Chapter Twenty-One

Jaz

 

 

 

 

The air is thick from the amount of people filling the club. Conversations mesh together, the noise almost a bit overpowering.

When Cutter said the club liked to party, he wasn’t kidding. The music is blasting, everyone has a drink in their hand, and I’ve already seen people doing things that might just scar me for life.

Life feels pretty great at the moment; then again, that could be due to the few drinks Izzy and Nikki convinced me to have. I sit down on the stool behind me. If I stay still long enough, maybe the room will stop spinning.

“I leave my girl alone with you two for a little bit and you already have her wasted.”

A pair of arms wrap around my waist and I lean back against Cutter, the warmth from his body seeping into mine through the thin material of my shirt. It’s another of the new things Lucy bought me and it fits me like a glove.

"I'm fine, I just need to get off this merry-go-round." I try to jump off the stool, my hand grasping at the bar when I wobble on my heels. Luckily, Cutter catches me before I fall and embarrass myself. His laugh rumbles in his chest.

“I’m thinking you’re all partied out. Besides, it’s getting late. You don’t want to be down here once things start getting wild.” He bends down and with an arm around my back and another under my knees, picks me up and heads for the stairs.

"Wild? Hmm, I want to get wild with you."

He chuckles, his nose running the length of mine. “That might just be the best proposition I got all night.”

“The best? Who else propositioned you?” I try to squirm out of his arms and it’s a good job he’s strong because the alcohol has given me strength I didn’t know I had.

“Calm down there, slugger. I didn’t mean it literally.”

He carries me upstairs and lays me on our bed.

Our bed.

It sounds so weird, even saying it in my head, but makes me totally happy.

“Let me get you something to change into.”

I fall back onto the pillow. With the soft cotton on my back and Cutter near me, I’ve never felt better. My eyes close and I take a deep breath through my nose.

 

***

 

I open my eyes to a pitch black room. As I sit up slowly I feel the beginnings of a headache and have a terrible case of cotton mouth. The clothes I’m wearing are different to what I wore last night. Cutter got me changed?

The clock reads almost four in the morning. Jesus, how long have I been asleep?

Cutter is beside me as I slowly slip out of bed. Heading downstairs for a bottle of water I see most of the people are gone, a few are passed out on the couches and chairs. The main room is completely trashed. Bottles, cups, and plates scatter all of the surfaces. The floor gleams with spots that I know I’d stick to if I treaded on them. People are passed out on the couches, chairs, and a couple girls are lying across the pool table. The kitchen is much the same. I grab a bottle of water, guzzling almost the whole thing in one drink.

"Well, I didn't see you around tonight."

A guy I've never seen before leans against the doorway. Judging by his jacket, he must be a brother; although, his doesn't have the same logo as the other guys. "You look like the perfect end to my night." The words aren’t much but the meaning behind them is obvious enough. He takes a few steps toward me and my heart starts to race.

“Sorry, I—”

"Don't you know the rules, girl?" His hand grips my arm as his alcohol-soaked breath invades my nose. "You ain't allowed to refuse a brother.”

He tugs me against him and I slap at him with my palms, pulling back even as his fingers bite into my skin, needing to get the hell out of here. My hand connects with his face, catching him off guard for long enough for me to start running for the stairs.

But it’s not enough.

He catches me by my hair and swings me around. My scalp burns and I scream. Then my face is on fire as his hand smacks me across the cheek, knocking me to the ground.

“How’d you like it, huh? Pres really needs to teach you whores the rules.” He walks closer to me. Suddenly he isn’t a stranger. In front of my eyes, he morphs into Dylan. Every inch of me fills with fear as he towers over me. So I do the only thing I know how to. The only thing I’m good at.

I close my eyes and brace my body for the blow.

“She isn’t a whore.” My breath leaves me when I open my eyes to find Nikki standing there. She’s holding a kitchen towel in her hand, cleaning a glass. I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to see someone. She nods at me. “That there is Cutter’s old lady.”

“Then why ain’t she wearing a patch?” His eyes are fixed on me, running me over, making me feel dirty.

“Because she’s new to this”—her eyes swing to me—“and a damn idiot. There are some club girls in the lobby, go find one of them.”

The atmosphere is tense. Despite their calm words, Nikki and the man seem to be challenging each other through their glares. Neither will look away. Eventually, Nikki shrugs her shoulders. “That, or I can just call Cutter to help us figure this out.”

He walks away mumbling curses the entire time.

Just the mention of Cutter’s name and the blood drains from the guy’s face. His eyes go wide as he looks me up and down once more. “You’re Cutter’s girl?”

Words sit on my tongue but won’t come out. I nod.

“Fuck me,” he says, waving off Nikki, making his way out of the kitchen, presumably to the lobby. Nikki watches him walk away before coming to stand over me, offering a hand up. I take it, all the while wondering what kind of reputation Cutter must have for the guy to react like that.

“Girl, you really need to understand how shit goes here. You’re out here, wear your damn patch. You don’t, that ass of yours is up for grabs. Most brothers don’t take kindly to girls denying them, mainly ’cause it ain’t allowed.”

She takes the kitchen towel and wets it, handing it to me. The gesture confuses me. I press it to my lip, wincing when it stings, and as I pull the towel away, blood stains the white material. I dab gently at the cut, wondering how I’ll explain it to Cutter.

The kitchen is quiet. The whole club is quiet. So when Nikki speaks, her voice rings through the air as if she’s shouting. “I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I’m gonna give it. I’ve been around here longer than most so I figure that entitles me to have my say. What you do next is your call. Way I see it, you got two choices.” She offers me her hand and helps me up. When she’s sure I’m listening, she continues, nodding her head back toward my room. “You can go upstairs and tell your man what happened. Cutter may be an officer, but so is that asshole. If Cutter goes after him and causes bad blood between the two clubs, the club will punish him. And I mean bad. And all because you weren't wearing your patch. You'll be in the wrong, and he'll pay for it.”

Feeling a little lightheaded, I pull out a seat and sit, my eyes on the floor. I’m too ashamed to look at Nikki.

There’s a screech of wood on concrete as Nikki pulls out the chair next to me, taking a seat. “Next option is that you do what an old lady does: you understand that sometimes shit happens that you can't tell your guy, and you keep your pretty mouth shut. You need to protect him at times—same way he’s sworn to keep you safe. Choice is yours, but if I were you . . . I’d be sucking this up and learning from it.”

I nod as I take in what she’s saying. She’s right; Cutter would go after him. I don’t want to be the reason he gets in trouble with the club. “What do I do when he asks about my lip?”

“You tell him you were still half drunk when you woke up and took a nose dive.” Her arm goes around me. “And you never come down here without your patch on a party night.”

I walk back upstairs, Nikki following me all the way up. She goes into one of the other rooms, but offers me a quick smile before the door closes. I take a deep breath before easing the door open, trying to be as quiet as possible. The door clicks shut and Cutter doesn’t move so I tiptoe over to the bed, slipping back under the covers.

Within seconds a strong arm wraps around me. “Where did you go? I was about to come looking for you.”

“I just needed a glass of water. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“Anytime, babe.”

I close my eyes knowing that this is best.

 

***

 

A knock sounds on the door and I sit up in bed. Lucy pops her head in and flicks on the light, damn near blinding me. “Get dressed. We’re going shopping.”

Cutter sits up, his hair sticking out in all different directions, his hand covering his eyes. “Jesus, Luce.”

“Before you even start getting all huffy, we’re taking two prospects with us. One outside the store, one with us inside.” She winks before closing the door.

I stretch, looking over at him and his brow furrows as he looks at my face. “What happened to you?”

The lie burned like acid as it moved through my body before spewing from my lips. It hurt to do it, but Nikki was right. He could never know what happened.

“I was still a little loopy when I woke up last night and took a nosedive.” I shrug my shoulders, hoping he buys the story. He should. I can be pretty convincing when I have to be. After years with Dylan, lying about injuries isn’t foreign to me.

“Maybe I should have gotten us a room on the first floor.” He laughs, kissing the other side of my mouth.

A pang of regret hits me in the chest.

I hate lying to him.

I stand up and start getting dressed, making sure to slip my property jacket on over my clothes. Cutter watches me from the bed, propped up on one elbow. As soon as I’m dressed, I give him a twirl. “How’s this?”

He stands up and the sheet falls away. Clad in only his boxers, his body is almost completely on display and my insides heat at the sight of him. “Good enough that I want to drag you back to bed and keep you there all day.”

A bang on the door makes me jump.

“Officers’ meeting, lover boy!” I hear Whip and Lucy laughing outside the door.

Cutter groans, pulling me against him, his chin resting on my head. He’s the perfect height for me. I slide my arms around his waist and lock my hands behind him, holding tight. "Goddamn conspiracy."

He kisses my head and slips on a pair of jeans. He digs into his back pocket and hands me a card. It’s a bank card, but not one I’ve seen before.

And it has my name on it.

“What’s this?” I turn the plastic over in my hand. Surely this can’t be what I think it is?

“I know Dylan didn’t leave you with shit, so I put you onto my account. Normally you’d have to be there, but I know someone. Don’t worry about money today. I want you to have fun.” He gestures at the bland walls. “Fill this room with all the girly shit that you might need. Don’t overthink it and don’t feel like you owe me anything. You don’t.”

I don’t even know where to start. I try and fail many times to verbalize how I’m feeling, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. Cutter lifts my chin so my eyes meet his. “You’re mine now, and that means what’s mine is yours. I’m gonna text Nikki and get her to watch you. She thinks you’re holding back, she’ll start buying stuff for you and I’ll give her the money.” His lips lower to mine and he steals the very breath from me. “Have fun.”

"This is too much."

“No, it isn’t. Understand that being with me means that I will provide you with everything and anything you need. It makes me happy to take care of you. None of that ‘you owe me’ shit. I want to do things like this for you.” He turns me toward the door and smacks my ass. “Now get out of here before I lock the door and decide to blow everyone off.”

I spin back into his body, placing another kiss on his lips. “You really are amazing.”

I don’t give him a chance to respond. I head downstairs, taking them two at a time, and see the girls standing by the door. As I pass a group of brothers, I see the guy from last night and my blood runs cold, every inch of me tightening in fear as I feel his glare focusing on me.

When I reach the girls, Nikki looks at me. “Nice jacket.” Her voice drops low so I’m the only one who hears. “I know it sucks, but you gotta let it go. He won’t even talk to you now.” She holds out a tube of lipstick to me and holds up a mirror. I take it and apply it carefully. The small cut is almost invisible under the bright red. "Now let's go blow the boys’ money while we bitch about them."

Everyone starts to laugh as we walk outside. I turn back and see that Cutter has now joined the group of men. He and the other guy are exchanging words and I see how bad things could have been if I hadn’t followed Nikki’s advice.

We take Tracie’s car and once we pull out of the lot, we’re flanked front and back by prospects on their bikes.

Lucy turns toward me. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the crap that happened last night.” My face twists in confusion. How does she know?

“We may keep stuff from the boys, but there are no secrets between us," Nikki says from the front. My face begins to glow knowing that they’re all aware of how stupidly I acted. Lucy’s hand comes across to take mine and she gives it a squeeze.

“Just know that most of the guys aren’t like that. You get some that are super old-school, and basically assholes,” Izzy says on my other side. “That’s the reason Max hates that I work the bar at the clubhouse and Ambrosia.”

“Max?”

"Lady’s real name. We also drop the boys’ road names when we’re out of the club. Honestly, I think the whole thing is dumb—just like Tracie hates the ‘old lady’ term.”

Lucy groans. “Please don’t get her started. Anyway, just so you know, Whip is Jordan, Tracie prefers to just say Torch. Twisted is probably the most confusing one. His real name is Cameron, and while Izzy calls him that because he’s her brother, Nikki much prefers the road name, and I actually just call him T.”

“And Cutter?” I feel crazy asking. How is it that I’m falling for a guy whose name I don’t even know?

“It’s Jason,” Nikki says. “I snooped one day when Twisted was busy. I could tell you all the boys’ real names.”

“Jason, I kind of like it.”

"Much less morbid," Tracie says with a laugh.

We pull into the parking lot of a nearby mall. There are people everywhere. My heart begins to race. I can’t remember the last time I went into a place like this. Do I even remember how to shop?

"All right, girl, you ready to buy so much stuff it takes a couple of trips to bring it upstairs?" Nikki cocks an eyebrow. "Cutter already texted me so no holding back. You never know what I might pick up for you."

Nikki’s style is pure biker babe, and while I don’t have an issue with it, I’m pretty sure I don’t want her shopping for me. I follow the girls out and look around me, spotting the prospects behind us. Even though they hang back, dressed in their club leathers, their hair hanging down by their shoulders, their heavy boots thumping against the floor, they stand out like sore thumbs.

As we walk beside the girls, watching them squeal and point at different stores, I have this feeling that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s an eerie sensation, almost like I’m being watched. As I follow the girls into a beauty store, I turn and look at the crowds behind us. I can’t see anyone I know, or even anyone who looks like they may be paying me any attention, but the feeling remains.

Within a few minutes, the little bags they give you to shop with are full of products. I’m not even sure I know how to use half the stuff. There are large bottles, sachets, pencils, tweezers . . .

The list goes on.

Lucy nudges me with her elbow. “Don’t worry, we also offer tutorials.”

I make a show of wiping my brow and they all laugh.

By the time we reach the counters, the bag is so heavy I feel like this should count as exercise. In addition to the makeup and hair products, the girls have thrown in a straightener, a blow dryer, and a curling iron. The fact that I’ve had to ask them what certain bottles are numerous times says a lot about my level of expertise.

Between us, we must be every cashier’s dream. When the total appears on the screen in front of me, I nearly have a heart attack. With shaky hands, I pass over the card Cutter gave me.

“ID, please?”

I freeze. Every piece of identification I own is still back at the house with Dylan. I have nothing to prove that I am who I say I am.

“Here you go.”

Tracie hands her another card. The cashier looks at it quickly before swiping the card. The transaction clears and I take back both cards. A quick glance shows a picture of me, along with my date of birth and other information.

A license.

Once we walk away from the register, I turn toward Tracie. “Where did you get this?”

“The boys have connections everywhere, girl. Torch made a call to someone in the DMV for Cutter a couple of days ago.”

I’m beginning to understand that the “connections” the brothers have run far and wide.

We spend the next few hours in and out of store after store. Each time the card gets swiped, I have an all-consuming fear that it will get denied because with the amount I’m spending, I find it hard to believe I haven’t emptied his account yet.

We’re walking past a Mexican restaurant when Izzy stops to look at the menu. “You hungry?” she asks.

“Yeah, actually. My feet are killing me, too.”

"It's definitely overwhelming, but all of us had a trip like this when we met our boys. Except for Tracie, we came from some pretty screwed up pasts and had almost nothing to our name when the guys met us. It was definitely a learning curve. Not that Trace didn't have her own baggage, but she grew up in the club so it was all second nature to her." Her arm loops through mine. "I know it's hard. You really have a safe haven here, though."

The prospects appear out of thin air and take our bags. Tracie tosses them her keys. “No funny business, okay? She’s my baby.”

The guys head back toward the car, laden with shopping bags. I stifle a giggle as we walk through the double doors. There are people everywhere. None of the tables near the window are free so we’re shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. The girls take their seats

"I actually need to run to the bathroom," I say. “Can you just order me a soda?”

Nikki points to a door on the opposite side of the restaurant and I head to the bathrooms. As I walk between the tables, I spy someone at the bar and my stomach flips then sinks.

Dylan.

My heels click against the floor as I pick up my pace, running toward the bathroom and straight into a stall, slamming the door behind me, making sure the door is locked before I rest my back against it. My breath comes in pants, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

It couldn’t be him.

He can’t be here.

I have to be seeing things.

It doesn’t matter that I’m biting my lips to stop them; the tears still fall. First slowly, one running down my face, catching on my chin before falling to the ground. That is swiftly followed by another . . . and another. Before I know it my whole body is shaking. The walls of the stall feel like they are getting closer and closer, caging me in. And even as I try to think about anything else, his face hovers at the front of my mind. I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, counting down from ten.

You’re okay.

You’re safe.

He can’t hurt you anymore.

I repeat that phrase to myself over and over until my breathing finally starts to even out. I wipe the few stray tears that escaped. The girls will be wondering what’s taking me so long and the last thing I want is for one of them to come looking for me and find me like this. While washing my hands, I make eye contact with myself in the mirror.

When you walk out there, he won’t be there.

He was never there.

Taking one more deep breath I walk out of the bathroom and see the prospect standing at the end of the hallway. Relief fills me, knowing that he’s close. As I near the end of the hallway I peer back into the bar.

It’s empty.

Walking back I keep my eyes on our table. My heart is hammering but my steps are slow and steady, with no hint of the fear that runs freely through my veins. By the time I take my seat my mask is firmly in place. I join in with the conversation and if any of them have a clue that I’ve just had a panic attack in a public bathroom stall because I thought I saw my psychotic husband, they say nothing.

Because, really, there’s nothing anyone can say.