Battlefield (The Covenant Book 2)

by Gwendolyn Casey

  Betsy was a shitty mother, but she wasn't completely irrational. When I was fourteen, I convinced her to set up a bank account in my name and put a percentage of her paycheck in it, so I could pay our utilities and have grocery money. Of course, this was after she disappeared for a week on a bender with some guy and I was forced to beg for food from my neighbors.

  Betsy loved me, I knew it, but she didn’t know how to care for another human being and herself at the same time. It sucked, every day, being with her.

  That was why I wanted to go to California. Maybe if I wasn't forced to face these demons every day, I could move past them.

  With one last look at my mom, I left the living room and went to my room. Since California was on my mind I decided to call Tara before I could forget.

  Tara had been living in Los Angeles for a couple years now. She was trying to be an actress and had to work two jobs to afford her apartment. If I moved in, she'd be able to cut back a few hours. She had warned me that things were pricey on the coast compared to the mid-west and I would have to work my ass off, too. But I didn't care. It was worth the price to be free, to get lost in the crowd, to leave my inherited history behind me. I wanted to be someone different.

  “What up, slut?” Tara said when she picked up. “Wait, can I call you a slut yet?”

  I slumped on my bed. “No.”

  “I thought you said you it would happen soon.”

  “I know. Shit happened that made it impossible.”

  “What happened?”

  I contemplated telling her about Jordan, but she would probably want all the sexy details and I didn't want to imagine it all again. I'd just get all hot and bothered and confused again. “It doesn't matter.”

  “Well, will you get another chance?” she asked.

  “Probably,” I sighed. “Are you really making my move contingent on losing my virginity?”

  “Of course not. I just thought I'd give you a little push because I know how anti-social you are. I think it would help to get that first one over with, so you know that it's not such a big deal. You're a modern woman, and you will have plenty of lovers in your lifetime. But I don't want you to do anything you will regret either,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said, a bit relieved.

  She laughed, “Don't worry. Your hymen is allowed in California.”

  I laughed, too, missing her.

  “You must have forgotten when I fell off my bike when I was twelve,” I said. “I don’t have a hymen.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she replied slowly. Tara was the only child of my mother's older brother. They used to live in Clayton, and we grew up more like sisters than cousins seeing how I had been constantly escaping to her house whenever I could. I fell off my bike in their driveway, and my uncle had enough sense to take me to the ER when he saw blood between my legs.

  He got offered a job in Omaha when I was in eighth grade and Tara was in tenth. I resented my uncle for taking Tara away at such an awkward time in my life. And with him gone, I had no one to turn to when Bender Betsy came around.

  Tara’s mother was the sweet type, supportive, loving, and could cook. I missed her, too. Ironically Tara looked and behaved a lot like my mother, without the addictive tendencies. She always wanted to be something bigger than a small town could handle.

  “So how much longer?” she asked.

  I thought about my bank account. “A few more months and I should have enough.”

  “You’re so smart,” Tara sighed. “I just left and didn’t even think about where I would live until I got a job. I’m still in debt from my move, and it is only growing.”

  “Well, my rent money should help, and I can teach you how to save.”

  “Saving is no fun,” she said in a childish voice.

  I laughed, not because of her voice, but because I did think saving was fun. I loved watching my balance grow, like every dollar was that much closer to complete security and independence.

  We hung up, promising to text, and I felt rejuvenated after talking about our bright future.

  Before I got in the shower, I got a text from Greg that I wasn't sure how to answer. The town festival was this weekend and he asked if he could take me. The problem was that I already promised Lauren that I would go with her. And guilt was making me squirm at the idea of seeing him again.

  I was sure some people wouldn't consider what happened with Jordan as cheating. He had been the one touching me, and we barely kissed. But it felt like cheating because I didn't fight him, and I enjoyed his hands on me. Not to mention, if Izzy hadn't interrupted things could have gone a lot further.

  On the other hand, Greg did try to force himself on me and then abandoned me in that awful place. But that did nothing to soothe my conscience.

  I wondered if I should just tell him. But my head seemed to shake itself at the thought. It might cause trouble between Greg and Jordan if I did that. After all, Jordan had no idea I was his brother's girlfriend. He was innocent in this situation, which was ironic seeing how he was probably guilty of far more crimes against humanity than I ever would be.

  I texted Greg that Lauren and I would meet him at the fair. That way it was more a group date which seemed like the safest option.

  I decided the best course of action was to simply proceed with my relationship with Greg and forget about that night at the clubhouse. I could forgive Greg for being an asshole, and, I hoped, I could forgive myself for my weakness for Jordan.

  Chapter Eight

  Jordan

  Cece Taylor was almost non-existent online, which was extremely strange for a millennial. She had a Facebook account but rarely posted. No Twitter, Instagram, or any other social sites. I found her Verizon account and Apple ID, but I stopped myself from reading her texts. That seemed like crossing a line somehow. I knew it was stupid logic seeing how I was hacking into her life to learn more about her.

  Fortunately, the state government databases led me to a lot more info about her life. I found her driver’s license with a perfect record, which was no surprise seeing how she didn't own a car. I also found a few reports to social services on an Elizabeth Rose Taylor. From what I could tell, Cece's mother was an alcoholic and addict, and there had been allegations of child abandonment and endangerment, but it looked like they didn't hold up.

  Another interesting tidbit was that there wasn't a father listed on her birth certificate. These pieces of information all said that Cece had a shitty childhood.

  I briefly wondered which was worse: not knowing who your father was or knowing him to be a piece of shit. I fell into the latter category. My father left my mother before I could talk. Greg's mother only had enough time to get pregnant before he walked out on her. He would drop back in occasionally, treating my mother like shit until he found another woman to fool. He was a biker, but he never joined a club, calling himself a lone wolf. The truth was that no club would have him. He caused nothing but heartache for anyone who knew him until he finally ate pavement on the highway and broke his neck five years ago.

  I had just finished stalking Cece for the day when Izzy came into my office.

  “We're heading to the festival. You coming?”

  I glanced at her with a sigh. She was sporting a leather jacket over a t-shirt stating, “Somebody has to save our skins” with a picture of Princess Leia.

  “What the hell,” I said. Clayton's potato festival was held every year and had all the staples of a mid-western fair: carnival, tractor pulls, live bands, and mashed potato wrestling.

  I powered everything down and locked the door on my way out. Max, Skinny, and Bobby were waiting by the bar along with Jessica, one of the Hearts.

  It was a warm night, so we decided to take our bikes to the fairgrounds, except Rem, who insisted he and Izzy take the Mustang due to her delicate condition. We followed them out of the compound and rumbled down the road to the other side of town.

  We were all stopped at a red light when I spotted Cece walking down the block with her fri
end from the grocery store. I signaled Max to follow me when the light turned green. I pulled in front of Cece on a corner. Her face immediately flushed, and she looked at the ground. They were both casually dressed in jeans and tank tops, but they did their hair and make-up for the evening.

  I tried not to bite my lip as I looked at Cece. Her hair was down and curled at the ends like the night we met. I remembered how soft it was. I knew nothing about make-up, but whatever she did to her eyes made them sexy as hell, the dark liner illuminating the green of her irises.

  “Want a ride?” I asked above the rumble of my bike.

  “We'd love one,” her friend said quickly and stepped off the curb toward Max.

  Cece stood there frozen, obviously uncertain of what to do. I held her eyes with mine and jerked my head toward the back of my bike.

  She took a breath and stepped off the curb. One hand gripped my shoulder as she stepped onto the foot rest and swung her leg over. I couldn't help but smile as she slid behind me, her thighs touching mine and her hand gripping my waist.

  I looked back at Max, who gave me a knowing smirk.

  The fairgrounds were only a half a mile away, but I went a little slow, loving the feeling of Cece’s breasts pushing at my back.

  We found parking spots on the grass close to the festival’s entrance.

  I slowly used my legs to back up into a space, and I shut off the engine. Cece quickly gripped my shoulders and jumped off the bike, but I grabbed her wrist before I could think better of it.

  She looked down at my hand and then glanced at her friend, who was already walking toward the entrance with Max.

  “What?” she said.

  I got off the bike and kept a hold of her wrist. She wouldn't look at me, keeping her gaze on something behind me.

  “I want to talk about what happened last weekend,” I said. The words were a little rough coming out, like I was angry. The truth was that I was a little nervous.

  Her eyes shot to mine. “What about it?” she snapped, readying herself for a fight.

  I waited a beat, holding her fiery gaze with one of my own. Then I licked my lips and asked, “You're still with my brother, right?”

  She shrugged softly but said, “Yeah.”

  I didn’t like her answer. It was ambiguous, and I needed to know if she was with him or not. My fingers tightened around her wrist, and she glanced down at my hand.

  She shook her head. “Can you just apologize so we can go in?”

  She thought I was going to apologize. The idea was so ridiculous that I smiled at her. “I'm not going to apologize.”

  She rolled her eyes and tugged at her wrist again. “Because an Ace never apologizes, right?”

  There was that hatred of the Aces again. But I no longer cared what her reasons for hating us were. The only thing that mattered was making her understand one thing.

  I tugged her to me, bringing her flush against me. I dropped her wrist and brought my hand up to grip her neck, angling her face up. My other hand wrapped around her waist to rest right above her ass.

  She gasped but didn’t struggle, putting her hands on my chest.

  “I'm not going to apologize because I'm not sorry,” I growled.

  Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me. I could see the confusion mixing with lust. “You're not?” she whispered.

  I could feel her pulse under my thumb, fast but steady, and I knew my heart was doing the same. Moments of truth were never calm. “No,” I said, my voice softening. “I'm only sorry we were interrupted.”

  I looked down into her face, and I watched her eyes close a little bit, as if she was seeing us together on the desk, coming together as we were meant to.

  I knew I was being the biggest asshole ever by admitting that I wanted her. She belonged to my kid brother, and yet, I couldn't take it back. Ever since I touched her that first time, I’d thought of nothing else. Just having her in my arms again had my balls aching.

  I lowered my head, needing to taste her.

  But I saw panic replace the passion, and she suddenly pulled away, putting a couple feet between us.

  She stood up straight and met my eyes. “No,” she said and turned toward the entrance.

  “Fuck,” I said, watching her walk away from me.

  Chapter Nine

  Cece

  I was shaking as I made my way into the fair, my skin still burning where Jordan had touched me. My mind couldn't make sense of what just happened, like the words couldn't be reconciled.

  I glanced around looking for Lauren or Greg, but I was a little too distracted to concentrate on people’s faces. I decided to stop at an empty bench by the beer tent, thinking it was best to stay still and wait for them to find me.

  I finally let Jordan's words sink in, about how he wasn't sorry, and how he wished we kept going. He was admitting that he still wanted me, even after knowing my relationship with Greg. The thought sent a dark shiver through my body, pushing guilt temporarily out of the way so I could indulge in the wonder of being wanted by such a man.

  I bit my lip, thinking about Jordan next to his bike, looking so gloriously masculine and badass. He would’ve kissed me if I hadn't run away. Then what would have happened? Would he have put his hand in my jeans and finally touched that place that was so eager for him? Would he push my shirt up, so he could mouth my nipples?

  I could see it in my mind so clearly that I could practically feel his fingers inside me now.

  You’re so warm, he would say in my ear. I want you. It was like I was watching us on TV when Jordan suddenly turned us both and bent me over his bike, shoving my jeans down and tearing at his belt. I moaned as he took me then and there, roughly, urgently and I moaned in bliss.

  “There you are,” a voice said next to me. I looked up to see Greg standing over me. “Why were your eyes closed?” he asked.

  I licked my lips, willing my body to calm down from its self-imposed arousal. “Um, I was just trying to remember something.”

  “What?”

  “Just something I was supposed to do before I left the house, but I can't remember,” I lied.

  He shrugged. “It will come to you.” He held out his hand. “Let's get you something to eat.” I took his hand, and he led me through the crowd.

  I glanced down at our conjoined hands, and I felt the guilt return with painful potency. What was I thinking fantasizing about Jordan? Not only was he Greg's brother but he was a biker. I hated bikers. But it seemed to happen so quickly and so easily. I didn't even remember closing my eyes.

  We found Lauren at a picnic table by the stage where a band was playing. Greg said he would get us some slices of pizza while Lauren and I saved the table. Lauren's eyes stayed on Greg, and then she dipped her head.

  “What happened with you and Jordan in the parking lot?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Bullshit. Tell me.”

  I just shook my head and looked away. I didn't want to encourage these feelings anymore, and Lauren would do everything to make them worse.

  I stared at the couples dancing to Journey’s “Faithfully”, each person looking content in the other’s arms.

  I could see Rem and Izzy toward the middle. The man towered over his wife but held her gently. She had her eyes closed and leaned into his chest. I wondered how a woman like Izzy could be with an Ace. She seemed so sweet and down to earth, not at all the type to be comfortable with the types of things bikers did in their clubhouses. The drinking and the drugs were bad enough, but was she being shared by the Aces, too?

  Has she been with Jordan?

  Rem swayed them to the left, and my eyes collided with Jordan. He must have been watching the couple, too. For a second, he looked how I felt, confused and angry.

  In the next moment, Greg sat down next to me.

  “They had pepperoni,” he said.

  I dragged my gaze from Jordan and looked at his brother. “Great,” I said with a smile.

  The three of us hung out a
t the table for a while before we went to the carnival. We rode the Ferris wheel and played a few games. I won a stuffed unicorn at water balloons. I started to have fun just when I noticed Greg sipping from a flask. “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Just some whiskey.”

  I nodded, not liking it at all.

  We made our way back to the dance floor. Greg took my unicorn and shoved it at Lauren to hold. Then he was dragging me into his arms so we could dance to “Love is a Battlefield”. I gave a sorry look at Lauren, who just shrugged as she sipped her cola. I tried to relax and move to the music, wishing it was a slow song.

  Suddenly, I felt something splash on my leg, wetness soaking into my jeans. I turn to see man on the ground, starting to stand up. He must have tripped, and his drink was what I felt spilling on my leg.

  “Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry,” the man said as he stood up straight. He was probably in his fifties.

  “Oh, it's okay. It's just my leg.” …and I felt it soaking into my shoe.

  “No, I'm sorry. Let me buy you a drink to apologize.”

  I was about to accept, but Greg stepped in front of me. “You think a drink makes up for you being a fucking idiot.”

  The man's eyebrows came together in a scowl. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me,” Greg said.

  Oh, no. Greg was probably tipsy and not thinking clearly. “Greg, stop,” I said. “It's not a big deal.”

  But Greg pulled his arm back and punched the man in the face.

  “What are you doing?” I screamed, tugging on his arm.

  Greg pushed me back. The shove had me tripping over my own feet and I fell. But I was caught in someone's arms. I looked up to see it was Jordan cradling me. He lifted a hand to my face, cupping it gently, just like a couple hours ago. My vision seemed to dim until all I saw was him, completely forgetting the fight. Yet, I could still hear the band, singing something about control and surrender. It made me feel safe somehow.

  “You all right?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes for a moment. “Please stop this.”