by Hamel, B. B.
I frowned at that, annoyed. “I’m not a dog for anyone.”
“Sure you are, little doggy. The club tells you to wag your tail and you wag away.”
“The club is my family,” I said. “They raised me when my life was fucked up, a lot like you, actually.”
Her face fell, and she looked down at the table, frowning. For a second, I thought she was going to get pissed at me. Instead, she looked up. “I’m tired. Take me home.”
“Fine with me.”
I helped her up but she shrugged me off. She walked a bit unsteadily toward the exit. I waved at the guys, nodding to Stonewall to let him know that I was good. Janine headed right outside.
I found her straddling my bike, barely keeping herself upright.
“You sure you’re good?” I asked her.
“Go ride,” she said softly, sadly. “I’ll hold tight.”
I looked at her for a second, nodded, and got on. She clung hard to my body as I pulled out into traffic.
Her words kept playing through my mind as I rode slowly back toward her place. She thought I was just a dog for the club, doing whatever they wanted me to do. Maybe she was just wasted and didn’t mean it, but it still dug at me.
Of everyone, I thought she understood me the best. We both found the Demons young and were practically raised by the club. I always thought she understood that, even if we never talked about it. I’d do anything for the club, because the club was my damn family.
And there she was, calling me a dog.
Didn’t matter. In the end, it didn’t matter what she thought of me. Sure, she was fucking gorgeous, strong, smart, and made my cock hard as hell just being around her, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that I kept her safe and did my damn job. She didn’t have to like me.
I pulled up at her apartment, parked the bike, and helped her off. She was practically falling asleep, and I ended up having to carry her up the steps. I found her keys in her pocket, unlocked the door, and carried her inside.
I took her straight back to her bedroom and gently put her down on the bed. She stirred and looked up at me.
“Clutch,” she said, “my hero.”
“Yeah,” I grunted. “Your doggy hero. Woof woof.”
She made a face. “Don’t be mad at me. I had a bad night.”
“What happened earlier?” I asked her.
“Larkin wants to marry me off to the Rebels,” she said, drifting back into her drunken sleep. “He wants to patch them over. He wants to sell me like cattle. Moo.”
“What?” I asked her, since I hadn’t heard about this, but she had already passed out.
I looked down at her sleeping body and bit my lip. I found a blanket in her closet and tossed it over her, placing a pillow under her head.
I headed back out into the living room and sat down on the couch.
Larkin wanted to marry her off? I knew the club used marriage to solidify alliances sometimes, but it was pretty unusual. I couldn’t imagine Larkin would ever use that tactic with his own adopted daughter. He treasured that girl and protected her.
I kicked off my boots and turned the TV on. I figured I should stay over, make sure she was okay. Besides, I was her bodyguard now. I might have to sleep on her couch for the foreseeable future if this shit kept up.
I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Although, the thought of walking in on her while she was changing sent my blood hammering through my veins.
There had to be a few perks of this shit at least.
9
Janine
I woke up, my head pounding and groggy. It took me a second to realize that I was lying on top of my comforter with a thin blanket spread over top me, my clothes still on.
Then the events of the night came slowly back to me.
I rolled over onto my back and groaned, putting my head in my hands. I was hungover as hell, and everything just seemed horrible in so many ways.
I couldn’t believe I had gotten that wasted in front of Clutch. He had practically carried me up to my room like the silly mess I was. That was probably the most disgraceful I’d acted in a really long time, and Clutch probably had good reason to be annoyed with me.
I groaned again as I remembered calling him a dog of the club. That was a pretty low blow, especially considering I was in the same position as him, more or less.
We both grew up in the club, both owed our lives to it. It wasn’t fair to call him a dog, especially considering I was thinking about doing something as crazy as marrying a complete stranger for the good of the club.
I was such a jerk. And to top it off, I had drunkenly admitted the whole marriage thing to him just as I was passing out. I shook my head, trying to dispel the bad memories, but they were stuck there.
I got up and stripped off my clothes, wanting to rid myself of anything from the night before. I tossed on a thin T-shirt and some old panties and quickly went into the bathroom.
I turned the light on and looked at myself. I was a mess, my makeup smeared and runny, my hair practically a nest of tangles. I brushed my teeth and gargled some mouthwash to try to get the taste of alcohol and shame from my mouth.
And as I slowly cleaned myself up, the memory of what Larkin had asked me to do kept coming back to me.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I could help end the war, and that would save a lot of lives. But it would cost me my freedom and force me into a marriage with a man I knew nothing about.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was I more loyal to, the club or myself? The people who took me in, raised me, protected me, gave me a good life, or my own stupid, selfish self?
Dad had never asked me to do anything for the club ever before. He had never even suggested that I do anything to help out. That should prove in itself how important this marriage would be and how much he cared about me.
That, and the fact that he was willing to murder Jetter just to free me from that marriage.
I sighed and left the bathroom, heading toward the kitchen for some coffee.
“Morning, princess.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Holy shit,” I said, backing up.
Clutch was sitting on the couch, grinning at me. His boots were off and his vest was tossed on a chair. He was holding a mug, and I realized I could smell coffee already.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Spent the night, obviously.”
I was suddenly very aware of what I was wearing. I had on probably the most unattractive panties I owned and a very thin, very see-through white T-shirt.
And Clutch was staring at me with that delicious, starving look of his.
“I didn’t know you were crashing here,” I said.
“I am your bodyguard after all.” He kicked his feet out. “I’m liking the granny panties.”
I looked down at myself. “Uh, thanks.”
“Really. I would love to tear those off with my teeth.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” I said stupidly.
“You said that already. Go ahead, get some coffee. I’ll just be here admiring that perfect fucking ass of yours.”
I clenched my jaw and quickly walked back into my bedroom. That asshole didn’t have to start the morning like this. I grabbed my robe and tossed it around me, cinching it shut.
I went back out into the kitchen and he chuckled at me. I ignored him as I grabbed a cup of coffee.
“You got wasted last night,” he said.
“Yeah.” I walked over and sat down on a chair. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I get it.”
“Look,” I said, “I should apologize.”
“What for?”
“I said some things last night. Not very nice things.”
He shrugged. “Heard worse.”
I sighed, sipping my coffee. “And about the thing.”
“The thing?�
� he asked, teasing.
“Yeah. You know, what I told you.”
“About your arranged marriage.”
“Yeah, that thing. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“You have my silence.”
“Thanks.” I finished off my coffee and felt marginally more human but still absolutely mortified. I checked the clock hanging in the kitchen and cursed.
“What?” he asked.
“I have work in a half hour.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Look at you. Such a model employee.”
I stood up, grumbling. “I guess you’re taking me?”
“If you want. I can follow you if you want to drive yourself.”
I was too embarrassed and hungover to argue. “Whatever,” I grumbled, and I walked off to take a shower.
A few minutes later, with the warm water beginning to rinse away some of the shame and awkwardness, I kept coming back to the way Clutch had taken care of me the night before.
I was sure that if he had made a move, I would have given myself to him. Instead, he was a perfect gentleman. Well, no, not exactly a gentleman, but he didn’t try to take advantage of me or anything like that. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I knew his reputation as a ladies’ man. I was happy he didn’t try anything, but also strangely a little annoyed.
It wasn’t like I wanted him to take advantage of me; that was crazy. But I did want him, as much as I hated to admit that, and maybe it would be good if I were drunk the first time. That was stupid of course, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
Without meaning to, I had let Clutch get into my head. All he needed to do was talk a little dirty and give me that look and I was thinking about fucking him while drunk.
I got out of the shower, toweling off. I looked into the mirror and shook my head. What the hell was I thinking? Clutch was just another biker in the Demons, just another guy.
Sure, we had practically grown up together, but we really barely knew each other. I wasn’t about to risk anything with him, not when this marriage thing was hanging over my head. He was just my bodyguard, and that was it.
* * *
Work dragged painfully slow.
Like the day before, Clutch sat in a booth and basically watched me. This time he read a book on and off, something about World War II, but he was still a little unnerving.
It was hard to concentrate on my tables, and I made a few mistakes. Between Clutch’s intense gaze and my own mind buzzing about the marriage thing, I wasn’t really sure what I was doing.
And that was on my mind all day. Eight hours of waiting on tables, but really it was eight hours of going back and forth on the whole idea.
Of course an arranged marriage was incredibly outdated and absurd, but in the MC world, stuff like that still happened every once in awhile to cement relationships, just like in the old days. Clubs were basically very conservative groups and sometimes did things that seemed hopelessly backward to other people.
But I understood why this arranged marriage would be important. From Jetter’s perspective, letting his people patch over to the Demons was like signing his own death warrant. He needed something to assure him that he’d continue to live and breathe, and what better than to marry the daughter of the president?
To everyone else, Jetter marrying me only solidified the bonds between the Rebels and the Demons. Patching another, unrelated club over into a bigger club was often a pretty tricky thing. The Rebels and the Demons hadn’t always gotten along, and there was some real bad blood between some of the guys. If I married Jetter, it would help to alleviate some of that stuff, or at least it would solidify the bonds that were tying the two clubs together.
Without the marriage, the patch deal would never happen. I knew it and Dad knew it, which was why he even brought the issue to me to begin with. I was the key to the whole thing, even if I didn’t want to be that key.
And as the weeks passed, the war was heating up. The Snakes were getting more confident in their ability to kill our boys, especially with the Mezcals on their side. The casualties were mounting everywhere, and although it looked like we were winning, that wasn’t guaranteed. Our supply lines to the south were cut off, and we really needed some of the contacts that the Rebels could bring over, not to mention the increased manpower.
In short, the marriage made total sense even if it was completely antiquated, even if it was treating me like a piece of prized cattle to be bought and sold.
My loyalty to the club had never been tested. Most of the guys were asked to do things, violent things, dangerous things, illegal things, and that was how they proved themselves. But me, I just got to hang around without needing to do anything.
This was my chance to show the Demons how much they mattered to me. I knew they’d appreciate it and would understand the sort of sacrifice I was making.
I wanted to do it. I really did. But every time I imagined myself married to a man like Jetter, my stomach turned and fear gripped my whole being.
The day dragged forward, minute by agonizing minute. Clutch watched me, catching my eye from time to time and grinning at me, and I just kept going in circles about the whole thing.
By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I found Clutch sitting in his booth still, working on another cup of coffee.
“You done?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, sitting across from him, “I am.”
“How’d it go? No guys give you shit today?”
“No, none.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Tired.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
Suddenly, something gripped me. I looked at Clutch and felt something, a crazy idea coming over me.
I realized that if I took this marriage plunge, this might be one of my last days of freedom. I had no clue how fast things would move. I could end up married tomorrow if I said yes tonight.
“Take me out,” I said to Clutch.
He raised an eyebrow. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “One of those loud college bars. I want to dance and I don’t want to go anywhere near the club.”
He grinned at me. “Now why would I do that?”
“Because I’m going, and you have to protect me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I do.”
“So take me out.” I got quieter. “I’m not sure how much freedom I’m going to have left.”
He went silent for a second, that serious, brooding look digging into me.
“Okay, princess,” he said. “Let’s go out.”
10
Clutch
I didn’t know what was going through the girl’s head, but she sure as hell could fucking dance.
Not that I much cared about dancing. Still, there was nothing better than having an ass like Janine’s rubbed up against your cock while you moved to the beat. And I could move with the best of them.
The club was packed and loud. It wasn’t my sort of joint. I preferred something more southern, more honky-tonk and less like a shitty east coast banger. But Janine was making the calls, and I was just following along.
After work, I dropped her at her place, swung by my own to change into fresh clothes, and then picked her up. She came down in these tight black jeans that made her ass look fantastic and this black shirt that showed off just a hint of her fantastic tits, her hair done up. She looked like a fucking sexy biker chick, which was what she was going for.
She directed me to this club and was about to leave when she saw the line, but I knew the bouncer. I got us in without any trouble, and she dragged me right to the dance floor without another word.
My cock was fucking rock hard as she danced with me, our bodies sweating, and she fucking knew it. She felt my length pressed against her and didn’t mind one bit, even seemed to like it. I was betting the girl was soaking wet with every dip and move of her hips.
The place was packed with college kids, probably most of them from the University of Texas
. They were hipsters and assholes, preppy douchebags from all over the country. I stuck out but didn’t mind.
And Janine, she was by far the sexiest girl in the room. She made the college chicks look plain and boring compared to her. Janine had had some look in her eye ever since I’d picked her up, some intense stare that drove me fucking wild.
I couldn’t tell what she was thinking about the marriage thing. We hadn’t talked about it since then, and she didn’t seem interested in bringing it up. If she didn’t want to talk, I was fine with just grinding against her sweet fucking ass.
But something was going on. She talked about not having freedom soon. I couldn’t imagine she was going to let herself get married off to Jetter, that fucking Rebel traitor cunt, like some medieval slave or some shit. Janine had more fire than that, more spark. She couldn’t be tamed by some fucking shithead like Jetter.
Maybe there was more going on than I realized. And in that moment, dancing closely with her, our bodies moving together, I found myself not giving a fuck. All I wanted was her sweet ass pressed against my cock, moving to the beat of the music, swaying back and forth.
“You’re the sexiest girl in the fucking place. You know that?” I said into her ear.
She turned her head back toward me, tilting her chin up. “You think so?”
“It’s the damn truth,” I said. “These little girls have nothing on you.”
She smiled. “I believe you. I can feel the proof.”
I grabbed her hips, pulling her ass harder against my cock. “Damn right. You get me fucking rock hard. You know that?”
“Good,” she said, giving me this fucking smile. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the floor, heading over toward the bar. We waded into the crowd of people and I easily made room for us, parting the little asshole college kids with ease. They didn’t like that, but I didn’t give a fuck and silenced their complaints with a look.
“Whisky,” I called out. “Gin and tonic for the girl.” The bartender nodded and returned with our drinks.