Trench

 

     “Trench, baby. Wake up.”

     I groaned as the feel of lips, wet and warm, moved across my neck just before I felt her bite down. What the hell? I opened my eyes, blinking against the daylight that was peeking in from the front windows, and realizing I wasn’t in my own bed. Hell, I wasn’t even in my own room. I sat up abruptly, my feet hitting the floor with a thud, and my movements rolling the strange woman from my lap to the floor below. She was topless and eyeing me seductively. More importantly, she was not Tori.

     “Shit.” The room spun and my head throbbed from the sudden movement. I leaned against the back of the couch and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was nursing a hangover the size of Texas in the belly of my clubhouse walls. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been so drunk. Glancing down, I sighed in relief. At least my clothes were still intact.

     “Come on, baby. Let’s take the afterparty to your room.” The blonde pushed between my knees and ran her fake pink nails up the outside of my thighs, her tits resting against my stomach as the remnants of hard liquor resurfaced with every syllable she spoke.

     My room. Tori. Fuck! I peeled her hands away from me and stood up.

     “Not going to happen.” I groaned against the rush of blood that was finding its way through my tired limbs and growing increasingly irritated with the woman who couldn’t take a hint. Instead of huffing at my refusal, she pushed on.

      “I’ve got a cure for your hangover, hon.” She rose to her knees in front of me and fidgeted with the buckle on my belt, which only served to piss me off more. I grabbed her wrist and halted her progress.

     “I. Said. No. I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding someone else to keep you company,” I offered before stepping back and going in search of a bottle of water. There was one in my bedroom, in the same place I should have been, but was now dreading.

     I took the stairs slower than usual, every step feeling like it would be my last. I found my door unlocked and I cringed. It would be my fault if anything happened to her. Sleeping with nothing more than a flimsy wooden door, unlocked even, separating her from a raucous crowd of drunk and belligerent men. I fucked up. My stomach dropped when I pushed the door open and found the room empty and the bed unmade. Tori wasn’t there and she wasn’t in the bathroom either. Her backpack was still sitting on top of the bedspread, which meant she didn’t run off, but that knowledge did nothing to calm me.

     “Damn, my head hurts.” I squinted my eyes in pain and reached for the half-empty bottle of water from Tori’s side of the bed, downing it in a few short seconds. It wouldn’t be enough to sober up, but it was a start. I turned on my heel, determined to find her before my head exploded, then panicked when I noticed my gun, the one she found and had been carrying for protection, lay untouched on the dresser.

     I hoped she’d had enough good sense to stay away from the party last night. I didn’t remember seeing her come down. I leaned on the railing outside my room, my blurred vision combing over the scene below, looking for any signs that Tori was passed out with the rest of them, when the first smell hit me. Normally, I loved the smell of sizzling bacon and maple syrup, but this morning it caught my attention for a completely different reason and reminded me why I didn’t binge drink anymore. I trudged back down the stairs and past the main room towards the obnoxious, nauseating odor, angry that I couldn’t even enjoy it. Mama Jo wasn’t scheduled to come in today. She would have been furious to see the mess we’d made.

     The sound of a man and woman laughing floated from the kitchen and raised the hair on the back of my neck, every muscle in my body grew tight with irritation. I knew that beautiful sound, but it shouldn’t have been echoed by any man besides me. I turned the corner and stood still as I watched Reaper and Tori laughing together with their backs to me. Tori stood over the stove top frying bacon while Reaper attempted to flip pancakes on the griddle next to her. The maniac flipped one so high in the air it bounced off the ceiling and landed in the sink atop a pile of dirty plates and glasses.

     Tori answered with full-belly laughter, the back of her hand covering her mouth as her profile came into view. Reaper resembled a teenage boy trying to impress his crush, shrugging at her humor, and pouring another generous portion of batter onto the griddle like he could do this all fucking day.

     “You suck at this, you know that, right?” Tori told him as her laughter calmed.

     “Well, I can’t be great at everything, doll. I’m terrific at what counts.” He winked and waggled his suggestive eyebrows in her direction. Motherfucker! Was he making a pass at her?

     “What the hell is this?” I yelled into the kitchen and tried to ignore the resulting sharp pain in my temples. My hands were fisted tightly by my sides, ready to take on Reaper. Hangover or not.

     Tori jumped, but Reaper was calm as hell as he turned in the direction of my voice and smirked. Did he think this shit was funny? Brothers didn’t encroach on another brother’s old lady without severe punishment. Except, Tori wasn’t my old lady.

     “What’s it look like? We’re making breakfast, you lush. Though, you’re probably not getting pancakes. Edible ones, anyway.”

     Tori glanced from Reaper and back to me. All signs of humor now erased with my sudden appearance.

     “That’s not what I was talking about, Reap, and you know it. Something you want to tell me, brother?” I stalked forward.

     Sensing my anger, Reaper set down the spatula, wiped his hands over the front of his jeans, and turned his full body towards me. He leaned against the counter crossing his arms and ankles in a relaxed posture.

     “Not particularly, but if there’s something you need to get off your chest, Pres, then don’t let me stop you.” Reaper challenged back.

     “Stop it, both of you,” Tori interjected while pulling bacon from the hot pan and transferring it piece by piece to the waiting rack on the counter. “Reaper was just being friendly. I had the bright idea to make breakfast for the guys this morning. Thought you could all use it to sober up after last night.” She shot me an accusatory stare that went straight to my chest. I knew then she had seen me with the other woman. We were laying in the direct line of sight of the stairs. It would have been impossible to miss. Shit, shit, shit. “Reaper overestimated his skills at making flap jacks.” She tried to hold in another laugh, but ended up snorting, which caused Reaper to raise his brows at her and join in. To her statement about his cooking skills, he only shrugged.

     “I might have exaggerated the truth a little, but you’ve got to admit I’m entertaining at least.”

     “That you are,” Tori agreed and their little back and forth banter had me seeing red. It was like I wasn’t in the room. I was invisible.

     “We need to talk.” I reached for Tori’s arm and hesitated. I was torn between my dominant position within the club and the need to make her feel safe around me. She seemed to think it over for a second and thankfully, nodded her agreement. I wasn’t going to have this discussion with Reaper in the room.     “Reaper can finish without you. Can’t you Reap?” I narrowed my eyes, begging him to decline as Tori unlaced the apron string around her back and handed the girly thing to Reaper with a smile.

     “Sure, Pres. I can manage not to burn the clubhouse down while you two talk. Bout fucking time, brother.” He snickered and picked up the tongs. As soon as she stepped away from him, I wrapped my fingers around hers, pulling her quickly away from the kitchen and up the stairs.

     “Trench, slow down,” she argued, but we were almost there.

     “I’m done going slow with you,” I responded.

     The room held just enough light from the lamp in the corner for me to see as I released her inside and shut the door behind us with the heel of my boot.

     “I guess that means we’re back to playing hostage takeover again? One minute you say I’m not safe, then the next you tell me I can come and go as I please. Which is it?” Tori’s arms crossed her chest, only serving to push up those luscious mounds underneath my thread-bare t-shirt, further spurring my hunger. I stepped into her space and locked onto those heart-stopping eyes.

     “If you were my hostage, do you really think I would be sharing a room and a bed with you?” I inched closer until I could feel the brush of her arms against my pounding chest.

     “Sharing would imply two people using the same thing. You didn’t use your room or your bed last night. Or me.” Tori’s voice faltered for a moment before she cleared her throat and continued. Always trying to be strong. “Besides, plenty of men hold women against their will without literally chaining them up, Trench. Maybe your methods are different, but your intentions -,” she tried to continue, but her voice stuck on the last part.

     “Look at me, Tori.” I carefully took her chin between my fingers and pushed into her space, drawing out each syllable to make sure she heard me clearly. “I. Am. Not. Him.” I hated that Aaron or any other man held that kind of power over her, but I would never be compared to those bastards or walk in their tainted shadows.

     “Then what do you want from me?” That was the million-dollar question. What did I want from Tori, with her? I stood, towering above her, frustrated that I didn’t have a definitive answer for her sake or my own. “I know what Clutch wants, but what about you? Huh? How about I just make it simple for you. I consider the debt paid in full, whatever it was between my mom and your dad. It’s done. Over. Drop me off at the nearest bus station and walk away.”

     “How do you know what Clutch wants? Have you been talking with him too?” Damn. Was nothing sacred around here anymore? I go off on a binge for one night and my brothers are all over her with heartfelt conversation.

     “He told me, that’s how. And, trust me, he is on board with this plan.”

     “Is that what you really want, Tori? To leave? Do you think you’ll be safe from men like Preacher and Aaron if you run?”

     Tori had not considered all the resources her father and Aaron would employ to try and find her. They were power-hungry lunatics. She was still under the naïve impression that with enough miles between them and a few physical changes to her appearance she stood a fighting chance.

     “I know I don’t want to be your pet project, good deed, or fucking community service venture.”

     Her long, delicate fingernail poked at my chest and I couldn’t resist taking a taste. She probably tasted salty and sweet from her time in the kitchen this morning. I wrapped my hand around her finger and pulled it to my lips, kissing the soft pad of her fingerprint, shocking her into silence.

     “Then what do you want, babe? And, before you answer that question with another smartass response, remember this. I’ll know if you’re lying. Your eyes tell me everything.”