“
Barbara was wondering if
you guys can make a beer run or something,” I say then wince.
Lifting my head and looking Chel in the eye, I say, “She thinks
we’re low for the number of charters that are coming
up.”
“
She couldn’t have asked
me herself?” Chel says. Her eyes narrow up at me, and her tone is
petulant. I scrunch up my face in frustration and work to keep my
mouth shut. Chel knows damn well why Barbara isn’t going to speak
to her directly. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that Chel’s
hurting, too.
“
You know that’s not gonna
happen,” I say.
Dawn scoffs and rolls her eyes. She
blows out a breath and says, “It’s not like every one of these guys
doesn’t fuck around. That’s bullshit. Barb knew the score when she
hooked up with Chief.”
“
Look,” I say, now beyond
annoyed that I’m having to go there. “Barbara’s just lost her
husband. Her kids have lost their dad. She doesn’t want to be in
the same room with the woman who’s been screwing her husband on the
regular for the last two years. Is that okay with either of
you?”
The chair she’s sitting in makes a
horrid scraping sound as Dawn stands and puts her hand on her hip.
“Listen, bitch. Just because you’re on the back of Duke’s bike
doesn’t make you anything but his latest slut. So do us all a favor
and get off your jizz-stained pedestal and wake up. You’re not Old
Lady material,” she says. Chel squeezes out of her chair and folds
her arms over her chest as she moves away from the
table.
I take a step forward and pull my hands
out of my pockets. All I can see every time I look at her is the
scene from that night I walked in on her riding Duke. Try as I
might—and I try really hard—I can’t forget the way she stared at me
that night. The memory doesn’t come up often, but when it does I
can’t help how pissed off I end up being. I thought at the time
that she just liked it when people watched, but the way she’s going
off right now makes me think that maybe she’s got a thing for Duke
and that was some kind of power play.
And fuck that.
“
What the fuck did you
just say to me?” I snap. From behind me, chairs scrape against the
concrete floor and footsteps close in. Dawn’s eyes dart over my
shoulders before they fall on me again. She jerks her chin up and
smirks.
“
You know what they
say—can’t make a wife out of a whore,” she says and licks her lips.
Looking me up and down she chuckles. “Like mother, like daughter,
huh?”
Chapter 21
Shoving her chair out of my way, I
close the distance between us. Dawn is an inch or two shorter than
me, but she’s curvier in all the right places. My chest heaves in
anger, and my body is so fucking tense I think I could throw my
fist through the brick wall behind her head. We may not know each
other very well, but it’s no secret that my mom was a club slut who
never could settle down, and it was fucking cheap of Dawn to bring
my mother into this. And today of all days? She can’t know, but the
damage is done and it doesn’t matter.
“
Shit. I’ll go get Duke,”
one of the prospects says from behind me. I purse my lips as
adrenaline rushes through my veins and psyches me up for this shit.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight with somebody
aside from Duke. I’m seriously overdue.
“
Keep talking, bitch,” I
say. She looks to her left and smiles then nods her head. She’s
dumber than she looks if she thinks this shit is going to be cool
with the club.
“
I can see why you like
him, though. He’s hot and knows how to use his dick,” she says.
“What have you done to him? The guy was desperate for a good fuck.
Apparently he hasn’t had that in a while.” I take another step
forward, and we’re standing chest to chest, both of us knowing that
there’s no going back from this moment. The shit she’s saying about
Duke kills me, but I can’t show her that. I can’t show any of them
how much it hurts to hear her say that he was with her that
night.
The Old Ladies have all been through
this, and, in their own ways, they’ve had to claim their spot
beside their man. It might not always be this public, but it almost
always goes down like this. Old Ladies have to be tough, and if I
want this—and I do—I’m going to have to suck it up and be strong
for my man and our kid.
He may come in really late at times,
but he’s been in my bed every night he can be. She could be lying,
but some of the brothers are in the room. The vibe always changes
when they walk in. It’s like a cloud of testosterone blankets
everything in the confined space. I don’t think she’d lie in front
of them. While they tolerate a lot of shit, flat-out lying about
this kind of crap isn’t something they’re very fond of.
“
He practically begged me
to suck his dick,” she says. “Glad I did, too. He tasted sweet as
ever. Would have fucked his brains out, but he had to go. Some
pathetic bitch can’t even pay her light bill without his
help.”
Without thinking about it, I reach up
and wrap my hand around her throat and shove her backward, which
throws her into the brick wall behind her. Her hands wrap around my
wrist, trying to pull me off. She gives it as much force as she
can, her eyes grow wide, and she gasps for air. But she went too
fucking far, and every bit of rational thought has left me. I don’t
know how she knows about the electric bill being past due, but her
mention of it makes me feel like total shit. Worse than anything
else she’s said.
Leaning in, I squeeze her throat and
say, “You wanna talk shit, baby? Let’s talk shit. First of all, I
don’t give a fuck that you sucked his dick, because he’s in my bed
and he’s licking my pussy. He is mine. So again, fuck you. And I
hope when he came, he did it in your mouth, and you
swallowed—because that is the last time you will lay a finger on
him.”
Strong hands wrap around my upper arms,
gently guiding me backward, but I fight it off and lean in to her
ear. Duke keeps his hands on my upper arms, but stops pulling. Very
gently, he gives me a squeeze as a show of support. The scent of
Duke’s soap wafts up my nose and has me on an emotional cliff. My
body jerks in desperation to be left alone. He can’t be here, not
now.
“
Third, I guess you don’t
know who I am,” I whisper into her ear, hoping he can’t hear. “I’m
the bitch who has his baby, and that’s something you’ll never
have.” I remove my hand from her throat and step back. I run right
into Duke and have to swat him away. The last thing I want is him
touching me right now. Dawn’s face is a purple-red as she strains
to suck in as much air as she can. She bends forward and places her
hands on her knees and continues to wheeze.
As I turn around, I find most of the
club standing in the room. Nobody is saying a word, not even Mary,
who has a small smile on her face. They’re all so silent that it’s
unnerving. I just want somebody to hoot or laugh, or even to get
pissed. Maybe Barbara could cry or something. But they
don’t.
I walk away, and the farther I get, the
further it sinks in that I just totally flipped out on that chick.
She’s a stupid, mouthy whore who has no business copping an
attitude like she does, but that shit was intense in a way I never
want to feel again. Before I realize it, I’ve walked into the
hallway that leads to Duke’s room. I blink at the walls on either
side of me that are covered in framed photos of the club during
various decades. Boots stomping against concrete sound behind me,
growing louder with every passing second. I suck in a gasp,
bringing myself back round to what’s going on, and I dart the rest
of the way down the hall and into Duke’s room. I’m closing the door
behind me when Duke shoves it open and strides in. He shuts it
behind himself and leans against it.
“
That bitch is gone,” he
says. The last thing I want to hear is his voice in this moment. I
can hear it as clearly in my head as if it just happened—he’s lying
on the couch, and there she is fucking riding him. In my brain he’s
telling her to get with the program. He sounds so distant and
cruel—not at all how he sounds when he’s with me. But still, there
he is. He’s fucking her, and I can’t unsee it no matter how much I
want to. The images morph into something different—something I
haven’t seen, but now will always feel as though I did. Dawn crawls
down his body and takes him into her mouth. Closing my eyes, I
place my hands over my face and force myself to focus on my
breathing. The image continues to slice into my brain and heart. My
stomach churns, and if the imagined visual of Dawn with her mouth
around Duke’s dick doesn’t wane soon, I think I’m going to be
sick.
He walks forward, invading my space.
And he’s all soap and leather and sweat with a hint of maple syrup
and some Jagermeister. His hands wrap around my wrists. My right
wrist throbs under his touch. I’ll have to look and see how bruised
up it is later. I fight against his hands as they pull mine away
from my face, but it’s a losing battle. Dipping his head, he gets
in my face and holds me close.
“
Talk to me,” he
demands.
“
Don’t touch me,” I say
and struggle to free myself. He’s just so much stronger than I am.
I don’t even know why I bother. Moving closer, his beard brushes
against my cheek. The soft tickle is an unwelcome reminder of how
much time we’ve spent together the last several weeks, and how
familiar he has become. How permanent he is in my life now. Every
bit of him—his touch, his smell, his movements—is something I have
come to expect when I see him and crave when he’s absent. And that
image that won’t go away gives me a good idea of what he does when
he’s not with me. Dawn was right about one thing—you can’t make a
wife out of a whore. I don’t know why I let myself get to this
place where I thought there was an “us” and I started to rely on
his presence.
“
Stop!” I scream and twist
in his embrace. The word comes out so strangled it sounds as if
it’s physically painful to say. And I say it again and again until
my words rise into frenzied screams. Duke takes a step back,
letting me go. The relief I expect to come at the loss of his touch
never does. When I open my eyes and stare him down, I see the
confusion on his face plain as day. And everything feels like it’s
fucking spinning.
“
Did you fuck her?” I ask
even though I already know the answer.
“
Not lately,” he says.
Despite how much I’ve been fighting this—us—it helps soothe my
fragile heart that he’s answering me. Some guys won’t own up to
their shit to their Old Ladies, not that we’re at that level yet
anyway.
“
Did she suck your dick?”
I demand.
“
Yeah,” he says. I can
feel the panic and sorrow engulfing me as he gets closer. I press
myself against the long table behind me to keep him at bay.
Pressing his body into mine, he uses his hands to keep my face
pointed at his—tipped up with my neck craned back so far it’s
uncomfortable.
“
You fucking bastard,” I
say. My words are the only weapon I have left, and fuck him if he
thinks he’s going to take that away from me, too. “You do not get
your dick sucked by some whore and then crawl into my bed and
expect that shit to be okay.”
“
Calm the fuck down,
Nicole. It was back before we became something,” he says. His chest
practically rumbles with every word he speaks.
“
Oh, really?”
“
I’m sick of the fucking
drama,” he snaps. He and I haven’t had drama in a while, so I
assume he’s talking about with the club, but I react as if he’s
making it personal anyway.
“
If you’re sick of me,
then leave!” I say. My words come out not as the angry shout I’d
like, but as a defeated plea. I shouldn’t let that stupid bitch get
to me this bad. This day is just screwing my world up.
“
I’m not going to prove
you right that I’m just fucking around. Newsflash, Nicole—you’re
whacked in the fucking head, and you’re a crazy ass bitch. I don’t
just fuck around with this level of crazy, babe. It’s too much
goddamn work. So start tellin’ me what’s got you acting so fucked
up today.”
“
You’re my man,” I
whisper, trying to work up the nerve to tell him what’s sent me
over the deep end. “I’m your woman.”
His mouth descends on mine. When our
lips touch, it’s like a thousand lit candles have tipped over and
onto my skin. Jolts of desperation and desire pour through me. In a
flash, I’ve reached up and I’m clawing at his shoulders. His hands
reposition themselves and hoist me up onto the table.
A loud knock sounds on the door as it
flies open. Wyatt stands in the doorway and smirks, telling Duke
they’ve got Church. Setting me back down on my feet, Duke strides
out without even looking back.
Chapter 22
When Church is over, Duke comes to his
room and collects me. I hem and haw about telling him about the
test on the way out, and he gets frustrated, not understanding why
I’m stalling. I say, “We still need to talk.” But he isn’t up for
hearing it. Something’s got him charged up, and he’s like a snake
all coiled and ready to strike. So instead of blurting it out or
demanding that he listen, I climb onto the back of his bike and
don’t say another word until we’re back at the house.
As we move toward the front door,
Duke’s cell rings. He stops in place and gives my ass a pat,
saying, “Go on in, baby. I gotta take this. It’s Grady.”