Lucky for me, you got it all, and all of it I fuckin’ like.
“Paxton,” I whisper.
“Not fuckin’ with you, sweetheart. Fucked up bad back then, and I’ll tell you about everything I’ve been through one day, and maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive me for bein’ so fuckin’ young and so fuckin’ dumb,” he mutters, his eyes looking straight into mine, never wavering.
Maybe I only want to see the truth in them, but I see it, and I want to know what demons hide behind his gaze. They look like quite a burden. I wanted so badly to be his partner, to share in his burdens and his joys, but he shut me out and abandoned me before I even had the chance.
“You swear you’ll tell me this time?” I ask, biting the corner of my lip.
“Swear to fuck,” he murmurs.
“I’m not making any promises on the future or anything, but I want to know.”
“Fair enough,” he whispers with a nod before he cuts a piece of his chicken fried steak and eats it.
I turn back to my food as well, but I’m only able to take a couple more bites, my appetite lost as I start remembering the past.
“Clee,” Paxton calls. His voice takes me away from my thoughts, and I am forced to look up at him. “Think we can move on from the past, and when we do, swear to Christ, you’ll be happy with me.”
“That’s a lot to promise a girl, Pax,” I murmur.
“Not a kid anymore, babe. Ready to get this shit done and over with, and I’m ready to move the fuck on,” he announces.
“What does moving on look like, then?” I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly, my breakfast now forgotten.
“Looks like me and you—you on the back of my bike, bein’ my Old Lady and poppin’ out those coupla kids you always wanted,” he grunts.
“You’re crazy,” I whisper.
“Watch what you say. You ain’t seen my brand of crazy yet, Clee,” he rumbles.
“Seriously, you’re fucking insane if you think that’s what’s going to happen between us. Aside from the fact that I only understand about three-quarters of what you just said, how do you know I still want kids? And who the hell says that I’m going to be anywhere near your motorcycle or okay with you being my children’s father?” I rant.
“I’m your husband, so I’m pretty fuckin’ certain it’ll be my kids in your belly,” he barks, his voice rising in the diner.
“We will never work, Paxton—not for a freaking minute. There’s too much hurt between us. I’m glad you like the way I look, but you don’t know me anymore, and I never knew you.”
“The first time I went overseas, when I came back to you, I know I said some shit about my buddies’ girls leaving them, and they did; but that’s not what I was so fucked up about, Cleo. It was only a portion of my problem. I watched my best friend over there get blown to fuckin’ pieces, baby. Other guys died, too, but he was my best friend. We went through basic together, went through school together—we were brothers, babe, and he fucking blew up into a million pieces right in front of me. They sent him home in goddamn pieces, Cleo.”
Tears stream down my face at his words, at the obvious pain he still feels just speaking about his friend. I imagine his nightmares are even more painful. I reach across the table and place my hands over his wrist giving him a squeeze.
“You could have told me all of that back then. I was prepared for it, Pax. I’d taken classes and gone to meetings on how to help you acclimate back to your life here at home,” I whisper.
“Love that you were prepared, Cleo; love that you thought you were, at least. But, honest to fuck, sweetheart, you could not prepare yourself for the shit I was dealing with. Then I went back less than a year later and it happened all over again. I got out after eight years, halfway to retirement, and I’d been to that desert hell four times. I couldn’t do it again. I was lost—an alcoholic addicted to pain killers and sleeping pills. I wouldn’t have just hurt you, Cleo. I would have destroyed you.”
“I would have stayed right by your side, and you don’t know that because you wouldn’t let me try to be there for you,” I whisper as more tears fill my vision.
“Trust me. Fuckin’ hell, baby, trust me when I tell you that me leaving was the best thing for you back in the day,” he announces as he stands up.
I watch as he throws some money on the table and then holds out his palm for me. I slip mine inside as we walk out of the little diner and toward his vehicle. It’s like a pickup, as in it has a bed, but it’s low, like a car, and it’s old, seventies old. It seems like he’s fixed it up, because it isn’t falling apart and the paint is dark blue and shiny new, nothing like my oxidized maroon car.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask, turning around to face him. I watch as his face softens and he smiles down at me.
“It’s a nineteen-seventy-three Ford Ranchero,” he murmurs.
“It’s like a truck, but it’s not,” I point out. His smile widens.
“Was my daddy’s. Found it in an old barn on some property he owned and left to me after he died,” he shrugs.
I look at him, opening my mouth to say something, but he’s right there in front of me. His hands cup my cheeks as he lowers his head, and his lips brush mine, quieting me as his tongue fills my mouth. I accept his kiss, my body warming and going hot as he continues to devour my mouth. I slide my hands around his sides, beneath his vest, and fist the fabric of his t-shirt at his lower back.
We move, he walks forward, forcing me to back up until my ass hits the door to his car. He presses his hips against my belly, his length pressing into me.
My entire body shivers, and I know he’s felt it when he groans into my mouth. Then he slowly pulls away from me so that we can breathe, and his forehead rests against my own, his nose touching mine and his breath fanning my face.
“This is who we are, sweetheart. End of the day, this is what’s important,” he mutters.
“What? Because we enjoy kissing each other?” I ask breathily.
“No, baby. I could kiss a million women, could even like it a fuck’ve a lot, but not one of them would feel the way it does when I kiss those pretty lips of yours.”
“I want to know you, Paxton. I want to know about your childhood, your past, and the last eleven years. I want it all from you,” I admit, giving myself whiplash.
I want him and to know about him, but it feels like it’s all going just as fast as it did when I was eighteen. That scares the shit out of me at the same time.
He releases me and takes a step back, his eyes focused on mine. He doesn’t, or can’t, hide the pain that slices through his features before he arranges himself so that it’s hidden again.
“You’re the only one that does know me, Clee. You’ll learn more as time goes, but what you know is more than anybody else in my life,” he says.
“If you really want there to be an us, I have to be able to trust you, Paxton. In order to trust you, I need you to be open and honest with me. I’m not the starry-eyed girl I was, willing to jump into anything head first. I have to know that I won’t be abandoned again,” I whisper, my eyes connecting with his.
“No guarantees in life, sweetheart. This could go south, for you or for me. You could abandon me, too, you know.”
“I could, but we both know that I’m not that kind of person,” I say, watching as he flinches with my well delivered blow.
“When do you work again?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow. I have to be there at ten,” I state.
“Let’s go,” he grunts, walking over to the passenger side. Opening the car door, he waits for me to slide inside.
I let him have his silence and allow the conversation we were having to come to an abrupt end. He probably had no idea the adult version of me wasn’t going to be exactly like the girl I was. I’ve been hurt, and he’s the main person who hurt me.
I’ve had years to think about those hurts, and it’s going to take more than a few empty promises to be anything oth
er than two people who are married but estranged.
I glance at her, sitting next to me as I drive us back to the clubhouse. Fuck. I fucked her up. She’s still naïve, innocent, and shy, but there’s a piece of her spirit that’s been broken; her trust in anyone, too. I did that, just me, and I hate myself a little more for it.
I don’t know how to fix it, though, and I’m sure as fuck not going to be an open book for her. She doesn’t need to know about my entire childhood, about the horrors I’ve seen in the military, or a damn thing I’ve done or could do for my club. I don’t want to erase that little bit of innocence she so obviously still has inside of her. I love that part of her. I always have.
“Got some shit to do today. Stay in my room,” I say as I pull up to the clubhouse gate.
“You’re leaving me alone?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Yeah, but you’ll be safe in there. Just stay away from everyone.”
“Why?” she breathes. Goddamn, it’s so fuckin’ sexy.
I throw the Ranchero in park and turn to face her.
“You don’t have a brand, babe, which means someone could think you’re fair game. I’m still new here, and though I know all the brothers, I don’t know all of them real well—not like my brothers in Idaho. That bein’ said, I don’t know who would take it upon themselves to take you and not give much of a shit if you say no. You’re not claimed, so it’s a possibility,” I explain.
“Are you telling me that someone in there might rape me? And what’s a brand?” she asks. I start to get annoyed, forgetting that she’s never been a part of this life.
“You aren’t branded with a tattoo of my name, which means you’re not claimed and you’re fair game,” I explain.
“So, you’re actually saying that unless I have your name permanently tattooed onto my body, your brothers think that they can rape me?” she says, sneering.
“That’s the life, babe,” I shrug.
“I’m not comfortable being here without you, Paxton. Can’t you just take me with you?” she asks, biting her plump bottom lip.
“Sorry, sweetheart, can’t take you,” I say. I am sorry. She looks fuckin’ terrified.
“Paxton,” she whispers with a trembling lip.
“I’ll lock you in my room,” I shrug.
I step out of the front seat and walk over to her side, helping her out. She looks up at me with teary eyes, and though they pull at my heartstrings, I’m going on club business and she can’t come, even if I wanted her to.
Plus, this is something she’s going to have to get used to—my life, my club, and my brothers. I don’t think anyone here would hurt her, but the fact is that I don’t know all of them that well.
I take her to my room, telling her that I’ll be back in a bit before locking her inside. I can’t look at the way her lips tremble, the way her eyes are scared and wide. I have shit to do, and I need to get going on it. On my way out of the clubhouse, I run into Camo.
“Hey, brother, Cleo’s locked up in my room. Here’s my key. She need anything, can you handle her?” I ask.
“Sure, I’ll be around for a while.”
“She isn’t branded,” I murmur.
“Got an Old Lady,” he grunts.
“Know that, trust you, that’s why I’m talking to you. I haven’t claimed her, and I don’t know all the brothers well enough to know if she’ll be safe…”
“I got you, brother. I’ll take care of her,” he offers.
“She get’s hurt…” I trail off.
“No problem. I got sisters and a woman. Not into allowing women to get hurt on my watch,” he grins.
“Thanks, brother.”
I leave Cleo in Camo’s care and hope that she’ll be all right while I’m gone. I hope it isn’t too long, but it’s club business, and it could very well take the rest of the evening.
I stare at the closed door, wondering not for the first time, what in the actual hell I’m doing here. I feel like this is some alternate universe, and nothing makes sense. Not a single damn thing. Brandings, tattoos, brothers, rape, and whores, it’s all a completely different language to me.
I knew after seeing Paxton for the first time in years, dressed in faded jeans and leather, that he was different, but I didn’t expect him to be this different. It just further reiterates the fact that I don’t know him.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and I jump, afraid to walk over to it. Then it slowly opens. I suck in a breath when I see the man who drove Paxton and me here from Redding standing in the doorway. He’s tall, with a full beard, and shaggy hair. He’s young, but no less good looking as he takes me in, then grins, showing off his straight white teeth.
“Torch said he warned you, but it’s all good. I got an Old Lady, she’ll be here in a few. Thought maybe you’d like a drink and to relax a bit,” he offers with a shrug.
“Umm.”
“Won’t hurt you, Cleo. Won’t let anybody else hurt you, either,” he says gently.
“Who’s Torch?” I ask with confusion.
“Your man,” he murmurs, lifting a brow.
“You mean Paxton?”
“If that’s his name, then yeah. Gotta tell ya, babe, I only know him as Torch,” he states. “It’s his road name.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I whisper.
“Come down to the bar, have a drink, and the women will explain,” he says.
“What women?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“Figured you had no fuckin’ clue about the life, so I called my Old Lady and had her gather up some of the others. They can tell you about it,” he offers.
I tentatively take a step toward him and he slides to the side to let me walk through door. Together, we walk to the bar, and he tells the man behind it to grab me whatever I want. I look around at the shelves and see a bunch of tequila and whiskey, so I decide to ask for a beer, thinking they won’t have a white riesling wine like I’m used to when I drink with Lisandro and Theo.
Taking the bottle of beer from the man behind the bar top, I follow Camo, over to an empty table.
I suck in a breath when a mountain of a man walks up beside us and sits down across from me. Camo doesn’t leave me, and I’m grateful. Maxfield, from the jewelry store, stares at me. He’s intimidating. He’s big, and the way he’s watching me makes me feel as though he can see through me.
“Don’t know much about Torch, but not sure you do either, do you?” he mutters, lifting a brow as he leans back in his chair.
“I thought I knew him, once,” I admit, looking down at my beer bottle as I tug at the corner of the label.
“You probably know more than anybody,” he murmurs.
“I don’t know anything about his life, about this world he lives in,” I say with a wave of my hand.
“Only thing I can do is tell you about the life of the club, not his personal life. Don’t know much about the shit he’s been through, but I can tell you about the club life,” Maxfield offers.
“What does Torch mean?” I ask, taking a swig of the cold beer.
“Torch is his road name, what we all call him. We don’t use our first names here. We’re all given a road name, and some of them have deeper meanings than others. I’m the president, and I’m called Prez or MadDog. Torch was an EOD in the Air Force, so when we need to blow shit up, he’s the guy we call,” he explains and I gasp.
“EOD? Blow shit up?” I mutter in surprise.
“Explosive Ordinance Disposal. You didn’t know what he did in the military?” Maxfield, or MadDog as he’s called, asks, his brows drawn together in confusion.
“He never told me what he did, just that he was in the Air Force,” I explain. “So, that’s what he meant when he said he watched his friends being blown up,” I mutter to myself.
“I’m sure he has seen that,” MadDog rumbles.
“I don’t know anything about him, not a single thing,” I mutter, looking down at the table.
“Good news is you’re
married, and you got time to learn,” MadDog booms causing me to jump slightly.
I press my lips together, refusing to talk about my marriage, or whatever the hell it’s called. I lift my eyes to see MadDog staring at me, studying me, and then he stands and leaves without saying a word.
“Did I make him mad?” I ask, turning my head slightly to watch him walk away.
I try really hard not to admire his ass encased perfectly in his jeans. He’s old enough to be my dad, and very engaged to a stunning woman, but he’s built.
“Prez? Nah, not at all, babe,” Camo shrugs.
A few moments later, a pretty blonde, a brunette in her forties, and a petite redhead make their way over and sit down while smiling widely at me. They don’t say anything. They just stare, and I squirm under their scrutiny.
“This is Ivy, my woman, and some other Old Ladies. It’s my cue to jet. I’ll be at the bar if you need me,” Camo announces as he stands and walks away from us.
“So, you’re Torch’s Old Lady?” the brunette in her forties asks with an arched brow.
“I’m technically his wife, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say as my eyes shift from one woman to the next.
“West told me that you don’t know anything about this life?” the young blonde murmurs. “I’m Ivy, by the way,” she smiles.
“Oh, I’m Cleo,” I say. “No, I don’t know anything at all,” I admit.
“But you’re married to Torch?” the petite redhead mutters. “I’m Teeny, Mammoth’s Old Lady.”
I blink in surprise, thinking about this tiny little thing with a man named Mammoth.
“Uhh, yeah, Torch and I have been married for twelve years, technically speaking,” I say.
“I’m Colleen, and I’ve been around this club my whole life, married my Old Man, Texas, when I was sixteen. You want to support your man, be his partner and not someone he just comes home to every now and then, you stick with us and we’ll help you,” she offers with a kind smile.
“Honestly, I don’t know what Paxton and I are,” I say, sucking down some more beer.
“Do you want him?” Colleen asks, her intelligent gaze honed in on me.
Rough & Ready (Notorious Devils Book 5) Page 9