“Curtis will meet you in the clubhouse. It’s the first building on the left. Take this,” the young kid tells me as he hands me a flashlight. He doesn’t look a day over eighteen, and here he is, guarding the gates to Hell. Jesus, Curtis.

“Thanks,” I mutter, turn toward the now squeaking gates, and step through, mumbling under my breath over the fact I have to walk down another road in the dark.

It’s been years since I’ve been here. My mom and I would sneak away for the day to come to my cousin’s birthday parties or to let Curtis and I play, while Mom and my uncle would sit and watch. I’ll never forget how freed I felt as Curtis and I ran around playing and laughing. That fun all came to a screeching halt when my dad showed up at the gates, yelling and screaming for the two of us to get home. Despite the protest and big argument my father and uncle had in front of those big iron gates, we left. I ran up to my room and stayed there for the rest of the night while listening to my father belittle my mother, slap her around, and call her all kinds of names. He even threatened to take me away from her if she tried to pull a stunt like that again. I sigh, let a tear roll down my face when I think about my mom. I miss her.

“I’m very sorry,” I call out into the night. Sorry for not keeping in touch with my cousin more than I did. We’ve exchanged brief phone calls or texts over the past few years, but that’s it. I haven’t seen him in three years.

On the other hand, his wife, Rachel, who is my best friend, and I, we’ve seen each other here and there. I’ve met the girls several times when she would drive to LA to visit her parents. I would pretend I was meeting with a client, sneak away to meet her. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her or the girls, but our love for one another hasn’t died.

I laugh at myself when I recall trying to talk the two of them to give this place up and move closer to me when I heard the news that my uncle had died. You would have thought both he and Rachel would have listened to me with the dangerous lifestyle that comes with this club. Especially when she was halfway through her pregnancy with their daughter Violet. But no, not them. They are as stubborn as the jackass who just dropped me off and sped back into the night as if he didn’t exist. More stubborn than I am for waiting until my dad was dead before crawling out from under his thumb.

I hate to admit it, because I love my cousin more than anything. Rachel as well. She’s been my best friend forever. The kids are my godchildren. But my father would have tried to destroy my relationship with them if he’d known. He hated everyone on my mother’s side of the family. Curtis’s father, my uncle Chet, was my mother’s brother. As far as my father knew, I disowned them the day we buried my mother.

My mind drifts back to my mystery man as I continue to walk. There’s something about him that rattles my bones with desire and turns them to liquid with a heap of fright. Not fright for me, but fright for others. There is something dark and dangerous about that handsome man.

The desire can go straight to hell in a handbasket right along with him, because no matter what I have to do, I’m going to find out who the hell he is and how he knows my cousin. The filthy, sexy bastard. I hope I never have to see him again. Liar.

If I do, I’m telling the asshole he owes me a new nine-hundred-dollar pen. Thief.

“Caitlin, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?” I sigh, practically running on my aching feet when Curtis pulls up to the clubhouse, climbs out of his truck, and pulls me into his arms.

I don’t answer him. I can’t. All I want to do is hang on to him for dear life. “Hey, what’s going on?” He tries to soothe me, rubs my back, and steps back, taking me right along with him. I’m not letting go. I can’t. I let my frustrations, my pain, anger, and most of all how scared I am, out. I start crying. Bawling and sobbing until my eyes hurt and my teeth chatter.

“He…someone…” I can’t get my words out. I start shaking, gripping his shirt.

“Jesus Christ. What the hell? Come on. Let me take you inside. Rachel will freak the fuck out if she sees you like this.”

“Okay,” I sob.

I really don’t want to let him go; he’s the only safe haven I’ve got. I do, though, but he doesn’t take his arm from around me as he unlocks the door and escorts me inside. I blink my tired, weary eyes, trying to adjust them as the light assaults, and I instantly go blind. God, I’m exhausted. A stinky, sweaty mess and not ready to lay this all on him. He has every right to hate my father. This is going to make him want to dig up his grave and incinerate his bones. Turn them into ashes.

“I’m going to get you a drink. Sit.” He guides me to a stool at the bar, where I place my purse on the wooden surface and sink my ass in a chair.

“Start talking. Now,” he orders. Places a glass of what I’m going to assume is whiskey in front of me. At least I hope it is. I look up to his dark-brown eyes. Tip the dark liquid back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I don’t have to pretend to be a bitch or anything other than myself around Curtis. The partial white trash half-breed my father called me that very same night he told me about my mother’s death is coming out. I wish I’d grown up to be more like her. Because that woman is a hell of a lot more put together than the fake one I turned into.

“He’s dead.” The whiskey burns low in my belly. “My dad.”

The last two words fall from my lips in a hollow tone.

“Did you kill him?” Curtis asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” I gasp.

“Knew he died, Caitlin. You called me, remember?” He leans closer to me. “Besides, I’ve had eyes on you for years.”

“That was nice of you,” I say, not fully comprehending what he’s saying. “They killed him in his sleep. One bullet.” I signal for another drink.

Curtis pours it with no questions asked. One for him and one for me. We down the drink in one swallow. The warm sensation is coating my belly and spreads throughout my limbs until it finally relaxes me. A feat that I thought was impossible until now. He waits for me to talk and doesn’t push me. He’s been my best friend since we were toddlers, right up until my father took my life away.

“They’re after me,” I whisper. Another pour of the whiskey. It burns, but God, does it take the edge off the pain.

“Who?” he asks.

I shrug. “Could be anyone. He’s fucked over the wrong person or group this time.”

“How do you know they are after you?” This time he drinks from the bottle, foregoing all manners.

“My house was broken into. They left a message on my mirror.” I take the bottle from his hand and enjoy a long swallow of the amber liquid. “‘Bitch, you’re next’ is what it said.”

His fist slams into the bar top. “You’re here until I tell you otherwise. You don’t leave the clubhouse or my house. Your fancy fucking car remains parked until I say otherwise.”

“That won’t be a problem. The bitch is on the side of the road.” I giggle at the fact I just called my car a bitch.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“My Goddamn life, that’s what.” I stand up, throwing my arms up in the air. “Look at me. I’ve turned into him. I’m a fucking soul-sucking version of that man. My fucking car broke down on the side of the road and then I had to hitch a ride with a dickhead.”

“This dickhead. He brought you here?”

I nod. “Acted like he knew you and the guys at the gate and shit. Dropped me off and then peeled out.”

“Name?”

“Fuckface.”

For the first time since I’ve been here, Curtis gives me a devilish grin and then shakes his head. “My boys let him in.”

“Well, yes and no. He talked to that kid at the gate. I jumped out of his car, and the prick peeled out.”

“What was he driving?”

“A car.” I hiccup and then giggle again.

“Jesus, I suppose you’re going to tell me your phone didn’t have any service, so you started walking and hitched a ride?”

“Yup.”

“You crazy woman. If you weren’t beating yourself up, I would slap the shit out of you for coming out here alone. Now, that’s enough for tonight, cuz. Let’s get you to bed.” Right. Bed. Sleep.

“Oh, he had a beard.” My head swims and legs wobble as Curtis guides me down a hallway to a room. “A big fluffy beard that would feel so damn good between my legs.”

“Enough. Fuck. I don’t need to hear this shit. Unless you want him dead?”

“I mean so, so good.” I nearly trip when I enter a small bedroom. “And he smoked cigarettes like he was making love to someone.”

“Jesus, get dressed into this.” He shoves a large shirt in my hand.

“Is it clean? I have sensitive skin.”

“Put the fucking shirt on. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I follow his instructions, slipping out of my trashed boots and disgusting clothes. The shirt smells clean as I glide it over my skin, or maybe it’s the haze fogging my head. I’d give anything for my satin nightie, but this is the next best thing right now. I plunge face first onto the bed. The lumpy thing swallows me whole. The musky scent of the blanket and sheets make me cringe, but my heavy eyelids couldn’t care less.

I hear the door creak open and then look up to see Curtis’s face staring at me. “I have two brothers on you. Don’t leave this room until I come get you.” Two brothers? His men who have his back no matter the circumstance.

“‘Kay.” I nod and bite my bottom lip, or at least I think I do.

“I’ve got you, cuz.”

“Thanks.”

“My girls are going to be so happy that you’re home.” He flips the light off and then shuts the door, leaving me in the dark.

Home. This isn’t home. I haven’t had a home since I lost my mom. And I sure as hell haven’t worked like a fucking whipping dog to call some place like this home. God, I sound like a first-rate bitch. But I like my stuff. It’s mine, and I deserve it.

I fall asleep wishing I could call this place home.

I wake to something hard hitting me in the face. “Quit faking, bitch. You know I’m in here.”

“Shut up,” I grunt, laughing when Rachel jumps on the bed with me, nearly knocking us off in the process. I’ve been lying here in this shitty room for over an hour. Thank God when I woke up to pee the toilet was clean. I was afraid I was going to have to climb out the window and pee in the woods.

“What time is it?” I ask, holding my hand over my mouth, so she doesn’t smell my donk breath. It has to smell, because it tastes absolutely horrible.

“Noon. The girls will be home from school in a few hours. I thought we could talk before they get here.”

“What the hell?” I sit up in bed. “You guys let me sleep the day away?” I say more as a question than a statement.

“Trust me. I wanted to wake you up with a punch to your face for not calling Curtis about what happened. What the hell is going on, Caitlin?”

I sigh, pull my knees up to my chest and the shirt down over my knees to repeat the entire story about the break-in to my oldest and dearest friend.

“My God. Even though I wish you had called us, I’m thankful you’re here. You’re safe, and you know my crazy, sexy-ass husband will get to the bottom of this.” She places her arm around me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I know.” I’m not about to ask her or anyone how he will get to the bottom of it. Right now, it seems like a bottomless vortex with the task impossible. And frankly, I don’t want to know how or what Curtis will do to protect me. Family means everything to the man.

“So, about this guy. The one who picked you up?”

“Yeah. What about him?” I squint my eyes at her. She knows something. I haven’t gotten to the part of how I got here yet. “Spit it out. Who is he?”

“Well, from what Curtis says, he’s a guy with a beard that you want between your legs.” My eyeballs bug out of my head when I recall everything I said to Curtis about this mysterious man last night.

“Right. That was the whiskey talking. He is a complete asshole. I hope I never see him again.”

“Sure, you don’t.”

“I’m serious. If you knew how he talked to me, you would hate him.”

Is it sick and twisted that his crude words pull out a longing in me that I’ve never experienced before?

“Whatever you say. Listen, we have all the time in the world to talk. Curtis asked me to wake you. He wants to talk down at our house. I brought some clothes and stuff for you to shower. I’ll wait for you by the bar. Then we can head up to the house.” Rachel gives me one final hug before standing up.

I hold up the large men’s t-shirt and short spandex booty shorts she laid on the bed. Rachel took to club life like a fly to shit. I’ve never judged her, because she’s the kindest and most loving person I’ve ever met. She’s never judged me or my decisions, so I’ve always shown her the same respect.

I rise from the bed and turn on the shower, shocked at how clean it is. I let the water warm up and glare at the bottle of shampoo in my hands. I have no idea what kind it is; all I know is, it isn’t mine. Not even close. I peer up into the mirror with my green eyes staring right back at me. I appreciate the clothes and everything else, so why am I cringing internally over cheap shampoo, clothes that are not mine, and a bed with lumps? Who am I? What have I turned into?

I don’t love the person staring back at me. I despise my upbringing, but if I’m completely honest with myself, I fucking miss my home and lifestyle in L.A. After all, it was all mine. All that I had in this lonely world.

The hot water pelts my sensitive skin. I feel the filth of the prior day wash away without the use of soap. I raise my face to the spray, shutting my eyes tightly, letting the droplets run down my face. I fight to wash away the past, but in the end, it’s a hopeless war. I am who I am.

The light green, creamy shampoo oozes out onto my palm. The cheap scent is making my stomach turn in pain. I coat my long, thick hair, barely getting any suds to form, so I add more. The scent hits me even harder this time, causing my stomach to lurch and twist in pain.

I give up the fight of actually washing my hair. When I inhale one final smell of the shampoo, my stomach revolts this time. Whipping open the shower curtain, I bend over just in time to puke into the toilet. My stomach cramps, my lungs burn, and my heart tears open, slicing me to the core.

My knees slap the bottom of the tub as I collapse.

“Apple orchards,” I whisper.

The memory throttles me out of nowhere. My mom. She had a favorite lotion she adored using. She’d apply it every morning and even used it on me until I was old enough to protest. It was my comfort at one point in my life, because when I could smell apples, I knew she was near.

And she was always there for me until she died. She sheltered me from the true cruelty of my father. Made me smile, laugh, and encouraged me to believe in myself. I lost it all the day her apple scent faded away.

My arms grow numb draped over the edge of the tub, the water runs cold, and my cheek stays pressed to the harsh side of the tub as I stare at the white wooden door.

“Cait,” Rachel whispers.

I see her walk in, but I don’t move. The shampoo stings my eyes, but I don’t care in the least.

“Are you okay?” Rachel kneels down in front of me, wiping away the residue from my eyes.

“Apples,” I whisper. “She always smelled like apples.”

“Shit, Caitlin. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t even think about it.” Rachel leans down and kisses my forehead.

“You know, he never allowed me to cry when she died.”

Rachel doesn’t speak this time. She sits on the edge of the tub next to me while rubbing circles over my back. I feel her run conditioner through my hair, and even though the overwhelming scent is still there, I don’t puke or panic. I let my best friend take care of me.

“You have to stand up now, baby girl.” Rachel helps me stand and then reaches over to turn off the shower.

She helps me dry off, but doesn’t leave the bathroom when I refuse her help to get dressed.

“You are not healthy, Cait.”

“Eh?” I look over to her while tying up my wet hair in a messy bun.

“This isn’t healthy. That fucker has turned you into a robot. I see my best friend’s green eyes, but they’re dead.”

I turn around and stare at her. Why is it she can see right through me?

“I know these clothes aren’t good enough for you, Cait. I didn’t miss your upturned nose at them, but you know what, I don’t have people threatening my life because of who I am.”

My jaw drops open, and Rachel hustles to get out of the small bathroom. I catch her arm, whirling her back to me. I wait until she looks up to me. We silently stare each other in the eye for long moments.

“You are right.”

She remains silent.

“Thank you.”

Rachel gives me a slight nod.

“But we will get one thing straight here.” I let go of her arm and step closer to her. “I’m not ashamed of who I am. I will never apologize to anyone. I’ve fucking worked my ass off to be the woman I am today. Is it the girl I wanted to be? No. But it makes no difference.”

“I’ll always be a club whore in your eyes,” she fires right back.

“And I’ll always be the rich, snobby bitch. I won’t apologize for who I am.”

Dead silence ensues. I decide to finish her thoughts for her.

“And you are not a whore. Far from it. I love you, Rachel, and always will. I’m lost right now and bared to the soul. I will apologize for being a bitch, because deep down I know as well as you do that’s not really who I am, but I will never say I’m sorry for enjoying certain things out of life.”

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

I smile knowing we will be alright. I also realize it’s okay to love the snobby bitch inside of me; she just needs to be buried for a while so the real me can shine through. The one my mother taught me to be. I have a lot of shit to deal with. Dealing with it may break me, but it’s something that can’t be avoided.

“Are these your shorts?”

“Yes, why?” Rachel tilts her head to the side.

“They’re biting my coochie.” I reach down and dig the fucking spandex out of my crotch. When they snap back, a loud popping sound fills the bathroom. We both erupt in a fit of giggles. I grab her hand and let her lead me out of the club where we’re greeted by two very big, tatted-up, sexy men.

“Hey, guys, this is my best friend and Curtis’s cousin, Caitlin. Caitlin, this is Brick,” she points to the one who is definitely built like a solid brick. Tall and muscular. “And this is Snake.” Now, I remember. These two are the men, my own personal bodyguards. Oh yes, I can see why he’s called Snake; he has a very angry-looking one swirling all the way down his arm. Normally, I would avoid two men who look like these two. All scary-looking, eyes piercing right through your soul. Not today, though. Today, I’m embracing this.

“Good to meet you,” I say, stick out my hand for them to shake.

“Woman, what the fuck is that?” Brick says as if touching my hand will scorch him.

“What’s what?” I ask, confused.

“Oh, boy, here we go,” Snake says, snickering as he does so. I’m about ready to tell this big loop he can go stick it up his ass when he lifts me off the ground, his big burly arms caging me right to his hard chest.

“You’re family. Family doesn’t shake hands, we hug, or we beat some sense into one another if we’re doing something stupid. And being that you’re a woman and we do not put our hands on a woman unless they ask us to, well, that means you get a hug.”

“Oh,” I respond in the only way I can. I bring my arms around him for this hug. It’s a big one for sure. Smothering and squishing my insides. It’s comforting and sweet nonetheless. I turn to Snake, not really sure what to expect out of him.

“I don’t do hugs,” he grunts out. Crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down.

“Right.” I cock my head to the side and consider what it is he might do instead of turning away as if his rejection scorned me.

“Do you greet people with a kiss?” I tease, coming up with an unreadable description from the guy.

“Fuck, no, what I’m about to do is toss you over my shoulder and take you up to the house myself.”

“Well, alrighty then.”

“Pfft. Quit being an ass, Snake. He’s teasing. Come on.” Rachel grabs my hand, and we trek the short distance to her house. I can’t remember the last time I walked outside in my bare feet, trudging through the warm summer grass. It feels good.

“They seem nice,” I say and sling my purse over my shoulder.

“They are. Everyone around here is. You know what’s funny?” she adds on as we crawl up her large front porch. Well, I’m crawling, she’s walking. My feet still hurt.

“That I need new shoes? Those boots killed my feet.” I turn my head and smirk at my best friend.

“I’ll get you some. I wanted to say, it’s okay if we’re different. You were right. We have everything we need in each other, and for the record, I don’t think you’re a snob.”

“I don’t think you’re a whore,” I repeat what I said earlier.

“We’ve let the world define us. Promise me we’ll never let it ruin our friendship.”

“Never, now feed me, fuckface.”

Rachel laughs, rolls her eyes, and then flings her door wide open, welcoming me into her home without a second thought. “By the way, Caitlin, your tits look amazing in that shirt.”