Tori
My situation went from bad to worse and at least one hundred shades of crazy in a matter of minutes. I had worked so hard to maintain my anonymity over the last four months and within a couple short hours of meeting Trench, I was under Pandemonium protection, Preacher’s runaway princess, and the Disciples knew exactly where to find me. Trench might as well have paraded me around wearing a neon sign. I wanted to believe Trench could keep me safe, but I had serious doubts that this would end in any other way than with me taking a ride back to hell for my date with death.
By helping me, Trench delivered a challenge to Aaron and Preacher. One they would answer. I was royally screwed. Nothing short of surrendering myself to the Disciples would stop my father now. I didn’t care if my crazy mother once trusted Pandemonium or whoever the hell Duke was to her. That man was dead. Any agreement my mother and Duke made together was null and void in my opinion. I never agreed to be the pawn that started an MC war between Pandemonium and the Disciples.
I paled the minute I saw Castro. I was certain Trench had marched me to my executioner, complete with new wrapping for delivery. I never expected Trench to lay claim. To tell Castro I was Pandemonium property now. My knees nearly buckled beneath the tension and I had been grateful that Trench had not released my hand. It felt like the only tether to an already weak lifeline. Straight from the frying pan and into the fryer, Tori.
Women didn’t have a long shelf life in an MC. We were disposable goods to be discarded once we lost our flavor or appeal, easily replaced with newer versions. Every one of the women that came through the Disciples’ doors believed at one time or another she could hook and catch her very own bad boy. Their chances were as limited as their choice in clothing.
Only those women who were married to a club member or claimed by one of the men as his old lady were ever granted club protection. I had never fit into either category, but I was Preacher’s only daughter. Blood was thicker than water in the truest sense. My place with the Disciples was next to being grandfathered into hell. Clutch was right to hate me. If the roles were reversed, I might not be as accommodating in Trench’s shoes.
I should have turned and walked away when I saw Pandemonium standing outside Mike’s garage, even taken my chances with the red-haired devil trucker, because this, was bad. The way Trench and his brothers stared at me was more frightening than being under Castro’s lethal glare. At least with the Disciples I knew my fate. I’d suffered at Aaron’s hands more times than I could recount and my father would hand out the same punishment when it was his turn.
“Were you going to tell me? Seems like useful information.” Trench finally broke the awkward silence. So much for waiting to talk.
“Useful? As in, knowing would have made the decision to turn me over easier. Favor or not?” I shot back.
“What fucking favor, Trench? Somebody better start giving me answers or I’m going to hand-deliver this bitch back to daddy right now.” Clutch’s fists were balled by his sides while LoJack leaned against the brick wall, eerily calm as he took in the scene unfolding in front of him.
Clutch wore the same cut as Trench, but that was the extent of their similarities. In fact, they were polar-opposites in style and appearance. Trench was tall with light colored hair and honey eyes, while Clutch was stockier with short black hair and striking blue eyes. Eyes which looked like they could cut through glass with one stare. The effect made him seem darker, both inside and out. A few visible tattoos, void of any real color except black, crept up the side of his neck. Old English letters ran across the tops of his fingers, but I couldn’t make out which letters since he wore heavy silver and graphite rings on several fingers that covered most of the ink beneath. The brooding man even wore darker jeans than the rest of the brothers, though they sat comfortably on his muscular physique.
“This.” Trench seemed hesitant to release my hand. I was a flight risk, but he had to know there was no way I would have gotten more than ten feet running in these heeled boots. Even if I did, I stood the very real possibility of running straight into Castro. Trench produced the onyx ring from his pocket, handing it over to Clutch for inspection.
“Why the hell am I looking at women’s jewelry?” Clutch questioned.
“It’s not the jewelry that matters. Read the inscription,” was Trench’s only response.
Clutch read the words tucked inside the band before passing the ring off to LoJack who had pushed off the building.
“Where’d you get this?” LoJack asked. Trench opened his mouth to respond, but I interrupted and answered instead. I was tired of being talked about while I stood right there.
“It belonged to my mother. Duke Hadden gave it to her and I came to Sparrow Creek to find him.”
Both men regarded me like I had grown two heads. Trench stood beside me with arms crossed, nodding to the men, as if saying ‘exactly.’
“How did your mother know Duke?” Clutch asked, his voice still guarded, but at least slightly calmer than before.
“I wish I knew. I didn’t even know Preacher was my father until I was sixteen. My mother told me my father was dead.”
“Can’t blame her.” LoJack muttered under his breath and shrugged when we all looked at him. “What? It’s true. I hate that bastard.”
“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” I said. “Apparently, my mother was trying to shield me.” I sighed and hugged myself tightly despite the warm day. I wished she were here now to answer my questions. “I appreciate your help with Castro, Trench. You might have given me a head start. I’ll head out after dark.”
“You really think it would be that simple, huh?” Trench unfolded his arms and ducked his head, getting eye level with me. “Baby, the Disciples will track you. Castro left quietly because he was outgunned. If he had come across us alone,” Trench gestured between us, “you would already be on your way back to daddy and I would be full of holes in a shallow grave.” He looked pissed. “So, next time you withhold that kind of shit from me, you and I are going to have bigger problems with one another. You feel me?”
I swallowed hard.
“Next time? If all that’s true, then I’m already dead. Why not just give me over?” I practically shouted. That garnered the attention of all three men rather effectively.
“She’s got a good point,” Clutch shrugged, but managed to look apologetic at me. Trench shot him a deadly glare that suggested Clutch’s opinion was no longer welcome.
“Because, sweetheart, I don’t run from the Disciples or anyone else. They would have figured out where you were hiding eventually. Christ, you left their compound and came to the next nearest town.” Trench stretched his neck from one side to another, rolling his shoulders. “That was reckless. You’re staying with us until we can work out a new identity and get you out of town without being followed.”
“You can’t be serious?” My fingernails dug into my hips from holding so tightly.
“Babe, I’m always serious. You’d be smart to remember that. Let’s go. I need to sleep off this fucking headache you’ve created.”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
“Not tonight, sweetheart, but I’m down for whatever you want after I think this through a bit,” Trench goaded and the two men with us chuckled as he reached for my hand and I pulled back. “Look, babe. You can make this easy for all of us or hard for you. Either way, you’re coming with us until we sort this shit out. Duke owed your mother a favor. I don’t leave debts unpaid. Consider yourself lucky you found us when you did.”
I dug my heels in and refused to budge. This right here. This was the real Trench, the man I expected him to be. Hard-assed and unfeeling. Not the giving type he pretended to be earlier. I had no intention of taking my chances with another group of Neanderthals, no plans of making my situation any more problematic than it already was. I would just be writing my ticket for more abuse and disrespect if I followed Trench.
We stared at one another for a beat and I watched from the corner of my eye as Clutch and LoJack started laughing at our standoff before turning the corner and walking towards the front of the garage. It looked like his brothers weren’t going to be much help, which left Trench and I alone. He snorted in irritation, his nostrils flaring as he came closer, bent down and lifted me behind the knees before tossing me not so delicately over his large shoulder. What the hell? This was kidnapping. Hadn’t I just escaped one prison? I tried to squirm and kick, but his hold made my attempts useless. I sagged in defeat as I watched the gravel passing below me. Fuck, what was it with men going all caveman on women?
A short distance later and he stopped, the sight of motorcycle tires now visible from my awkward position. Trench shifted my weight effortlessly, as he guided my body down the front of his chest until my feet touched the ground once more. One hand pressed against my back holding me firmly to him as if to say, “there’s nowhere to go.” I glanced around on either side of us and resigned myself to fate. There were no other options, unless I counted the one that included me being tackled by any one of the road-weary men currently waiting for us. I rolled my eyes and sighed in exasperation of my constant lack of choices. Trench lifted my chin with his free hand, demanding my eyes.
“Tori, I may be a ruthless son-of-a-bitch, but I’m not giving you over to those sick fucks. You can thank me later.”
When hell freezes over, I thought, but decided to keep my opinion to myself. It was one thing to challenge him in front of Clutch and LoJack, but I wouldn’t be making any new friends if I pushed him in front of his entire MC. Once bitten, twice shy. He released me and placed his helmet over my head, securing the strap in place before mounting his bike. The display was meant for the group. He wanted the men around us to know I was under his care. I knew the score with dominant men, and I wasn’t trying to win extra attention by correcting him and doing it myself.
Trench turned to his brothers, a silent conversation taking place between them with nothing but nods in response. I kept my gaze on Trench, when Clutch rolled his own bike to our right, LoJack sliding in on Trench’s left. I had a moment of unease as Clutch’s eyes raked over me again with distrust, when I realized Trench had already mounted his motorcycle and everyone was waiting and looking to me.
“Dammit Tori, get on.”
Putting my blind faith in Trench was suicidal at best. I was terrified what Clutch and the other members of Pandemonium might do to me, but the alternative, surrendering myself to the Disciples, was worse. The Disciples wanted to kill me and I couldn’t be sure Pandemonium felt any different. Yet, before I even extended my hand to Trench I knew I was going to take the ride.
I ignored his offered hand, placed my own on his shoulders, and flung my leg over the seat, the same way I had done a thousand times with Aaron. Only, this felt better. I felt the rumble of Trench’s growl before he reached up and took both my hands in his, securing them together around his front. His silent gesture was as formidable as any spoken word. Do. Not. Move.
Trench was going to be the death of me, but if I was going to die, why not go out with a bang?