Tori
The scene was entirely too familiar and a rush of emotions threatened to surface, not one of them being bliss. I could have spent the rest of my life all too happy to never see the inside of an MC clubhouse again. Reminders of rowdy men, long drunken nights of booze, bitches, drugs, and bumping and grinding for all to see made me cringe.
The worst part of all. The women. The ones who seemed to have next to zero self-respect, tramping around in tight clothing all too eager to give the brothers anything they found underneath. Besides Erik’s girlfriend, Vita, and occasionally her friend, Red, I had no real female companions while I was with the Disciples. The hang-ons leered at me whenever Aaron made a point of parading me around at a get together. I was forced to sit on his lap like a petulant child and pretend to be satisfied, happy for appearance’s sake.
So, I wasn’t surprised at the number of jealous, pissed-off eyes that followed me around the room as I made an entrance with Trench. I was new blood, a stranger who looked out of place in my navy-blue dress and sexy high-end boots. And most importantly, I presented competition. Trench was not only the President of Pandemonium, but he was hell-a-gorgeous. I tried to squash the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach at the thought of how many glares were coming from women Trench may have bedded at one time or another.
Once I had been immersed in the Disciples’ lifestyle, my own Enforcer, Aaron, had no problem entertaining different women in the bed we were forced to share. He liked to make a show of it too. He didn’t want me participating while he fucked his side pieces because I was his property alone, and that apparently included me being off-limits to other women as well, but that never stopped him from making me watch, bastard that he was. He thought it would get be hot and bothered, when all it did was make me nauseous as he grunted his drunken way through the act of sex before kicking the bitch out soon after and passing out in a giant naked heap.
LoJack motioned towards the bar and I followed without a word, figuring it best to keep as low a profile as possible. In my experience, it was just easier to ride under the radar. I took the stool immediately beside him while one of the girls sidled up on his other side, effectively garnering his attention. Honestly, she was kind of hard to ignore, long waves of rich auburn hair, big light green eyes that stood out in contrast to the dark liner and long, fake lashes. All that and a pair of store-bought double Ds.
“What’ll it be, bitch?”
The question drew my attention behind the bar and as I turned I was greeted with unwelcoming eyes and a sneer that would frighten most rabid animals into hiding. Too bad she would soon discover my tolerance for bitchy people was higher than most. Call it a skill, but I found it amusing.
“I’ll take a whiskey...neat,” I answered politely.
The slip of a woman snorted in disgust. She was about my height, with black hair pinned in odd places, a hot pink extension to frame an otherwise dull face. She wasn’t caked in makeup the way most of the other women were and her jeans hung low on her hips as if they were two sizes too big for her petite figure. I glimpsed a couple inches of her exposed midriff and when she turned to retrieve the liquor bottle from the shelf I noted the all too familiar tramp stamp across her lower back. I bit back a laugh before she swung back around and glared.
“Trench must be feeling charitable today if he brought your Biker Barbie looking ass in here.” She poured while she passed insults. That must have taken skill, I laughed, shocking her to stop mid-pour with the bottle still held high. “The fuck you laughing at, Blondie?”
“Biker Barbie? Really, that’s the best you got?” I challenged. It wasn’t my best idea, but then none of the last four months had been especially creative.
“I could give you a busted nose to match the fat lip you’re about to have, princess,” she slammed the glass down so hard the whiskey sloshed over the rim, drawing Lo’s attention.
“Shut the hell up, Jinx,” he addressed the feisty dark-haired woman, much to the dissatisfaction of his red-haired lap toy, who was pouting and pulling at the front of his cut to be noticed.
“She doesn’t belong here, Lo,” the bartender’s laser focus tried to pin me in place, but only succeeded in making me smirk. “Trench could get better pussy behind the Chinese restaurant on Main.”
“Now, you’re at least trying. Is that where Trench found you? Sounds fitting. That place serves shit that’s gone stale from sitting around for too long. Since he brought me home, I’d say his taste is improving.”
“Oh shit, Tori’s got claws,” LoJack’s laughed so hard he lost his last bite of sandwich to the bar.
“Stupid wannabe hang-on. You’ve barely got enough for Trench to work with. He needs someone more...endowed.” Jinx’s eyes travelled to the cleavage peeking out from the top of my dress. I was blessed in the attic, but Jinx was stacked.
She was fun to piss off. It was a rare chance for me to fight back and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I may not have as much to work with upstairs as you, but believe me when I say I can put in overtime with what I do have.”
Jinx’s eyes widened in shock as they looked behind me. The low vibration of his growl next to my ear nearly sent me tumbling from the stool. I was so engrossed in my verbal showdown with Suzie Sunshine that I never saw him approach. Trench’s hands were snaking around my middle and sliding across the flimsy safety of the dress. His calloused fingers skimmed just beneath my breasts, pushing them up and practically making them spill out.
“You must be looking at something different, Jinx, because the view from here is delicious.” His deep timbre carried across the bar and I got my first glimpse of Jinx without her shields up. She knew better than to cross the President’s path and I was quickly learning I might be in over my head. “Come on, babe, it sounds like you have some work to put in.” Trench’s mouth closed over my earlobe and he bit down on the sensitive skin. My traitorous body clenched and I found myself nodding against his chest, playing along with him effortlessly.
“Lo, send a message to the boys. Church at 8:00 tonight,” Trench commanded and tugged eagerly at my waist.
I slid off the stool and, just for good measure, hooked my forefinger through one of Trench’s belt loops, letting him lead me away from a seething Jinx and up the stairs. I felt several eyes tracking our movement, but I ignored the urge to look back. I had been challenged enough today. Let them all wonder. Trench could clear the air later.
The top floor of the warehouse was open to the activity below. We walked along the long metal platform that snaked around in a horseshoe pattern with a rather simple railing welded in to keep folks from falling into the space below. On either side of the platform were multiple closed doors, that looked like old office space. I kept silent and followed Trench as he moved to open the furthest door on the left rear corner of the building, pulling me quickly inside by the hand. As soon as I was free of the door he kicked it closed with the bottom of his boot, spun me around, and slammed my back against the wall. The movement wasn’t painful, but firm enough to let me know his current state of mind. He was in control.
Trench’s entire body covered mine while his hand came up to rest lightly around my throat. He dominated the space and I received his message loud and clear even in the dark where I couldn’t read his eyes. His room. His house. His rules. I shivered when he trailed his thumb slowly against the sensitive flesh beneath my jaw and hovered his mouth desperately close to my lips.
“Don’t play games with me, Tori. Ever. Not saying I don’t like the way you feel, babe,” his knuckles grazed down my side and I was consumed by his warmth and the contrasting sensation of his rough fingers running over the soft material of my dress, “but I’m not a toy for you to use up.”
I swallowed hard, feeling his palm as it rested loosely against my throat and nodded my understanding. I was at odds with my libido, another side effect of my disease. On one hand, I desperately wanted to feel Trench’s lips press into mine, burying any memories of Aaron with his touch, but on the other hand I battled with the part of my head that screamed in warning of the past. A past where Aaron had constantly threatened, provoked, and abused me in and out of the bedroom. Trench could easily hurt me too. I was in his world and I was barely a guest. So, why did Trench’s warning feel more like foreplay and less like a threat of punishment?
“Good. First, we talk. Then, we sleep.”
When he stepped back I took the chance to breathe air back into my lungs and survey his personal space. It wasn’t uncommon for officers in a motorcycle club to keep a room at the compound. Hell, from what I had observed with the Disciples, most of them spent more time at the clubhouse than their own homes, but this space felt permanent, as if Trench didn’t have another home to escape to when he needed space from Pandemonium.
It was understated, almost sterile in design. The walls were painted a simple charcoal gray and the only furniture included a dresser close to the door, a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, and a flat screen television mounted on the wall in front of the bed. There were no derogatory posters of naked women littering the space, and save for one dimly lit lamp in the corner of the room, there wasn’t much light. His bed looked clean enough from what I could see, but I cringed thinking of what lay hidden beneath the neatly tucked corners. I wouldn’t suggest bringing a black light in to test what I already suspected as true. The president of Pandemonium was easy on the eyes, but I had a feeling he was hard everywhere it counted and I could only guess at the number of women that bed had cushioned.
“Sit,” his voice carried an authority with it that made me overly cautious.
I took the only available seat, the edge of his bed. Trench had already removed his cut and was working on ridding himself of his shirt next. I had seen ripped bodies before. Mostly on the covers of my favorite romance novels, but a shirtless Trench could melt the panties off a room full of women. His back was a work of art by itself and I traced the lines of his club name, inked in large Old English font, from one shoulder to the other with only my eyes to guide me. The club crest, the same one on the back of his cut, took up the remaining canvas of flesh below. Unlike the simple black and white patch that decorated his leather vest, the skull and handlebars on his back were framed with bright orange and red flames that seemed to lick his skin in a way that made me jealous of their intimate reach.
Trench discarded his shirt in a pile by the dresser and turned. I flushed red when he smiled, angry at having been caught staring like a lust-struck teenager. I recalled the dips beneath my fingers as I clung to him on the back of his bike earlier. I could tell he took care of himself, but my mild fantasies couldn’t hold a candle to what he was hiding underneath his shirt.
He gave me a knowing smirk and I felt the heat rising along my neck and upwards to color my cheeks. I was embarrassed by my reaction, and yet, I couldn’t force myself to look away. Trench had ink for days, including a huge open star tattooed over his right elbow, an ambigram tattoo across his upper chest, and a few more flames on his left wrist. I wanted to see if they were connected to his back. The flames, the same curious, colorful ink I admired at the diner just hours before. Then there were the nautical stars on either side of his lower abdominals. I could only make out the upper-most three points, leaving me to wonder where those lucky stars landed below the waistband of his jeans.
“See something you like?”
I swallowed hard and unclenched my hands on the bed. He couldn’t know how much he affected me. There was no point in romanticizing a man who probably had more blood on his hands than skin and nothing good could come from getting attached. He could have any of the ladies outside this room, the ones itching for the chance to be his toy for the night. Amusement or pleasure. I didn’t want to be either.
Trench moved closer, standing a few inches in front of me and placing me at eye level with tight abdominals that dipped into a heavenly ‘V’. I watched uncomfortably as he unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his jeans and paused for my reaction. I couldn’t react. I was too busy admiring his lean build and sweating underneath the suddenly itchy fabric of my dress. I had been reduced to a puddle of wanton need and the man was barely trying. What would he be like if I submitted to my baser needs and let him chase away my demons, for even the briefest moment. A shiver ran through me at the thought of his rough hands exploring my body in ways that Aaron had never taken the time to do.
I was about to push him away, beg for personal space. I wasn’t ready to fall down that rabbit hole again with another man. To let him mark me in such a permanent way that left me in pieces while he remained wholly intact. I opened my mouth to respond to his question, but the words fell away as quickly as they came as Trench knelt in front of me and reached to lower the zipper of one of my boots.
Carefully, oh so, slowly, he pulled off one boot and then showed the same delicate attention with the other. I moaned relief as the cool air hit the soles of my achy feet. Trench rewarded my vocal pleasure with a sexy smirk. My whole body felt like molten lava under his gaze. Watching this dangerous man treat my body with such tender, attentive care was unnerving.
“Better, babe?”
“So much,” I sighed. “A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.”
He tensed, and his eyes flicked to mine. It lasted only a second, but it was there none the less. Me and my stupid mouth. He probably thought I was the clingy type, or even worse, the needy type of woman who thrived on having a man to take care of her. I was not that woman.
Trench stood again and turned, effectively shutting himself off from me before removing his own heavy boots and placing them beside mine next to the door. This big, intimidating biker was a bit of a neat freak, a fact I found slightly amusing and extremely sexy. Not that I would be stupid enough to tell him so, but the action gave me a bit more insight to the man underneath the Pandemonium cut.
“Slide back,” he demanded. I slid back on the bed until my shoulders hit the headboard, my hands twisting together nervously in my lap. Would he hurt me or expect me to - show my appreciation for his help?
I felt the bed dip as Trench took over the space next to me, laying on his back and curling one of his incredible biceps underneath his head on the pillow, while letting the other rest over his rippled stomach.
“Now, tell me. I know why you ran, but why is daddy so hell bent on getting you back?” He asked. “I’m already guessing you’ve been scared to silence about his involvement in your mother’s death. The police wouldn’t be able to offer you protection even if you decided to come forward all these years later. We both know Preacher has men and women on the inside of damn near every jail in Georgia and several outside the state too. Which leaves me wondering what else you know.” Trench’s head rolled to the side a bit so he could see my eyes. “No offense, doll, but Preacher wouldn’t care if you ran away unless you know something that could bring the Disciples to their knees, or unless you stole from him.”
I couldn’t contain the audible sigh of relief. I never wanted to discuss my past with Trench, or anyone else for that matter, but I was saved for now it seemed, from doing anything other than talking. I wasn’t opposed to being ravished by the sexy-as-sin biker beside me, but I also wasn’t one of his regular use them and lose them types.
Conceited much, Tori? Who was I kidding? Trench had his pick of women and I was damaged goods at best. There was nothing special about me besides the ring and my knowledge of the Disciples. That was what this was about. Trench wanted inside information and he saw me as a golden opportunity, using the favor as an excuse to keep me close.
The hand on his stomach clenched at the sound of my sigh and I instantly felt guilty. Aaron was the reason I always felt this way, as though I was indebted to the world to offer up explanations for my mixed emotions, to ask forgiveness for my transgressions, and to feel responsible for the happiness of others. Trench had brought me to his club, inside his very personal space, to keep me safe. I should be grateful for his protection, no matter how short-lived, unplanned, and full of motive it might be. Right?
None of that mattered though. Not really. I couldn’t bring myself to trust Trench. That was a luxury no longer afforded to me. Misplaced trust had been the leading cause of death in my experience.
“Just lucky I guess,” the sarcasm dripped from my voice.
Trench studied the ceiling, the darkened circles under his eyes more prominent to me from this angle. Trench, the man, was tired, but Trench, the President of Pandemonium, was clearly struggling to understand how he had acquired this new problem. How had he suddenly become responsible for a stranger’s life? Me.
He wasn’t responsible. That was what I wanted to tell him. No, that was what I would tell him as soon as I had a clear plan. No one had ever shown much interest in my life before now and even though his interests centered around the very real threat that Aaron presented, an interest in my backstory that was necessary to keeping both of us out of the line of fire, it was unsettling to let another person inside. I’d always prided myself on being a closed book or at the very least keeping my demons locked behind a fake smile. With Trench though, I felt compelled to share. I couldn’t explain it, but there was a part of me that wanted him to understand. Or maybe, I just needed another person to share my miserable story with, to know I wasn’t the only one who’d ever experienced pain and suffering at the hands of another human being. A person who claimed to love me. Maybe, I simply needed to breathe life into the part of my heart that was dead and reclaim my bruised soul.
“Five years ago, I had no idea my father was even alive, let alone the President of a violent motorcycle club.” Trench turned his head and raised his brows in question. I knew what he was thinking before he even asked.
“Your mother really never told you anything?” I shrugged and he went back to staring up at the ceiling.
“No, she never spoke about him. I had a few questions when I was younger. I was curious. I wanted to know why all the other kids’ dads came to open house. Usual kid stuff, you know. As I got older, I guess it didn’t matter as much. I had lots of friends whose parents had divorced or they were living in foster homes. It didn’t seem as important. I mean, it sucked to tell people my father was dead, but I’d never known him. It was hard to feel sad about losing something you never had to begin with. I wish I could go back to that.” I paused, and took a deep breath as I closed my eyes, remembering when things had been less complicated. “I wish I’d never met the bastard. It should be him in the ground, not my mother. She’d been protecting me all my life. I never needed the truth, but Paul was determined for me to hear it.”
“How can you be sure Preach killed her?” Trench pressed on. Most people tended to get awkwardly sympathetic when discussing death, but not Trench. He seemed unaffected by the subject and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned by that notion.
“Because he made me watch.”
Trench was silent for long enough that I turned to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. The man had probably seen enough death in his life that my sad life was more like a bedtime story. I was relieved to find his eyes still open, but they seemed darker than before and distant as his jaw clenched and unclenched several times.
“He killed her in front of you?”
“More like he made her overdose.”
When his eyes found mine again, demanding more than I wanted to give, I turned away. I couldn’t look at his sympathetic stare. It was suffocating and I’d already offered too much. After all, Trench meant nothing to me. Even as I tried to convince myself that was true, I felt the twinge of denial. Trench was a King in his own right and he’d helped me when I needed it most. He wasn’t the fairytale knight in armor riding in on his white horse to save the maiden. No, he wasn’t that. But, could a King on chrome be the hero I needed?
I sighed, letting the back of my head lean against the headboard for support. God, even my imagination sounded pathetic. I was seriously misguided if I thought anyone could save me, or that they wanted to. Trench didn’t care about my fucked-up family history, but it needed to be told. It might not offer much in the way of help, but it could buy me a few more days of protection until I could save myself. So, I continued.
“Paul, I mean, Preacher, beat my mother unconscious. Several times. He’d wait until she blacked out from the pain, splash her with ice cold water, and start all over again. It wasn’t until I tried to help her that they locked me up in another room. I’m not sure which was worse. Watching it happen or going numb when she stopped screaming and I couldn’t see her to tell if she was still alive.”
“Hours later, some of his men brought her to my room. I saw the track marks all over her arms, Trench.” Hot tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. She’d been so fragile, so broken. My hands curled into tight fists on top of my lap as I finished. “I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop any of it. I was only sixteen and there were at least six of them in my home. They dragged her lifeless body away a couple hours later and I screamed until my voice gave out and they drugged me too. By the time I regained consciousness we were at the Disciples compound and my mother was gone.”
“Fuck.”
No amount of time could erase the loss and recounting the memories left me raw, like drawing the curtains on a room that had been draped in the dark for years. That was the beginning of the end for me. It started when Paul killed my mother and stepfather, but it hadn’t stopped since. The wounds were always fresh because they never completely healed before a new one appeared. The club claimed Vita too, a woman who was the closest thing to a friend I’d had.
Even Aaron had played his cards with me as the bargaining chip. He coddled me long enough to secure his position within the club, but once he got the coveted position, the fucking trained and deeply scarred predator emerged in his place. Aaron used me in the worst way, scammed me into believing he could protect me from the folds of hell where my father was the judge, jury and executioner. That part of my nightmare was not up for show and tell today with Trench. He didn’t need that information to understand my father would follow through on his threats.
I was tired of talking for one afternoon and I wasn’t sure how much more I could, or should, share with Trench. He was still a stranger to me. Albeit, an asset to have around if he kept me out of Disciple reach, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. I didn’t trust anyone. I had enough evidence that would send most of the Disciples to prison for years. Pandemonium would love to get their hands on the same. It’s called leverage.
“Do you mind if I borrow your shower?” I asked, suddenly desperate for any excuse to get some personal space.
“Is that your way of telling me we’re done?” He grinned.
I shrugged. “There’s nothing else to tell.”
I knew he wasn’t convinced, but he let the matter rest. “Help yourself,” he pointed towards the only open doorway. “Use my towel. I’ll find you another one later. I’m going to catch a few,” he paused, watching me stand and head for the bathroom. “But, Tori. Don’t leave this room without me.”
How could I? I wasn’t entirely sure I was safe in here with him, but I knew without a doubt my chances out there, or on my own were slim to none. I needed to ride this favor for as long as the offer was on the table.
I disappeared behind the door, sinking to the floor as soon as it closed. It appeared I had exchanged one prison for yet another. The question was, how long was my sentence this time?