Tori

 

     Trench demolished the small flip phone under his foot in front on me. I had no way of knowing what bullshit had been fed to Trench through the line, but his narrowed expression was a familiar sight. The way he regarded me and pinned me with his accusatory stare, I could only imagine the lies being told on the other end of that conversation. I was already on Trench’s shit list for taking the gun, causing a scene with Aaron in front of the Pandemonium brothers, and inadvertently bringing the Disciples to their doorstep. I didn’t want to believe that Trench would punish me, but his murderous glare was sending red flags up in every direction.

     I’d made a huge mistake letting this man, a stranger, bring me to his compound. How many times did I need to be reminded that men like Aaron and Trench could never be trusted? I should have been the poster child for a Lifetime movie special. The topic, dangerous, unhealthy relationships.

     The man crouched beside me had stuck close to me without touching while Trench walked away to talk to Preacher. One tattooed arm tensed against his knee as he watched Trench destroy the phone. The room felt like it was closing in around me. I couldn’t run, and even if I could, where would I go? My life was destined to be some vicious cycle of submission and escape with frequent interludes of pain and sorrow. If Trench spared my life I needed to come up with a plan to get as far away from this town and these motorcycle clubs as possible.

     Preacher made his intentions clear. He thought death was too good for me. I didn’t deserve the easy escape death would bring. I was as foolish as my mother he’d said and then told me I would suffer more than Vita. That’s when I broke and my breath got stuck in my throat. All this time I’d assumed it had been Erik that murdered her, but Preacher gave Aaron credit. My own father wanted me scared for my life. I knew why Aaron killed for the Disciples before. As their Enforcer I could at least speculate. People who owed money to Preacher, informants selling information to the Feds, personal threats against members of the club, all seemed likely reasons for their executions, but not Vita. She was an innocent player in this lifestyle, guilty only of falling in love with a criminal. Preacher’s proud admission about Aaron’s involvement with her murder made me physically ill, the sandwiches from hours ago threatening to make a reappearance as I recalled the way I found Vita.

     During those early days of captivity with the Disciples, when Aaron had me convinced, perhaps brainwashed was a better description, into believing he would protect me from my father and the club, he was simply cloaking dark secrets that would have destroyed me until he was sure of his position in the club. All that time I had been forced into the arms of a killer, sleeping with a cold-blooded murderer, and helpless to stop any of it. I swallowed back another wave of nausea.

     Trench started in my direction. His mask of control was firmly back in place when he nodded for the large stranger to leave us. I launched up from my seated position and ran to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time to empty the meager contents of my stomach before it was too late.

     I felt Aaron’s reach from afar. The hands that once lulled me into a satisfied slumber, the ones that drew blood for crimes against the Disciples, had been the same hands that stole Vita’s last breath and the same ones that would likely take mine. I leaned over again and heaved painfully when nothing remained. I had been broken before, but I was completely shattered now. All those times Aaron had marked me with his closed fists could have been my ending too.  

     Trench spoke in hushed tones to someone on the other side of the bathroom door, but I couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on their conversation. I rested my clammy forehead against one of my arms as it draped across the toilet seat. I caught one final glimpse of the stranger looking at me before he turned and walked away, leaving Trench and I alone.

     My tear-filled eyes found his once more. He remained calm and quiet, but I was dying for him to get on with it. Whatever it was. Aaron never hesitated with his punishments. He dragged them out at times for his own sick pleasure, but he was swift in his judgments against me. What Trench was doing was agony.

     “Say something,” I finally broke.

     He unfolded his arms, ran water over a washcloth on the counter, wrung it out, and sat down on the cold tile next to me. He leaned forward to wipe the sweat from my forehead in gentle strokes before settling back against the cabinet doors beneath the sink.

     “Actually, I was hoping you could fill in the blanks for me, babe.”

     “What do you want to know?” I paused for a moment. “You know how this shit works better than I do. I honestly don’t know where to start or what to share. I open my mouth to say anything and I’ve worn out my usefulness.” My fear presenting itself as anger. The kind of frustrated anger that earned me more bruises than help in the past. “Either let me walk or get on with my punishment. The anticipation is killing me.”

     Trench regarded me as though I had grown two heads.

     “I won’t ever punish or abuse you, Tori. I’ll let you go if that’s what you want when this blows over, but I will never lay a hand on you in anger. Understand?”

     “Does any of it matter? My fate is sealed, Trench.” 

     He smiled, but it wasn’t the same warm and inviting grin from before. “Not your fate, Tori. Only Aaron’s and your father’s. Think of your current situation as witness protection without the new alias. You’re being held in protective custody. Mine.”

     I snorted in disbelief, but Trench was past giving a shit about my flippant attitude. What did I expect? That Trench would coddle me like a scared child? No, and if I was being honest, I didn’t want to be paraded around on his arm, a display of mercy and pity for the pathetic girl who needed saving. Not that he would. I mean, how much empathy could the President of a one-percenter motorcycle club have in his reserve?

     Meeting Trench was never meant to have a fairytale ending. There would be no prince on a white horse swooping in to rescue me, from Aaron, from Preacher, or even from my own self-loathing, but was it too much to wish for a king on chrome to restore my faith in men? I really was a naïve fool. A licensed therapist would have trouble cataloging all my categories of crazy. Since my mother’s death, there had never been an occasion to feel safe, to feel like part of a family. And still, I wanted to believe Trench. That he would protect me from my enemies, because they were his enemies too.

     “And where will you hide me, Warden?” I glowered, but realized Trench didn’t deserve my indignant behavior, no matter how pissed-off and scared I felt. He hadn’t raised a hand against me, called me ugly names, or threatened punishment. He’d only offered safety.

     “I think the current situation works well enough for now.” He stood up and offered his hand to me, which I gratefully accepted. “I considered giving you your own room, but as it turns out I need the extra space for a few brothers heading into town this evening. It looks like you’re stuck with me a little while longer. You okay with that?”

     Warmth spread through my belly at the thought and I squeezed my eyes shut. We’d barely met and I felt safer with him than with anyone else. How could that be possible? Trench released me as soon as he was sure I could stand on my own, leaned over to grab an empty glass near the sink and filled it with tap water before handing it to me.

     “If you need a toothbrush, there should be a spare under the sink. I’ll have Mama Jo send up something solid to help your stomach. You’re free to come and go as you like, Tori, but I have one request.” When I didn’t put up an argument, he proceeded. “Stick close to the clubhouse. I have some business with the boys, downstairs. There will be plenty of brothers around if you need anything, but you’ll be safest inside for now.”

     “Thanks.” I set the glass on the counter and rocked on my feet, unsure what else to do. Trench broke the tension with a grin. He turned to walk away and already I could feel the anxiety building once again. It happened whenever he left me alone. I wasn’t sure if that made me lame or just plain needy, but I couldn’t deny the push and pull between us.

     “Oh, and Tori,” he turned back as he reached the bedroom door. I looked up in time to watch him pull the extra Glock from his waistband. “If you need this to feel safe, babe, then I’m not doing a good enough job of proving myself. I plan to change that.” Trench winked and carefully placed the gun on the dresser before closing the door behind him.

     All this time I had been imagining all the ways he would punish me for taking the weapon and he just left it with me, a near stranger, who was bringing his club more attention and trouble than I was probably worth. I stared at the pistol in confusion. Either he was giving me his trust or he was testing me so I could earn it. I was going with the latter, but my gut begged me to have the faith of a turnip seed in this man.

     I washed my face and brushed my teeth in front of the mirror, taking my time to catalogue Trench’s things spread across the bathroom sink. I rinsed my mouth and placed my new toothbrush in the holder beside his own. How could something so simple as toothbrushes sharing a space together feel almost intimate? A soft knock sounded at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.

     I opened the door, face-to-face with a beautiful young woman, breathing a quick sigh of relief that it was not Jinx. That woman was going to be a problem, but this one, she was Jinx’s polar-opposite in nearly every way. Petite with the silkiest black hair I’d ever seen pulled into a ponytail that ran most of the way down her back. Her makeup was minimal, but it was clear from her flawless porcelain skin that she didn’t need anything extra to catch attention. She smiled brightly and held out a plate full of food.

     “Hi, I’m Aimee, Mama Jo’s daughter. We thought you might be hungry.”

     I was staring. It was hard not to, the woman was striking. The contrast of her smooth, pale skin next to the ebony hair and her rosy lip color reminded me of an actress straight out of a 1950’s cinema. She could have been Grace Kelly reincarnated with darker hair.

     “Um, thank you, Aimee. I’m Tori, by the way, but I’m guessing you got the scoop already.”

     I opened the door the rest of the way, scanning up and down the hall for anyone else, then accepted the plate. After being sick I thought the last thing I would want to see was food, but the delicious smell settled my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last homecooked meal I’d had.

     “There’s plenty more if you want. Mom cooks for an army and spoils the men around here like they were her own children. She says all good men deserve a hot meal after a long day of work.” Aimee pretended to gag, but then laughed at her own humor. She had an infectious laugh, that amongst a group of burly, brooding men, was a welcome distraction from my current situation.

     “They’re definitely spoiled if they eat like this regularly. Ten minutes ago, I didn’t want to think about food, and now, my stomach is jonesing for this soup. My thanks to the chef,” I smiled back.

     “You should come down and tell her yourself. She’s dying to meet the woman who can keep Trench’s attention for more than a couple hours.” Aimee leaned in conspiratorially, but whispered loud enough that anyone within a few feet would have heard. “Honestly, I think most of us are.” She stood straight again and gave me a once over. “I mean, you’re obviously beautiful, but Trench is a fortress. I’ve been hanging around this club most of my life and I’ve never seen him take a liking to anyone that wasn’t all tits and ass. Nothing going on upstairs, if you know what I’m saying.” She tapped a fingertip gently against her temple. “In fact, I think most of these knuckleheads prefer their women to be dumb, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

     I could tell right away Aimee was fun. She had a megawatt smile to go with her honest personality. I could appreciate that. She must have noticed my amused grin because she stopped talking and shook her head.

     “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been told once I start talking it takes a miracle to shut me up.” She shrugged.

     “Don’t apologize. It’s nice to see some people still smile.” I sniffed at the soup in my hands and enjoyed the warmth heating them from the bottom. “I think I’ll join you downstairs. It beats sitting here alone.”

     I held up a finger to let her know I needed a second. I stared at the Glock on the dresser and contemplated leaving it behind. Trench wanted me to trust him to take care of things. In the end, my fear won and I pocketed the gun with my free hand while I balanced the bowl in the other. I stepped outside the room and closed the door behind me, realizing Aimee had seen me take the gun. I opened my mouth to try and explain. She shook her head in silent reply and patted the bottom of her shirt, displaying the imprint of her own weapon. Her understanding made me relax. If I had to be here, maybe I could at least make a friend.

     As we passed through the main room, I expected to find men huddled around the bar, laid back watching one of the giant televisions, or generally hanging out. There was none of that. In fact, I only caught sight of two men in cuts, one I recognized as Trench’s VP, Clutch. The other I didn’t know, but both were sitting on a nearby couch with a map laid out across the coffee table in front of them. They must have been deep in conversation about important matters because neither one even glanced in our direction, too engrossed with the map before them.

     From this distance, and without his intimidating, laser-stare focused on me, I could finally take a closer look at Clutch. He was attractive from afar. His dark hair was short, but relaxed with that mussed-up style that drew so many women’s attention, in the way one might imagine running their hands through those dark strands and gripping on for leverage. I had no doubt the sexy biker had no trouble finding willing ladies to satisfy his specific hunger, but all I could see was a dangerous man. Clutch didn’t have any visible piercings, but what he lacked in hardware, he more than made up for in body ink. There wasn’t a free inch of skin along either of his arms and I was willing to place bets that underneath those shirt sleeves were probably more of the same.

     “He’s hot, right?”

     I squeaked, embarrassed at being caught staring, when Aimee’s elbow nudged me on the right and the sound of her voice garnered the men’s attention from the center of the room. Aimee laughed and wiggled her fingers toward Clutch’s narrowed gaze. Great. He was back to beast mode…again. My cheeks heated and I picked up the pace, passing Aimee on the way to the kitchen and nearly spilling my bowl of soup.

     “You’re going to be tons of fun, Tori,” she hooted as we crossed the space in marathon time.

     “What does that mean?”

     “You were totally checking him out.”

     “What? No, no, no! It’s nothing like that. Clutch freaks me out.”

     “It’s no big deal, honey. The man is fucking grade-A. I’ve been trying to get his attention for years, but I think my mother has warned him off,” Aimee said the word ‘mother’ a little louder and winked to the older woman’s back standing in front of the stove.

     “Aimee, watch your bloody mouth.”

     “Tori, meet my mother, Jo. Mama, meet Tori, Trench’s lady.”

     “Oh, I know who she is,” Jo smiled at me. “You can call me Jo, MJ, or Mama Jo. Around here, most of the guys just call me Mama.” She chuckled. “And the way I have to stay on them and look after this bunch of hooligans, it’s a damn surprise I didn’t give birth to em’ all.”

     Mama Jo had a smaller frame and delicate features too, making it easy to see the similarities between herself and her daughter. Age now highlighted the undertones of midnight black hair with a silver smile. Her brown eyes held so much warmth, making me relax a little more as I took in the scene around us. Pots of all shapes and sizes held boiling contents on the stove top and the oven light reflected off the clean floor. The entire space was worlds apart from the previous night when men dominated the space with cigarette smoke and empty beer bottles. Now, it smelled heavenly, completely removed and out of place in an MC.

     “Sit, sit. You didn’t like it? You’re not one of those Vegans, are you? Not that I care. It just means I need to make some changes to the menu.” Mama Jo frowned and pointed to the untouched bowl in my hands as she pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to take a seat.

     “Oh, no, just the opposite actually. It smells delicious. I thought if the food was any indication of the company, I could use a little of both. If that’s alright with you.”

     I set the bowl on the table in front of me and settled into the seat. Aimee took the chair to my left while Mama Jo grinned, wiping her hands on her apron, before she spooned two more servings for herself and Aimee. She placed a bowl in front of Aimee and took the empty seat to my right.

     “It’s not often I get to sit down and chat with the girls. I miss it. And, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one of Trench’s girls. Especially one as beautiful as you.”

     “Mama, stop it. You’re making her blush.” Aimee picked up her spoon and graciously pointed out the blooming shade of red on my cheeks.

     “No, it’s fine,” I lied. “I’m just not used to compliments I guess and I wouldn’t exactly call myself Trench’s girl.”

     “Then you must be blind, honey. The boys already told me about the way he’s been storming through here and busting heads over you. Whenever men start acting like that, I know I’ll be planning a wedding soon. About damn time, if you ask me. I’d like to see a couple babies running around before I take my dirt nap.”

     I swallowed the last bite quickly, glad the soup had plenty of time to cool so I wouldn’t burn my throat as the broth went down rather unexpectedly. Wedding? Babies? I only met this man a couple days ago and this kind, albeit seriously delusional, old lady was talking about marriage.

     “Jesus, Mama. Are you trying to scare her off? She hasn’t been here two days and you’re talking about weddings like they happen all the time around here.” Aimee took another bite of soup and swallowed. “Which they don’t by the way. I’ve only been to one Pandemonium wedding in my twenty-one years and it wasn’t exactly anything to write about.”

     “Pfft. Anything’s possible, Ames. Your daddy and I were only together a short time before you came along.”

     “Oh, sweet Lord. Could we not talk about yours and daddy’s sex life at the table? Or ever? Cause that would suit me just fine.” Aimee imitated a chill running down her back and I laughed.

     It felt good to laugh.

     “I take it your husband is a member of the MC?” I asked, plucking a warm piece of homemade bread from the center of the table. Butter melted in my mouth around every bite. Mama Jo’s hand stopped, spoon still suspended in front of her face, while Aimee sighed loudly beside me. My stomach dipped as I realized my error.

     “He was, yes, but my sweet Anthony passed away a while ago from colon cancer,” Jo replied and I could hear the sorrow in her voice. It was clear she loved her husband.

     “I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I had no idea.”

     Mama Jo patted my hand on the table and spoke with a grin, even though it was strained. “Don’t be. How could you know?” She squared her shoulders a bit higher and resumed eating as though she had offered the same response a million times before. “My old man was wonderful. The boys called him Monster, on account of how scary he could be. Of course, we never saw it.” Jo looked across the table to Aimee and smiled. “To us, he was the world, a giant teddy bear. A strong man with even stronger family values, but nobody would have guessed all that sugar was hiding underneath his scars and tattoos.”

     The three of us ate in silence for a few minutes before I started again.

     “Before, you said you’d never met one of Trench’s girlfriends before. Have there been a lot?” I asked shyly, but ducked my head to avoid eye contact while I pushed a couple stray carrots around in the bowl. Why was I acting like a jealous teenager?

     It was Aimee’s turn to choke on her food. The garbled sound made me reach over and pat her on the back repeatedly until she was breathing normal again.

     “I think you misunderstood my mother, Tori.” Aimee took a healthy gulp of sweet tea before leveling me with a stare. “Trench has been with plenty of women, but he’s never kept one around, if you hear what I’m saying.” Her eyes questioned me.

     “So, he’s not the relationship type?”

     “I think that’s a nice way of putting it,” Mama Jo pushed away from the table and started to clear the plates. “Trench is a good man, but he’s so busy running the club that he forgets to care for himself too. He’s a bit like his father that way.”

     I joined Mama Jo at the sink with a couple empty glasses and offered a hand in drying while she washed.

     “I see.”

     “I don’t think you do yet, honey, but I hope you’ll stick around long enough that you will. His daddy was tough, but fair. His mama though, was a real piece of shit.”

     “Mama,” Aimee’s warning tone crept behind us as she stirred the contents in a couple pots. It was amusing the way both women cursed, but then scolded the other when she did it.

     “Oh, hush. Tori needs to understand these things if she plans on being here for a while,” Jo argued.

     I wasn’t sure sticking around was in my plans, though this place was easily becoming better than any other home I’d had for a long time. Except, it wasn’t home. Not for me. I needed to remember I was little more than an annoying visitor with too much baggage to most of these men. The only reason they were keeping their opinions to themselves was because of my temporary status.

     “Trench’s mother was an addict and a piss-poor excuse for a mama and a wife. No matter what she’d done, his father stuck by her until the end. Took a lot of crap for it too. I think Trench is scared to let someone get that close to him. Watching his father love a woman so deep that he suffered for it. He thinks love makes a man weak.”

     “What makes a man weak?” Trench’s voice carried into the room and I barely caught the plate I was drying before it shattered to the floor. Did he hear any of our conversation?

     “My cooking, dear.” Mama Jo didn’t miss a beat as she dipped the next plate in the soapy water and turned to wink in his direction.

     “Tell me something I didn’t know.” Trench walked over and placed a kiss on Jo’s forehead before turning those gorgeous eyes on me.

     I wasn’t just falling for Trench. I was fucking drowning.