by Colbie Kay
Her brows tighten as if she’s contemplating something. “Don’t you want something in return?”
“For what?”
She stares at me with her big doe-shaped eyes before she pulls her sweatshirt over her head. I’m stunned and fuckin’ speechless at what the hell she’s doing. She removes her sweatpants and lays on the bed, naked, just watching me. My mouth flops open and closed as I try to find words. “The fuck you doin’?” My head snaps in Ace and Chapel’s direction. He’s telling Chapel to put her clothes back on.
“You want to fuck me, right?” My eyes dart back to Haven with her question. She continues, “You want payment for the food, water, clothes, and everything else you’ve done. Nothing is ever free, right? You took care of me, now I’ll give you my body.”
Running my hand through my hair, I try to figure out what the hell she is doing. Why the fuck would she think she needs to fuck me for taking care of her? My gaze trails over her body. I can see every fuckin’ bone, and it’s sickening. “Put your clothes back on, Darlin’. I ain’t fuckin’ you.”
“I don’t understand.” She lifts herself up onto her knees. “He will fuck Chapel—”
Ace interrupts, “Woah, wait.” He has his hands out in defense. His eyes are as wide as mine. “I’m not fucking her either. Wherever you two came from was a fucked up place. We ain’t like that here.”
Chapel giggles. “You don’t like to fuck?”
I can’t help but laugh. I don’t know if I’m in shock or what, but there’s something seriously wrong here. “Yes, we like to fuck, but this ain’t right.” My eyes lock with Haven’s. “Put your clothes on. We’ll talk tomorrow.” I quickly leave the room with Ace right behind me.
“What the fuck just happened in there?” Ace shakes his head.
“I don’t know. They’re scared of people, can’t do shit for themselves. We help them, and in turn, they want to fuck us for helping them. I can’t make sense of none of this shit since they showed up.”
“Me either, Brother.”
My eyes meet his. “Tomorrow, we get them talking.”
8
Haven
Storm stands in the doorway of Kayla’s office. We’re just staring at each other; neither of us is saying a word.
“She’ll be fine, Storm.” Kayla breaks the standoff, but my heart immediately starts galloping at the thought of him not staying with me.
“I’ll be right outside,” he tells me, but the way his eyebrows are bunched and his lips are turned down, it’s like he wants me to tell him not to go.
As much as I want to beg him not to leave me, I can’t get the words to come. “Okay,” I reply while my nose starts to sting and tears fill my eyes. I standby as Kayla shuts the door. I can no longer see Storm, and my stomach does somersaults with unease.
“You’re going to be just fine, Haven. I promise,” Kayla says, grabbing my attention. “Come, sit on the couch.” Following her, I cautiously sit. “You don’t have to talk about anything you aren’t comfortable with, okay?”
“Okay.” My voice trembles. I’m feeling panicked.
It’s awkwardly quiet, but I take this time to really study her. She has a beautiful curvy figure and not much taller than I am. It’s not hard to be taller than me when I’m only a few inches over five feet. Her hair hangs just past her shoulders with streaks of blonde and brown. Her eyes remind me of the color of honey.
“Haven,” Kayla calls my name tenderly. I relax a fraction and don’t feel as jittery. “Let’s start with this, what do you want to do with your life?”
Biting on my lip, I ponder her question. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it because I didn’t think I would have the chance to have one.”
She nods as if she understands. “You’ve been at the clubhouse for two years, right?” This time I dip my head in acknowledgment. “I know that you always stay in your room. Do you ever come out to socialize? What do you do in your room?”
“I come out to use the bathroom and to shower. There was one time I came out with my sister and Rowan. All of the guys were gone, and it was only their wives there. I don’t do anything, really. Storm brings me food and drinks. I have Chapel to talk to as well as Rowan when she comes to see us. We do our nails.” I glance down at my fingers twirling around my shirt and add, “But they moved Chapel to her own room.”
“Did you have fun with the other women?”
“I did, but I like being in my room, and I don’t like being in groups of people.”
“Do you read books or magazines?”
“Chapel and I both liked to read when we were in school. I had just started ninth grade, and Chapel was in seventh, but we didn’t read after we were taken. Storm and Ace, they’ve done so much for us already. Why should we ask for unnecessary things like magazines and books?”
“If reading is something you enjoy, I think you should ask for those things, and it would keep you occupied. “How do you feel about Chapel moving into her own room?”
I drag my eyes up to hers and rub the back of my neck with unease. I’m not sure I like all of these questions. It feels overwhelming. My brows knit while my lips form into a frown. “You have a lot of questions.”
Her face lights up with a beaming smile, and she laughs. “I do. That’s part of my job. If you ever feel uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop. I’m here for you, Haven. Plus, I’m not the club and not Storm, and I’m not reporting back to them. Our sessions are completely confidential and covered by doctor/patient confidentiality. By law, I am not allowed to share anything you tell me.”
My eyes widen in shock. “Really? No matter what?”
“Really, but there are situations where I would have to take the necessary steps to make sure you were safe. For example, if I felt you were a danger to yourself or others, I would need to deal with that accordingly because you and your safety will always be the number one priority to me.”
I accept that and sink further down into her couch. “I don’t like that they took her away from me. We’ve always been together.”
“Storm takes good care of you, though, doesn’t he?
I quietly mumble, “I’m just a job to Storm.”
Her brows furrow as if she doesn’t understand. “What makes you say that?”
My shoulders sag just as my heart has. “He told me.”
“Oh, Haven.” She moves to sit next to me and takes my hand in hers. “You are far from just a job to him. I saw the way he took care of you last week with your feet, and I think it would be good for you to ask for the things you want.”
“He just takes care of me because he feels he has to.” A pounding knock on the door startles me.
“It’s okay. It’s probably just Storm.” She glances at the clock and smiles. “Our session is over for today, but I will see you again next week.”
Standing up from the couch, I take a deep breath. “That hour went by fast.”
Kayla laughs lightly. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Smiling shyly, I shake my head. “No.”
“I’m going to give you some homework to do. You will still come to see me once a week, but I really want you to try to accomplish a daily goal, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Starting tomorrow, I want you to leave your room every day. You can go outside or wherever you want, but you cannot go to Chapel’s room. For the next week, I want you to begin with five minutes. If you are able to accomplish the goal, increase the time by five minutes next week. Each time you are able to accomplish the goal, you increase the time by five minutes. Okay? Can you do that?”
Panic sets in, and it feels like it’s getting harder to breathe.
She rubs her hand along my arm. In a soothing tone, she instructs me, “Calm down, Haven. Take a few deep breaths and count to ten. Focus on a place where you feel safe. It can be real or imaginary.” I do as she tells me, and it seems to help some. “If you feel like the homework is too much, try just a couple of minutes to start and
don’t worry about the time. I don’t want you increasing until you are able to accomplish the first goal. So, if you can’t do it this week, you stay at five minutes until you can accomplish it. Then you move to ten.”
She studies me for a moment before asking, “Does this happen a lot?” I nod. “I’m going to give you a couple of prescriptions for anxiety medicine. I think it will help you cope.” I wait for her to write on her pad as she explains how both medicines will help me, then she opens the door and gives the prescriptions to Storm. “You need to get this filled for her and make sure she takes it as instructed.”
“What’s it for?” His tone sounds like it’s filled with concern. “Is something wrong with her?”
She looks at me before answering, waiting until I silently bob my head once, giving her permission to share with him. “Haven has panic attacks and severe anxiety. One prescription is something that will have to build up in her system and will help her in the long run so that it helps to control her anxiety. The other is fast-acting, and she can take whenever she has a panic attack. It will help to calm her. They should help her to deal with things.”
He nods and places his hand on my lower back. “Ready to ride, Darlin’?”
“I’m ready.” Without another word, Storm guides me to his Harley. I don’t know if I can do what Kayla wants, but I will give it my best. I have to, right? Because eventually, every job comes to an end, and it will be time for me to leave the clubhouse.
9
Storm
My phone rings as I’m walking with Haven back to her room. Glancing at the screen, I see that it’s Pope, one of our best prospects. I slide my finger across the screen to answer. “Pope?”
“Storm, we have a problem.”
Groaning, I reply, “The fuck happened now?”
“We have a runner to deal with. Can you come to his house? I’ll text you his address.”
“I’ll be right there. Don’t let him outta your sight, got it?”
“Got it.”
Hanging up, my eyes meet Haven’s. “I gotta go.” I leave her at her door and head for the bar. I spot Bear standing at the edge of the counter with his arms crossed, watching everyone in the room as usual. “Bear.”
Those watchful eyes shift to me. “Yeah?”
“You have any corroded batteries out in the garage?”
“Sure do. Follow me.”
I find exactly what I’m looking for amongst the pile of junk batteries. Bending down, I pull my blade and take the plastic off my cigarette pack. I use my blade to scrape a good amount of battery acid into the plastic. I wipe my blade on my jeans and put it back into its holder before sealing off the plastic with my lighter and placing it inside my pocket. “Thanks, Bear.”
He nods. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Sure will.” I leave Bear in the garage as I jog to my Harley and get her fired up. I open the text from Pope. Once I have the address memorized, I shoot out of the compound like a bat outta hell.
I’m brought to one of Wichita’s middle-class neighborhoods. The homes are nice, but not extravagant. Every day working-class people live in these homes. I pull into the driveway of this one-story craftsman style house that has flowers hanging on the porch and its bushes landscaped in the yard. I climb each wooden step with a hard thud from my boots.
I don’t bother knocking. Instead, I open the door, and there the runner is, sitting on the couch with Pope next to him. Pope’s gun laying on his lap. “What’s the problem, boys?” The runner’s guilty gaze travels everywhere except to me. He’s got sweat dripping from his forehead.
“This piece of shit used our product and doesn’t have the money he owes us.”
“Is that right? Do you live here alone?” I sit on his other side and glance around the living room. I see pictures of people, adults and children, and photos of a younger-looking runner.
“No, I live with my parents and siblings.” His voice shakes more with each word he speaks. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back. I swear.”
I peek around the runner to the prospect. “Pope, how much does he owe us?”
“Thousands.”
I hang my head and breathe out harshly. “You shot up thousands of dollars of our fuckin’ product, and you expect me to believe you’re going to pay us back?”
“I will! I swear! It’ll just take a little time,” the runner promises, on the verge of panic.
Throwing back my head, I peer up at the ceiling. “Time is money, and right now, I’m shit out of luck with both. This is really unfortunate for your family.”
The coffee table in front of us already has his used-up needle and a bag with some heroin left in it. Scooting closer to the table, I pull out the plastic that contains the battery acid. I mix the little bit of heroin with the acid in his bent spoon and do all the necessary steps like I do for Cherry. I study his track riddled arms to find the perfect vein. “Hold him, Pope.”
The runner tries to jump up from the couch with no success. Pope reaches out and grabs him around the neck, putting him in a headlock. The runner’s face begins to turn red like a tomato from lack of oxygen and his struggles. “Please,” he gasps. Based on the size of Pope’s arm compared to the runner’s neck, I’d say Pope could pop his head right off. Tears leak from the runner’s eyes. Maybe I should feel bad for killing him or that maybe one of his siblings will find his lifeless body, but I don’t. I feel nothing.
I hold his arm out and place my knee on his hand to keep it still. Pushing the poison into his vein, I watch as his eyes begin to roll, and he slumps over. Pope releases his neck, and we both stand, staring down. We watch his eyes bulge. His body begins to convulse, and foam trickles from his mouth.
“Get rid of any evidence that we were here and make it look like it was an overdose. I’ll see you back at the compound.” Throwing the screen door open, I light up a cigarette.
The sun is setting by the time I get back to the compound. I notice a crowd surrounding the side of the clubhouse. As I’m walking up to the spectators, I ask Nyx, “Who’s fighting?”
“A prospect and Boogeyman.”
I move through the growing crowd, making my way closer to where the two men are fighting. It doesn’t take long for Boogeyman to win. Not surprising since Boogeyman is a beast and holds nothing back when he’s in the circle.
Once they’re done and out of the circle, I step into it. Lifting my arms into the air, I shout, “Who wants to take me on?” I spin around until someone steps forward. It’s not one of the brothers or prospects, which means it’s gotta be a hang-around. A slow smile creeps onto my face. Why do they always think they can hang with the big dogs when they’re nothing except little annoying-ass ankle-biters? I remove my cut and seek out one of my brothers, handing it to Ace. I then throw my shirt onto the ground. Hitting my fists together, I bounce on my feet as I prepare. I’m not in my twenties anymore, but I can still knock a motherfucker out. Only one of us will be standing when this is over.
We circle each other a few times before I go in with a jab, hitting him in the nose. He counters with a hard-right hook. I spit blood from my mouth, and that shit-eating grin he’s wearing drives my urge to fuck this cocky cunt up. He got one hit in, I’ll give him that, but it’ll be the only one he gets on me. Running for him, I hunker down and wrap my arms around his waist and bulldoze him to the ground. I get my legs on both sides of his body as I straddle him and throw my fists one after another. Blood sprays from his face, and he quickly stops defending himself. Hands grab me, pulling me from my opponent.
“You finished him,” Snake’s voice rings in my ear over the excited crowd.
“Yeah, fight’s over,” I hear Ace on my other side.
The music is blaring throughout the bar while everyone is gathering inside. I’m not waiting in the long-ass pile-up at the bar for a prospect to serve me. I step behind the bar counter and grab a beer for myself from the cooler. Popping the top off, someone yells, “Good fight tonight, Storm.”
I hold my bottle up before taking a long pull. The cold, bitter taste hits my throat, and it’s so fuckin’ good.
As the night goes on, the party gets wilder, as usual. I’ve had more than a few drinks, and I’m feeling pretty damn good. I grab another beer from the bar, and as I’m popping the top, Pope has one of the sweet butts bent over the pool table. It piques my interest. Sauntering over, I set my bottle down on the pool table that Candy is bent over.
Gripping her hair, her head tips back, so her eyes meet mine. Her face lights up at the sight of me. I watch her tits bounce while Pope thrusts in and out of her. Undoing my jeans, I let them fall around my boots before shoving my boxer briefs down as well.
“Open,” I growl while fisting my cock, giving myself a few good strokes. Pope moves, and Candy shifts with him. Pope smirks as Candy takes me into her mouth, and I groan through my gritted teeth because damn, the bitch knows how to suck cock. “Fuck!”
Pope and I set a rhythm: he pushes in, I pull out, and then I push in, he pulls out. Candy moans as loudly as she can with her lips wrapped around me. One of my hands fists her hair while the other finds her tit. I massage roughly and tug at her nipple.
After a while, I snarl, “Switch.” I drag my cock from her mouth and pull a condom from my wallet. Ripping the wrapper open, I sheath myself and drive into her soaked pussy as Pope fills her mouth. Once again, we set the pace.
Gripping her hips, I shove my cock inside of her over and over until that tingling feeling begins to crawl up my spine, and my balls tighten. “I’m going to come,” I growl, and seconds later, my cum fills the condom.
“Fuck yeah,” Pope yells, finishing in her mouth, and Candy screams through her own orgasm.
Pulling out, I remove the condom and fix my clothes. I shove the condom into my beer bottle and leave Pope with Candy.
I find myself standing in front of Haven’s closed door. As quietly as possible, I step inside. She’s sleeping soundly, and I can’t help except stare at her. She looks so peaceful. She’s fuckin’ mesmerizing, and she is fuckin’ beautiful when she sleeps. I continue watching her serene features. Her thick black lashes, lying against her creamy skin, and her hair fanned out all around her pillow. It’s fucked up. I know. How can I fuck someone and then be worried about Haven? Those whores don’t mean a goddamn thing, but this woman, right here, is my everything. I might get frustrated as hell with her, and she’s a fuckin’ brat, but she’s mine, even if I can’t fuckin’ touch her. She will always be mine.