking a step closer. “I trust you're not shitting me about the girl talking, right?”
Part of me wished she would. If it wouldn't mean changing our names and hiding like rats for the rest of our lives, I wanted Jackie to freak out, run to the police. Anything to get this apartment and their clubhouse raided. My heart swelled with grim satisfaction when I imagined all the Grizzlies clapped in irons and loaded into a SWAT team's van.
Everybody except the bastard standing in front of me. For some unholy reason, imagining him in handcuffs tugged at my heart, filled me with a thick, sickly guilt.
Stepping up to him, I closed the distance between us, standing on my tip-toes until we were eyeball-to-eyeball. “I keep my promises. Neither of us will say anything to anyone. She can stay here...just let me talk to her before we leave.”