TARA

Tommy left just before noon, rather reluctantly, but he promised he'd be back by eight to take me to dinner. Crystal had me start doing inventory after lunch, so I've been cooped up in the room behind the bar, the one I slept in the first night I came here, for hours now, checking all the boxes and crates of liquor against Crystal's ledgers. Her handwriting is hard to read, and her inventory system is so complicated I'm still not sure I understand it fully.

It's nearly eight and there's still no sign of Tommy. The music's already playing, and I'm sure one of the girls is already dancing, but I don't know which one, since I can't see the stage from here.

But I can see the mean looking older biker who came in about in hour ago very clearly. Ava and Lola avoided even looking at him, but Simone spoke to him for awhile, acting all coy and womanly, like she was trying too seduce him. He sent her away curtly. He's in his forties, his dark hair beginning to recede, and he keeps glancing at me like he wants to say something. I don't like him. He makes the whole room tense.

Crystal is behind the bar and she talks to him from time to time, but their exchanges are always brief, followed by long minutes of silence. I wish Tommy would come already. I want to get away from the club tonight, kiss him some more, maybe let him undress me again. Sure I panicked before, but his lips on my skin, his hands caressing my breasts and my nipples is pretty much all I've been thinking about since this morning. The fear's still there, sure, but it's not all there is. Not by a long shot.

Tommy walks into the club just as I'm yet again revisiting all that happened this morning, and I very nearly drop the bottle of Jack I'm holding. The older biker gets off his stool and meets Tommy halfway. I hear none of what they're saying, but it doesn't look like a happy meeting. Tommy's face is a stone mask, only his eyes alive with anger akin to the one I saw there last night, right before he beat that other biker to the ground for me.

He says something and points to the room I'm in, and then they're both coming towards me. The strange man enters first and flashes me a mean look. "Get."

And I trip over my own feet as I scurry to obey.

"I'll be right out," Tommy assures me, calming me a little.

The door closes behind me, but I can still hear their raised voices through it, especially when there's a lull in the music. I shouldn't eavesdrop, but that man sounds so angry. I have to stay here and make sure Tommy's alright.

* * *

TOMMY

"What the fuck happened with Slim last night, Tommy?" Shade is practically yelling. "And why do I have to wait for you? That's not how it works. You come when I call."

I've avoided all his calls today, and there were plenty. In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea.

"I had shit to do."

"Over a fucking woman too," Shade says. "You'll answer for this."

"No, I won't," I snap. "He came after what's mine, didn't back off even after I told him to. It's not the first time he's done that. It's beginning to look like he's deliberately trying to start something with me."

My thinly veiled accusation hangs in the sudden silence. I think Shade knows what I mean. I think he knows that I know about his plan to get rid of me.

"I need you on my side, Tommy," he says, changing the subject completely. "What happened to you? You used to be the first to charge into any new endeavor. Especially one as lucrative as the one I'm planning. Sure, Blade had noble ideas about going legit and all that, but he'd never have pulled it off. I think he was even ready to abandon the idea before he died."

Blade was as serious about going legit on the day he died, as on the one when he first told me about his plans. I'd either be dead or in jail right now, if he hadn't pulled me aside and said he needed me to help him with it, needed me to get an education so I could. But Shade's more right than not. Before Blade made his plans, I was dead set on causing as much damage as I could, anywhere I could. I was angry and the whole world needed to pay. And I was charging down a very dark path, before Blade gave me the hope that being in the MC doesn't have to be all bloodshed, violence and crime. Shade is leading us all right back down that path now.

"I was always against running whores," I snap.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Shade play punches me in the arm like we're the best of friends. "Think of all the free pussy. We're brothers, remember? And Slim's as good as now. You wouldn't harm a brother over a piece of ass, would you? Though I admit she's a looker."

It sounds like a threat, the way he says it. How long has he been sitting at the bar checking Tara out? I'm suddenly almost as livid as I was last night when I beat up Slim. All Shade has to do now is mention my mother, and I'll kill him.

"Stay away from her," I say. "She's mine."

He takes a step back, holding his arms up in mock fright and surrender. "Easy there, little brother. You're scaring me a little. But then again, you always did."

Good. He should be scared. Though I know he's just talking shit. Shade's not scared of anyone or anything. Least of all me. He's exactly like my father that way. I didn't do myself any favors coming on this strong, but I really don't care. If he or someone acting on his orders goes after Tara again, he's dead. And I don't care what happens to me after that.

"I need you tonight, so go make yourself look pretty," he says and opens the door. "I'll be waiting at the bar."

There goes my quiet evening alone with Tara. But I'm not going anywhere before I show her just how much I missed her all day.

"Come in here, Tara!" I yell through the open door after Shade leaves the room, making her shake. Shit, that just came out too harsh.

She's not even looking at me as she enters and shuts the door behind her.

* * *

TARA

He knows why I'm really here, he knows about Sam. He knows I lied to him. Those things flashed through my mind when he called me, won't stop playing on a loop as I close the door behind me. I couldn't make out all they were saying, but I heard them speaking about whores. They meant Sam. That's why that guy was giving me such mean looks. Why didn't I just tell Tommy everything last night? I should've told him everything.

But his grip on my arm as he pulls me closer is gentle, his eyes soft as I finally dare to look into them. The last few traces of anger in his features are fading fast, disappear as he rests his arms around my shoulders.

"Did I scare you?" he asks, smiling at me.

"Yes," I say in my best chiding voice.

He draws me closer and hugs me tighter, his hard body pressing against me, just like I've wished for all day. Flight's not my first reaction, it's a distant second, draws even further behind as his lips touch mine, erasing the last traces of my fright, causing cascading rivulets of warmth to gently pool in my stomach.

We kiss for a long time, his arms gripping me tight, mine resting on his waist. It's easier then before to just focus on the sweet warmth rising inside me, the slow building of desire, of fantasies coming true. Much easier than it was last night. The darkness is there too, but I see it clearer now, see what it's made of. Memories of things I went through, things I want to forget but can't. Events I ignore because they're too painful to face, yet I hold onto them anyway. Why? I don't know. Maybe because of the injustice of it all.

I didn't deserve what happened to me. It's messed me up so bad, and no one paid for it, no one got punished for it. And that's not right. Sam just wanted to forget, told me I should too, but someone has to remember. Otherwise it's like it never happened, and it did. It happened to me. So the memories are always there, gnawing at me, demanding I remember.

But maybe I don't really have to.

Maybe all I have to do is surrender to this kiss, this gentle, soothing softness, that's so simple to enjoy, so right, so —

He starts to pull away, but I follow, kiss him harder, wrap my arms all the way around his waist so he can't escape. And he doesn’t even try to anymore, kisses me deeper, his tongue searching for mine in my mouth. And my sudden desire to have him inside me isn't immediately followed by a painful jolt of imaginary, remembered pain. And even when it comes, it's not so strong, not so debilitating as it always used to be.

"I really should go now," he whispers after awhile, growing tense in my arms.

He releases me and reaches into his pocket, pulls out a key. "I'll try to be back before you go to bed, but if I can't, just let yourself into my place."

I stare blankly at the key. It seems like such an important gesture. The girls said he never even let any of them sleep over.

"Or, I'll just see you tomorrow?" he asks, starting to put the key back into his pocket. I grab his hand with both of mine.

"No. I mean, yes, I'd love to," I say, prying the key from his fingers.

He chuckles at that, gives me a peck on my forehead, and leaves. Now all I really want to do is go curl up in his bed and wait for him to return.