Chapter Two

 

Sloan

 

Shouting woke me up and instinctively I rolled off the bed, tucking myself underneath it in case whoever was shouting was coming for me.  When the sounds didn’t come any closer, I eased myself back out from under the bed, my hand curled around the bedframe as I remembered where I was.

Some motorcycle guy’s bedroom.

I shook my head, wondering what my mom would say.  My breath caught a second later as I remembered.  Tears came unbidden, a sob catching in my throat as I saw her lifeless body on the ground once again, as a hard jaw told me I had to say goodbye.

I wouldn’t admit he’d been right, the memory of her still face etched in my mind forever, a reminder of everything she’d sacrificed for me.

I allowed myself five minutes to cry and not a second more. Mom’s voice echoed in my head, “Five minutes is long enough for self-pity, my girl.  Anything after that is just milking the situation.”

Exhaustion had kept me from examining the room I stayed in, my final memory of locking the door after I promised him I would stay.  I pushed myself up from the bed, taking in my surroundings for the first time.

It was messy.

I crinkled my nose. And smelly. It wasn’t a bad smell necessarily.  Just old sweat mixed with whatever cologne he wore.  There was a pile of clothes on the floor in the corner, in front of what I assumed was a closet and probably the source of the smell.  The walls were an old brown paneling. They reminded me of a trailer we’d lived in when I was younger.

I spotted my backpack on the dresser and rushed over to it.  It didn’t hold much; a few clothes, my favorite book, and a framed picture.  I checked the side pocket, relieved to find the cash Mom had stashed in there. Not that I thought the guy was a thief, maybe a misguided knight on a Harley, but it was literally all I had in the world. If he wanted to keep me here, all he had to do was take away the little money I had. I debated tucking the money in my pocket, but decided to leave it where it was for now.  It might be safer in the backpack than on me.

I wandered to the only other door in the room, surprised to find a small bathroom.  I quickly used the toilet and washed my hands and with curiosity getting the better of me, I slid open the glass medicine cabinet.  A huge box of extra-large condoms was the first thing I spotted and I felt myself blush. I wasn’t blind, the guy was gorgeous and built, and probably got laid every night. Not last night, a naughty voice whispered and I snorted.  He probably had. I doubted there were many women who kicked them out of their bed beside myself.

I ignored the lubricated condoms and found some generic pain relievers and several unopened toothbrushes. I grabbed one, figuring he probably kept them for his overnight guests anyway, and brushed my teeth.  I didn’t want to throw the toothbrush away after one use, but couldn’t find anywhere to keep it except for a cup next to the sink which held a single green toothbrush.  I shrugged, slipping my hot pink one next to his green one. 

When I slid the medicine cabinet shut, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror.  My skin was clear and translucent, one of my favorite features normally, but today mottled purple bruises covered one-half of my face.  Dark smudges marred my throat and from the tenderness along my side, I knew there would be even more bruises now than yesterday.

I rested my hand against my side as I remembered the heartbeat of fear I’d felt when he’d ripped my shirt up. I’d been sure he was going to rape me right there along with his friend, but he’d only growled, promising retribution for me and tugged my shirt back down.

I went back to the room, noticing the artwork for the first time.  There was an American flag hanging next to a Confederate flag, a design spray painted between them, and the words Southern Rebels MC.

“Motorcycle club,” I whispered to myself, the memory of my dad’s old jacket hanging in the closet coming back to me.  Mom used to sit on the bed with it in her lap when she thought I had gone to bed.  All I remembered was he’d been killed in an accident and we had to move. It seemed like we were always moving, but anytime I asked Mom about him, she’d shake her head and say it was better left in the past.

A picture stuck in the dresser mirror caught my eye and I recognized the guy who’d rescued me instantly.  He was standing between two other guys, one clearly younger and the other about his age.  Brothers, maybe.  The older one was the only one not smiling. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and he held himself apart from the other two. If he didn’t look so young, I’d say he was their father.

The sound of a knock on the door had me spinning around and I had to clear my throat before I could speak.  “Who is it?”  I asked, and then winced.  I had no idea what any of their names were, or if they’d even told me and I’d forgotten them in the chaos.

“Creed,” he replied and with a relieved sigh, I headed for the door. I recognized his voice and now I had a name to go with it. I flipped the lock and eased the door open.  He smiled kindly, his eyes tightening at the corners when he saw the bruises, but he seemed relieved I was still there.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone so long.”

“It’s okay.  I woke up a little while ago,” I replied, my arms awkward at my sides. He still wore the clothes from the day before, and looked exactly how I remembered except now he had a dark shadow along his jaw.  “I heard shouting.”

He winced, rubbing his hand along his jaw, and I realized the shadow wasn’t just stubble but the beginnings of a bruise.  “Yeah, sorry about that.  Little difference of opinion.”  I reached up, my fingers brushing against his jaw and he stilled.

“Is this because of me?”

“No,” he assured me, catching my fingers.  “It has nothing to do with you.” He released my fingers and came all the way into the room, shutting the door behind him.  “I might have thumbed my nose at the guys who ran you off the road and ki–” He cut himself off before he finished but I knew what he’d been about to say.  The men who’d killed my mom.  “I’m going to take a shower real quick and grab some clothes.  Then I’ll take you out to meet the others.”  He must have sensed my sudden fear because he rushed to reassure me. “They’re cool, I promise.  A little rough around the edges but none of them would hurt a woman,” he said earnestly, trying to ease my anxiety.

I nodded, not having much choice but to accept his word.  He stripped off the leather vest he wore and I saw the design on the back of it matched the one painted above his bed.

“Hank went home to get his wife, Mary.  You’ll like her,” he promised, kicking off his boots as he headed for the bathroom. I averted my eyes as he tugged off his white t-shirt and sent it toward the pile of clothes on the floor.  “She’ll help you get settled.  Find your feet.” He glanced over his shoulder, unconcerned about the fact that he was shirtless.  I nodded, keeping my eyes up after catching a glimpse of a deep V where his pants sagged on his waist.  “Give me a couple minutes,” he added as he pointed his thumb to the bathroom and pulled the door closed. It didn’t catch though so I could see him moving around through the small gap.  A glimpse of his tight butt had me spinning around, my heart hammering.

“It’s just a butt,” I murmured to myself, heat flashing through me. I examined the stuff cluttering the top of his dresser, poking through ticket stubs and what looked like part of a motorcycle, but I wasn’t sure.  The door creaking caused me to glance up at the mirror and I felt my heart hesitate for a second before racing hard enough to jump out of my chest.  Creed was standing in the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair slicked back as water trickled down his bare chest.

“I forgot clothes,” he said, a little sheepish, and I nodded, my throat too dry to form words.

He came over to where I stood in front of the dresser and I shifted back a step. It wasn’t far enough though as the scent of his soap hit me, his warm body close to mine as he dug around for clothes. I caught a glimpse of boxers as I tried to keep my eyes off his bare back and the tattoo covering it. I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know my face was flushed bright red from his proximity.

“Got’em,” he murmured, his eyes flickering to mine for a brief second. He glanced away quickly, mumbling under his breath as he went back to the bathroom, and this time I heard the door click shut.

My breath stuttered out of me and I closed my eyes, berating myself.  He was not my type. He was trouble. Focus on your survival, not some guy’s hot body, I scolded.

“Alright, let’s go get you something to eat,” I heard as the bathroom door opened. When I turned, he smiled softly, a little bashful, and the vise around my heart eased.  Mom had made it her job to keep me alive, on the straight and narrow so I wouldn’t wind up like her, but sometimes it felt more like I was her duty than her child. His easy caring soothed a raw spot I hadn’t know existed.

“Food,” I paused and finished awkwardly, “Sounds good.”

“If we’re lucky, Clutch made something,” he answered, holding the door open for me as I slipped through.

“And if we aren’t lucky?” I questioned and he grimaced.

“I’ll buy you breakfast.” He pulled the door shut and I remembered my backpack.

“My stuff,” I said, reaching back toward the door.

“It’ll be fine.  Everyone knows to stay out of my room,” he assured me, but at my hesitation he added, “If you want to hold on to it, we can grab it.”

I shook my head, praying I really could trust him, because with my options limited I didn’t have much choice.  His hand brushed my lower back, and we started down the long hall.  “This is the clubhouse.  Bar and a bunch of rooms for the guys to crash.”  We passed an alcove with three sets of bunk beds.  “Extra sleeping area.”  He nudged me to a stop right before we came to an open area, the bar he’d mentioned, and I brought my gaze back to him.  “Johnny and the others are a little wary about you.  Don’t take anything they say personally, alright?”  I nodded, curious at how much trouble he was in for bringing me here.

His gaze lingered on my face and I waited for whatever was churning around in his head to come out.  “How old are you?” He burst out and I debated if I should answer him honestly.  I didn’t like the idea of lying to him, but wasn’t sure revealing my age was going to help my cause.

“Sixteen,” I finally answered and heard his groan.  “Almost seventeen,” I added helpfully.

“Man, he’s gonna yank a knot in my ass,” he muttered under his breath and the faintest trace of amusement penetrated the haze of grief and fear hanging over me.

“I can say I’m eighteen if you want,” I offered, not contemplating why I was trying to make things easier for him.

“No, let’s keep it honest.”  He glanced up at me through a pair of the longest, thickest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man and my breath caught.  “I’ve got your back, Jailbait.”

Before I could comment on my new nickname, there was a shout.  “Showtime,” he murmured, steering me forward.

“Is this our charity case?” A loud voice boomed and I traced it back to an older man, his gaze hard, and fought the sudden urge to hide behind Creed.

“Yeah,” Creed drawled, unconcerned by the fierce glare pinned on him.  “Everybody meet Jailbait, Jailbait meet everybody.” Creed waved his arm in the space between me and the room, and I suddenly realized there were several men standing around.  I’d been so distracted by the ruthless stare of the first man that I’d missed the others.

“Jailbait?” One of the men called and there were some chuckles.  “Are you warning us or inviting us?”  The man who spoke was scrawny, his jacket almost swallowing him completely as he stared at me.

“Warning,” Creed replied coolly.  He raised his voice to make sure his next words were loud and clear. “Fair warning to everyone here.  You touch her and I’ll kill you.”  There were a few mutters at this announcement, but he didn’t back down and they quieted.

“No one said she’s staying,” the hard man bit out, stopping next to Creed and ignoring my presence completely.  “You demanded a vote, remember?” The lettering on his kutte told me he was the club president, but the way he presented himself would have told me even without the word stitched prominently on his chest.  A quick glance at Creed’s kutte and I realized with a start that his said, “Vice President.”  I would have thought he’d be too young for the position but it was clear by the other men’s actions that they respected him. 

The glare their President shot me almost had me telling Creed to forget it, to let me go, but I wasn’t sure doing that wouldn’t make the situation worse. He’d stuck his neck out for me and I owed him.

A door opened and light spilled in until a massive body blocked it. I blinked in the bright light until my eyes adjusted and I recognized the man, his long beard resting on his beer belly, unaccountably glad to see him again.

“Hank,” Creed called, drawing the gaze of the hard-eyed President. Some of the tightness seemed to ease out of him at Hank’s presence, especially when a woman came in behind him.

“Creed, where is she?”  The woman called, pushing a stroller through the group of men who parted like the Red Sea before Moses.  “I couldn’t believe it when Hank told me.  You did the right thing, no matter what Johnny says.”

“Mary,” the gruff President muttered and I stared in shock as she wagged her finger at him.  “This is club business.”

“And it’s a young girl which makes it my business,” she retorted sharply, her rotund body swelling like a bantam hen at his words, her feathers clearly ruffled.  “Don’t think I’m going to let you bully her. Or Creed,” she tacked on as an afterthought.

“Hey, Mary,” Creed interrupted, a smile lifting one side of his face.  “You brought the grandbaby?” His soft words worked like magic to diffuse her temper as she smiled at him. 

“I did,” she simpered, reaching into the stroller and after what seemed like a lot of unbuckling brought out a baby in a pink romper.  “I’m babysitting for Ronnie. One of the girls called in sick at the salon.”

He chucked the baby girl under her chin and even at that age, she wasn’t immune.  She squealed in delight, her legs kicking as he grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek at her delight.  “Oh, you’re so good with her.  When are you going to settle down and have some babies of your own?”  She questioned and when he stilled, her eyes darted toward me. I stood frozen, trying to figure out how I’d just become involved in the question.

“How about you leave the boy alone?” Hank grumbled, patting her ample rear.  “We’ve got some stuff to discuss.”  Mary slapped at his hand, frowning.  “You want to mother someone,” he gestured to me. “There you go.” His words brought her attention back to me and I knew when she caught sight of the bruises. Her mouth tightened and she lifted the little girl a little higher.

Creed leaned toward me, his hand brushing my waist.  “She’s all bark, no bite. She’ll take care of you.” I nodded, clenching my hands into fists so I wouldn’t reach for him as he moved away, following the other men toward a door marked OFFICE.

“Don’t you worry.  They’ll make the right decision,” Mary assured me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, and I noticed she was taller than I’d thought.  Surrounded by larger than normal men had skewed my perception.  “You are skin and bones.  A good wind will take off with you,” she clucked, one hand steering the stroller as the other one steered me.  “We need to get some food into you.”

“Fatten her up,” one of the guys called, leering.

“Thomas O’Brien, don’t think I won’t call Sylvia,” Mary replied tartly and he blanched before offering hurried apologies.  She glanced around with a militant gleam.  “Don’t you boys have places to be?  It’s a Thursday morning and I expect you all have work to do.”  There was a shuffle as the men stood, nodding as they eased by her.  She shook her head, mouth pursed until they’d all left.  “Like they don’t all know better. Honestly, a bunch of rowdy boys.”

I was afraid to say anything in case she deemed me a rowdy girl, but she didn’t seem to need a response as she headed for a door behind the bar.  She used the stroller to push open the swinging door and loud singing greeted us.  A shirtless guy with a familiar tattoo stood at a stove, an apron looped over his neck as he sang.

He spun around at Mary’s entrance, a wide grin splitting his face when he saw her.  He rushed her, scooping her up and swinging her around as she protested.

“Miss Mary, quite contrary, it’s been too long since I’ve seen your beautiful face.  What brings you here?”  He winked at her.  “Missed my gorgeous body?”

“Oh, shush, you,” she cooed, her cheeks pink as I watched in bemusement.  The barrel chested man patted her blushing cheek and then seemed to notice me standing there.

“What do we have here?”  He studied me carefully.  “Are you Creed’s?” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that so I kept quiet.

“Creed brought her. The poor girl was in an accident and her mother,” Mary shook her head, not finishing the comment, her eyes gleaming with concern.  “Anyway, the club is having a vote.  Shouldn’t you be in there?”

The man shook his head, turning away from me. “No, I already told Johnny I voted with Creed on this.”  He went back to the stove, scooping something onto plates.  “He asked me to cook breakfast,” he continued, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.  “I see why now.”

He set a plate in front of me, an omelet covering half the plate with bacon and potatoes covering the other half.  “Eat all of it,” he commanded, tapping the plate. 

I nodded, eager to dig in until I remembered what Creed had said.  “Are you Clutch?”  I asked, trying to decide if I’d remembered the name correctly. A laugh rolled from him at my question but he finally nodded.

“I am.” He gave me a faint smile.  “Glad to see Creed warned you.”  He pointed to my cheek.  “Car accident do that to you?”

I hesitated, tempted to go along with the idea, but Creed’s desire to stay honest wouldn’t leave me.  I shook my head and said, “No, someone.” He tipped his head, a glint in his eye that told me I’d made the right decision.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, knuckles cracking as he went back to the stove.  “Miss Mary, will you be wanting some breakfast this morning?”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to ask, but I ate before Hank came storming in this morning.”  She let out a sigh as she jiggled the stroller.  “He had his dander up at Johnny’s pig headedness.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be Johnny if he wasn’t a stubborn SOB,” Clutch mentioned and Mary gave him a warning glance.

“Don’t think I won’t wash your mouth out with soap, young man.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied quickly.  “My apologies.”

She accepted his apology with a gracious nod.  “You are right though and if there’s anyone who can match him in stubbornness, it’s Creed.”

“I was surprised,” Clutch said, his gaze darting to me as I shoveled food in my mouth.

“So was I,” Mary hummed, not bothering to hide her stare.  “He doesn’t usually buck Johnny over something like this.”

“He’s insistent,” Clutch murmured, sitting down with a plate.  “I told him I’d go with whatever he wanted.”

“He has to know I’ll take her home and keep her safe,” Mary mentioned, their stares leaving no doubt who they were talking about.  I didn’t quite know what to make of the conversation, their words or the fact they were talking about me like I wasn’t even there.

“I can hear, you know,” I finally muttered, shoving the last bite of food in my mouth.

“I didn’t actually think you’d eat it all,” Clutch said in wonder.  “Figured you were one of those girls that wanted to be skinny.”

“I don’t not want to be skinny,” I complained.  “But I was also hungry.  Can’t a girl have it all?”

He raised his hands defensively, “You can have whatever you want.”  He smirked, shooting a glance at Mary.  “Creed has no idea what he’s gotten into.”

“What are they voting on?” I asked, already suspecting.

“You, little girl,” Clutch answered with a cocky smile.  “It’s all about you.”

I narrowed my gaze on him.  “And you already decided to go along with whatever Creed wants?” I accused. “Without even meeting me.”

His smile lost some of its cockiness as he considered me more carefully.  “I grew up with him.  Some things don’t need asking.”

“They’re good men,” Mary broke in.  “Not sure why Creed is so insistent you be a part of the club though.”

I glanced at her, my forehead wrinkling as I absorbed her words.  She suddenly stood up, startling me.  “I need to go to the little girl’s room.  Keep an eye on Kara for me?” I nodded automatically and she ran out of the room.

Clutch caught my puzzled expression and smiled.  “Weak bladder,” he explained, turning back to the stove to cover the enormous amount of food he’d cooked. He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go open the shop.  They’ll be out in a while, point them to the food, and they’ll love you, okay?”

I nodded automatically as he peeled off the apron, revealing even more ink across his chest. He shrugged into a stained shirt and I spotted the logo for a garage stitched next to his name.

“Is your name really Clutch?”  I asked and he gave me a lopsided grin.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s your name about as much as Jailbait is mine,” I grumbled to his amusement.

He nodded, a smile playing around his mouth.  “Yep, you’re going to keep things interesting,” he said cryptically, escaping out the door before I could question him.  A whimper from the stroller reminded me I was supposed to be watching the baby, and when I leaned over, little arms reached up to me.

I lifted her out of the stroller, afraid she might cry when she didn’t recognize me, but she only patted my face with her chubby little fingers.

“Hey,” Creed slowed when he caught sight of me holding the baby.  “They wanted to talk to you before we made the vote.”

“What exactly are you voting on?”  I questioned as I prevented Kara from pulling my hair.

“If you can stay here.”  He pointed to the floor. “As in here.  At the club.  I mean you could stay with Mary and Hank, but you wouldn’t really be welcome to club events and stuff since you’re not an old lady or a,” he paused, trying to come up with a nice way to say club whore.

“Whore,” I finished for him and he winced.

“They’re not whores,” he attempted to explain and I waved him off.

“I know they’re not, but they hang around and have sex with whoever until they become an old lady, am I right?”

“Generally, yeah,” he admitted grudgingly.  “But that’s not the case with you.”

“What’s special about me?”

He shuffled his feet, his thumbs hooked in his belt loop.  “I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave you there and you don’t seem like the type to take charity.” His jaw locked as he met my eyes.  “That guy who was after you, he seemed like he might be powerful. Hard to escape.  Figured you’d want a place to lie low.”

“And you think that place is here.  With you,” I verified as I studied him.

He nodded, those long eyelashes hiding his eyes from me.  “We’ll keep you safe.”

“And what if I bring danger to you?”  I cupped Kara’s head. “To her?”

“We take care of our own, Sloan,” he rumbled and a spurt of pleasure went through me when he used my name.  “This vote makes you one of ours.” He tipped his head, a faint smile on his face as he added, “Jailbait.”

“I don’t really like that nickname,” I informed him.

“A reminder,” he replied, his eyes hooded.  “A necessary reminder.” I lowered my eyes, not wanting to give away what his words did to me, but at the sound of his hand thumping against his leg, I thought maybe I already had.

“You’ll come talk to them?” It was a question, and I knew he was giving me the choice.  If I didn’t go, then I’d probably be shuffled to Mary, given room and board until I was eighteen and then on with my life. I glanced up through my eyelashes, hiding my inspection of him by ducking my head next to Kara’s soft cheek.  He waited patiently, everything about him screaming rough and tumble, from the heavy black boots, sagging jeans, white t-shirt and black leather kutte declaring him a one percenter.

They were outlaws and everything my mother had tried to protect me from since the day my dad died.  Except, it hadn’t done her any good.  The upstanding citizen she’d found had tried to rape me after I’d gotten home from school and only the fact that she’d come home early had saved me.  When he’d threatened us, we’d run and it had cost her life.  I knew I didn’t want mine to be next.

“I’ll talk to them.”