Chapter Sixteen

Jasmine

 

 

 

 

Terrified. That’s the word I could use to explain how I felt when Cutter informed me that not only did he own a bike—those things are dangerous—but that we would be riding it to the club.

Me?

On a motorcycle?

But as we fly through downtown, the wind rushing past my body, my arms clasped tightly around Cutter’s waist, my legs molded to his, I can see why people become addicted to this. To the high. The feeling of absolute freedom. Don’t get me wrong, there were times when Cutter cut so close to a passing car that my heart jumped up into my throat, and my sore muscles still ached, my swollen eye rubbing against the padding of the helmet Cutter had abruptly knocked onto my head, but still . . .

Wow.

When we pull up to the clubhouse and I climb off Cutter's bike, my legs feel like jelly. Part of it is because I've never been on a motorcycle before, the other is that I'm completely nervous about how this is all going to go. My muscles ache with tension and anxiety. Cutter said Lucy will be at the club, so at least I’ll know one person, but I still don't feel completely comfortable being here.

His hand touches my lower back and I jump. “Take a breath,” he whispers in my ear, and I do.

Outside what look like the main doors, I see a couple of guys standing around smoking. Cutter nods at them as we walk past and I don’t miss the way their eyes track me all the way inside. The door swings closed behind us and slams against the frame. I take in my surroundings.

The smell is the first thing to hit me. Not entirely unpleasant, but there is a very obvious scent of bleach in the air, which should make me feel better because it must mean they’ve been cleaning, but actually it has the opposite effect because my mind races with what exactly they might have had to wash away. The main room is large with a ton of open space, not at all like I’d imagined in my head. A wooden bar runs along one of the walls, all manner of liquors and glasses scattered haphazardly along its surface. A woman stands behind it. The overhead lights catch her highlighted hair, making it glow against her tan skin and the low cut of her black tank leaves little of her chest to the imagination as an older man talks to her with his eyes firmly on her breasts.

And in the middle of the room, there are a couple of couches and chairs, all of them worn out but comfortable looking. Stains cover the arms and seats. I don’t even want to think about what might have caused them. I shudder.

Cutter takes my hand and pulls me past the pool tables and some tables and chairs and I cough as I walk through cigarette smoke as thick as winter fog. Cutter turns, his eyes narrow, but I wave him off, clearing lingering smoke away from my head in the process. But even through the smoky haze people watch. Sure, they’re walking around but regardless of what they’re doing, their eyes all find me as they study me like a new exhibit at the zoo.

A group of girls stand together, half dressed, their eyes narrowed in my direction. Most of the guys have the same jacket on that Cutter does. They look me over but unlike the girls their gazes fade away after a second or two.

“Jasmine!” I look and see Lucy walking toward us. She wears her property patch, only this time it covers a bright pink T-shirt. “Welcome to the mad house.” She waves her hand around with a laugh.

"Luce, I'm gonna go show her where our room is. You gonna be out here for a while?"

“Yep, I’ll be over at the bar with Izzy.” She nods her head and I look over to see Izzy, popping the tops off beer bottles by the bar. She smiles at me and I lift my hand in a greeting. Do they wave “hello” here? Or do I just lift my chin like I’ve seen Cutter do?

Cutter starts to walk and I move with him, his hand urging me forward. I follow him up an industrial looking staircase and then down a long hallway that leads to four rooms, all of them with large locks on the doors. We stop at the farthest room and he unlocks the door with a key. “The officers’ rooms are up here. Brothers have their rooms downstairs. It keeps it quieter.”

We walk in and, for the first time, it's just like I expected. The layout is simple: a large bed sits in the middle of the room, with a long wooden dresser lining the wall. There’s a door to my right that I’m assuming is the bathroom.

He tosses the bags onto the bed and then turns to me, his hands resting on my hips.

"You're gonna be okay here. I need you to be strong, though. You have it in you—I see it every time I look at you."

His head dips and his lips catch mine. I grip onto his shirt, holding tight, a part of me scared to be without him in this foreign place. Knowing that Dylan is out there, and what he is capable of, makes me so scared that everything inside of me freezes. I knew he wouldn't accept me leaving him, but at the same time, I feel safe with Cutter. Every part of me hopes he’s right: that I’m a strong person. Strong isn’t an adjective I would have used to describe myself, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone out there think I'm weak.

He pulls back and walks me over to the bed, sitting down.

“Okay, rules.” His free hand scrubs his face as he sighs. “Lucy will have a menu planned. Help her cook. If you’re hungry, go to the kitchen and get a snack out of the pantry. Towels are in the closet right there. They’re even all the same color.” He winks at me and a smile plays at the edges of my lips. “You have clothes, so that’s taken care of. Stay with Lucy or in the room, unless she tells you that another girl is okay to be around. Some of the girls here are not good people.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Last one: you better miss me.”

"No problem there," I say, my voice quiet.

He wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me into him and I rest my cheek against his collarbone, feeling his heart thumping against his chest. "I know things are rough right now. You're safe here, though." His lips find my forehead and I relax against him.

“I need to get downstairs and meet up with the guys before we leave. You wanna stay up here or come down?”

"I can come down for a little bit."

Deep breaths fill my lungs, bringing with them a sense of reassurance. I can do this. I think the club would intimidate anyone at first; for me, it's even worse. Not knowing anyone and really not knowing yourself isn't ideal when you're in a place where confidence seems to be a necessity. I pause in the doorway. "Do you want me to keep the door locked?"

He places the key in the back pocket of my jeans. "Only when you're in it. Otherwise, you can just close the door."

“Okay.” If Cutter is comfortable enough to leave the door open when he’s not there, it can’t be too bad.

Right?

Cutter takes my hand and leads me back to the main room. Lucy waves me over, taking a swig of beer Izzy hands her. The thought of drinking makes my stomach roll. “You’re not leaving yet?”

Cutter may be holding my hand, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. I give him a nudge with my elbow and he looks down. “Not yet. I’ll come find you before I go.” He pulls me to his side before letting my hand go.

And just like that, I’m on my own.

I walk over and take the stool next to Lucy. I’ve come in mid conversation and she’s laughing with Izzy. My hands fidget in my lap, my fingers turning bright red as they twist around each other.

Just take a breath.

No one knows what’s happened to you.

“Hey, Jaz.” Lucy smiles at me. “You remember Izzy, right?”

Jaz? Where did that come from?

“Izzy is Lady’s old lady.” Lucy starts to laugh. “It still sounds so weird.”

“His name is Lady?”

Izzy looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately,” she says. “He got stuck with that one after a poorly-timed joke. Can I get you something to drink?”

"Oh no. Thanks, though." I offer her a smile. I haven't had a drink in the longest time and being as uneasy as I am, I don't think now’s a good time to start.

“So what’s your story?” Izzy leans on the bar.

I freeze. I hadn’t expected her to be so forward. I don’t know what to say. Being here it’s almost like a fresh start for me. I don’t want to tarnish it by bringing up my past.

“She’s Cutter’s new assistant at the club—and his girl,” Lucy adds, and I make a mental note to thank her later. “She’ll be hanging out tonight while the boys are on their run.”

Hands wrap around my shoulders and I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I’d recognize his scent anywhere. “I need to get out of here.” His voice reverberates in my ear, sending unfamiliar chills across my skin.

I turn in my stool to face him. He barely knows anything about me —he still doesn't know everything, which can’t be helped because, honestly, right now, I don't really know myself, either. I went from living every day without anything to look forward to, to now . . .

I feel like there are so many different possibilities lying ahead of me and while they scare me, I’m also a bit excited.

“Everything okay?”

"It will be," I say, smiling at him.

“It will.” He kisses my lips before standing up straight. “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow. Take it easy on her, girls.” He laughs.

"Hey, we’re the nice ones. I hope you gave the same talk to Nikki and Tracie," Izzy replies, shooting both Cutter and Lucy a knowing look.

Cutter’s eyes cloud over for a second, but when he spots me looking at him, he sakes it off. “They’ve been warned.”

He winks at her before giving me one more kiss. “I have one more thing for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. “My number is already in it. Call me before you go to bed.”

I take it from him, marveling at this tiny gadget that’ll allow me to speak to him wherever he is. I was never allowed a cell phone with Dylan, he said I couldn’t be trusted and the only person I needed to talk to was him.

I shake my head. “Thanks.”

He walks away and I just sit there staring after him.

"You guys are cute," Izzy says, before walking to the other end of the bar where a couple of brothers are waiting.

I take a sip of the water Izzy left on the bar for me. “Thanks for saving me with the whole ‘what’s your story’ question.”

Lucy nudges me with her shoulder. “No problem, girl. Everyone deserves a fresh start.” She takes a sip of the drink in front of her. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks.” I lift my water. “I’m not a big drinker.”

"Well, that might change if you hang around here much more." A different girl behind the bar smiles at me. Her hair is dark and wavy and I see Tracie standing next to her.

“Be easy you two, she is so not ready for your particular brand of crazy.” Lucy laughs. “This is Nikki. She’s Pres’s old lady. And you’ve met Tracie.”

“Hi,” I say, again with the addition of an awkward wave that I immediately regret.

“You give her the rundown, Mary, or you leaving that up to us?” Tracie says with a smirk to Lucy.

“Don’t confuse her with your dumb nickname, Trace.”

“Hey, now. That nickname was some of my best work and it stuck for four years.” She laughs.

Lucy turns to me, ignoring Tracie. “Ugh, whatever. When I first got here I was really young and super naïve and innocent. Tracie here started calling me Mary after the Virgin Mary and it caught on.”

I laugh and surprise myself.

"Anyway, did you run down all the dirt for her?" Nikki says, pulling out a glass and mixing a drink. I don’t know what’s she’s making, but it has a hell of a lot of rum in it.

“No, and trust me when I say she isn’t ready. No one really ever is.”

“So true.” Izzy walks back over. “I think I might still be scarred from that talk. Just know that if they give you shit, you gotta give it back twice as hard.” Izzy winks at me as she grabs a few bottles and lifts them onto the bar.

“You guys ruin all the fun.” Nikki rolls her eyes.

Lucy drains the last of her beer and stands up. “I’m going to start getting dinner ready, wanna come with?”

“Sure.” I follow her, waving good-bye to the girls.

All three of them seem like they’re really happy. Like they’ve found their place here. That’s something I want. To have somewhere that I feel like I belong. I want to find myself, and be comfortable with whoever that person is.

I follow Lucy into the kitchen and I’m surprised at how big it is. “So, tonight there is pasta and sausage on the menu. I try to only make stuff that isn’t really complicated and that you can make in a big batch. These boys eat like they’ve been living in a third world country.”

Lucy has me start making the sauce while she gets the sausage going. We talk about the club and she gives me some more information on how things work and different responsibilities that the girls share. Everyone seems to pitch in, making sure that things get done so the boys don’t have to worry about it.

“Hey.” I turn to see Tracie standing in the doorway. “Food almost done? Guys are starting to get restless.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Just waiting on the pasta, so like five more minutes.”

I expect Tracie to head back out, so I’m surprised when she comes over to stand by me, leaning over and dipping a finger into the sauce, licking it off and giving me a thumbs up. “Are you coming back to work at the club anymore?”

I don't know how to answer that. I'd love to have something to occupy my time, and it was nice to feel useful. Plus, it would make me feel less indebted to Cutter if I was helping out. On the other hand, Dylan is after me and he knows I was working there.

"I . . . uh . . . I don't know if I can right now."

Tracie’s head cocks to the side. “What’s up?” Her gaze moves between Lucy and me. “Come on, bleeding heart. If she won’t tell me, it won’t take much for me to get you to spill.”

Lucy looks over at me and shrugs her shoulders. I nod, giving her permission to give Tracie the story. Lucy doesn't have all the details, so I'm not too worried about all my insecurities getting laid out. Besides, if I want these girls to trust me, I need to let them in.

“Remember the guy that went after Melanie?” Tracie nods. “That’s Jaz’s husband.”

If Tracie is the vice president’s “old lady” then I don’t doubt she’s seen a lot of stuff going on. You don’t have to be a genius to work that out. Which is what makes my stomach drop even further when her eyes almost pop out of her head.

Lucy looks over at me, making sure I really am okay with my story getting aired out. At least this way, I can control what people know. There’s nothing worse than having people hear half a story, and them making the other half up.

“He’s an abusive prick. Cutter helped her get out, but the husband isn’t accepting the fact that she’s left. It’s unclear how far he’ll go or what he’d do right now, and that’s why she’s here. Going to the club is rough because he knows it is somewhere she’s been.”

Tracie nods for a minute before turning to me. "You don't let any asshole control you with fear. No matter if you feel it, you suck that shit in and ball it up until it makes you so angry that the anger gives you strength. You let him hold you back, he wins. I spent years holding myself back from what I wanted because of a fear some asshole instilled in me. Being afraid doesn't make you weak—hiding does. Show him you’re better without him, that you can thrive now that he's gone.”

My breath leaves me. There is so much in what she said that I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. I open my mouth, but before I can talk, she holds up a hand.

“You're coming to work tomorrow. Don’t give me any of that scared bullshit. I’ll make sure the place is stacked with security. You can ride with me and walk into that building with your head held high."

I look at her for a minute, taking note of the mix of pain and strength etched across her face. "Okay."

“I’ll let the guys know about the food.” She walks out of the kitchen and I turn to Lucy.

“Tracie may be crazy, but she’s right. You can’t stop living because of him.” And like she hasn’t just witnessed something huge, something that very well may change my life, she turns back to the stove. “Pasta’s ready.”

Fear and anxiety fill me knowing what is going to happen tomorrow.

But there’s also a stirring of something deep in my stomach. A fluttering in my chest that sends tingles rushing through me. Because tomorrow won’t just be about facing my fears.

It’ll be the day I start to take my life back.