Rough & Rugged (Notorious Devils Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  When I walk into the diner, I’m relieved to see that Andy is in his civilian clothes and not his uniform. I’m extremely proud of my brother. His job is a tough one; but sometimes, when he gets that uniform on, he thinks he’s in charge of everything, including me and my life.

  “Hey,” he murmurs as soon as I sit down across from him.

  “Hi,” I greet nervously.

  “I’m a dick. I still think of you as twelve years old, scrawny and small, needing your big brother to protect you,” he begins. It makes me giggle.

  I was so small and extremely scrawny. Andy protected me on more than one occasion, and I was always extremely grateful for it. Still am, too.

  “I knew you meant well, Andy, but you have to let me make my own decisions, even if they are mistakes,” I say with a sigh.

  “Was he a mistake?” he asks cautiously.

  “No, Johnny couldn’t be a mistake; but I think maybe the timing just wasn’t right for us,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible.

  “You’re too nice.”

  “I need a job or I’ll have to go back to mom and dad’s. That will mean living under their thumb,” I confess, chewing my bottom lip.

  “I shouldn’t have fucked with you like that, and I shouldn’t have allowed Willa to, either,” he exhales. “I’m sorry, it was another dick move on my part.”

  “It’s over and done. Don’t worry about it anymore,” I shrug.

  “Still, I’m really sorry. I could help you find something. Where have you applied?”

  “Everywhere but the strip club. I got a call back from the bar in town,” I admit.

  “You strip and I’ll beat your ass black and blue, baby sister,” he grunts as his face starts to turn red.

  “I don’t have anything anyone wants to see, Andy,” I say lifting my shoulder, believing the words. “But I have a meeting with the owner of the bar in about an hour.”

  It’s not something I want to do, work in a bar all night long, but it beats going back home, and it’s the only line I’ve gotten. It’s something I wouldn’t have considered a while ago, but something I’ll be happy to take now. I really, really, don’t want to move back home.

  “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “Why?” I ask tipping my lips in a half-smile.

  “A bar, Hattie? They’ll eat you alive,” he grumbles. “Plus, you aren’t old enough, so you better just cross that off your to-do list for the day.”

  “I can serve drinks there, can’t I?” I ask.

  “Only in a restaurant, not in a bar,” he explains. I feel myself deflate.

  We spend the next half an hour talking about our parents, and I promise to come to Sunday dinner this week, even though I really, really don’t want to. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen mom and dad, and though I’m not their favorite child at the moment, I should still make the effort to see them. Andy promises me that he’ll keep an eye out for work and send some my way if he can before we go our separate ways. I walk toward home, calling the bar and cancelling my interview as I go.

  I’m deflated and defeated.

  With a year’s worth of banking experience, you would think that I could find a job in town, plus the fact that our town is about the size of a postage stamp and I know just about everybody. But therein lies the problem.

  I know everybody, which means they all know the reason I was laid off from the bank, and they’re all erring on the side of caution. This also means they’re all scared that my big, badass, Notorious Devils non-boyfriend is going to somehow convince me to commit a crime of some sort. Put all that together and that means that my parents also know, which means that Sunday dinner is going to be my own fresh slice of hell.

  I slam my apartment door and throw my purse across the room. I’m pissed. Fucking pissed. I have no other choice but to leave town. Either going to college on my parent’s dime, or taking my stuff and just going, you know, without a car.

  I slide down to the floor and I cry.

  College it is.

  I’ll be miserable, but I’ll be fed. I’ll have a roof over my head, and I’ll be far away from Johnny and my temptation to take a bus to see him. The temptation I have to agree to all of his terms, terms that would eventually rip me apart. But at least I’d have him for a little while.

  I crawl across the room where I threw my bag and reach for my purse, pulling my phone out. Scrolling through the numbers, I find the one for him. He gave it to me our last night together. Lying in bed, wrapped in his arms, he said I needed to have it—just in case.

  I stare at his name and number for at least twenty minutes, debating whether or not I should call him; needing to hear his voice, even in a voicemail greeting. It’s pathetic, how just a short period of him in my life has made me crave more and more.

  In the end, I don’t call. I turn my phone off and walk over to the window, needing to just look beyond my apartment walls. There’s a motorcycle parked in front of the little clothing store that’s across from my building. My heart races at the sight of it.

  Could it be him?

  I watch as a man approaches the bike and my heart sinks. Long, black hair and a big, bushy, black beard. It’s not Johnny. I sigh and turn away from the window. Then I walk to my bed and crawl inside after stripping down to my bra and panties.

  I sleep; and when I do, I dream of Johnny.

  I don’t wait for Sunday before I visit my parents—well, my father. I decide to call him and ask him to lunch on Friday afternoon, instead. He agrees, though he sounds less than thrilled. I can understand why. Rumors have been circulating around town, and my father despises rumors and gossip as a whole.

  My family isn’t anything special in town. My mother is a secretary for the high school, and my father is a respected CPA. He’s in partnership with several other accountants. I know part of his irritation stems from me asking him to break away during end of the year prep time. Though it’s only October, he’s still relatively busy with his small business owner and corporate clients.

  “Henrietta,” my father’s deep baritone voice greets as I walk up to his table.

  I cringe at the sound of my legal name. My parents are the only people that call me that. I was named after my grandmother; a woman I never even knew.

  “Dad,” I smile, sitting down across from him.

  “I’ve already ordered tuna sandwiches, so what’s this about then?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

  “Obviously, I’ve lost my job and, unfortunately, I can’t find another. Is my going to college still on the table?” I ask, laying it all out there.

  “So you didn’t know as much about the world as you thought you did. Tough out there without any formal education, isn’t it?” he asks smugly.

  I want to roll my eyes, maybe call him an ass—but I don’t. I stay silent. I let him have his gloating. I’m the one begging here, and he holds all the power over me, something he not-so-secretly loves.

  “Okay, what do you want here, Henrietta? I’m not paying for an education for you if you don’t have a plan. This isn’t just some way to get me to pay your bills.”

  I try not to growl. I try to stay calm. It’s difficult, but I try.

  “You said you wanted me to get an education, go to college. I’m good at banking, I was thinking something in finance,” I say before I pick up my delivered sandwich.

  “Finance?” he snorts. “You barely passed math. I’m not wasting my money on that. You’re going to have to do better,” he murmurs before taking a bite of his own food.

  “My dream is pastry chef school,” I say just above a whisper.

  “That’s even more useless than finance, Hattie,” he spouts.

  I knew it was a mistake, but I had hoped my dad would be receptive to my wanting to go to school.

  “I’ve got nothing, dad. I don’t know what to do. Nobody will hire me,” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

  “You should have thought about t
hat before you decided to be a big badass and move out on your own, disregarding your mother’s and my advice. You also should have thought about that before you started hanging around with biker trash the way you were. All of this you’ve done to yourself; all of this is a great life lesson for you, and I refuse to bail you out. Your mother won’t either. Andy still has concern for you, of which you’re lucky. Perhaps he can help; though, I doubt it.”

  “I dated Johnny for a few weeks, dad. You’re going to condemn me for a man I dated for a couple of weeks?” I ask, not understanding him.

  “I know Andy, Steve, and even that horrible Willa girl tried to counsel you on your decision, and you refused to listen to them or follow their advice. This, unfortunately, is a pattern of yours. If I go ahead and give you what you want, you, my daughter, will never learn.”

  I stand, abandoning the sandwich I should probably wrap up and take with me. Who knows when I’ll be able to buy another one. I don’t bother speaking to him. He’s made his decision. No matter what I say, he won’t budge. I know that much about my father.

  I keep it together until the cool October breeze reaches my face, and then I cry.

  One week, it seems to be my theme in life. I have one week before I’ll be homeless.

  One week to figure out how to make money.

  I’ve been one week without Johnny and I want him back.

  I walk home, though not quickly. I’m too stressed, depressed, and just plain worried about my future.

  What am I going to do?

  Suddenly, the joke about me stripping isn’t such a laughing matter anymore.

  My phone rings in my hand and my eyes are too blurry from tears to see who it is. I answer it, unknowing who is on the other end.

  “Hello,” I whisper through my tears.

  “Hattie?”

  An involuntary sob escapes my throat at the sound of his voice. That voice, a voice I have been dreaming about is now on the other end of the phone. It’s quite possibly the worst timing, but I honestly don’t care. Not really—not ever.

  “What’s wrong, Hattie?” he demands.

  “Everything,” I whisper, unable to keep my dramatics to myself.

  “You need me? I’ll be on my way,” he murmurs. For whatever insane reason, it makes me cry just a little bit harder.

  “No, no just—just a b-b-bad day,” I blubber like a fool while I try to will myself to calm the hell down.

  “Breathe, princess,” he whispers.

  I take a deep breath in before I let it out, and by my second one I feel calmer. Not better, but calmer.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter as embarrassment washes over me.

  “Tell me what’s wrong?” he gently asks.

  “It’s nothing, Johnny. Why are you calling me?” I ask in confusion as I continue to walk closer to my apartment building.

  “I just wanted to check in with you. I—after everything, I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right,” he murmurs.

  I am surprised by his concern and his contact. I left him, after he made it more than clear that I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Yet, there was just no way that I could stay—no way that I could live the life he wanted me to. It doesn’t matter how badly it hurts, to have only had a taste of him, and not be able to keep him.

  “I’m fine, Johnny,” I murmur as I unlock my apartment door and step inside.

  “Okay, Hattie—just, if you need anything or whatever, call me.”

  Johnny hangs up and I stare at my phone in surprise. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would give a second thought to some girl he only knew a couple of weeks. We’ve known of each other for three years, but it isn’t as if we truly know anything about one another.

  I walk into my bedroom with the exciting plans of taking a nap then job searching until I find something that will pay my rent.

  I turn the light on and open my mouth to scream at the sight before me—but a hot, smelly, dirty hand covers me before I can get a sound out.

  “I’m fine, Johnny.”

  Hattie is anything but fine.

  With the news of the Bastards possibly lying in wait to fuck with us, I wanted to check on her, make sure she was okay. She sounded upset, crying, but not scared necessarily. She’s probably crying about her lack of job, or maybe she broke a nail. Fuck if I know. I feel like a dick for even thinking that. What I should be doing is driving over to see her and make sure she’s okay. If I were a better man, I would.

  I lean back in my chair and watch the room. The original charter is packing up to leave and go back to Cali, enjoying one last beer before they head out. My brothers all have concerned looks on their faces. They’re thinking about their families, about the Bastards and The Cartel, about the uncertainty that is in the air.

  I know that Hattie is safe. They wouldn’t fuck with her because they don’t even know she exists. There are much bigger women in our group that are much bigger parts of our circle. Kentlee, for one, is not only Fury’s wife, but also MadDog’s daughter-in-law. She’s a target—a huge target. They’re not going to mess around with Hattie.

  I take a swig of my beer and sit in silence. I’m glad when nobody bothers me. My head is occupied and not into the normal, nightly bullshit happenings that go on around here.

  “You good?” Torch asks, sitting next to me and taking a pull from his own beer.

  “Not at all,” I truthfully admit.

  “You need to get your shit together,” he chuckles.

  “This club’s getting into deep shit with the Bastards and The Cartel possibly honing in. I don’t want to put her in danger,” I say as my lame as excuse for being a pussy.

  “She’d be safer in your bed then she would an hour away,” Torch points out.

  Fucking right she would, but I fucked that up. Like I fuck everything up. A waste of cum, like my old man always said I was. I’m proving him right again and again.

  I down the rest of my beer and look around for something, or namely someone. When I see her, I lift my chin at Torch and leave him to his brooding. I walk across the room toward Tasha, who is sitting next to Harmony.

  “Where’s your girl?” Harmony asks.

  “Not my girl anymore,” I shrug, watching as her eyes brighten. She puffs out her big tits a bit more and pouts her bottom lip slightly.

  “Sorry to hear that, baby,” she murmurs.

  The look in her eyes tells me she’s, in fact, not one fuckin’ bit sorry. I don’t really care. I just need to lose myself, to forget about Hattie. I don’t know how to do that. Maybe fucking Harmony will help. Maybe fucking every woman I come across will help? Probably not, but I’m going to fucking try.

  “Is Tasha joining us?” Harmony asks. I look over to Tasha, who is biting on her bottom lip as her eyes dart from Harmony to me, over and over. Fuck it.

  “Yeah. C’mon, babe,” I mutter.

  I don’t really feel like putting forth as much effort as fucking two bitches takes, but maybe I’ll just let them do all the work tonight. I don’t want to think anymore; I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel and I want to come. Physical actions, that’s what I know, and that is all I want tonight. Life was better when all I did was fuck, fight, ride, and drink.

  “On our knees?” Harmony asks as soon as we walk over the threshold of my bedroom. I shake my head as I lock the door behind us, not wanting any disturbances tonight. I don’t feel up to anything.

  “I want to see you two fuck each other,” I grunt as I start to take my clothes off.

  “Can I suck you?” Harmony murmurs, licking her lips.

  “Later,” I smirk.

  Both Tasha and Harmony make a show of undressing while I sit in a chair across from my bed. I’m not going to fuck them on the floor tonight. Though it feels wrong to fuck them in my bed, I want the memory of Hattie being there gone. I need to rid my space of her memory, or at least try.

  I watch as Tasha kisses down Harmony’s neck to her big, fat tits, lic
king one of her nipples before she sucks it into her mouth. My cock starts to harden at the sight of the two women kissing and touching each other. When Tasha’s hand goes between Harmony’s legs and she starts to rub her clit, I groan. I wrap my hand around my dick and slowly start to stroke myself.

  I lose myself in the moment, in the bodies of the two women in front of me. I fuck them both. We spend the night making each other come repeatedly to the point of exhaustion, and not once do I forget Hattie. Not once do I not wish she were here instead of them, the both of us the only two in the room.

  It’s when I’m completely exhausted, with both women passed out around me, that I know for certain Hattie is the one for me. But I can’t have her. I can’t keep her. I know that I will lose her and it’ll kill me.

  At this point, I’ve only lost the idea of her; but to completely have her and lose her years from now, that is a pain I can’t imagine. So I’ll fuck these whores and all the while I’ll be thinking of my sweet Hattie.

  I wake up with a racing heart a few hours later, and push both women off of me, informing them that it’s time to go. They grumble but make no real protests as they gather their clothes and stumble out of my room. I open my nightstand drawer and find my cigarettes. I need a smoke.

  Once the nicotine hits my system, I feel a bit calmer. I don’t know what startled me awake, but I feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest. I grab my phone, deciding to play one of my games or scroll through Facebook, seeing if I can chill out and go back to sleep.

  I unlock my phone and notice a notification for a missed call and new text message. It’s not uncommon for me to have missed calls and texts, usually from my mother or one of the brothers in the club, but I can tell in my gut that something ain’t right. I gave my mother money just the other day; no way would she ask again this soon. She would at least wait a week or two.

  I open my text and notice it’s from a private number. The text is a video, and it was sent last night around eight. I was already elbow deep in pussy and didn’t hear it vibrate on the nightstand.