“I don’t know, man. Herself?”
“You think you’re being funny, pretty boy? I can be funny, too,” he says, charging toward him.
I slide to stand in front of him before he can pass by me. My hands push against his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him. It’s like trying to halt a raging bull.
“Stop it!” I yell in Mikey’s face.
“You don’t fuckin’ get near her,” Mikey yells over my shoulder. He points his finger at Jake. “You don’t fuckin’ look at her. And you sure as shit don’t talk to her. She is marked as a Hell’s old lady. You got me?”
Jake laughs like it’s funny. Does he have a death wish? I can tell Mikey is trying not to hurt me, but he wants to get by me to likely beat the holy hell out of Jake.
“Whatever, dude. Helen, I’ll see you at school,” Jake says, smiling at me before turning to walk away.
“I’m going to kill that fucktard,” Mikey says, trying to push me to the side.
“Mikey, don’t. Don’t!” I scream in his face. “He was being nice.”
“I don’t give two shits, Hels. What the hell were you doing talking to him?” He finally stops moving to look at me.
“Hold left me stranded. Jake was making sure I was okay. I don’t have a cell phone and it’s Saturday so the school is closed. How was I supposed to get home?”
“Why do you think I’m here? You should have known that Hold would take care of you, even though you pissed him off. What the fuck did you do?”
“Where is he at?”
“Damn if I know. He calls me and tells me to get my ass over here to pick you up. The next thing I know, I’m talking to my fuckin’ self. Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my hand to pull me toward his motorcycle.
Mikey drives me to Hard Ink and drops me off. I can tell that Diamond is dying to ask why I rolled up with Mikey today, but doesn’t. I prep everyone’s station, including mine, but I am a million miles away. My mind is occupied with this morning’s events. I could never have dreamed of the conversation that I had with Jake. And he called me beautiful. Did I imagine that?
As much as I want to dwell on Jake, I begin to get busy. I take tattooing very seriously. My total concentration is needed with as much detail as I put into my designs. Hound, one of the original Hell’s Highwaymen, is having me tattoo an actual portrait of his mom on his arm. It’s supposed to be this big deal that he’s letting me do it considering Badger is the only person to ever tattoo anything on him. Badger showed him my portraits and really pitched me to do it.
“That is amazing, Helen. Your dad would be proud,” Hound says, looking down at the tattoo of his mom.
These guys speak of my dad with reverence. Sometimes I wonder if it’s only because he’s dead. My own memories never come close to the legend that they have built him up to be.
“Thanks,” I reply, wrapping it for him. I am glad he is my last one of the day. It is almost 11:00 p.m. and I am really tired. My eyes keep glancing over at the door, wondering where Hold could possibly be. He never has been this late picking me up.
We all turn toward the windows at the sound of tires screeching in front of the shop. Sage gets out of her Expedition and runs inside. When I see her eyes, I know something is wrong.
“Get your shit. Let’s go,” she says, looking directly at me.
I nod, and walk swiftly toward her.
“Sage, what is going on?” Diamond runs to catch up with us as we leave.
“Hold. He’s got himself into some trouble.”
Sage doesn’t say anything else until we both are in the SUV and driving down the road.
“He gets one phone call and he calls me to make sure someone is picking you up. Did he call a lawyer? No, it was about you,” she says, reaching into her purse for a cigarette. She pushes the lighter in and waits seconds for it to warm, before using it.
I watch her take several drags. “What happened?”
“I don’t know the full story yet. From our guy at the police station, I gather they charged him with causing an affray, destruction of property, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer. Separately, they are misdemeanors, but together they are a clusterfuck of epic proportions. And considering Hold’s history and connection to the MC, they are gunnin’ for him,” she says, puffing away.
The hand with her smoke in it trembles slightly, revealing how upset she is. History?
“What history?” I ask, not understanding what she means.
“Hold has been in trouble a couple of times with the law this past year. There have been a few where he had to appear in court and was lucky enough to get off with a warning. He didn’t want you to know, kiddo. Lord forbid you think that he is only human.”
“Trust me, Sage, I know all too well how human he is,” I say, tired of her attitude when it comes to Hold and I. My heart hurts that he thought he couldn’t tell me, but then again, we aren’t the same as we used to be.
“Well, the pretty kitten has claws. Who knew?” She glances over at me while she drives.
I look out the window to see us pulling into the driveway of the house.
“Shouldn’t we go to the police station?”
“And do what? Hang out with all our cop buddies? No, our lawyer will handle it.”
Ward’s and Sandman’s motorcycles are parked outside the house. Sage jumps out and heads into the house, so I follow.
“Hey, baby. Have you heard anything?” She rushes over to Ward and into his open arms.
“The lawyer is trying to bond him out. It’s bad, though. He’s going to have to do a little time for this,” Ward says, glancing over Sage’s head at me.
“C’mon, little queen, let’s you and me have a chat in the kitchen,” Sandman says, walking in front of me as I follow. “Sit down.” He points to the kitchen chair.
I do as he says. “What happened?” I ask, placing my hands flat on the table.
“See, I’m hoping you could fill me in on that part. Mikey is the only other soul that knows and he ain’t talkin’ at Hold’s request.” Sandman’s presence seems to completely fill the room.
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “How did he end up in jail?”
“Well, he and Mikey, the stupid bastards, evidently decided to go to the Shack and beat the hell out of a bunch of kids, inciting a ruckus. Then they smash in a couple of windows at the joint just for the fun of it and when the cops come to arrest them, they decide that they are having such a good time, they decline their offer. But the kicker is that when a cop insists, Hold punches him in the goddamn face. Now can you believe that? I couldn’t. Not our sweet Holden,” he says sarcastically. Sandman walks around the kitchen while he speaks to me. “You see, Ward and me, we think there is more to the story. A heck of a lot more.”
I drown in a sea of worry. There is only one group of teenagers that hangs out at the Shack that Holden can’t stand. And there is only one reason that I can think of, that would send him over the edge to do what Sandman said. Damn, Mikey. He must have told him about today. Oh my God! Jake!
“I can see in your face, little queen, that you know what I am talking about. Tell old Uncle Sandman about what happened.”
Quietly, I relay everything to Sandman that happened this morning, except my demands of leaving town. Hold has repeatedly warned me to never say anything to anyone about that. I only tell him that we fought about our relationship and then how he left me at the school. As we talk, I watch him listening to me, and I see closely he pays attention. I stress to him how innocent my discussion with Jake was, definitely leaving out the beautiful comment, before detailing everything about when Mikey arrived to pick me up.
After I finish, Sandman doesn’t say anything for several minutes. At some point he must have grabbed a soda and I watch him take a drink of it.
“Are the guys they beat up okay?” The curiosity is killing me. I have to know if Jake is in the hospital.
“Mmm,” he says, looking wearily at me. “You mean is Hold
okay? Right? That is your first priority, but just so you know, everyone is okay. My understanding is all of them are a little banged up, but considering it was, like, two against ten, our boys kicked ass.”
“Do you think Hold will go to prison?” My stomach literally falls through the floor at the thought.
“I have a feeling our boy will spend some time up in county.” He walks to my side, placing the can of soda on the table next to me. Sandman slowly leans down until we are face to face, and I stare at the mangled mess that mars his handsomeness. His entire demeanor changes in front of me.
“Do you know who I am?”
He is so close that the smell of cigarettes on his breath curdles my stomach. My body shudders from the hate emanating from him.
“Yes… y-yes, sir,” I say, stuttering my words.
“Do you know what I do for the club?”
The feel of his hands running upwards through my hair sends chills down my spine. I nod my head.
“You see, little queen, I take care of unnecessary problems. The shit that just doesn’t need to be an issue for the MC. We have enough on our plate without other personal distractions,” he says, his fingers wrapping strands of my hair around his hand.
I whimper not from pain, but from the all-consuming fear swallowing me whole. Tears gather in the corner of my eyes and one by one, they drop to the table. I have always known who he is, what he does. Every single person in my life wears an invisible mask, hiding the evil that lives down deep, losing his or her humanity for the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club. This life destroys the good inside. As I stare into the black abyss of Sandman’s eyes, I know he would kill me without another thought if he wanted to. If Ward ordered it.
“Ahh,” I cry as he jerks me by my hair to stand. The excruciating pain almost brings me to my knees. It feels like my scalp is detaching from my head. He pulls me around the kitchen so fast that my feet drag on the linoleum. I clumsily try to regain my footing. The front of my body slams against the wall, jarring my bones. He painfully presses my face close against the wood.
“Hold will one day be my prez,” he whispers into my ear behind me. “That doesn’t mean you will necessarily live to be the prez’s old lady, which is a sacred title. I don’t think I have to remind you that we take that little tat of yours seriously. Any man caught messing with you receives an automatic death sentence. And who do you think will carry that out, little queen?”
“You,” I say, my chest heaving from the sobs locked tightly within.
“Me,” he answers. “I suggest that from this day forward, your one and only goal in this life that you have been blessed into, should be to make Hold so damn happy that he smiles like a shit-eater, twenty-four-seven. Happy Holden—happy me. You feel me?”
I nod, my cheek scratching against the wood grain of the wall as I move.
“Good. Now, we never tell Hold about this and you and I will be right as rain,” he says, letting me go.
I close my eyes, not moving a muscle until I hear him exit the kitchen. My knees buckle from underneath me, sending me falling to the floor. The sobs that I held tightly in minutes before burst forth. I want out from this life. The painful reality is that I have no one, not a single soul who cares what I want. I am their puppet, their whore. I lie down on the cold linoleum, wishing that I died in the fire all those years ago. I can’t live like this.
The sound of someone knocking startles me. It is barely eight o’clock in the morning and I am in the process of getting out of the shower. Fear overloads my system. I hurriedly dry my body before grabbing the little jersey skirt that I slept in. The matching t-shirt rests on the floor beside it and is better than only this towel.
I reach for it, sliding it on as I hesitantly walk toward my front door. Another soft knock comes from the other side. It stops me in my tracks. My wet hair drips down, soaking my shoulders and the back of my shirt. The beat of my heart goes into overdrive with the worry of who is on the other side. Old fears resurrect themselves, threatening every shred of my sanity. Get it together, Keller. This isn’t the MC’s style. They would have already busted up in here, destroying everything in their path, as usual.
I take a deep breath to calm my frail nerves and walk over to the door. My eye hovers over the peephole to see that it is Vin. My relief is instantaneous. He stands on the other side, looking at the rain that falls in a torrential downpour outside. A smile claims my mouth the way he is beginning to do the same with my heart. My hands tremble at the thought.
“Hey,” I say, as I open the door. He turns around, his jacket dripping wet from the rain.
“Hey,” he replies, his eyes only for me.
“So you’re back.” I raise my voice slightly over the sound of the storm in the background.
“Yeah, I couldn’t stay away.”
“Thanks for the pretty flowers last week. It would have been nice to have a phone call or a text to go along with them,” I say, crossing my arms while leaning against the doorjamb.
I watch him place his hands in his jean pockets and shrug his shoulders. “I thought the card said it all.”
“Oh, it was sweet, too… it just didn’t say that you would be gone for over a week. I didn’t know if you died or if you weren’t coming back. Or weren’t interested anymore.” I internally blanch. I didn’t mean to add that last part. It came out on its own.
He takes a step forward and I take one back, we repeat the same actions until he is in my apartment, shutting the door behind him. At first he doesn’t say anything. We stand facing one another. His eyes seem to burn holes into me, the intensity strong enough to touch places deep within. I watch him struggle with the same feelings that consume me.
“I needed time,” he says, sliding off his wet jacket before tossing it onto the chair.
“For what?” My voice comes out in a breathy tone. Oh, shit, I have gone all Marilyn on him.
His eyes flash with a hunger that hints of starvation. I know because mine no doubt mirror his.
“To get you out of my system, or at least slow down these feelings I have for you.”
“It work?”
“Hell, no,” he says, reaching to hold me against him. “I don’t have control over whatever this is between us and I don’t have a fucking right to take it further. What am I supposed to do when you are the only reason that matters anymore?” He sounds upset.
I can feel my skin humming from his proximity. Every single inch of me responds to him, this between us confusing and exciting me. He is waiting for me to answer him, but I don’t have any answers when everything inside of me feels the same way.
He kisses me. No, that’s not even close. His mouth makes sweet love to mine. My hands grip his arms, holding him to me, swearing to myself that I won’t let him go. He is mine and I am his. He pulls back, breathing hard against me.
“I can’t. I just can’t,” he says, stepping back from me. “I have to leave soon.” The words sound torn from him.
“And I can’t let you go now,” I say, closing the distance between us. He leans his forehead down to rest against mine. I feel him internally struggling to keep himself from me.
Our eyes lock, his brown capturing mine. I am uncertain as to why he is pushing me away, fighting this thing between us. My lips feel the hot air that he releases from his quick breaths. My hands tightly grasp his, imprisoning them at our sides. A hunger for more than I have ever experienced burns me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“Vin.”
A look of sorrow crosses his face at the sound of his name. “No,” he says, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. “No.”
No? He doesn’t want me? I tremble from the overwhelming fire of lust. My nipples hurt, aching for his touch, and only his. I have never experienced such a devastating need. It threatens to rob me of my senses, my secrets. And I don’t care.
“Why,” I cry desperately. I tilt my hips forward, gasping when I feel the hardness waiting for me. I don’t miss his hungr
y expression, or the trembling that rocks his body against mine—I know instantly that he wants me. Why is he trying to restrain himself from me?
“You don’t know…” he says, stopping when my lips hush his words.
I move my mouth merely inches away from his. “I don’t care.” I have no idea where this sheer bravado comes from, but I am thankful for it. Something is building, threatening to burst deep inside of me. The time for waiting is over.
He grimaces, his jaw flexing with some type of emotion. We are so close that every time he swallows, I feel the strain he feels from physically withholding himself from me. I want him to be my lover, my first in years.
I watch him, calculating my odds on how this ends. I bring my lips back to his, licking and nipping. My mouth begs his for entrance, for acceptance. When he doesn’t grant it, my lips follow the lines of his jaw. The stubble of his unshaven face scrapes against my sensitive cheeks.
“I have feelings for you,” he whispers into my ear, the warm air gently caresses the outer lobe. “Real feelings.” His fingers interlock with mine, finally holding me to him. He brings his face back so that we are staring at one another. “This will be the only thing between us that isn’t filled with lies. When we are together like this, you will be mine—body and soul. Agreed, Keller?”
I can give him my body without giving him my heart. That is nothing new for me. Let him have it, Keller, a voice cries within me.
“Say it. I need to hear you tell me. This is fucking killing me,” he growls, seconds before his mouth ravages mine.
His lips steal the words from me. He kisses me like he would die without my taste. My body quivers from the touch of his tongue stroking mine. His kiss speaks of experience, of a knowledge as old as time. He imparts it to me, teaching me with every touch, every nuance of his body language. The groan that he emits makes my nipples harden to tiny points. His hands release mine, sliding them around to my rounded rear, bare beneath my skirt. I feel his fingers dig in, gripping me, as he guides me backward.
Small moans escape me between kisses. He is drowning me with these incredible sensations. I reach my arms up and around his neck for support, my knees weak with this overwhelming passion. He is wrapping me in a cocoon of need from which I never want to emerge.