by Darby Briar
She pushes me back a step. I try to eliminate the space she’s putting between us, but she snaps, “Stop, Mav.” Certainty’s in her tone now and her palm is hard against my chest.
I search her eyes and see none of the lust that was there before, only panic. “What’s wrong?” I know immediately I’ve fucked up again, because her emotions—mainly anger and embarrassment—flicker over her face.
“What’s wrong?” She looks away and mumbles again, “What’s wrong.” Then she looks up at me and points to her neck. “I have stitches today because of you. You attacked me last night. With a knife, I might add. We can’t just have sex and forget it happened. Maybe the girls around here work that way, but I don’t. God, do you realize you haven’t even apologized?”
“I’m sor—”
“I don’t want your apology now that I’ve had to ask you for it. And yeah, I might have kissed you, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you. Very far from it.” She shakes her head and places her fingers over her mouth.
I pull her hand away from her mouth and she glares up at me. I use it to pull her close. Then rubbing her cheekbone with my thumb, I tell her, “I’m not gonna make a lame excuse because I can’t fix what I did last night with words. I know that. But I can promise it won’t fuckin’ happen again. My past is now where it belongs. Behind me. And the last thing I want to do is hurt you again. If you’ll let me, I’ll make it up to you.”
“How do I know you won’t turn around and decide to hate me tomorrow?”
“I never hated you. Yeah, at first, I thought you were like her and it fucked me up. But you’re not like her. Not even close. You’re the opposite of everything she was. I see that now.”
I brush my thumb over her swollen bottom lip.
She clenches her eyes shut and shakes her head again. “I’m not just some toy for you to play with. I know you like control, Mav. I’ve seen it. You like rough and tying girl’s down. I can’t . . . the things you like, I’m not into.”
Fuck . . .
Pain ricochets around in my chest. Fuuuck. I grip her face with both hands. I need her to listen and really hear me. “I know that. I know you deserve better.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Do you?”
I nod once. “Yeah . . . I do. I’m paying attention now, Doll, and I fuckin’ see you.”
The silence stretches between us, creating an impenetrable barrier. A barrier I can’t pierce. There’s a wall between us where there wasn’t one before. For a moment, I’ve had her soft in my arms. But somewhere along the way, I’ve lost her.
She throws my words back at me.
“Prove it.”
My desire for her grows. The need coiling through me screams for me to make her mine. Christ, she fuckin’ perfect.
She has the balls to put me in my place. That’s the kind of woman I need. One who fucking cares enough to fight with me, and call me on my shit, day in and day out, if I’m not givin’ her what she needs. She’s not a runner . . . she’s a fighter.
I smile. Because whether she knows it or not, she just made herself mine. “If that’s what you need me to do. I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.” After everything I’ve put her through, she’s entitled to some proof I can be what she needs.
She pulls out of my arms and this time I let her go. “Don’t you have company downstairs?”
Oh, shit. I forgot why I came up here in the first place.
“Yes. But they sent me up here.” She gives me a bewildered expression. “The old ladies wanna meet you.”
She wraps one arm around her stomach and holds onto it with her other hand over her elbow. “Is that a good idea?”
I wish I could tell her yes, or not to be nervous, but the fact is she probably should be prepared and no . . . it’s not a good idea. I sigh and rub my head a couple of times. “Probably not. But they aren’t askin’, if you know what I mean.”
She considers me for a minute, and then nods. “Okay. Just let me put on a different top.” She walks passed me into the closet and a moment later comes out wearing jean shorts, and a soft pink long sleeve shirt. I’m confused for a second. She has to know it’s hot outside. Why the long sleeves?
It’s not until I see her tug the fabric down over her wrists that it dawns on me.
She comes closer and I grab her hands. Like I did the first day we met, I rub the scars on her wrists with my thumb. She tries to jerk her hands back, but I hold on tighter. The scars are jagged and uneven, one worse than the other. I don’t believe she tried to kill herself. But it scares me that there’s the chance I’m wrong.
“How?”
She huffs.
“Doll, I’m trying to not to be an asshole or jump to conclusions. I’m tryin’ to get to know you. Tell me how you got the scars.”
“Maybe you don’t deserve to know.”
“No doubt I don’t. But I’m askin’ anyway.”
She’s scowls.
“I’ll wait all damn day if that’s what it takes. But too much longer and they’re gonna send a search party for us.”
After a few seconds of testing my resolve, her stubbornness falters. “It was the only way I could get away from my ex.” I furrow my brow. She lets out a long breath and explains, “He liked having control, too. He didn’t want me to leave. Sounds familiar, huh?”
Yeah, Doll. Sounds familiar. But you’re still not going anywhere.
“I hurt myself on some metal while trying to get away.”
I sense there is a lot more to the story than she’s telling me, but I think I’ve pushed her enough for now.
She’s giving me a guarded look, as if she’s waiting for me to judge her. But she doesn’t realize I’m finally seeing her for who she is. She doesn’t have a black heart. If she left him, she had a good reason to. And she doesn’t know this, but I’ve seen her other scars. I’ve seen the damage someone’s done. Most likely him.
“Knowin’ you, Doll, he deserved that and more.”
She frowns. “I think you need medication for your multiple personality disorder.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, “I love the shit that comes outta that mouth.”
“I thought you didn’t?”
I smile down at her. “I lied.”
With that being said, I pull her behind me toward the door. We walk out of Dozer’s room and head downstairs. She’s pulling back a little the whole way. Fighting my grip on her. She doesn’t want to do this, but neither of us has much of a choice.
I love her fight. I love her sassy mouth. I love that she’s not going to make this easy on me. I want to chase her. It’ll make possessing her and claiming her that much more of an achievement.
And I’ve always been an overachiever.
Today was definitely not the best day to quit smoking. I seriously could use one right now to chill my ass out.
I’m a ball of anxiety as I watch Doll interact with the old ladies and kids. I keep waiting for them to turn on her, maybe even slap her, because that shit’s happened before, but so far, they’re on their best behavior. Nick probably warned them to be before she left. Grandma Pepper was tired, so Nick ran her to her and Cap’s house, but she’ll be back.
As I watch Doll interact with the kids, the ache in my chest cracks wider. I rub at it, but the damn thing won’t go away.
They’re all hanging around the picnic tables, eating, bullshitting, and drinking. Some of the brothers have joined the party. Bodie’s playing the doting husband, and Taz is scowling at him from where he leans against the back of the clubhouse. Rigor’s playing horseshoes with Taffy and some of the older kids. And Dozer’s next to Doll and Lily. It’s probably the only time his closeness to Doll hasn’t bugged the shit out of me. But only because I know if someone says something bitchy to her, he’ll step in.
I know all too well what these women are capable of and how much they hate the clubpieces we let hang around the club.
Doll’s not one of them. Not yet. And as far as I’m concerned, she never will be.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Smoke.”
What the fuck is he doing calling me?
“I thought we had an understandin’?” Then I change my aggravated tone, because yeah . . . I need to remember who I’m talkin’ to. This fucker is scarier than Taz, and he’s been putting people to ground for the Greenbacks for over forty years. He’s the creepiest motherfucker I know. “We’re not havin’ a meet until we take a vote and settle our own shit.”
I hear rock music in the background before he replies. “Relax. Not about that. Passin’ on a message.” He’s silent for a moment then says, “No disrespect . . . but Pappy and some of the boys aren’t comin’ down this weekend.”
I let that information sink in. Not necessarily bad news. But the why of it could be a big fucking problem for us. Allies show up and help us welcome a brother home. Is that not what they are anymore?
“There a problem?”
“Not with the HOCs. Pappy’s old lady’s health issues are comin’ to a head. She took a turn and ain’t got a lot of time left. He wanted me to let you know we’ll deal with the issues on the table another time. Soon. But not right now. So it’ll be just me, Deeds, and a couple other GBs crashin’ there.”
Vaughn is Pappy’s old lady. She’s been battling some serious health problems for as long as I’ve known her. But word is it’s been a bigger struggle the last few months.
“Okay. We’ll talk then.”
“Yeah.”
The next thing I say not because I want to, but because if it were Cap talking to him like he should be, it’s what he’d say. “You got our support when you need it.”
“Same here.”
He doesn’t say anything else and the line goes dead. Smoke’s pretty cut and dry. Mostly dry. Unless he’s high as a kite or drunk. But still I don’t think I’ve ever seen him crack a smile.
I look down at my phone and see two missed calls and a few texts from Whiz. Fuck. I forgot to turn it off silent after leaving the office.
Opening my phone, I read the texts.
WK: Got him! Henry’s sister has a cabin at Big Bear. Her credit card was used ten miles from the property.
WK: ?
WK: You there?
We’ve been searching for weeks for a lead on Cap’s shooting. Whoever did the deed knew what they were doing. No evidence has been discovered and no witnesses have come forward. At least there wasn’t until my contact at the Albuquerque Police Department filled me in about a new tip they received. I listened to the playback of the tip line phone call. This guy Henry described the scene right on. Only someone who saw the shooting, or was told first-hand by the killer about it, would know that the male was shot not just from far away, but three more bullets were plugged into him at close range using a small handgun. So either this guy saw Cap’s shooter or he knows who the motherfucker is.
Me: Big Bear? Where the fuck is that?
WK: San Bernardino County, CA.
Me: Fuck. It looks like we’re taking a road trip.
The fact that the guy is in Cali makes my skin tingle. The Greenbacks’ mother chapter and five others are in Cali. It’s their territory. It’s crossed my mind more than once the possibility they had something to do with Cap’s shooting. Cap’s been standing in their way a long time. Maybe too long. Maybe they think Griz, being family and all, will welcome them into New Mexico with open arms.
I hear laughter and when I look up, I spy the kids trying to wrangle Pumpkin into playing soccer. Three of them are dragging her away from the picnic tables. She’s reluctant, but also smiling.
Shit . . . I don’t want to leave her. Not now. If I leave with things the way they are, there’s a good chance she won’t be here when I get back. The thought has me warring with myself.
The club and Cap come first. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it needs to be. But I’ll be damned if I don’t want to send Dozer and Taz in my place so I can stay here and make things right with Doll.
A few minutes later, my attention is glued to her gorgeous body as she juggles the ball down the field. Bodie’s little boy is latched on to her hand as they try to kick the ball past the other kids into their makeshift goal. She’s laughing and a trail of scarlet flies out behind her. She’s smiling wide, and every few seconds she has to tuck that wild mane of hers behind her ear to keep it out of her face.
I’ve never seen her like this.
So free in every way. Free to laugh. Free to play. Free to be herself.
Does she need freedom to show this side of herself? The exact thing I’ve been denying her. Would I see her like this more often if I backed off? Because I want to, I want to see the girl she hides away from us all. I want to see who she really is. What she looks like in her own clothes and in an environment she feels comfortable in. Above all, I want to know her real name and what she thinks about in that little head of hers.
I’ve tried to break her, but she’s stayed strong. I’ve tried to push her away, but she won’t go. I hope to hell that it stays that way. I want time to fix what I’ve damaged.
But ultimately, the decision is in her hands, and I can only hope that when I return, she’ll be here.
Bodie’s son gets kicked pretty hard by one of the other kids. His high-pitched wail pierces the air as he falls to the ground clutching his knee. Doll drops to her knees beside him.
I pocket my phone and head over because I know Blaire’s inside cleaning up, and Bodie’s nowhere to be seen. I wave off Kendra and the other adults who step away from the table to check on him, letting them know I’ll handle it.
As I near Tucker and Doll, I hear her say, “Shh . . . it’s okay. It’s just a scratch, see?”
Tucker, who’s as blond as his mama, sobs between sniffles. “Do you have a Band-Aid?” Sniff. “I willy need a Band-Aid.”
Doll spares me a glance when I stop beside her. She has her hand up shielding her eyes from the sun as she peers up at me. “The first aid kit’s in Dozer’s room,” she says. What she doesn’t say rings in the air around us. It’s in Dozer’s room because you attacked me, cut me, and I had to be patched up.
Not sure I’ve ever felt like more of an asshole than I do right now.
She moves to stand, but I wave her off too. “I’ll go get it. You stay. Try to calm him down.”
It doesn’t take me long to get the first aid kit and get back to her. By then Tucker has stopped crying. He’s eating a cookie and sniffling every few seconds.
Doll applies the Band-Aid while Tucker tells her with a mouth full of cookie that he has Batman and Hello Kitty Band-Aids, better Band-Aids at his house. She should come over so he can show them to her. But he makes sure to tell her he doesn’t let his mom put the Hello Kitty ones on him. Those are for girls. Doll listens intently. Laughs, and gives animated responses that have Tucker smiling again in no time.
He gets to his feet. As if he’s just noticed I’m standing here, he looks up at me. I hold out my knuckles for him to bump. “Gettin’ strong like your old man.”
Tucker beams. “It’s cuz we wift weights together.” He holds his arm up and flexes. “See.”
I squeeze his arm and widen my eyes. “Whoa. You better put those muscles away before all the girls see and try to kiss you.”
His arm instantly drops. He scrunches up his nose. “Ew. Gross.”
I look over at Doll. “‘Gross,’ he says.”
“He’s four,” she replies, like that answers everything.
Nick walks up beside me. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, looks like Doll’s got it taken care of.”
Her lips twist with amusement, “Doll. I thought it was Pumpkin?”
Doll brushes off her knees and stands. “Whichev
er. I go by so many names I can’t keep them straight.” She reaches forward and offers her hand to Nick. “You must be Nick, Dozer’s mom. It’s good to meet you.”
“Aww and she’s polite. You can call me Nick, or Locks. I’ll answer to either.” Nick winks at me. I hold my breath waiting for it. The snarky bitch to come out, but I’m surprised when Nick reaches forward and shakes Doll’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Wait what? What is she doing?
“Thanks for the food. It was the last thing I wanted to worry about today. And I’m gettin’ sick of pizza.”
Doll nods. “Oh . . . yeah. Sure.” She says it as if she forgot all about baking for the army of people here today. “You’re welcome. Cooking’s kind of relaxing for me and I had a rough morning so I got a little carried away.”
Nick laughs. “Well, I doubt any of it will go to waste. And you can get carried away like that anytime. These guys won’t mind.” Nick slaps my stomach. “They’re pigs, if you haven’t already noticed.”
“Oh . . . I’ve noticed.”
“Hey now,” I say, but both women ignore me.
Doll tucks her hair behind her ear and glances at the box on the ground. She picks it up. “Well, I’m going to go put this away. It was nice meeting you.”
We both stare after her. I don’t know what Nick’s looking at but my eyes are locked on Doll’s ass and the sway of her hips. And her legs. She has the sexiest fucking legs. Eying them has me daydreaming about having them wrapped around me again and all the ways I could see how flexible she is.
“So she’s for Edge, huh?”
Denial surges through me. I want to dispute it. I meet her eyes quickly and then look away. My gaze immediately goes back to Doll. I nod. What the fuck else am I gonna say to Nick, the woman famous for spreading club gossip?
“She’s a rare breed, Mav.”
I know she is, but I’m curious about Nick’s take on her. “How do you mean?”
“She cooks for women she knows probably won’t like her. And is genuinely kind to kids that aren’t her own. Most women love their own children. But it’s because they’ve held them as perfect, adorable infants.” At her words, my own chest constricts like a python is coiling around it.