Chapter Four

 

Sloan

 

He looked embarrassed and I almost regretted teasing him, but I hadn’t forgotten her enormously perky breasts or the ease in which she’d assumed a threesome would be acceptable. I wasn’t a prude but I also didn’t share.

He’s not yours to share, a little voice reminded me and it was my turn to drop my gaze.  A niggle of jealously had taken hold the second I’d seen her lying on his bed, confident she’d be welcome.  I still wasn’t sure if he’d said that for my sake or hers.

“We broke up weeks ago,” he answered, his voice short as he walked over to the bed. “She hasn’t gotten the hint.”  He picked up the blanket and after a quick sniff, yanked it off the bed.  He rolled it up and threw it in the corner with the rest of the pile, as I watched.  “She thought she’d become my old lady and I’m not ready for that,” he continued, his voice laced with warning.  I forced my gaze to remain steady, as if what he said didn’t matter, even as my heart jumped.

“We going to the store?” I asked, ignoring his comments.  He arched a single dark eyebrow, but let me change the subject.

“We are.”

“I have some money,” I replied, going to my backpack.

“Save it,” he answered, his hand covering mine as I fumbled in the pockets.  I stilled, startled by his swift movements.  “This one is on me.”  He removed his hand and I curled my fingers into my palm, my nails biting into the flesh.  “We’ll find you something to do around here.  Pay you.  You can save it up so you don’t feel,” he paused and I said, “Trapped?”  He nodded, easing back another step and I turned to face him, but he was closer than I thought and I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.  It felt too close and I saw when he realized it because he took a hasty step back as his eyes dropped to my mouth.  He grabbed a set of keys off the top of the dresser, his movements jerky as he gestured for me to go ahead.

“Come on,” he said gruffly and I scurried through the door.  He pulled it shut and after a moment’s hesitation, locked it.  I didn’t comment and he didn’t offer an explanation, instead steering me to the back door of the bar.  I headed left when we went outside, seeing the line of bikes backed in, but he snagged my arm and led us to an old pickup truck.  “More space,” he mentioned, holding the passenger door open for me.  I nodded and pulled myself inside, the cracked vinyl rough under my hands as I pushed aside crumpled fast food bags. I settled my feet carefully on the floorboard, avoiding the tools scattered on it.

Creed shoved the discarded bags onto the floorboard with a disgusted sigh.  “My younger brother usually drives the truck to school. He’s a slob.”

I lifted my eyebrow, but didn’t bother to mention the pile of dirty clothes in Creed’s room.  He must have seen something on my face because he added defensively, “Laundry is a pain.”  I shook my head, keeping my mouth shut and he put the truck in gear.  “There’s a Wally World out on the highway.  That work?”

I started to nod but his focus was on the road as he pulled out of the parking lot. I had to clear my throat but managed to mutter, “Yeah,” as I studied the area.  It had been dark when we’d arrived and even if it hadn’t been, I’d been so exhausted he could have brought me to an underground bunker and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Looking out the window, it was like seeing a town the world forgot.  We were in a downtown area and there were businesses but all of them looked like mom and pop types.  There were no fast food chains or coffee drive thrus to be seen.

“That’s Ronnie’s place,” Creed said, interrupting my thoughts as I turned to see where he indicated.  The place had an actual barbershop pole in front of it but otherwise looked updated.  “Ronnie took it over after old man Miller passed.  She wanted to take the pole down, but Johnny told her no.”  He slid me a smile.  “Made it part of the loan he gave her.”  I nodded, but his mention of Johnny made me realize just how much influence the club welded over this town.  “She does a good business,” he continued, pride in his voice.  “A lot of the women were happy when she opened the salon.”

“What’s it called?” I asked, craning my neck to see if I saw a sign.

He shot me a puzzled glance.  “The salon?”  He answered, the hesitation in his voice telling me he was guessing.  I felt a flicker of amusement at his ignorance, knowing the place had to have a name. I sat back against the seat, the vinyl warm on my back as my hand went to my side.  It was still tender, but I didn’t think anything was broken.  I was just going to be sore for a few days.  Creed must have caught the motion from the corner of his eye because he let out a grumble that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

“I meant to take a look at your ribs before we left. We might need to tape them up,” he mumbled, darting quick glances at me as he got on the main highway.

I shifted a little, dropping my hand, as heat shot through me at the thought of him touching me.  “It’s fine,” I dismissed.  “Just sore.”

“Still, I want to check it out,” he said, his brusque tone leaving no doubt it was an order and not a request. I nodded, turning my head from his tight expression as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  A tense silence fell between us, before he finally burst out, “If you’re comfortable with me looking at your ribs.  Touching you.”  The last part trailed off awkwardly as he directed his attention to the road, his knuckles almost white on the steering wheel.

“I trust you,” I murmured quietly, watching from the corner of my eye as his grip on the steering wheel eased.  The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, but they were honest. He hadn’t hurt me or forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to help me. I twisted in the seat so I faced him, ignoring the sharp twinge as my ribs protested the move.  “Why are you doing this?” I asked and he shot me a questioning glance. “Helping me,” I elaborated, suddenly desperate to know his reasons.

He shrugged, slowing the truck slightly as he tried to formulate an answer.

“You didn’t have to,” I continued.  “You could have left me there.  You could have left me at the gas station or sent me home with Mary.  But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” he echoed, his voice thick.

“Why?” I burst out.  “I get my mom.  She was protecting me.  It was like her job, but you…. you were just a guy driving by.”

“Sometimes,” he said before starting over, “You ever wonder if you’re meant to do something, help someone that normally you might never have met?”

“Like fate?” I questioned.  “Or God?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his thumb tapping the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” I finally answered.

“Well, maybe that’s why,” he concluded, giving me a swift glance before focusing back on the road and I realized that was all he was going to give me.

“Well, just so you know I suck at blow jobs,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared back out the passenger window.

He made a choked sound before saying, “I think that’s what they call an oxymoron.”  My head turned but before I could comment he said, “We’re here.”

We bumped into the parking lot of the discount store and I let it go, not sure I wanted to pursue the conversation anyway.

“I don’t need much,” I told him as we walked in and he grabbed a buggy.

“Who says I don’t need a few things?”  He answered, smiling, and I almost tripped at the sight.  He was playful and lighthearted, and completely different than the tough guy at the clubhouse.  “I need a new toothbrush,” he stated and I stared at him in disbelief.

“You have a ton of spare toothbrushes in your bathroom,” I reminded him and he lifted his eyebrows.

“Nosy.  I’ll have to remember that,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows and a snort of unexpected laughter spilled out of me.  “I should probably get a box of condoms too,” he added, throwing me a challenging glance but I refused to rise to the bait, pressing my lips together.  He winked, pushing the buggy toward the women’s clothing section with an ease that hinted at experience.  “But your stuff first,” he decided with a nod.  “Underwear, for sure.” I nodded, my expression telling him I knew exactly what he was up to, as I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my worn-out jeans and followed him.

Once we got to the women’s area, he didn’t comment as I quickly threw a pack of cotton undies in the buggy, my cheeks on fire. I quickly thumbed through the bras to find my size and shoved the first one I found in the cart. He couldn’t resist that time though.  “I’ll be glad to wait if you want to try it on,” he said helpfully and I shook my head, glaring, but it didn’t put a dent in his unrepentant grin.

I made my way to the lingerie area and found a t-shirt and shorts set on clearance, the chocolate donuts dancing across it fitting. 

“Mmm, I’m getting hungry,” Creed mumbled, leaning on the handlebars of the buggy as he watched me toss the night set in. “You could always get that,” he added, nodding toward a sheer black nightie on one of the racks.  “I don’t judge.”

“I don’t think so,” I shot back, my cheeks burning as I grabbed the front of the cart and steered us toward less dangerous territory.

Two pairs of jeans and a few t-shirts later I was done, but when I turned to glance down at what I’d thrown in the buggy I noticed it was almost overflowing.  “What?” I said in disbelief, sorting through the pile of clothes that were all in my size.  Creed shrugged innocently as I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“You need clothes,” he answered.

“Not this many,” I retorted, adding it all up in my head.  “This is too much.”

“I can afford it,” he replied and I barely caught the next words he mumbled under his breath.  “Better too many than not enough.”

I didn’t want to touch that comment or come off as an ungrateful brat, so I forced a smile as I said, “Thank you.  It’s very generous of you.”

He gave me a one shouldered shrug, pushing the buggy forward instead of answering, and I followed until he brought us to the makeup aisle. He rubbed his neck, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he said, “If you need girl junk, you should get that too.”  He jerked his head toward an aisle advertising first aid kits as he added, “I’m going to go grab an Ace bandage for your ribs. You can meet me over there.” I nodded and he wheeled the buggy away, leaving me standing in the cosmetics section. I grabbed a skin corrector with sunscreen, shampoo and conditioner, and then made a stop at the feminine products.  I found Creed comparing wraps as I dumped my stuff on top of the clothes. 

“Either one will be good enough,” I told him.  “I’m kind of surprised you don’t already have an entire first aid kit back at the club.”

Creed waved his hand dismissively.  “You don’t want any of that crap touching your skin.” He put both items in the cart and then glanced at me.  “You ready to go?  Got everything?”

I nodded, not wanting to take advantage of his generosity. He eyed me but finally headed toward the checkout. I helped him put the stuff on the conveyer belt, crossing my arms over my stomach as we waited until the cashier finished with the person in front of us. I noticed a few sideways glances and when I saw my reflection in the drink case, I realized why.  They were looking at the bruises and the angry glances I saw them directing toward Creed made me realize they thought he’d put them there. I shifted a little closer to him, unaccountably angry on his behalf at their judgement.  He smiled at me and asked, “You want candy?”

He either hadn’t noticed the looks or it didn’t bother him, but when I nodded his face lit up.  “I wasn’t sure what you liked yesterday so tell me your favorites,” he demanded, his hand hovering over the rack of candy. I pointed out my two favorites and then tried to stop him when he grabbed five of each.

“I don’t need that many,” I protested, trying to put some of them back.

“You don’t need candy at all,” he pointed out.  “It’s a treat and you seem like you haven’t had many of those.” I couldn’t deny his words and finally let him have his way, shaking my head when he threw two more on the pile.  The cashier ringing us up had a frown on her face but she didn’t say a word as she eyed the kutte Creed wore.  She knew who he was and even her disapproval wasn’t enough to make her speak up.  Some of my happiness drained away at her obvious judgement and I chewed on my lip as we left the store.

“What’s wrong?” Creed asked, his thumb rubbing my lip.  “You’re going to draw blood there in a minute.”

“They think you did this to me,” I burst out, my hand going to my face as if I could hide the bruises from other people’s judgement.  “They think…” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to finish my sentence.

“They see the jacket and they assume I’m some asshole who hits his woman,” he finished for me and I swallowed hard, nodding.  “But, you see, it don’t matter.”

My gaze shot to his as I echoed, “It doesn’t matter?”

“No, because you and me both know the truth,” he replied.  “I didn’t do that to you and I never would.”  He stared at me for a second, ducking his head when my gaze dropped.  “You do know that, right?  I will never hit you and I will bury any man who does.”

I nodded, meeting his eyes again.  “I know that,” I whispered, the fierce promise in his voice melting my insides.

“Okay, good,” he said roughly, pushing the buggy forward again as we crossed the parking lot. “Didn’t want any question about that.”

“Nope,” I shook my head, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear as I followed behind him. “No questions about that,” I murmured, jerking my eyes up from his butt when he turned as we came to the truck.

“I’d like to look at your ribs before we go to Ronnie’s,” he said, gesturing to my stomach.  “Let me get this stuff loaded first.”

I nodded, knowing it was pointless to offer my help as he made quick work of throwing everything in the small cab space. He pulled out the two wraps he’d insisted on buying and then stood there, eyeing me awkwardly.

“Do you want to do it in the truck?” I asked, pointing to the now crowded bench seat. His tongue slid over his bottom lip and he gave a quick shake of his head.

“I don’t think a confined space would be a great idea,” he answered.  He motioned toward the hem of my shirt.  “Just lift your shirt and I’ll wrap it real fast.”

He angled his body so the parking lot was blocked from sight as I stood in the door of the truck.  I reached for the bottom of my shirt, slowly lifting it and thought I heard him groan.  My eyes darted to his, but he just gave me a tight-lipped smile.  I stopped lifting the shirt when I reached my boobs and felt more than heard him exhale.

He unraveled the edge of the wrap and reached around me, his fingertips calloused as they brushed against my skin. He leaned forward as he wrapped the bandage snugly around my ribcage, his head close to mine as I stared straight ahead, feeling each of his soft breaths as he carefully wove it around me.

My heart thrummed faster than normal as I tried to control my breathing, aware of how close his hands were to my chest as his fingers occasionally lingered on my skin. I felt a tug and then his softly whispered, “Done,” and the cocoon that had formed as he worked disappeared. 

I tilted my head away from his as I murmured, “Thanks,” and he nodded, his fingertip tugging on the hem of my shirt and causing it to fall and cover the bandage.

“Let’s get you to Ronnie’s,” he answered, stepping back as he crumpled the empty package in his hand and tossed it into a nearby trash can.  I pulled myself into the truck and watched as he came around the front. His loose hipped stride and straight jaw got him a few admiring glances and I ignored the flare of jealousy that coursed through me.

He hopped into the truck, his hand going to the gearshift as he gave me a smile that looked a little forced.  “Ready?”

I nodded, automatically clicking my seatbelt into place and he nodded at it.  “That saved your life,” he mentioned and it took me a second to realize he meant the seatbelt.

“It did,” I responded.  “My mom hated wearing it.  She said it choked her.”

“Well, it cost her, her life,” he replied with a brutal honesty and my head bobbed as I glanced out the window, feeling the sharp sting of tears.  I’d told her a million times to put it on, but she never listened. 

I couldn’t help but think she’d be alive if it wasn’t for me.  “Don’t go there,” he said sharply, his hand covering mine.  “Don’t carry that burden.  What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“How did you,” I paused, clearing my throat.  “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“I recognize the look,” he answered cryptically, pulling his hand away as he backed out of the parking spot.

I didn’t push and he didn’t elaborate as he accelerated onto the highway and back to the town I now called home.

 

***

 

“Well, looky, looky what the cat done dragged in,” a husky voice drawled, her expertly applied makeup and shiny straight hair making me feel frumpy.  “Momma said you were bringing someone by but I thought she’d just got into the wine a little early.”

Creed shuffled forward, leaning down to buss her on the cheek.  “I’m going to tell Mary you said that,” he answered casually, a slow grin creasing his face as he stared at her.  “I swear, Ronnie, you look different every time I see you.”

“I think what you meant to say is I’m looking prettier every time you see me,” she corrected, ignoring him to focus on me.  “I see why you brought her in,” she commented and I tugged on the end of my hair self-consciously. “She needs a little gussing up.”

“Just don’t go overboard,” Creed warned, giving me a small smile. “She’s just fine like she is,” he finished, missing the surprised glance Ronnie cast toward him.  She gave me a longer look, crooking her finger for me to follow her to one of the chairs. 

“Momma said a trim and some highlights,” she said, glancing at me for confirmation and I nodded yes. She smiled.  “Just wanted to make sure, Lord knows the woman would have my hide if I got it wrong.”

Creed chuckled and I relaxed slightly.  Ronnie didn’t resemble her short, round mother in the slightest, but their eyes held a similar kindness.  She pointed at Creed as he propped himself against the counter, watching us. “You need to go,” she informed him and he grunted.  “I’m serious. I’ve got clients and your presence is disruptive.” 

A glance at the mirror and I could see what she was talking about.  The other hairdressers were all busy sending Creed sidelong glances and ignoring the people they were working on. I even noticed some of the clients sending him surreptitious glances.

“Shoo,” she said again, making a little motion with her hands. “I’ll take good care of her,” she continued and Creed shifted uncomfortably. He glanced around before he pushed away from the counter.

He met my eyes as he said, “I’ll be in the truck.”

“You might as well go back to the club if you’ve got something to do.  This will take a while,” Ronnie answered for me.  “Crew is supposed to come by after school and get a haircut. I’ll send her over with him.”

I opened my mouth to object at being shuffled around without being asked, when I noticed Creed’s mouth tighten. Ronnie arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.  “You have a problem with Crew giving her a ride?”

Something in the way she said, “ride,” made me think she meant it more than one way and Creed’s sharp glance told me he heard it too.  “He can drive her home,” he replied, emphasizing home.  “But since Jailbait’s never met him she might not be comfortable with that.”

Ronnie made a humming sound and spoke so low I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she answered, patting the top of my head, and I winced.  “Won’t you, Jailbait?”  The way she stressed my unwanted nickname left no doubt of her amusement.

Creed crossed his arms, his teeth tugging on his lower lip in such a way that one of the hairdressers eyeing him made an unwise swipe with a razor.  A curse followed and the guy in her chair said, “Damnit, Lorraine.”

Ronnie grimaced as she cast a sharp glance at Lorraine and Creed smiled.  He glanced at me as he said, “If you don’t feel comfortable riding with Crew, I can come back or send Clutch.”  He made a point to glance at Ronnie as he added, “You seemed comfortable with Clutch this morning.” Ronnie’s lips compressed so tightly they turned white and Creed nodded to me before strolling out the door, every eye on him as he left.

One of the girls fanned herself and Ronnie snapped, “Get back to work.”  She looked angry and I was almost afraid of what my hair was going to look like when she was done.  “Oh, relax,” she muttered, reaching for a comb.  The motion drew her sleeve up, revealing mottled bruises on her wrist.  She tugged her sleeve down hastily and I pretended like I hadn’t noticed.  “I might be pissed with Creed but I won’t take it out on you.”

I nodded, keeping my mouth shut as she carefully combed through my hair.  After a minute, some of the tension eased out of her and she smiled.  “He’s too damn good looking for his own good. They fight over who gets to cut his hair when he comes in.” 

I grinned at that information and said, “He’s got good hair.”

Ronnie snorted, “And a helluva hot body.”  She pointed the comb at me in the mirror.  “And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m not blind,” I answered, not admitting anything more. 

“Add in the fact that he’s a Rebel and the girls around here would do just about anything to get his attention,” she continued and gestured to my face.  “He take care of whoever did that to your face?”

My fingers went to the bruises automatically. I almost shook my head before remembering I needed to be still.  “No, he helped me after,” I mumbled reluctantly, not wanting to get into what happened.  She seemed to understand because she didn’t say anything more.  She worked quietly for a while, not asking what I wanted as she snipped away and I was grateful for the silence.

“He doesn’t bring them home,” she said abruptly, meeting my eyes in the mirror.  “In case you were wondering if he’s done this before.”

I had wondered and her words eased a worry I hadn’t acknowledged.  After a minute, I licked my lips and asked, “You and Clutch?”

Her hand slipped and she muttered a curse.

“It’s none of my business,” I added hurriedly, feeling like I’d stepped into something.

“No,” she shook her head ruefully.  “It’s not you. I understand why you might ask, but I’m not with Clutch.”

“Oh, I didn’t know if Kara was his or what,” I replied, wincing as I heard how my words sounded.  “Not that it matters who,” I broke off, not wanting to make it worse and she actually smiled.

“She’s not his. I’ve never been with Clutch. Not for his lack of trying,” she replied, winking. I was kind of surprised by her admission.  Clutch might not look like Creed but he was handsome in his own right. He had a great body and a country boy vibe that was hard not to look twice at.  “I’m with Kara’s daddy and have been for years. His name is Rob.”

“I don’t think I met him this morning,” I mentioned, assuming he would have been at the clubhouse.  The skin around her eyes tightened, leaving me to think I’d said the wrong thing again.

“He’s not club,” she said shortly, her closed expression telling me the conversation was finished.  She worked in silence after that, carefully applying subtle highlights to my dirty blonde hair until it looked more sun kissed than dirty.

The bell over the door chimed and Ronnie glanced up, a genuine smile lighting her face for the first time since we spoke.  “Crew, come sit down.”  There were a couple of upset glances thrown our way, which Ronnie ignored as a young guy sauntered toward us.  He was about my age, I guessed, and even if Ronnie hadn’t said his name there was no doubt he was Creed’s brother.  They shared the same dark good looks and impenetrable confidence that only came with knowing you belonged.

“What, the world-famous Ronnie’s going to cut my hair today?”  There was a teasing note in his slow drawl and I couldn’t help but smile.

“You keep talking and I’ll buzz cut it,” she warned, shaking the comb at him.

He clutched his chest like her words pained him.  “I don’t believe you, Ronnie.  There would be so many upset girls pounding on your door wondering why.”

“If they knew you, they’d know why,” she sassed back as Crew’s gaze focused on me.

“And who are you? I thought I knew every beautiful woman in this town,” he said, the slightly self-deprecating look in his eyes keeping his flirtation from being over the top.

I snorted and met Ronnie’s eyes in the mirror.  “I can see your problem when they show up.” 

She nodded, her eyes lit up as she told Crew, “Well, this is,” she glanced down at me and then shrugged, “Jailbait, and you’re supposed to give her a ride home.”

“Home?”  He questioned, dragging his eyes from my face to look back up at Ronnie, “And Jailbait?”

I giggled at his confusion as Ronnie lowered the chair.  I exchanged seats with Crew and as Ronnie whipped a cape around him, I told him, “Creed gave me the nickname.  I’m Sloane.”  I reached out to shake his hand and his hand almost engulfed mine as he shook it firmly.  “And home is the clubhouse. I’m staying there a while.”

Crew eyed me, clearly considering his next question as he glanced toward Ronnie, who ignored his imploring gaze.

“Staying?” He finally asked and I nodded as Ronnie fought a smile.  “Like working staying?”  Crew tried again, not wanting to come out and ask if I was one of the girls who hung around for sex but also wanting to know if I was one of those girls.

“Earning my keep,” I said and Crew looked relieved until I added, “As part of the club.”

“You’re a Rebel?” He said incredulously and Ronnie smacked the back of his head.

“Don’t sound so surprised.  It could happen,” she told him tartly.  He shot her a disbelieving glance.

“Anything’s possible,” I said, trying to smooth over his blunder for him. He seemed like a good guy just young. I ignored the internal voice questioning why I thought a guy my age was too young “But no, not a Rebel,” I continued, stumbling over the name. I’d seen the words Southern Rebel stitched onto the kuttes and tattooed on Creed and Clutch’s backs and Ronnie had used it to refer to Creed earlier. I figured it referenced their club membership.  “I’m just staying at the club temporarily.  With their protection,” I tacked on, not forgetting that was the most important part.  Crew stared at me with wide eyes as I said, “They took a vote this morning.”

“Creed demanded a vote?”  He said carefully and even Ronnie stilled as I nodded.  “And they voted you in?”  I nodded again and they exchanged glances with one another.  “Damn, I wish I could have been there for that,” he finally muttered and I smiled.

“It wasn’t bad.  Johnny had a little attitude but the other guys were pretty quick to accept me,” I told them.

“They let you be there?” Crew almost fell out of the chair and had to catch himself when I nodded.  “They won’t even let me in that room.”

“They wanted to talk to me,” I shrugged.  “Guess they needed to hear me reprimand Johnny firsthand.”

“You….Johnny,” Crew couldn’t get the words out and even Ronnie was staring at me in shock.

“He questioned Creed’s loyalty, he questioned my loyalty,” I said with a bite to my words.  “He needed to know that wasn’t okay,” I finished, my expression hardening.

Crew swallowed hard, giving me a sickly smile.  “And Jailbait?  Where did that nickname come from?”

“Creed,” I answered, pouting slightly. “Because I’m sixteen and he’ll kill anyone who touches me.”

“Sounds like Creed,” Crew muttered, shifting in the seat as Ronnie finished his haircut. “Always making rules for other people to follow.”  He sounded bitter but when I glanced at him, he smiled.  “I’m seventeen so I guess you’re not Jailbait to me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Crew,” Ronnie murmured under her breath, but I heard her just the same.