He’s older than I am and set in his ways, not willing to have a conversation with me about something I heard. But he allowed me to pick out everything for the remodel, making sure I got what I desired.
I decide that I can’t think about it anymore.
I need sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
MADDOG
I groan as I roll over onto my back. I try to open my eyes, but the fucking room is spinning. I throw my arm out and it collides with a body.
I crack my eyes open, looking over to find none other than Kisha next to me, her long red hair down her back. She’s completely naked, her bare ass on display, looking down, I see that I’m fully dressed.
What in the fuck happened last night?
I can taste the booze in my mouth. Obviously, I drank a fuck ton, and I can smell the weed on my clothes—but I’ve had nights of drinking and smoking where I’ve remembered the whole evening. Right now, the last thing I remember is leaving my house.
“Morning, baby,” she whispers as she turns to face me.
Baby.
The word pisses me off coming from her lips, and I want her fucking gone, but I want to know what happened, too.
“The fuck, Kisha?” I ask, looking down at her.
“You couldn’t keep your hands off of me last night, MadDog. Couldn’t get enough of me; said I was the sweetest pussy you’d ever had,” she whines, arching a brow.
That’s a downright fucking lie. I know what sweet pussy tastes like, and I know what Kisha has goin’ on, and there’s no way in fuck her pussy can even compare to Mary’s.
“Time for you to go,” I grunt.
“You don’t want to go again?” she says, her voice a little panicked.
“Fuck no, I don’t want to go again. Get the fuck out of my room,” I growl.
I watch as she stands and scrambles her bare ass out of my room. I sit on the edge of my bed, scrubbing my face with my hands, wondering what the fuck just happened? What the fuck happened last night?
I decide to take a shower and get dressed, hoping the warm water and the toothpaste on my teeth will help me feel less foggy, helping me to remember what happened.
By the time I’m dressed, I’m no closer to remembering the events of last night, so I decide to go downstairs and get some coffee.
When I walk into the kitchen, my eyes meet the beautiful blue ones of Mary, and she’s standing with none other than—Kisha.
Fuck.
Damn.
Shit.
Fuck.
My eyes stay glued to Mary, pinning her in place, but she’s expressionless. I wonder what Kisha has told her, if anything.
Neither of us move, but the air in the kitchen is stifling. It’s so thick, if you inhale too much, you’d choke.
I don’t bother looking to the side when I hear a noise. The door clicks closed, and I know that Kisha has left the room.
“You know, Kisha just loves your big cock. She also loves to talk about it,” Mary says.
I swear to fuck, if I could be dead, I would be just by the look in her eyes.
“I didn’t fuck her,” I announce as I take a few steps toward her, closing the gap between us.
Mary narrows her gaze on me, pissing me off. I lift my hand and wrap it in the back of her hair, pulling her into my chest as I look down at her.
She fights to get away from me, but I wrap my other arm around her waist and hold her against me, still and caged.
“You’re a liar,” she spits.
“I’m sixty years old, sweetness. I’ve got no fuckin’ reason to lie to you. I woke up in bed with her. She was naked, but I was fully clothed. I don’t remember a fucking thing about last night, but no way in fuck would I sink my dick inside of her when I’d just come so hard inside of you I saw stars,” I murmur, running my nose alongside hers.
“You left, you didn’t believe me, and you left,” she whispers.
I feel wetness touch my nose. Tears. I fucking made her cry.
I don’t know what to say. I’m still not sure the whores would plan what she described. I don’t want her to cry, and I don’t want to hurt her, either.
I’m between a rock and a hard place. I hold her to me for a moment, welcoming her soft body against mine before I press my lips to hers, keeping the kiss short.
“The club is my concern. Thank you for bringing what you thought you heard to my attention, but no more,” I murmur gently, hoping by taking the harshness from my voice she won’t take it as badly as she did the night before.
“You’re a dick,” she mumbles.
I try not to laugh, but I fail, letting a chuckle escape. My hands tighten, my fingers gripping her hair and her waist tighter. I missed her soft body against mine last night, and her even softer cunt wrapped around my cock this morning. No way in hell would I fuck Kisha last night, not when I have Mary.
“You workin’ today?” I ask on a grunt.
“Yeah,” she says, shrugging a shoulder.
“We’ll go to lunch a little later. I have some shit to take care of.”
“Okay,” she whispers with a nod. It makes me feel like complete shit.
MARY-ANNE
Max leaves me locked in his office after another sweet kiss. I haven’t forgiven him, neither have I forgotten what he said to me.
I also don’t know if I believe the fact that he claims he didn’t sleep with Kisha, even though he woke up next to her and she was naked, with all that ugly ass red hair on display I’m sure.
I’m young, but I wasn’t born yesterday.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to blindly believe everything he tells me.
I open my laptop and start working, finding that being caught up is so nice. After about an hour of answering e-mails and making quick adjustments on designs, I’m back to caught up again.
Then I look around and realize I have at least another two hours before Max gathers me for lunch. I don’t want to go out and look for him.
At this point, I don’t really want to see him, so I decide to snoop. Probably not the smartest idea in the world, but I’m bored.
I open the drawers in his desk, starting with the top one, but there is nothing but paperwork in there. I’m snoopy, but I don’t really want to violate his privacy, so I don’t even look at the papers, I just shift them around.
Then, when I open the very bottom drawer, my breath hitches. I pick up a picture. It isn’t framed, but it’s obviously been handled a lot.
The picture is an old one of Max.
I would recognize him at any age, even the young age he is in the photo.
He looks to be around seventeen years old, tall and lean, with a big smile on his face. He’s standing, straddling a black motorcycle, and his arm is wrapped around a woman, his hand resting on the swell of her belly.
She’s got her head tipped back and resting against his shoulder, and she’s smiling huge. They’re both smiling, looking more in love than any couple I have ever seen.
I lift my finger and trace his young face. He doesn’t have any facial hair at all, and the hair on his head is about three shades lighter, blond, shaggy, and long.
Her hair is blonde as well, and really long, swept to the side and hanging off of one shoulder. They’re both wearing bell bottoms, and she’s got a floral, A-line shirt on over her obvious baby bump.
I close my eyes, knowing that I’ll never have him like that. She got this boy version of him, this untamed boy who had yet to see the horrors of life.
A boy who had an easy smile and clear blue eyes, not one ounce of the haunting eyes that I see when I look at him now.
It makes my chest ache. How can I be so envious of a dead woman? She’s absolutely gorgeous, and I know why he had to have her. I also why he tried to keep her away from club life. The innocence in her eyes practically jumps out of the photograph itself.
“What’d you find?” his voice asks from behind me. I jump in my chair, obviously oblivious to him entering the room.
/> “A picture,” I say, knowing there’s no way to hide my snooping.
“Fuck, I forgot about that one,” he says as he takes it from my hand.
I twist my head around to look at him. He’s focused on the image in front of him, and his face is completely soft, his eyes glazed over. He’s lost in the memory of that moment, and my chest aches again, almost cracking.
He grins and then I watch as he takes his wallet out and places the picture inside before he replaces it back in his pocket, breaking my heart completely in the process.
I don’t know why it affects me so damn much. We’ve only known each other for a matter of days, and he was in love with her for years.
“Ready for lunch?” he asks, holding his hand out for me.
I nod, not knowing what else to say as I try to keep my tears from leaking down my face. I stand, not taking his hand. I’m emotional, and I’m still mad at him.
“We’ll go downtown; there’s a couple places there,” he says with a shrug, ignoring my refusal to touch him or talk to him.
I climb on the back of his bike, thankful to be on it and not in a car. I need the silence. I snooped, and now I’m feeling self-conscious. He claims he didn’t sleep with another woman, yet he woke up next to her and she was naked.
He’s made it clear that I don’t have a place in his club, only in his bed, and he’s done it in a way where I don’t think I’ll ever have a place by his side in the club. Then there’s the picture, where he looks so damn happy.
I watched the memory slide over his face as he looked at the photograph, and then he stuck it in his wallet to no doubt look at again, later.
As we drive toward the restaurant, I wonder why I’m here. Why on earth are we doing this with each other? Once we arrive, we walk inside and sit down, still in silence.
The restaurant is just a little diner, but as I look over the menu, I see that they serve breakfast all day long. I gladly order a stack of pancakes. They’re my go-to comfort food, and I could really use some comfort right about now.
“I talked to Grease, who was there last night. He says I stumbled to my bed alone,” he murmurs nonchalantly.
“Okay…”
“Sometimes the girls get jealous. It’s just a part of the whole thing, Mary. They see a brother get attached to someone, and when they don’t get the attention they used to, they play games,” he shrugs.
It baffles my mind how much of a shit he doesn’t give about this. These women that he claimed know the rules, that wouldn’t dare try to trick a man into having a child, he now admits that they’ve been known to play games? He’s fucking crazy.
“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this,” I say with narrowed eyes.
“What do you mean, you aren’t sure why I’m telling you this? I’m telling you that I didn’t fuck her,” he grunts, obviously irritated with me.
I press my lips together, unsure of what to say next. If I say anything about his girls, he’ll think I’m being petty or jealous, or that I just don’t understand how his club life works.
Maybe I am petty and jealous, but when I tell the man that I’m sleeping with, the man that I’m committed to, the truth, and he doesn’t believe what I’m saying to him—I just don’t know what else to say. If he doesn’t believe me, why on earth should I believe him?
“You’re acting like a fuckin’ kid right now,” he murmurs, his temper rising. I watch as his face turns red.
“Maybe you should send me back to my apartment then, an apartment I’m still paying rent on,” I calmly say.
“What is your real problem here?” he asks.
“I already told you my problem, you just don’t care. You told me to drop it, that it wasn’t my place. I’m not quite sure what you want right now,” I honestly point out.
“I forgot about this shit,” he mutters as his eyes bore into me.
“About what?”
“This relationship shit. This talking, this having to consider your feelings and be mindful of how my words and actions affect you,” he grumbles.
“You don’t have to be mindful or consider shit,” I spit out. “You can go on your merry way and say and do whatever and whoever you want.”
“Mary,” he warns.
“No, seriously; I’ll go back to San Diego, or maybe I’ll move to New York,” I announce.
His arm strikes out, his hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he pulls my body halfway across the table, so that we’re practically nose-to-nose.
“You ain’t going fucking anywhere,” he says with a growl.
I try to jerk away from him, but his hand tightens at the back of my neck.
“I’m a liar who doesn’t have a place anywhere other than on your cock. Eat shit,” I say in heated anger.
Max releases me, and I have no choice but to fall back against my seat. He silently stands and then leaves, not looking back. I watch him out the window as he straddles his bike, starts his engine, and then takes off.
I look down at the table to see a wad of cash. Obviously, I didn’t see him pull that out, but it’s enough to cover our undelivered lunch.
I call the waitress over and cancel our order, leaving the money on the table, and I too walk out of the restaurant without a glance backward.
I should call down to the clubhouse and have somebody come and pick me up. We’re too far for me to walk to the house or back to the club, the curvy mountain roads being too dangerous to walk, anyway.
Instead of calling anybody, I decide to take a stroll down the quiet streets of the town center. I’ve yet to really see much of the little town I’ve been living in. I should probably take it all in now, instead of waiting, because I doubt I’ll be here much longer.
My phone rings in my hand, and I look down to see that it’s Kentlee, Max’s daughter-in-law, calling me. She hardly ever calls, but she does so every now and again.
“Hello,” I answer as I continue to walk.
“I heard about your boyfriend. I’m so sorry,” she murmurs.
“We broke up, but thanks,” I say with a shrug, even though she can’t see me.
“Tell me what’s up with you,” she demands.
I almost laugh at how freaking well she knows me. I guess that happens when you live with someone for an extended period of time.
“Just tired,” I admit.
I am tired. Tired of men that treat me like shit. Tired of falling for said men, only to be trampled on. At least Max showed his true colors earlier on, and I didn’t have to wait for a year or two to see the real him.
“You should come home and visit. We all miss you,” she practically whispers.
“Yeah, I’ll set something up.”
“Whatever it is, whatever’s bothering you, I’m here to talk,” she urges.
I open my mouth to tell her, to tell her everything, because if anybody would understand what I’m feeling right now, it’s her. She spent years wondering, waiting for her husband to get out of prison.
He didn’t communicate at all with her while he was there, embarrassed and ashamed to be seen by her while he was locked up. That man is Max’s son, so his actions, they don’t surprise me—the push and pull. Fury did the exact same shit with Kentlee.
I hear a rumbling and I look up to see Max’s bike coming down the street. I thank Kentlee and tell her that I’ll take her up on her offer when I’m ready, and then I end the call just as Max pulls up next to me.
“Get on,” he growls.
I ignore his words, choosing to just stare at him. He’s got to give me something other than an order for me to just jump on his bike and ride off into the sunset.
“Get. The. Fuck. On,” he barks.
The anger is swirling in his eyes, and I find myself doing as he’s demanded. I jump on the back of his bike, and together we ride. He’s going so much faster than he usually does, and I’m scared, especially since I’m not wearing my helmet, which goes against California law.
I grip his shirt tightly as my legs sq
ueeze his thighs, and we twist and turn through the mountains until we arrive at this little shack of a building.
The motorcycle stops and Max pats my thigh to signal for me to get off. I do, on shaky legs, still scared of the ride he just took me on. I watch as he calmly gets off of his bike and then wraps his warm hand around mine, tugging me toward the building.
Once we’re inside, the sound of buzzing fills the air. As my eyes take in the room, I gasp.
We’re in a tattoo parlor.
Chapter Fourteen
MADDOG
I don’t say a word to her. There’s nothing else to say. She’s forced my hand, and now she’s going to be marked. I’m not about to let her just walk out of my life, not when I’ve just found her.
I don’t care how short of a time period we’ve known each other. Mary is mine, and she’s about to be permanently so.
“Come on back,” my tattoo artist calls out from the backroom.
I’m not about to have my woman under the needle in the front of the shop.
“Max,” Mary whispers, her first words since I walked away from her.
I couldn’t control my anger, and I didn’t want to hurt her, so I walked away. Just imagining her leaving filled me with so much rage.
I needed to calm the fuck down.
I went for a short ride, my bike led me here, and I knew what I needed to do. So I went back into town and picked her up.
“You know what you want?” Nick, my tattoo artist, asks.
“Branding,” I bark.
“What?” Mary breathes.
“Where do you want it?” Nick asks, ignoring Mary’s look of surprise.
“Her thigh,” I grunt.
“Pants off, babe,” Nick says as he starts to prepare his equipment.
Mary turns to me with eyes wide and slack jawed.
“You’re branding me?” she asks on a whisper.
“You got another place other than my cock, and that’s at my side,” I murmur, low enough so that Nick can’t hear what a giant fucking pussy I am.
“Max,” she breathes.
“Pants off, sweetness.”
Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet Page 95