Tori

 

     The room was quiet and Trench was gone when I opened my eyes. I made my way to the bathroom and took care of my business before he came back. The long nap felt good, but now I was wide awake, a little sore from the building tension in my shoulders and still anxious about my predicament. I wanted to move around, but I recalled Trench’s request to not leave the room without him.

     Well, this slumber party sucked. I sat up in bed and flipped through the channels for something to keep my mind off the growing hunger pains. When was the last time I had eaten? Today, or was it yesterday now? Without a window to tell, I looked at the alarm clock on Trench’s dresser and noted it was ten o’clock at night. No wonder I was starved. He could have been gone for minutes or hours. I had no way of knowing and the thought that I could be stuck up here for hours or days suddenly made me antsy.

     Surely, he wouldn’t care if I slipped downstairs and grabbed something to eat from the kitchen. I was clever when necessary and more than a little skilled at making myself scarce around a clubhouse. Aaron had given me only a few rules before. Never make eye contact with one of the members, don’t speak unless spoken to, move quickly and quietly, and most importantly, stay the hell out of the way. My stomach growled in eager frustration.

     “I hear you,” I whispered to myself and found my discarded shopping bag on the chair. Someone must have brought it up while I slept.

     Luckily, Trench’s dresser had provided something to cover up with earlier. The only shirt I could find had a Pandemonium logo across the back and it swallowed me up, dangling around mid-thigh. It was super cozy for sleeping in though, and bonus, his smell still clung to it, even if it would have been more appropriate as a dress on me.

     I ripped off the price tags and pulled on the black skinny jeans from the shopping bag and the only pair of shoes I owned anymore, my knee-high boots, and gathered my hair up into a messy bun in the back. I was not about to risk walking over a used needle or broken glass by going down there barefoot. I mean, the place looked clean, but one could never be too careful in a clubhouse. The outfit would have to do.

     I opened the door and peeked out first, noting the absence of noise and chatter. There was no one in sight, making it easy to slip out unnoticed. Hopefully they were all asleep or out for the night. Just grab something to eat and come right back, Tori. In and out. You’ve done it a thousand times. Different place, same mission.

     My heeled boots seemed unusually loud against the metal flooring of the old warehouse and I grimaced with each step, hoping the sound would not draw attention from below. I made it to the landing of the stairs and the main room was quiet. See, no problem, I thought, following the direction LoJack had emerged from this afternoon with his hands stuffed full of sandwiches. I released the breath I had been holding as I neared closer. I managed to make it inside the threshold of the kitchen before my eyes landed on the first club member sitting at the table, studying his hand of cards.

     I turned to slip out unnoticed, but lost my chance when light eyes found my own.

     “All in,” the man who spoke looked up and fixated me with a haunting blue gaze and a smug smile, but the others were so in tune to their own cards that they had not bothered to notice his focus had changed. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with a large frame that dwarfed the chair beneath him and a deep voice that probably matched the rumble of his tail pipes. His booted feet were propped up on one end of the small dining table as he regarded me. Thick vapor billowed around his face as he released a mod tip from his lips. I never understood the fascination to vape, but the sweet smell of cinnamon was at least nice.

     “All in? Zeke hasn’t finished dealing the cards yet, ass hat,” a younger, stockier man with long blond hair pulled into a low ponytail regarded him with a sneer, still oblivious to my presence.

     “I meant, I want to be all in that tight little piece right there,” the older man set his cards down and slid his feet off the table, gesturing towards me with the open end of his beer bottle before bringing it to his mouth and taking a long pull.

     The rest of the men paused and turned their attention towards the doorway to find me. Their eyebrows rose in surprise and their predatory smiles grew. Okay, I knew I wasn’t a toad, but I always hated that stare. The one where a man is undressing you mentally and deciding what nasty deeds he wants to do to you. Yeah, that one.

     “Sorry for the interruption, fellas. I was just looking for a drink, but I can come back later,” I attempted to spin on my heels and failed to even make it to the hall before the man’s voice halted me.

     “Come back later or stick around and I could quench your thirst in about five minutes, darlin’. Right after I win this hand. You can be my lucky charm for the night,” he said, slurping down another mouthful of drink and patting his meaty denim thigh, “and after I take these sad fuckers’ money, I’ll be all yours.”

     If he was mine I would be demanding a refund, but I couldn’t tell him that. I knew what the consequences had been for disobeying a Disciple and I doubted Pandemonium laws were that different. As Neanderthal as it sounded, the brothers ruled the roost and while you were in their home you obeyed. It was the price you agreed to pay when you chose to hang out with these men. Granted, I hadn’t chosen it then and now, well now, I wasn’t choosing this either. Not any of this, so I was going to claim immunity.

     “That’s a nice offer, but one I’m gonna have to decline,” I spoke with as much strength in my voice as I could, but these men were accustomed to getting their way.

     “That so?” He slammed his bottle on the table and the irritation in his tone was not lost to me. “You being a cock tease tonight, darling, or are you just an uptight bitch? Cause we don’t entertain either.”

     All I wanted was a sandwich and what I got was a load of bologna from an asshole with a beard.

     “Neither.” I started to back away again, despite the urge to argue, turned and plowed head first into Stryker’s chest as he was barreling through the entryway. “Oomph.” He grabbed my shoulders to steady me before I could fall back on my ass.

     “Well, if it isn’t my sunshine,” he grinned and to my pleasant surprise, released me quickly.

     “Back off, Stryker. I called dibs on this one. Feisty bitch though. Haven’t seen her around here before.” The persistently vulgar man’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. Stryker’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he glanced between me and the man behind me. He stepped back a little, his hands sweeping in my direction like an offering. A sacrificial lamb led to slaughter, I thought to myself.

     “Be my guest, Deuce. I guess you’ll be the first lucky bastard to take a dip. Though, I can tell you firsthand, she has a real nice ass.” He winked and I wanted to punch him right in his smartass pie hole.

Stryker was purposefully making me squirm after our run-in at the diner. He was getting me back for slapping him. Jerk! The words hung in my throat as heavy as the fear in the pit of my stomach. My eyes narrowed to slits. Was he seriously trying to get me raped?

     Deuce, as Stryker had called him, walked closer still. My back was facing him, but I heard the shuffling sound of his boots as they stopped behind me and I cringed when his hot breath landed next to my ear. Deuce’s calloused hands snaked around my waist and pulled me back into his paunchy stomach. I stopped breathing, frozen to the spot, as he sniffed my hair and grinded his hips into my backside. At least I wasn’t hungry anymore. Nope, I was more afraid of puking on Stryker’s shoes. If I did, he deserved it.

     “Tell me you have a little sugar left over for me, darling. Stryker doesn’t like them unless they’re extra sweet,” he growled next to my ear.

     The taste of bile rose up in my throat and I pinched my eyes closed.    

     “Any of you seen Tori?” Trench’s voice carried ahead of him around the corner and my eyes opened in relief, but the second his gaze landed on Deuce and his chunky hands wrapped around my middle, Trench paused. He looked positively violent. Stryker, the smug asshole, just smiled and stepped aside to watch the show. He must have known Trench was coming. That conniving bastard. Couldn’t he have saved us the trouble?

     “Get your fuckin’ hands off her right now, Deuce. I thought I made myself clear tonight.” Trench stepped forward and I sighed when his hand gently wrapped around my arm and tugged me away from the burly man. He tucked me behind himself.

     I was about to reach out and touch his shoulder, but Stryker pulled me further back before I could protest. I glared at him and turned back in time to see the confusion cross Deuce’s face as he tried to block Trench’s fist. It was a second too late. His fist connected hard enough with Deuce’s nose that the cracking sound reverberated around the small space and the others sat back and watched in quiet amusement. None of them seemed surprised.

     “Damn, Pres. I’m guessing this is her, Tori?” Zeke, who had remained silent until then, barely looked up from his poker hand to ask the question that hung in the air like static.

     Trench didn’t offer an immediate response. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and spun back to me with fury in his eyes that had me taking a step back and landing against Stryker’s chest once more. I felt like a caged animal with nowhere to run. Trench was in front of me in two steps, bending down and throwing me over his shoulder. I squealed as his hand slapped hard over my ass. The warmth from his contact in this position felt strangely arousing. The men laughed as though this caveman shit was the funniest thing they had ever seen and Trench turned back sharply. The blood rushed to my head with his sudden movement, but I was enjoying the view of his denim covered backside too much to argue that fact.

     “Remember her face, boys. I won’t say it again. Tori is off limits,” he practically growled at the men.

     “Kind of hard to concentrate on her face from this angle, Pres. We’ll have a better chance of recognizing her fine -,” Stryker began.

     “If you fuckin’ finish that sentence, Strike, the next meal you eat will have to be served through a straw. Feel me?”

     Though I couldn’t see more than their feet I imagined they understood his message well enough as the laughter stopped and a silence fell over the room. Somehow Trench’s declaration calmed my nerves and offered temporary relief to my overwhelmed mind. I wished I could say the same for my girlie bits, which caught fire the moment his hand rubbed against the sensitive skin behind my thighs. He bounced me up further on his shoulders and wrapped one arm around my calves to brace me. Trench carried me effortlessly up the stairs and back down the hall to his room. Once inside, I was left breathless and speechless, and nowhere closer to my sandwich, as he dropped me on the bed and started pacing the space in front of me.

     “What the hell were you thinking, Tori?” Trench finally stopped and his sharp tone had me on high alert.  

     “Uh…I was hungry,” I shrugged. “You were gone.”

     “You’re telling me I almost beat the shit out of another brother because you needed a snack?”

     Another brother? His voice boomed and I flinched. That caught his attention. Damn it! I knew better than to show weakness in front of men like Trench. They fed off it, craved it like an addict craves their next fix. Except their drug of choice wasn’t something tangible. What they craved most in this world was power.

     “Jesus, fuck, are you scared of me?” Trench’s voice lowered and his hands relaxed by his side, but I couldn’t look at him. “Up here,” he demanded, but I kept my eyes trained on the floor. His tone softened. “I’m not going to hurt you, Tori. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I was planning to. That’s what you think though, isn’t it?”

     I snorted and instantly regretted it.  

     “For all I know I’m just a bargaining chip.” I whispered.

     That was the fire that lit the fuse. Trench turned and put his fist through the drywall behind him and I crab walked my ass backwards on the mattress until I hit the headboard. This was at least familiar, even if it was scary. I knew rage. I’d seen it countless times from Aaron before. Trench’s knuckles were red and bleeding as he pulled his hand away from the wall. His eyes found mine and the anger seemed to be replaced with a new emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Regret? Pain?

     “Shit! You. Don’t move,” he roared. The door opened and slammed shut behind him and I found myself reliving hell. Alone, tired, hungry, and afraid. At least this wasn’t uncharted territory. I’d survived it before. I could do it again. Maybe.

     I sank back against the headboard and contemplated taking my chances with Aaron, my father, and the rest of the Disciple lot. They would never stop searching for me. I had information they wanted to keep hidden and if I’d had more money when I ran I would have gone a lot farther, a lot sooner. Paul and Aaron knew I would try to leave one day. They made damn sure I only had a couple dollars spending cash at any given time, even going as far as making me show receipts for the minor purchases I made, to ensure I wasn’t tucking it away. Yeah, like an extra two dollars a week was going to send me to Europe before I was too old or too broken to care. It took a hope and a prayer as it was to tuck away the few dollars in tips I’d earned, but failed to report, at Second Circle. I stashed them in an old olive jar in the back of one of the toilets in the women’s bathroom since Aaron searched my personal belongings at least once a week. He came up empty every time and it took me nearly a month to save enough to even matter, but it worked.

     I wanted to wait longer, but I ran out of time. The day I discovered Vita’s body at the club, I knew I would be next. Any distance from the Disciples was better than living under the same roof with Vita’s killers. I thought I would have a better chance at hiding right under their noses, protected by the territorial borders of Pandemonium until I could find Duke. They would anticipate me running long distance, heading to the nearest bus depot where they could track me, not camping out in the neighbor’s backyard. Unfortunately, the plan had only given me borrowed time.

     Pandemonium had no business saving me from Preach and his Disciples. I had no idea what Trench and his club did to make bank, but I doubted he would want to be tied up in the shit Preach was running. It would be better for everyone involved if I left. The only solution to prevent blowback to Trench and his MC and the only real way to save my own ass from certain death.

     I jumped at the sound of the door opening again a few minutes later. Trench’s hands were full and the smell was delicious. My stomach growled in needy anticipation, making him smile. A warm smile that made me wonder what his past held that kept that gorgeous grin from appearing more often.

     “Did you come back to torture me with food,” I whispered and sat back on my legs expectantly. He cringed at my choice of words and I immediately regretted the question. Aaron had starved me before and much worse for smaller offenses than just leaving the safety of our bedroom. Hunger pains weren’t new to me, but I had been spoiled by Sadie over the last few months of employment. She never let me go home empty handed. Always insisted there were leftovers when I knew that wasn’t true. Everything was made-to-order, which meant she asked Stevie to make extra just for me.

     “No, babe. I confiscated Deuce’s take-out as payment for the trouble earlier. He would rather take a shot to the balls than have someone steal his food. The man is stingy as hell,” Trench chuckled. “Hope you like subs,” he said, holding the wrapped sandwiches in one hand, while handing me a cold beer with the other.

     “God, yes. I haven’t had a hoagie in ages and it smells like my favorite - Italian,” I practically drooled, scooting back on the bed when he motioned for me to slide over.

     “I haven’t got a clue, but take what you want.” Trench placed the sandwiches in the middle of the bed and twisted open the cap on his own beer, draining half of it in one pull while I shamelessly watched.   “I need a shower.” He reached behind his back, pulling his shirt up and over his head as I made a concerted effort to look away. Honestly, he had that kind of instantaneous effect on me.

     “What about you? Aren’t you going to eat?”

     “Worried about me again, babe?” He winked. “I’ll eat when I get out.” His eyes drifted lower with blatant perusal of my body, warming me with thoughts of his particular appetite.

     As soon as he disappeared behind the door and the water started, I shamelessly ripped at the deli paper and unwrapped the first sandwich. It dripped with oil and vinegar and the delicious smell of Italian spices. I peeled back the bread to remove the onions and moaned with the first full bite. I leaned down and pulled off my boots with my free hand, unwilling to relinquish my sandwich, sat back against the bed with crossed legs and savored the taste. I didn’t notice the water had stopped or that Trench was leaning against the bathroom doorway watching me as I finished another bite of the warm sandwich and took a long pull from the cold beer. When had I become so complacent?

     He cleared his throat and when I glanced up I nearly choked on the food. The sight of the intimidating man standing before me in nothing more than an oversized towel wrapped loosely around his waist was heart attack inducing. Beads of water clung to his damp skin as a few trickled down his sculpted chest and all I could think of was how thirsty I felt. How much I craved the chance to lick off the remaining drops of water. I was filled with a new hunger, the kind that only he could appease.  

     I swallowed the food with a loud gulp as he sat on the bed in front of me. Oil from the sandwich dripped from my hand to my thigh, but I couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away. The smell of his body wash permeated the space and I wanted to nestle into his chest and inhale deeper. Trench’s heavily hooded eyes watched my own as he stole the beer from my hand and drank slowly. It was a simple thing really, but I felt warmer at the thought of his lips touching the same surface as my own. I wanted them to touch me. To own me.

     Trench leaned over and placed the beer on the floor by his feet. His hands came to rest on either side of my crossed legs, his head bending down slowly so his mouth could take my thumb inside, sucking the oils off with his tongue. Holy shit! A shiver ran through my entire body as his velvet hot tongue worked its way around and released my finger with a loud pop.

     I whimpered. Fucking whimpered with need.

     “Mm. Guess you were right,” he said pulling away and looking me in the eye. “It tastes like Italian.”

     Immobilized by his words and actions, I watched helplessly as Trench stood once more, rounding the bed and rummaging through his dresser for a pair of boxer briefs as though the intimate moment never happened. Clearly, I didn’t affect him the same way. I bit my lower lip to the point of pain. How could he walk away so unaffected when I was a sloppy pile of goo ready to be molded in his hands?

     Trench might very well be the fire to my ice, but together we were a beautiful disaster waiting to happen.