For the women... Well, Jemma didn’t want to judge. They had their reasons and so did the men. If a woman took multiple dicks voluntarily, that was on her. If she was forced to take them, that was on the men.
Jemma never remembered any of the Originals showing any mercy to a woman who was crying or begging to be released. Or not conscious, whether by the excessive use of drugs or alcohol, or even being beaten.
Not once.
They figured if a female showed up at the warehouse, they only showed up for one thing. To be used and abused.
That’s what they got.
The only women who received some level of respect were the ol’ ladies. But all the ol’ ladies had to get their foot in the door one way or another.
Which made her think of Angel and her false hope of becoming an ol’ lady.
Jemma always wondered how many bikers Trixie had to do, what abuse she had to put up with, until she finally got to wear her “Property of Ox” cut. Once she wore that, she was protected. But Jemma was sure it took a hell of a lot to earn it.
Once a woman was claimed by a brother, it was her choice who she did and when. If her ol’ man allowed it.
They usually didn’t. And if they got caught cheating, there was hell to pay.
Unlike all the cheating their ol’ men did. That was a given. That was expected. They could stick their dick into any woman they wanted and their ol’ ladies couldn’t say shit. If they did, it usually went badly for them. So, they accepted it. For the most part.
Jemma shoved her XC40 into Park, hit the ignition button to shut off the engine and sat in the dark interior, her eyes on the still figure sitting outside the temporary mobile home.
He had waited up for her.
He’d never done that before. Even when she came back at an earlier hour.
He also never waited outside. He’d be crashed on the couch or actually passed out in bed, if Dyna was asleep.
But he sat there looking way too relaxed in one of those chairs. When she looked closer, she could see the glow of one of the hand-rolled cigarettes he smoked as he lifted it to his lips. She saw the lit end flare brightly as he took a deep inhale.
Those movements were the only ones he made. He reminded her of a lion lying in wait to pounce.
She considered her options. Get out and hope he didn’t stop her from heading directly to bed? Or drive away and try again even later?
Neither was going to happen. She wasn’t a coward, but she was also too tired to continue discussing something she didn’t want to admit to.
Which was just how much he got her blood pumping and her pussy throbbing.
If he kept trying to convince her they could do casual without any fallout, she might break and agree. But fallout always occurred with casual. One reason why she didn’t do it.
Not that she’d had any luck with anything more serious, either.
Her groan filled the interior of the car.
She’d been hanging onto the excuse she “didn’t do casual” by her fingernails, hoping it would help her resist him. But, in truth, no man had stuck in her life. Not because she wanted them to, but because she didn’t.
She wasn’t in a rush to settle down, but she also liked steady. She needed steady in her life. She wasn’t going to get that by letting men in and out of her life or bed, like a revolving door.
However, her answer was not sprawled in that fucking plastic chair.
No, what was sprawled in that chair was her problem.
A big problem she would have a difficult time ignoring.
She sighed, then mumbled a “fuck.” She could start her car and go. And never come back.
The problem in that trailer wasn’t hers. The problem in that chair shouldn’t be hers, either. If she got out of her Volvo, she was making them hers.
She could do her best to stick to her guns and leave when she got the right job offer. She knew it wouldn’t be too long before the right one came along.
Sticking around until then was what she promised Judge. It was what Cage expected.
She needed to stop being a coward for Dyna’s sake.
“Motherfucker,” she whispered as she shoved open her driver’s door and grabbed her big slouchy purse. She slammed the door shut, threw her key fob and phone inside her bag and slowly made her way closer to the trailer entrance. Like a dead man walking. Her heart thumped in rhythm with each step she took.
When she got closer, she realized he was wearing a baseball cap pulled low. Even if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t be able to read his eyes or expression since the night was so damn dark. The promise of rain was now in the air, so the moon was in hiding.
Once her eyes adjusted to the inky-darkness, she saw he’d shed his cut, his belt and his boots, and sat in only jeans and a dark, most likely black, sleeveless undershirt, what was commonly called a wife-beater.
Weird how a tank would make his shoulders seem broader than when he wore his cut or even when he went shirtless. Which was a lot.
Another reason she needed to keep her distance as much as possible. It was like he had a sixth sense that, when she was close to him, she could barely resist touching his skin. Which meant he rarely wore a shirt while home like he was purposely trying to break her will.
If skin to skin contact wasn’t so good for Dyna, she’d ask him to put one on. But he loved to recline on his bed or the couch with the baby on his bare chest. It helped father and daughter bond and was a medically-proven good practice for infants.
That meant she kept her mouth shut and tried to remain strong.
Too many times she caught herself reaching out to brush her fingers over his chest, or the breadth of his back, when he was near. She’d pull back just in time before contact was made and she’d move away to give herself space and keep her sanity.
The only time she allowed herself to touch him was during the unavoidable contact when handing him the baby or taking her from him, or when checking his healing ribs.
He sat in the seat next to the wood steps. As she went to take the first one, his hand came out in a blur and snagged her forearm. His warm long fingers circled her arm and slid slowly down to her wrist.
She didn’t pull away because he gripped her loosely. He wasn’t forcing her to do anything, but his hold was more of an ask. A “don’t go inside yet” without words.
She stared at the door for a couple heartbeats, then cleared the thick in her throat to ask, “She asleep?”
Without a word, he lifted the used baby monitor from his lap. The one Jemma was lucky enough to score at the consignment shop in town. While there, she’d left her name and number in case a convertible crib came in.
He gently tugged her arm, and she went with it, moving from the steps and around him. When she sighed, he released her and she settled into the plastic chair next to him.
She stared up into the sky. She couldn’t see any stars because of the cloud cover. The night had become humid and overly warm.
Not only could she smell rain in the air, she could smell him. The scent of the soap he used combined with his shampoo, a faint mix of tobacco and pot, along with exhaust, oil and grease.
The only thing that was missing tonight was the scent of warm leather. It was too hot to wear his cut and he was nowhere where he needed to represent his brotherhood.
She took his cue of looking relaxed and kicked off her sandals so she could curl her legs underneath her.
He lifted the hand-rolled to his lips again. With these guys all smoking hand-rolleds, it was hard to know if it was tobacco or weed unless you asked or inhaled.
She preferred not to inhale any pot since she was job hunting and could be drug tested. Marijuana wasn’t legal for recreational use in most states yet and she had no idea where she’d land a job. Plus, legal or not, most employers frowned on a hot piss test for medical professional applicants.
On the flipside, pot was recommended for cancer patients, and others, to help relieve their pain and suffering.
“
Is that pot?”
He shook his head. “Tobacco. From the Amish. Saves us a lot of fuckin’ scratch. Got a joint in my wallet, though, if you wanna hit.”
Jemma shook her head. “I don’t want it to screw up my employment chances.”
He blew the stream of smoke up and away from her.
She hated cigarettes but she had no right to bitch about his smoking. He was good about not smoking around Dyna, so she couldn’t use her as an excuse.
“Did you know Ry’s mom died of lung cancer? She was a heavy smoker.”
“Cancer sucks,” was his only response as he took another drag. “Walt have lung cancer, too?”
“No. He had smoked when he was in his twenties but quit and never started again. It’s probably one reason Deacon and Judge never picked up the habit.”
“They smoke weed.”
She sighed. “Yeah, well. Quality pot isn’t going to kill you like the poisoned shit from the big tobacco companies.”
“The shit from the Amish is pure. No additives.”
“I know, but it’s still not good for you.”
“So, you’re sayin’ I should only get stoned instead of smokin’ tobacco.”
“I’m not saying that. Do what you want. Just keep Dyna away from it all.”
He got quiet, finished his cigarette and then flicked it out into the dark after pinching out the end.
He reached down, picked up a bottle she hadn’t noticed and tipped it to his lips.
“She give you any trouble tonight?”
She was staring straight ahead but out of the corner of her eye could see him turn his head to look at her.
“Only one female gave me trouble tonight,” he said way too softly.
“Yeah, did you have a visitor?”
“Ain’t you fuckin’ funny,” he grumbled. “She was good. Went down easy. Fed her again just a while ago.”
“You’re doing good, Chris,” she said quietly. It was true and he should know.
“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Who’da thunk a dumb fuck like me could be a good dad?” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Where’d ya go?”
Here came the conversation she wanted to avoid. “Pete’s.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, but she could feel his searching gaze.
“Don’t ask.”
“Jem...”
“Not your business, Chris.”
“Could be.”
For fuck’s sake, now she was really regretting not hooking up with Ozzy or Dodge, or anyone at the bar. It would have delayed her coming back here and getting into this conversation again. “It’s not on the table. And I’m done talking about it.”
“Could be on the table. The bed, the floor, wherever. I ain’t your father, Jem.” He said the last part so softly, her heart skipped a beat.
It was true, he was proving that he was nothing like her father. He actually cared about his daughter and wanted to do right by her.
However, it wasn’t enough. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, the fuck it does. What the fuck does it matter if the random you choose is a fuckin’ biker? It’s a fuck, not a forever.”
Why the hell did he have to keep pushing this?
“It matters when I wake up on the other side of the same trailer. As I see him every morning so I can feed his daughter and make him breakfast.”
“Don’t need to make me fuckin’ breakfast. Never asked you for that.”
No, but I want to.
Your life’s going to be hard enough being a single parent. So, for the time I’m here, I want to do that for you. Make you breakfast before you head to work. Have a meal ready for when you return. It isn’t much, but it’s something.
She didn’t admit to any of that, instead she said, “No, you only need to snap your fingers and Angel will do it for you.”
“Angel?”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Holy shit, was that a flicker of jealousy? “Never mind.”
Angel could sleep with any of the guys and not have a problem with “casual.” She’d had Cage without strings. But the sweet butt also didn’t have to live in close quarters with him.
At least Ozzy and Dodge lived elsewhere.
Christ! Why was she even thinking of those two? The one who got her heart thumping and her pussy pulsing was sitting right next to her.
“I’ve fucked other women since Sarah, Jem.”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t think you were a choir boy, but that was before you knew you had a daughter.”
“Hold up. I shouldn’t wanna fuck now that I have a kid? I’m supposed to just lose my fuckin’ desire for women ‘cause I’m now a dad? How do couples make more kids if that’s true?”
She twisted her head to stare at him. “You want more kids?”
“Can’t afford more. Can’t afford this one.”
“If you could...”
“Already strugglin’ with this one. She’s enough.”
“Keep that in mind the next time you find a willing partner.” It just wasn’t her. It was bad enough in the couple of weeks since she’d been back to Manning Grove, she was losing her heart to his daughter.
She didn’t need to lose it to the baby’s father, too.
Because she wasn’t staying. She never wanted to stay in Manning Grove. She’d escaped as soon as she was able. She even kept her visits home short.
There were too many bad memories. Ones she’ll never be able to scrub from her mind. She wished she could.
She really didn’t want to rip herself open and expose her fears but when he reached over and brushed his fingers over hers and, fuck, even though she liked it and it sent warmth through her like drinking a shot of whiskey, she still pulled her hand away and curled her fingers tightly into her palm.
Maybe if he had a better understanding, he’d back off.
“I drove past the house on my way home tonight.”
He remained quiet but his hand remained on the arm of her chair. As if he was keeping it close in case she needed it.
She waited for him to ask what house. When he didn’t, she realized he knew which one. What happened was common knowledge among the current Fury members, especially the ones who grew up in the club, like Cage had.
“When I do it all rushes back.”
His voice was deep, but quiet, when he said, “Then don’t do it.”
Don’t do it. She wished it was that easy.
“I can’t. I’m not sure why, but I can’t. I know I shouldn’t. I pull up anyway, sit out front and relive everything I heard and saw in that house from the moment I could remember. Then it brings the nightmares back.”
At least a half dozen officers pointing guns in her direction wasn’t even the worst one. She tried to swallow but her throat had tightened.
“Every time I come home, I have nightmares of the father who didn’t deserve me. And nightmares about the father who did.”
“Walt.”
“Yes, it’s one reason I don’t come home often or, when I do, don’t stay long. This has been the longest I’ve been home since I moved away.”
“Doin’ it for me.”
“For Dyna,” she reminded him. “Let me explain why I agreed to come here for Dyna and to help you. You chose to keep her instead of giving her up. Was that selfish? Maybe. Was it selfless? Possibly. I don’t know. Time will tell. But I came because Judge asked me to help you since you had no clue what you were doing but you wanted to try. And I didn’t want a child to suffer. I hope my time here makes a difference, even if only a little, for you and Dyna.”
“Jem...”
She shook her head. She needed to get this out and over. “At five, I thought my father loved me. His actions proved otherwise. Did it hurt? Yes. Will I ever forget it? No.”
She knew his story, too. It was similar. His mother up and leaving both of her sons because she’d had enough with the club. She didn’t take her boys with her. She never came back. She never called or visited. She scraped
her family clean.
A mother who loved her children didn’t do that. Dutch, at least, fought to keep his sons. He might not have been the perfect father, but he loved them. He cared for them the best way he could.
The same way his own son was doing with his granddaughter.
The best he could.
Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect, but as long as Dyna felt loved and cared for... then she’d be okay.
She didn’t need to mention any of this to the man who had experienced his mother abandoning him. He’d lived it.
He felt the pain and betrayal firsthand.
Just like Jemma had when she couldn’t ignore the truth.
The truth being, she’d been held in her father’s arms, not because he loved her and wanted a hug, but because she was a tool for him to ensure his own safety.
Ox was a selfish bastard.
So was Bebe, Cage and Rook’s mother.
Her story wasn’t over yet. “Walter was more of a father to me than Ox ever was. Then I helplessly watched the father who loved me and never disappointed me suffer away to nothing. I stayed by his side until he took his last rattled breath. I held his hand until it went cold. I closed the lids on his sightless eyes. I kissed his hollowed, paled cheek. I whispered goodbye to someone who could no longer hear me.
“I lost two fathers in ways a daughter should never lose them. But I relive how Walt died. How he suffered at the end. How I felt helpless and could do nothing but watch him wither to a shell of the man I loved deeply and finally die. All I could do was comfort him in the end. That’s all any of us could do. Be with him, let him know we loved him. Ensure he knew our lives would never be the same when he was gone.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the sharp sting to pass.
“It’s why you became a nurse,” came softly from beside her.
“It’s why I became a hospice nurse. If it wasn’t for Walt’s, he would’ve suffered even worse. His hospice nurse became my heroine. I was amazed at how she could remain so strong while witnessing so much death and sorrow. Do you know Lottie is still friends with her?”
Of course he didn’t. How would he know?
She didn’t wait for his answer. “I would sit for hours next to Maggie and talk to her about her job. She had so many stories. Happy. Sad. She touched so many lives. She witnessed so many deaths. Like I said, she was so strong, and I wanted to be just like her.”
Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5) Page 17