Tattered on My Sleeve

  What the fuck?

  If Trinity notices, she doesn’t say anything.

  I pull into the parking lot for the overlook. Fuck if I don’t park right in front of the exact spot where we spent the night eight years ago.

  Time for subtlety is over.

  Trinity’s a smart girl—one of the things I like about her. She misses nothing.

  “Is this a hint?” she asks as she takes in the view.

  “Hint about what?”

  She shakes her head as she walks over to the low stone wall. “Nothing.”

  For a while she stares out at the view—I was right, it’s a perfect day to come up here. Then she drops her gaze to the ground on the other side of the wall and stares at it like she’s tryin’ to see eight years into the past. Hell, maybe that’s what I’m trying to do myself.

  “You bring a lot of girls up here, Wrecking Ball?”

  What the fuck? “No. Only you.”

  She snorts and I place my hands on her shoulders to turn her around. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted to impress.”

  “That’s pathetic.”

  “Knock your shit off.”

  Her eyes widen and she takes a step back. I’m kind of surprised myself, but I’m tired of this bullshit arguing thing we’re always doing.

  “I don’t know what to do with that,” she finally says.

  “Yeah, I know you don’t.”

  She stares out at the view again and slips her cell phone out of her pocket. “I wish I had a better camera.”

  “Why don’t we move over there? Less trees in your way.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Help me up?”

  “You’re gonna get us kicked out,” I tease. The park has stern signs all over the place that state not to step on or over the wall. But I dare some park ranger to come say that to my face.

  My big hands fit just right into the curve of her waist as I pluck her off the blacktop. She squeals and laughs as she gets her footing. There’s no danger of her falling off the cliff or anything, but I wrap my arms around her legs just in case.

  After what seems like forever, I hear the rumble of Rock’s bike cutting through the parking lot behind us. Trinity turns and waves.

  Hope wants to snap a few pictures of Trinity and me sitting on the stone wall. I’m more than happy to remember this day. I want it to be a turning point for us.

  When the girls are done with pictures, they check out the view, while I give Rock a head’s up about the Demon get together.

  Rock’s eager to get his woman alone, so they split. Trinity and I stare at each other awkwardly for a few seconds.

  “What do you want to do?” she asks.

  “Let’s go for a ride.” I point west. “We can follow the back roads out to Roscoe Valley. Should be some pretty views.”

  She seems surprised. “Okay. Can we stop at one of the farm stands out there?”

  The corner of my mouth lifts. “Any one you want.”

  With Trin at my back and the clear day, it’s hard to remember any of the bad stuff between us. The steep mountain roads require a lot of coasting and braking, but we finally roll into the valley, and the views are worth the smell of my brakes burning up.

  I take a right and after a few miles a huge, orange barn comes into view. Trin taps my left shoulder, so I assume this is where she wants to stop.

  She’s laughing and smiling as she hands me her helmet. “That was fun.” Her happiness is infectious. She grabs my hand and tugs me inside.

  Farm stand doesn’t really describe what they have going on here. It’s a big operation. A slight older man, who I assume is the owner, stops over to ask Trinity if she needs help. She’s got a bunch of questions for him, which amuses me. I’m not really paying attention though, until he mentions they grow tomatoes hydroponically year-round and offers to show her their set-up.

  Now, this is much more interesting. It’s time to drag Sparky out the basement for a field trip one of these days. Trin must know where my mind wandered off to, because she smirks at me.

  After our tour, she asks me how much room I’ve got in the saddlebags.

  “As long as you’re not getting a pumpkin, we should be fine,” I tell her, nodding at one of the big orange gourds that’s as tall as she is.

  While we’re at the register, she makes a face. “Is there a restroom?” she asks.

  The old guy points her in the right direction. Before she leaves she reaches up on tiptoes and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Be right back.”

  I’m so stunned, I stand there like an idiot staring after her while she dashes to the back of the store.

  The old guy chuckles. “Your wife?”

  My gaze swings back to him. Wife? I can’t even get her to admit she’s my girlfriend. Can’t imagine the fuss she’ll kick up when I give her a property patch—because yes, that’s definitely happening—but wife? Never gave that much thought. Taking an ol’ lady seemed like enough of a commitment. But listening to my best friend so casually mention last night that the woman he’s barely been with for a few months will be his wife…made me wonder. And now, this guy asking. It’s like a big fucking, neon sign blinking “Wake the fuck up, jackass.”

  “Not yet. She will be.”

  Wrath’s so serious after we leave the farm stand. Did he get annoyed with how much time we spent there? Or is he itching to get home and tell Sparky all about the hydroponic set-up?

  I nod at the bags he’s stuffing in his pack. “I’ll make us dinner when we get back.”

  Finally, a smile out of him. “I’d like that.”

  He takes a different, but no less stunning, route home.

  Teller’s leaving as we pull up to the clubhouse, but stops to talk to us.

  “Swan asked me to pick her up,” he explains.

  The corner of Wrath’s mouth lifts, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “That’s good, she’s usually a big help.”

  As soon as Teller leaves, Wrath faces me. “Are you jealous?”

  “Of what?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  Confused at his change in attitude, I follow him inside. We find Ravage and Stash sitting on the living room floor, busy getting high and playing video games. Rav calls me over immediately and hugs my legs when I get near him.

  “Where you been, girl?” he asks, looking up at me with red eyes.

  “Out. It’s a nice day. You two should check it out. Maybe get some sun.”

  Rav peers around my legs and lifts his chin at Wrath. “Got any munchy food in there?”

  “Nope, all veggies,” I answer and laugh when he scrunches up his nose.

  “We don’t all need to be on his fighter diet,” Stash complains.

  “God forbid,” Wrath snarks from behind me.

  Stash flips him off.

  Ruffling my fingers through Rav’s hair, I untangle my legs from his grasp and follow Wrath to the kitchen.

  “They’re like two overgrown babies,” Wrath bitches as he sets everything on the counter.

  “You’re all a bunch of big babies.”

  Instead of getting pissed, he chuckles. “Please, I’ve at least reached the maturity of a toddler,” he says, leaning over and setting his hand out knee high.

  “I’ll give you that,” I agree with a head shake.

  Opening one of the cabinets, I dig around for a couple of bigger bowls. “What are you doing?” he asks as I walk over to the pantry and return with a couple bags of chips.

  “Bringing the munchy twins some snacks.” I grab a box of snack cakes from the pantry, and sling a six-pack of mountain dew from the fridge under my arm.

  “I thought you were making us dinner?” He’s not trying very hard to hide the cranky toddler in his voice. Once I’ve got everything in my hands and arms, I turn to face him.

  “I will, but if I don’t go bring them something now, they’re going to bother and interrupt us. So give me five minutes and then I’m all yours.”


  I don’t wait for an answer. The surprised and happy grin on Wrath’s face is enough.

  The guys don’t even realize I’ve returned until I set the bowls in front of them. “Oh, Trin, you’re the best,” Stash gushes as I hand him the snack cakes.

  “You two are gonna be hitting the treadmill hard on Monday,” I tease. That of course, prompts Rav to lift his shirt and show me his abs. “Yeah, I see your gut.”

  That gets an outraged snort out of Rav. “Get out of here, woman.”

  Wrath’s got all my veggies laid out on the counter when I return. “I’m scared to ask what you’re planning to make,” he jokes.

  I falter a bit. Maybe he’s getting tired of me telling him what to eat all the time, even though he did ask for my help.

  He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me closer. “Why so serious? I’m just kidding. I know whatever you make will be awesome.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Want me to help?”

  Normally, I’d say no. But I bought a lot of root vegetables and squashes that need to be cut up into cubes. “You’re stronger than me, so can you cut those into one inch pieces, please?”

  I hand over my favorite vegetable cleaver and he stares at it for a second. “Christ, Trin, this is serious hardware,” he jokes.

  “I know. Try not to cut any of your fingers off.”

  We work next to each other quietly. His idea of one inch cubes isn’t quite up to my standards, but he’s working so hard at it, I don’t comment on the slivers and hunks he passes over. Once the veggies are roasting in the oven, I wave him away and start on the chicken.

  “Thank God. Meat. I thought you were only feeding me vegetables for dinner.”

  Laughter bursts out of me. “Yeah, as if I’d get away with that.”

  Dinner turns out well. There’s barely anything left. We eat in the kitchen and no one bothers us. Our discussion turns to the fight and some of the things he still wants to work on before then.

  He taps his arm and my eyes are drawn to his inked skin and defined muscles. “…any progress I’ve made is because of you.”

  Since I was distracted, I missed the first part of what he said. Reaching, out I trail my fingers over his arm. “You’ve made a lot of progress.”

  Even though I shut the oven off before we sat down, my skin simmers with heat. It’s the look Wrath’s giving me.

  He turns his head and goes back to talking about the fight. This whole friends only thing we’ve been doing is nice, but also confusing as hell.

  “Come on, aren’t you afraid of pain?” I ask when he mentions one of the moves his opponent is famous for like it’s no big deal.

  His ocean-eyes swing back to me. “No babe. The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you.”

  That can’t be true. “Why?” I stand and clear the table, bringing the dishes to the sink. When I turn, Wrath’s standing right behind me.

  “You don’t get it. I want you. I just don’t want to fuck this up again.”

  He says he wants me. But for what? And how can I be sure if he won’t speak the language my body and brain understand—sex?

  I’m about to blurt that out when he leans over and presses his lips against mine. His hand cradles the back of my head, holding me still, while he takes his time exploring and tasting my mouth.

  After I’m not sure how long, because I lose track of time, he pulls back. His lips curl into a crooked smile that makes my knees weak. “You know the last time I tried to kiss you in the kitchen, you almost barfed on me,” he says low and teasing.

  My cheeks burn at the memory of that miserable Christmas Eve. “That’s not fair, I had the flu.”

  Without warning, he wraps his hands around my waist, picks me up and sets me on the counter. “You feeling okay tonight?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He barely gets the whole word out, before his hands are on my face, holding me still. He covers my lips with his, taking charge. Hot and hungry, his tongue brushes against mine. Sweeping into my mouth, reminding me of what he’s capable of doing. His hands drop to my hips as he deepens the kiss. I hook my legs around him, drawing him closer. Almost frantic to have him, my fingers fiddle with his belt. One big hand covers mine, stopping me.

  He bends and nuzzles my cheek. “Not yet, Angel Face. Not here.”

  Surprised, I draw back. “Why?”

  He doesn’t get to answer, because we’re interrupted by whoops and shouts coming from the hallway.

  Wrath and I stare at each other and he raises an eyebrow.

  Pushing myself off the counter, I head to the kitchen door.

  Wrath grabs my hand as I pass. “Wait.” He peers out of the small square window in the kitchen door. “Looks like a party in the champagne room,” he says.

  I don’t want our moment to end. I’m so close to asking Wrath—no begging him—to come to my room with me.

  Except I’ve never let any of the guys in my room. Wrath’s not just anyone. As stubborn as I can be, even I know that.

  He shoves the door open hard, and I see Rav and Sparky moving one of the dining room tables.

  “What the fuck you two doing?” Wrath shouts at them.

  Rav gives him a bleary smile. “Inga. Train. Champagne room.”

  A shiver of revulsion works over me, and Wrath’s hand reaches behind him to pat me on my side. As if he knows why I find this so disturbing.

  The door swings shut as he steps back inside. He shakes his head and mutters “fucking disgusting” under his breath.

  “You can go. I won’t be mad.”

  Why the hell did I say that?

  Wrath cocks his head, and his eyebrows draw down. “Trust me, that’s the last fucking thing I feel like doing.”

  My breath catches and I struggle to fill my lungs with air. “I didn’t mean that, Wyatt. I…I’d be hurt, if you—”

  He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He’s only gone long enough for me to finish washing a couple dishes. The door swings open as I’m turning off the tap.

  Wrath shakes his head. “Fucking Dex. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking.”

  That sucks. I feel bad for Dex, but I’m not sure how he expected things to turn out any different.

  Wrath takes my hand and tugs me toward the back door.

  “Come on, let’s go outside. Hopefully Rock will be back soon. Let him kick her skank ass out.”

  He sits on the low stone wall opposite the clubhouse and pulls me down next to him. “We can go for a walk if you want, after Rock gets back.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He wraps his arm around my waist and I lean into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Every now and then muffled shouts can be heard from the house and each one brings back very unpleasant memories for me.

  Each time I shiver, Wrath’s arm hugs me tighter and a little bit more fear ebbs away.

  I’m proud of myself for the way I’m keeping a lid on my anger tonight. Fucking Dex. I’m partially to blame for this situation, since I allowed Inga to come up last night.

  Normally, I wouldn’t be so bent over this sort of thing, but I sensed right away how much it bothered Trinity. Raising bad memories, upsetting her—absolutely not okay.

  While it probably falls under my job description to break that party up, I know Inga will throw a monumental hissy. I’d rather not leave Trin alone right now. Plus, the brothers have the right to do what they want in their own fucking clubhouse—even if the rest of us are thoroughly disgusted. Rock’s the president for a reason. I figure he can decide how to deal with it.

  I’m about to take out my phone and text him, when I hear his bike making its way up the driveway. Trin turns to me and smiles.

  “You’re going to make him deal with this, aren’t you?”

  My shoulders lift. “It’s his ex.”

  She bumps her body into mine in a teasing gesture. “Yeah, b
ut you’re the one who gave her the okay to come up last night.”

  True enough.

  I get up and walk over as he’s backing his bike into his spot. The minute he shuts it down, I’m on him. No need for Hope to walk in on that cumfest.

  “Inga’s back.”

  His face twists. “Who the fuck brought her back here?”

  “Dex has it bad for her.” I glance up at the sky for a second. “Or at least, he did.”

  Trinity’s hand touches my back, so I know she followed me over.

  Another wave of shouting can be heard outside.

  Rock’s eyes narrow as he studies the clubhouse. “What’s going on?”

  Fuck. I’m not really sure how to explain it in front of Hope. “She wanted to play choo-choo?”

  “What are you, five?” Rock snaps.

  Well excuse me for not wanting to freak Cinderella out, jackass.

  “Who’s in there?”

  “Everyone except you, me, Bricks, and maybe Z.”

  Z chooses that exact moment to step outside. Guess the asshole joined in after all. “Dude, your girl, Ing, is playing a serious game of Chinese Fingercuffs.”

  Oh, that’s priceless.

  “She’s not my girl,” Rock spits out.

  Trinity steps forward a little. “I think she’s trying to get you jealous,” she says softly.

  I can’t help snorting at that. “Yeah, that’s not the way to win a guy back.”

  Hope tugs on Rock’s arm and he glances at her. “So, your ex-slampiece is in there taking it in every hole from your ‘brothers?’ Is that what I’m getting out of this conversation?”

  Holyfuckingshit!

  Seems Cinderella isn’t so clueless after all.

  Rock chokes and clearly has no idea how to respond to that. Z and I can’t stop laughing.

  “No one made her,” Rock explains, which only makes me laugh harder.

  “What, is she hoping you’ll go get in line?” Hope spits out.

  I’m going to die from lack of oxygen if she keeps this up. “Probably,” I gasp.