by V. Theia
“Screw that,” Tag chuckled and let Butcher examine a recent sprain. It had slight swelling but icing it would fix that. While they talked, Butcher prepared an ice pack. Tag winced when he put the pack on his arm too roughly. “Whoa, now we know why you’re called the Butcher, try not to break me before Saturday.”
“Sorry, man.” He plonked down on the bench. “My head is fucked up over Roux.”
Tag’s blond brows hit his sweat slicked hair. “You’re kicking it with that girl again?”
Butcher needed someone to talk to, he was going stir fucking crazy.
“Truth? Never stopped. We hook up now and then. It’s all she’ll give me.”
“Holy fuck, Tad.” Tag whistled. “You’re crazy man, you forgot the beatdown you got from Axel?”
Forgotten? His shattered knee still hurt in cold weather. He’d never forget the day he turned up to surprise the girl he felt things for to find out she was not eighteen yet and the daughter of a rival club.
Yeah, fun fucking times.
He could still hear Roux’s quiet cries when she’d sneaked into his hospital room and begged for forgiveness. He was pathetic because instead of being pissed off at her, he comforted her.
She’d kissed him that night. On his lips, on every bruise on his face, whispering her regret for lying but not for being with him. As he’d laid there broken all over, threads started to twine around Roux, linking their pain together.
He’d wanted her ever since. Nothing shook the girl from his chest.
“It’s a fucking mess. Apparently she’s engaged. To a Diablo.” Tag sucked through his teeth, listening. “I don’t buy it. There’s more sexual chemistry between me and Hawk.”
With a laugh, Tag asked, “You got a death wish, Butcher? No offense to the chick, but there must be easier sex out there than getting yourself killed by Axel.”
“I’m not afraid of that guy.”
“Messing with a club princess, knowing who she is and what kind of tight rein Axel will have on his girl, you kinda need to be afraid, man. Fuck, even I wouldn’t go there.”
“You nearly did with Gia,” Butcher reminded, and Tag griped. “Fuck off with that. I liked her for three minutes, nothing would have come of it. But she’s a sister, not a daughter. Who’s patch has she got?”
The bile rose heavy in Butcher’s throat picturing Roux wearing a claimed patch by another biker. He couldn’t stand it.
She’d wear only one patch. His.
The pain in his jaw reminded Butcher to stop grinding his back molars. He all but growled, “Reno.”
“Fuck, for real? And Axel’s fine with the manslut with his girl?”
He shrugged at the question. Nothing made sense. For all his shit, Butcher didn’t much like Axel, but he’d shown himself to be a good, protective dad. To be fine with Reno hooking up with Roux… yeah, he smelled bullshit.
“Could be worse, I suppose.” Tag said tossing the towel away after he’d sluiced it down his bare chest and then he pulled on another wifebeater. “She could be shackled with his mad twin.”
Butcher snorted. That was true, he guessed.
Ruin was not a guy any woman should voluntarily hook her wagon to.
“Is it over for good with you two if she’s with Reno?”
Those innocent words grated through the front of his brain.
It’s not as though Butcher hadn’t figured one day; she’d get into a relationship with someone else. He didn’t want to face it.
He felt possessive over her. All his brain wanted to do was shout a war cry of ‘mine’ until every fucker in a twenty block radius knew who she belonged to.
His obsession was gonna get him killed.
He didn’t tell Tag about her late night visit or what that meant for her so-called engagement.
Instead he turned his head to ask, “you ever felt a connection to a woman, Tag? More than just your dick,” he added when Prince charming started to smirk.
A wave of dark brown hair walked by stopping Tag’s answer. She smiled demurely at him and nodded at his “Hey, Marianna,” then carried on through the gym. It was only as she reached the office that Butcher clicked why her face was familiar. She went into the office and closed the door.
“That’s one of Grigori’s Russian women. What’s she doing here?”
It was some sick shit from months ago. The night Grigori was killed, the Souls helped free his stable of hostages from a porno nightmare. Marianna was part of that slavery. Far as he knew though, all those women were relocated elsewhere.
“You know I was the one to get her out of that warehouse and I saw her at the hospital?”
Butcher hadn’t known the second part, but he bobbed his head.
“I felt bad for her, that shit … I can’t imagine what they endured at Grigori’s hand.” Tag was up on his feet now like he was agitated, hands going into his hair and Butcher wondered if Tag had caught feelings for a woman he shouldn’t feel for. Because that seemed to be the norm now for the Souls. Hooking up with a Russian associated to an enemy … fuck, who knew what kind of brainwashed Stockholm syndrome crap she had embedded in her head.
“Anyway, I saw her a few weeks later in the diner. I don’t know how she knew me, but she froze like I was gonna slap her, Butcher. Swear, man, I wanted to puke every time I saw her, and she gave me the same look. I talked to her, told her if she ever needed any help to give me a call or stop by the club. We had a few coffees.” When Butcher raised his brows silently, Tag added, “nothing like that.”
“You’re not into her?”
“It’s not like that.”
Not a real answer, Butcher noted.
“When I bought the gym, I needed someone to take care of it, cleaning and office stuff. She’s been here a few weeks. Hardly know she’s here. She ghosts in and out, never talks to anyone, hardly talks to me unless I speak to her first.”
There was a lot Butcher could have said to his friend. Mainly was he fucking insane helping anyone from their enemy camp.
No one could guess how spies played, how deep they could go undercover to get what they wanted. No one would know if this chick was playing an exceptionally long con by getting friendly with Tag to collect info on the Souls. Grigori was one cog in an extended Russian chain. Everything on that front had been quiet since his death but who was to say it was truly over?
And with Lawless in prison, they didn’t have their skilled hacker to scrape the layers back of this woman’s story to see if her motives checked out as innocent.
Butcher didn’t like it. He didn’t want to see Tag being fooled.
“Just be careful, man. A pretty face isn’t always just a pretty face, yeah?”
* * *
In the office, Marianna stood at the single window, making sure no one was approaching. The boss rarely came in here when he was training but she was always so cautious.
It was excitement and dread she was feeling as she lifted the landline telephone out of its port and started to dial the long number.
Never once averting her gaze through the partially closed blinds.
She’d been caught unawares only once before. Since she had gained her freedom by sheer will and determination to live, she swore it would never happen again. Never would anyone get the upper hand over her.
The moment the voice on the other end answered she felt her lungs expand with joy. She smiled, her other hand holding her throat, her pulse wild.
In rapid Russian she talked quietly.
“My little lily pad, I miss you so much. Have you been good?”
She smiled for the answer though her heart ached so badly.
After a few minutes of listening to excited chatter about school and a play date at a park she said, “please put Pasha on the phone. Mama will talk again to you very soon I promise.”
A minute later, her eyes tracing the length of the gym, she did not have long and would have to hang up soon. It was never enough but she made do with what she could for now.
A small voice
came on the line and she squeezed her eyes closed with emotion.
Oh, this was torture.
She had faced so much already and still so much in front of her to get her hearts happiness. Nothing would stop Marianna.
“Baby boy, don’t cry. I love you. Tell me what you’ve been playing today.”
The talk became animated on the other end and she smiled with tears on her lashes.
Her three year old twins were a world apart from Marianna and would be until she had the means to bring them to a safer life.
She had been derailed once before … too naive … never again. Nothing would stop her. Nothing would hurt her.
Now she was ice and stone inside.
Dead to emotion for anything but the two hearts who owned her soul.
With the last thirty seconds with her rare phone call she told her babies how much she loved them; she sang their night time lullaby while she tried to hold her tears at bay. Only allowing herself to cry her despair once she was alone in her small apartment tonight.
Outside of the window she watched her boss, the one who offered help when no one else would.
Confusion and suspicion still weighed heavy.
He was laughing with his friend. Big men horsing around with pretend punches. Marianna didn’t smile for their fun, but she did smile when Pasha blew kisses down the phone.
She looked at that man closely as she had these past weeks.
A woman who would cross the world in an airtight container to make a better life for her children has already proven her strength and fortitude.
She survived through a nightmare and here she stood, tough as ever. Determined to tear her hands to the bone to get that good life for her babies.
By any means necessary.
Whatever she had to do.
Whoever she had to use to do it.
She eyed the tall blond man as he laughed and dodged a flying plastic bottle.
“Mama has a plan to make this all right, my angels. I will do whatever is needed so I can see you again very soon.”
The blond man did not know how pivotal he was to Marianna.
ELEVEN
“I bet on you.” - Roux
“I thought that one guy was going to bust a blood vessel when you won the table.” Giggled Poppy from the passenger seat with a lapful of road snacks.
“He was too busy checking out your tits to see what I was doing.”
“I was totally a great wingman, wasn’t I?”
“Didn’t know you had it in you, Cinderella.” remarked Roux.
She was in a fan-fucking-tastic mood. Winning big at a card table in Denver meant she now had the down payment for an apartment.
“Are there any Nerds left? Toss them over.”
“I don’t know how you eat them, they’re so sour.”
Roux threw a handful into her mouth and sucked around the candy. “I like sour things.”
“Is that why you’re always kissing the biker, hmm? The Renegade Souls biker not … you know, the one you’re betrothed to…” her friend chuckled.
Roux felt her face fill with heat.
Over drinks this week, she’d confessed to Poppy the actual realness of her relationship or lack thereof with Tad and what was going on with Reno the dickhead.
“I will throw you out of this car at high speed, Cinders.” She sort of threatened without meaning it. “I am not fucking betrothed to anyone and Tad doesn’t taste sour.” He was spice and addiction.
Over the years, she’d been selfishly glad she never heard about Tad having a girlfriend. As much as she wore her blasé attitude, knowing someone else was tasting his kiss would have gutted her open.
It was well known that bikers gossip. Oh, those idiots never called it that, but they swapped news about rival clubs like they were exchanging nerd cards. So, she listened out whenever the Souls’ name were mentioned. Her breath stopped in her chest if the gossip was about Tad.
“What are you going to do about them both?”
“Reno? Not a thing. What they gonna do, drag me down the aisle? It’s ridiculous.”
“Knowing your dad… and how I met you all, eh yeah, he just might, Roux.”
Yeah, it was a possibility Axel would force her hand. Literally. Screw them all. She had the money now to be independent and not depend on her dad. He never wanted her to gamble, said it brought trouble. She could have won big for the club many times, but he refused to accept her help. If he didn’t want her to be a hotshot gambler then he never should have perched her on his knee at four years old and taught her how to play Black Jack.
“I think it’s romantic.” sighed Poppy, pulling apart blue cotton candy before shoving it into her mouth. Roux gave her a sarcastic side glance. “Well it is! Two hot bikers fighting over you.”
Roux snorted. “Reno is a dickhead who goes along with orders from my father, I’d bet my hair that he has no real interest in me other than following the prez’s directive. And Tad … yeah, he isn’t fighting for me at all.”
“You want him to, yeah?”
Oh, that sneaky bitch getting her to admit things.
She sighed, taking the turning to drop Poppy off at home. Her teeth whittling the corner of her lip. Did she want him to fight for her?
The desire and want for a lot of things lately have become a blur to Roux.
What she knew was, she’d like the option to fight together.
She knew Tad wanted her physically. That much was obvious the way they tore into each other at any opportunity. Sadly, not enough for her liking.
But more than that? She had no idea if he’d want her for his old lady.
She fucking hated feelings. It felt so female and weak. Her mother left because of weakness and Roux always swore she’d never turn out like that woman.
But wanting Tad was as natural as breathing. It had no off switch.
Once Poppy was inside her building, after her man met her downstairs on the curb with a mouth crushing kiss, Roux started heading out of town back to her house. Only, her Jeep, that little fucker, had other ideas and only minutes later, a few blocks away, pulled up outside of a bungalow.
Yeah, she was a Groundhog Day pervert.
Engine and lights out, Roux’s stomach started to roll as she glanced at the dark house. It was kind of bad timing seeing as there was no Harley parked in the garage.
The decision of what to do was taken from her when the pipes of a motorcycle jump started her heart around ten minutes later. She watched Tad roll his bike up the drive to his house. He was going to see her sitting here like a fucking stalker! Slouching in her seat, she had nothing to worry about because he didn’t even glance across the street. Slinging his leg over the bike like a goddamn hot model, he strode into his house. Lights flipped on and then Roux breathed.
At least he was alone.
Roux waited.
And waited.
And then waited some more.
Flipping down the visor, she did a quick make-up check. Her burgundy lipstick was long gone and that was fine, she wanted her lips bare. But her kohl eyes were still looking fresh from this morning. She’d dressed the part to go gambling. Her dress was black, tight around her tits and ass, cut with a slit to the thigh and looked the part of a bitch who wanted to play expensive games. The stilettos killed her feet though and she’d ditched those for her brown leather Chelsea boots before she’d started the drive home.
Best thing about the dress? It had discreet pockets, so she slid something in there she’d need and then watched the house some more. Waiting.
She felt like a clown in the get up. Dress-up wasn’t high on her list, obviously. The guys at home would laugh their asses off to see her all gussied up like a billionaire’s wife. Roux preferred the comfort of jeans, sweats, and her buckle boots over constantly pulling a too short skirt down over her business.
A spark of heat ignited her belly when she slipped out of her Jeep.
Would he kick her out this time?
It’s
been days since she saw him last and it didn’t exactly go so well. What with telling him to fuck off, practically. He had no idea she did that for him so the boys wouldn’t hurt him.
Stealing into his house for the second time in less than a week, appeared to most like she’d lost her mind.
Maybe she had, who knows.
Using the same tool as before to pick the lock, she was inside in moments. Where nerves rode her spine last time, she was nothing but contained energy as she toed off her boots in the hallway. Lining them up against his gave her a jolt of stupid pleasure. And then padded soundless down the long hall. The light at the other end caught her attention.
He was asleep again. But not in bed this time.
Sprawled on the reclined lazy boy, he was in front of the TV, some shoot ‘em movie was playing. He had an empty bowl and a beer bottle on the table next to the chair.
How could he look so good in ratty denim and a black wifebeater holding firm to his body? His arms slung over the top of the leather recliner, ugh, he was so sexy.
All sorts of fireworks started popping in her lower body. She knew if she pushed a hand beneath the tight dress and into her panties her fingers would come away wet.
The anticipation of tasting him again made her wetter.
The anxious feeling in her belly bolted, replaced with razor-sharp yearning.
She might hate the feelings but she never ignored the need she felt for him.
On silent feet she tracked over to him and without thought, she climbed onto the recliner, straddling his lap.
“Tad.” She whispered. Her pulse went nuts.
There was no hesitation. He came awake fast like he hadn’t even been asleep. The moment his eyes pinged open, he grabbed each side of her face and pulled her in, crushing a kiss so brutally lovely to her mouth. She was sure it was the best kiss of all.
A moan so starved traveled up her throat.
She curled her fingers into his hair, just as ferocious to taste him. Her tongue went wild in his mouth and she had a Come to Jesus moment when he sucked around it and made her see stars.
He was rough yet meticulous in his movements, as if infatuated with every curve and dip on her body. She couldn’t get enough of his touches so she arched nearer, whimpering his name. Chasing a need she couldn’t explain, only knowing the answer was inside Tad’s mouth.