Chapter Six

 

Sloan

 

 

“You can do this,” I whispered encouragingly, staring at my puffy eyes in the mirror as I clutched my little bag of toiletries to my chest.  “They aren’t mean girls.” I snorted at my own lie, taking a deep breath as I debated just dashing to Creed’s room to shower and get ready before we went to my house.  The memory of his chiseled chest and the prominent bulge that had nestled against my stomach vetoed that idea almost instantly. 

I wasn’t ready to come face to face with him again, at least not without layers of clothing as protection.  A thin door and even thinner shower curtain screamed bad idea.  I nodded resolutely to myself in the mirror and marched to the door, yanking it open before I chickened out.

I eased the bathroom door open, exhaling when I saw it was empty.  It was designed dormitory style and made me wonder if the ‘clubhouse’ hadn’t been built for a stable of women, and if I would eventually be forced to be one of them.  I shoved the thought to the side as I hurried to one of the showers, grateful for the cheap, plastic shower curtain as I ducked behind it.

I forced myself to make it quick, even though the hot water felt good on my bruises, I wasn’t prepared to face any of the women I’d met so far with my ass out. I glanced at the bandage Creed had wrapped around my torso and decided against attempting it myself.  I didn’t think I needed it and doubted I’d manage to get it tight enough anyway.

I tugged on jeans figuring I was in for a long ride on Creed’s bike, then layered a white t-shirt with a long sleeve plaid flannel that had appeared with the pile of clothes in my room.  The worn cotton didn’t feel new, instead it reminded me of the often washed, well-loved clothing I’d had to leave behind at home.

I was dragging a comb through my tangled hair when I heard the door creak open. I froze hoping they’d go away, or at least go to another shower and let me make my escape without encountering them.  My hopes were dashed though as the thin curtain separating me from the room was torn open and I came face to face with –

“Candy,” I stated, my gaze drawn inexorably to the bouncing behemoths staring me in the face.  “Do you ever wear clothes?”  I asked, unable to stop myself, and her eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing in here, you little boyfriend stealing whore?” She countered, crossing her arms and lifting her boobs to new heights. Her accusation rubbed me the wrong way, sparking the anger that had been building inside of me since I’d found myself flying down the road, trying to escape another person that wanted to abuse me.

“Showering,” I said curtly, grabbing my stuff as I stepped forward, hoping she’d get the hint and move.  “And now I’m done,” I added as she stood there, blocking my exit.  When she didn’t move, the rage flamed higher and it took everything in me not to scream at her.  “Also, I didn’t steal anyone’s boyfriend.  In case you missed it, he broke up with you.”

There were a few snickers as she huffed, making me realize we weren’t alone.

“We were on a break,” she hissed, glaring at me. “Now we’re not.”  She glanced at her nails, inspecting the hot pink color as she gave me a sideways glance.  “In fact, we made up all night,” she informed me in satisfaction, her gaze carefully watching me to see what I thought of that.

The idea of her with Creed lit the match on my rage as I snapped, “No, you didn’t.”  My blunt statement startled her, since she must have assumed I hadn’t been with Creed since I was using their bathroom instead of his.  “Now, if you don’t move that fat ass of yours out of my way, I will pop those fucking titties like water balloons.”

Shocked mutterings and an “Oh, girl,” met my words as Candy stared at me in stunned disbelief.  When I made a move forward, she stumbled back out of my way and the group of women that had gathered parted like the Red Sea as I made a beeline for the door.

I held my head high, even when I heard someone whisper, “Isn’t that Creed’s shirt?” I forced myself not to care what they thought, if they assumed I was just another one of them, another woman there to warm a bed until she made old lady status. I made it to my room, pathetically grateful I didn’t have to share it as I shut the door and sank to the floor, trembling as I wondered if I’d just made my stay here a thousand times worse.

 

***

 

A knock on the door accompanied by a brusque, “You ready,” had me scrambling to my feet as I swiped at my eyes, making sure none of the tears that threatened had actually escaped.

I yanked the door open so fast he jerked back.  He gave me a hard stare, his gaze missing nothing.  “Someone bother you?” He questioned, his gaze sweeping the room suspiciously.  I shook my head frantically, not wanting to admit my confrontation with Candy.  “You’d tell me,” he stated, a hint of uncertainty coloring his voice.

“I’d tell you,” I promised, telling myself it wasn’t a lie.  I would absolutely tell him if some guy messed with me, but his ex-girlfriend was another thing entirely.  I couldn’t depend on him to fight all my battles.

“A’ight,” he acknowledged, moving aside so I could step out of my room.  “Anybody does and I’ll have a word with them,” he added grimly and I pressed my lips together, nodding.  We were walking down the hall when he stopped abruptly.  “You wrap your ribs?”

“Um,” I answered and he gave me an unamused glance.

“So, no.”

I took a deep breath, causing his gaze to drop to my chest, and his frown deepened.  “I don’t think I need it,” I explained, poking at the bruised area.  I winced as I touched a particularly tender area and he coughed.

“Don’t need it.”

“It’s just sore,” I muttered defensively.  His hand dropped to my lower back as he steered me forward once again.

“We’ll see,” he replied, his gaze flickering over me.  “Speak up if you’re hurting.”  A frown crossed his face.  “Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”

“No,” I answered immediately.  “I swear I’m fine.  Just bruised and sore.”  He didn’t comment but finally nodded, allowing us to keep moving. 

Right before we reached the main area, he paused, his jaw working as he said, “Shirt looks good on you.”

He pushed through the door before I could respond and I tugged at the knotted hem self-consciously as I remembered hearing one of the girls’ comment that the shirt belonged to Creed.

“Jailbait!”  The booming voice brought my head up along with the attention of the entire room.  Deacon flashed a bright, white smile and I felt my own mouth tilt up in response. He held up a little jar, ducking his head as he came close.  “Norah said apply it as often as needed.”  He shot a conspirator’s wink as he handed to me.  “For all of our sakes, I’d start now.”  He glanced pointedly over at Creed and I nodded in understanding.  I hadn’t missed the way Creed’s mouth tightened whenever he caught sight of the bruises dotting my face.

“We’ll be gone most of the day,” I overheard Creed say as we wandered closer to where he stood with Johnny.

“Make sure you stay out of trouble,” Johnny barked, popping a cigarette in his mouth as his gaze flickered to me.  “She’s caused enough all by herself.”

I bit my lip to quell an instinctive protest as Creed rolled his shoulder impatiently.  “It’s a quick in and out to get some of her stuff.  No trouble.”

“You talk to Monty?”  Johnny’s tone left no doubt he thought Creed had forgotten.

“Yeah, he’s gonna set something up this week,” Creed replied, his gaze daring Johnny to question him.  Johnny simply nodded, blowing smoke right at my face.  Creed waved it away, growling, “Don’t be an ass.”  His warning fell on deaf ears as Johnny bared his teeth in a grin.

“Go ahead then,” Johnny waved his arm mockingly as he granted his permission.  “Don’t forget to be home by midnight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Creed muttered, steering me once again toward the door.  “We’ll get breakfast on the road,” he mentioned as we stepped outside.  “Clutch had to get an early start this morning.”

“Okay,” I replied, starting toward the bikes lined up.

“Whoa,” Creed grabbed my arm, gently pulling me to a stop.  “Not today, not with your ribs still sore.” He shook his head.  “Shouldn’t have forced you to ride all the way here with those ribs bruised like that.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” I argued, not bothering to analyze why I was defending a choice I’d adamantly been against at the time.  “What are we going in then?”

Creed nodded to the pickup truck.  “That.  Deacon is gonna ride alongside,” he explained as Deacon swung his leg over one of the bikes.  It was a cobalt blue with a terrifying skull grinning out from the side, along with a sunflower detailed prominently next to it.  Deacon caught my stare and grinned.

“Norah loves sunflowers,” he told me as if that explained everything and as my fingers tightened around the little jar of cream she’d made for me, I realized it did.  These guys might be dangerous and rough, but they loved fiercely and unapologetically.

“Come on,” Creed motioned for me as he opened the truck door, lifting me up so I wouldn’t have to stretch.  He nodded at the jar.  “Put it on.”

I saluted as I said, “Yes, sir.”

His lips twitched but he didn’t say anything as he slammed my door shut and went around to say something to Deacon. I opened the jar and the scent of lavender drifted out.  I inhaled as I dabbed my finger into the jar and smoothed it over my cheekbone.  Creed hauled himself inside and started the engine.

“Don’t forget your ribs,” he mentioned, not looking at me as he said it.  I nodded, staying silent as I thought about lifting my shirt to apply the cream while in the confined space with him.  It seemed too intimate, but so far that seemed to be status quo with us.

The rumble of Deacon’s bike accompanied us out of the parking lot and we were out of the city limits before Creed spoke again.  “There’s a Mickey D’s off the highway.  That good with you?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I answered absently, my hands playing with the jar as I contemplated the best way to apply the cream without giving him a peep show.  I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, Creed’s shirt, a little voice piped up when he cleared his throat.

“I’ll park and go inside to get the food,” he muttered abruptly.  “You can,” he pointed at my chest, “Rub that in while I get it.”

I smiled in relief as I nodded, not missing his discomfort.  It seemed neither of us wanted me to lift my shirt while we were riding together. 

Once we got to the fast food restaurant, Creed hopped out and exchanged a few words with Deacon before going inside.  A glimpse out the side mirror revealed Deacon propped against the bed of the truck, his gaze focused on the parking lot.  I made quick work of applying Norah’s cream, rubbing the excess on my arms before screwing the lid back on. I gingerly touched the bruising on my face, surprised when it seemed less tender.

The door opened suddenly, startling me, as Creed tossed a brown bag toward me.  “I forgot I need to go by the electric company,” he muttered and I nodded.  “Won’t take long.”

“It’s cool,” I murmured, digging into the bag for my food.

“We’ll still have plenty of time to get your stuff,” he assured me and I nodded at him again, my mouth stuffed like a chipmunk. He stared at me for a second in bemusement.  “You definitely eat more than I would have thought.”

“Thanks?” I mumbled, lifting one shoulder.

“It’s good,” he answered, grabbing his own sandwich as he steered the truck back the way we’d came.

He turned into the parking lot of a low brick building, going around the back to a drive thru.  When he pulled up to the window the woman inside sent the drawer out without even glancing up.

“How can I help you?” Her flat voice sounded scratchy over the ancient speaker and Creed drummed his fingers on the truck door through his open window.

“I need to make a payment for 674 Sweetwater Drive,” he answered.  “Hayes.”  When he said his last name her head turned and immediately her indifference disappeared.  I watched in amusement as she touched her hair and gave him a bright smile.

“Creed?”  She giggled like she wasn’t sure and flapped her hand.  “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”

Creed flashed her a smile and I swore her ovaries exploded as she stared at him breathlessly.  “It has been a minute, Maureen.”  He shifted back slightly so Maureen could see me sitting there.  “Can you tell me what’s due on the house?”

She blinked at him slowly but finally nodded as she started typing into the computer, glancing over occasionally to make sure he hadn’t disappeared.  Creed reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet.  The rich brown leather was supple with an intricate embossing on it.  He noticed my interest and handed it to me to inspect.  “One of the guys does leather work,” he mentioned, nodding to the wallet as my fingers traced over the club insignia detailed into the leather.

“It’s beautiful,” I said admiringly.

“$327.16,” Maureen interrupted, her tone waspish at Creed’s inattention.  He gave me a small grin before turning back to her.

“Now, Maureen, I lived in that house all my life and I know it was never that high before,” he commented, his slow smile melting her hostility.  “Why is it so much now?”

She simpered a bit, glancing at him through lowered lashes as she bit her lip.  “I’m not supposed to discuss someone else’s account with you, Creed Hayes.”

He rolled his shoulders, as he flashed a dimple that made her sigh.  “All I want to do is pay the bill and I do own the house, Maureen.”

“Well, I reckon that’s true,” she admitted, glancing over her shoulder before leaning toward the window like she was about to tell a secret.  “It’s high because the bill hasn’t been paid in four months, Creed.”

I saw the subtle tightening of his shoulders at her revelation but his smile never wavered as he kept his eyes on her and held out his hand for me to give him back his wallet. I placed the smooth leather in his palm and he flipped it open, pulling out four hundred dollar bills.

“Go ahead and put this on the account for me, Maureen,” he requested, sliding the bills under the little metal bar of the drawer.  “That should take care of it for now.”

“Of course,” she gushed, bringing the drawer in and reaching in blindly as she continued to stare at him.  “You always take care of business, Creed.” I couldn’t stop the snort that escaped me and heard Creed cough in response.

“I appreciate you taking care of that, Maureen,” Creed said with a nod as he put the truck into gear.  “Good seeing you.”

“You too!  Maybe I’ll see you at the bar,” she added hopefully and Creed nodded but didn’t say anything as he pulled away.

“You have a fan club,” I stated as he lifted up in the seat, sliding his wallet back into his pocket.  “Seems the Hayes name gets attention wherever you go.”

He chuckled, “That can be good and bad.” 

I glanced back at the electric building where I had no doubt Maureen was still staring after us, four hundred dollars clutched in her hand.  Deacon roared out around us, taking the lead as Creed settled back into the seat.  “Seems like a good thing so far,” I responded and he shrugged lightly.

“Being a Rebel around here is kinda like being the high school quarterback,” he admitted. “Everybody knows your name.”

“And Hayes is synonymous with Rebel?”  I questioned and he gave me a quick glance.

“You use big words,” he mentioned even as he nodded.  “Yeah, my dad founded the Rebels with Johnny.  They’re the reason everyone knows us.”

“What happened to your dad?” I asked hesitantly.  I hadn’t heard anyone mention an elder Hayes and was almost afraid to know.

“He died when I was eleven,” Creed answered, his gaze focused on the road.  “Accident at his construction job.”

“That must have been hard on you and your mom,” I remarked, knowing the effect my dad’s loss had on my life.  It had made my mom bitter and left a hole in my life that never seemed to be filled.

He cleared his throat, glancing over at me, “My mom left when I was five. It was just me, Cord, and Dad at that point.”  He paused, thinking. “Well, and Crew and his mom, but Dad wasn’t with Nina when he died.”

“Crew has a different mother?” I asked in surprise.

He snorted, “Yeah, one of the reasons my mom left Dad.”  The truck tires hummed on the road as we coasted down the highway in Deacon’s wake and Creed relaxed.  “Crew’s mom is a dancer at the Crazy Horse.  Dad hooked up with her when they opened it.  He’d already split with Mom by then, but when Crew came along, Mom had enough.”

“She didn’t take you with her?”  This blew my mind because I knew my mom would have never left me behind, no matter what the situation was.

“Mom wasn’t really into taking care of us boys.  Mary was more of a mother to us than Mom ever was and Dad never would have let her take us anyway,” Creed admitted openly.  “We were his boys and that was all that mattered.”

“Who took care of you after he died?”

“Johnny,” Creed answered, shocking me.  He caught my look and chuckled.  “Yeah, doesn’t seem like something he’d do, I admit, but he and my dad were tight.  Johnny would never let us be taken or separated.”  My respect for Johnny went up a notch at the knowledge that he’d taken care of Creed and his brother.  “Our mom came back after Dad died and wanted to take us, but Johnny fought her and in Friendly, Johnny wins.”

“Friendly?”

Creed shot me an amused look.  “The town is named Friendly,” he answered.  “You could say Johnny and by extension, the Rebels, own Friendly.”  There was a warning in his words, one I knew I should heed. I was allowed in the club by Johnny’s grace and should mind my manners around him.

“So, don’t piss off Johnny,” I muttered under my breath and Creed laughed. I shot him a glance, causing him to laugh harder.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he informed me and I rolled my eyes.  “Johnny’s a hard ass but he has a soft spot for teenage girls.” I stared at him in horror and he rushed to explain.  “Not like that!  I meant that he won’t stand for anyone hurting you.” I raised an eyebrow in disbelief.  “It’s true,” Creed insisted, “Johnny might bark and threaten, but he won’t let anyone do anything to you.  You remind him of –” Creed cut off abruptly, his expression shadowed by a sudden grief.  He didn’t finish, instead saying, “You can trust Johnny to do the right thing….at least where you’re concerned.”  I knew his words were meant to reassure, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to me if I didn’t remind Johnny of whoever had caused that grief to flash across Creed’s face.

“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” I finally replied, settling back into the seat for the rest of the drive.

The closer we came to my home, the tighter my chest got until I was afraid I was having a heart attack.  My breath came in gasps, my eyes watering as we came to the entrance of the mobile home park I’d called home for the past five years.

“Breathe, Jailbait,” Creed pulled the truck into the driveway, idling, as he rested his hand on my shoulder.  “In and out, in and out, one breath at a time.”  I focused on his words, only his words, breathing in and out in unison with him until my chest eased and it didn’t feel like I was suffocating.  “Better?”  He asked as my expression calmed and I nodded.  “Are you up for this?”

I knew if I said no, he’d turn the truck around and leave, no questions asked. I knew he’d bring me back again and again, asking me the same question until I could answer yes and that knowledge was enough to force my head into a nod.

I could do this.

I needed to do this.

I had to do this.

“You let me know at any point if you need a break, a’ight?”  My head bobbed and he shook my shoulder gently. “I’m gonna need you to say it, Jailbait.”

“I’ll tell you if I need a break,” I answered dutifully and he released me, easing us forward down the bumpy gravel drive.  “217,” I said and he nodded, his eyes scanning the numbers on each trailer as Deacon slowly cruised behind us.  When we got to mine, my breath caught. It looked exactly the same as when we’d left and that hurt more than anything. It seemed like it should be different, changed, like I was, but that was dumb. It had only been a couple of days since we’d run with the few things I’d managed to throw in a backpack. 

“You got a key?”  Creed questioned and I fumbled in my backpack, getting worried when I couldn’t find it.  “We don’t need a key, but it might look better if we used one,” he continued conversationally, the sound of his voice calming me further even as he discussed breaking and entering.  “I can pick a lock or we can just bust the door in.”

My fingers brushed against metal and I held the key up triumphantly.  “Or we could just use the key.”

“See, most girls would be impressed with my bad boy image,” Creed mentioned as we got out of the truck.  “You, on the other hand….”

“Who says I’m not impressed?” I tossed over my shoulder as I hurried up the steps to the door, my heart thumping from our light flirtation.  My fingers slipped on the knob and it took two tries to get the key in as Creed and Deacon hovered behind me protectively.  When I made to open the door, Creed stopped me.

“Let me go in first,” he suggested and I stepped aside.  He slid inside, his gaze sweeping the room, before nodding at me.  I came in after him, Deacon trailing me.

“My room’s that way,” I said, pointing to the left.  “Mom’s room was over here.” I indicated the short hallway on my right.  “What I want is in her room.”  I headed that way, coming up short when Creed caught my arm.

“There’s nothing you want in your room?”  He questioned and I shrugged.

“Clothes?”  Truthfully, the stuff Creed had bought me was nicer than most of what I’d had.  “There are some books on the shelf by my bed,” I mentioned, “I’d like those.”  It was rare we could afford to buy books, mostly going to the library so I could borrow them, but there were a few favorites Mom had bought me over the years.

“A’ight, we’ll grab them and anything else we see,” Creed agreed.  “Shout if you need us.”  He seemed to understand I didn’t want an audience when I went into my mom’s room and I nodded gratefully.

“I will,” I promised, swallowing hard. He and Deacon went to the left as I steeled myself to enter Mom’s room.  Flashes of the day we’d left ran through my mind. Shouting and curses, panicked thoughts, and the mad rush to get away before he came back. 

The door clicked open and as I inhaled, tears pricked my eyes.  It smelled like her and if I closed my eyes I could almost imagine she was still there. I stepped inside, seeing the unmade bed, the shirt she kept intending to iron, and the cluttered nightstand. I found myself next to the nightstand picking up her favorite bottle of lotion instead of going to the closet. I snapped the top open and breathed the familiar scent.  I closed my eyes to stop the flow of tears, knowing they were pointless, but it didn’t stop me from slipping the lotion into my pocket as I moved to the closet.

I shoved her clothes to the side, pushing on my tiptoes as I reached blindly into the corner of the little closet.  I panicked for a second when I didn’t feel it, but finally my hand settled on top of cool leather.

I tugged it down, hugging it to my chest in relief as I inhaled the familiar leather scent.  For the first time though, it didn’t remind me of my father, but instead of Creed. I buried my head further in the jacket, inhaling even deeper, but memories of Creed continued to override the faint recollections I had of my father.  The jacket was the only thing I had left of my Dad, the only thing my mother hadn’t destroyed or thrown away in her grief. It was the only thing I had to remember him by since not even a picture of him remained.

I shut the closet, leaving my mom’s stuff behind as I tucked the jacket over my arm, and went to find Creed.  I headed to my room, but Deacon blocked the door.

“Creed,” he called over his shoulder, not allowing me past him.

“What is it?” I questioned, trying to peek around him.

“Nothing,” Creed said brusquely, squeezing past Deacon and making sure I couldn’t see into the room. “We should go.  You got what you wanted?”

I nodded, resisting when he tried to move me down the hall.  “What is it?”  I repeated, suddenly worried.  “Creed,” I added sharply.

“You shouldn’t have to see that,” Creed replied, his face tight.  “No one should see that.”  Deacon agreed, looking disgusted by whatever he saw in my room, but moved aside so I could see.

“Oh my God,” I murmured, my eyes widening as I took in the chaos that was my room.

“I’m guessing you didn’t leave it like that?”  Deacon asked and I shook my head.  My books had been torn and shredded, my clothes tossed, and my underwear piled on the bed. I stepped forward, seeing something crusted on my underwear but Creed caught my arm and prevented me from going further.

“You really don’t want to touch that,” he warned, his voice a menacing growl.  “Trust me, you don’t want anything in here.”

“Okay,” I said faintly, stepping back and into Creed’s chest.  My mind scrambled to process the ransacked space and the fact that it was the only room in the trailer that had been touched.  “What is…it?”  I pointed to my underwear and Creed jerked me out of the room.

“We need to go,” Creed said instead, jerking his head to Deacon.  “He’ll be back if he doesn’t already have someone watching the place.”

I didn’t need to ask who he was, shuddering at the thought of him coming back and doing something to my room, to my underwear.  We made it to the porch, stepping down when Mr. White came up in his golf cart, his stupid yippee dog riding next to him.

“What are you doing here?”  He yelled, poking his finger at us.  “This is private property.”

“I live here,” I snapped back, stepping up next to Creed.  “I came to get my stuff.”

“You have some nerve showing your face around here,” he shouted, waving his arm at me.  “Your momma owes me money.  You can’t take nothing from in there.”

I hugged the jacket to my chest, daring him to try and take it from me.  Creed stepped in front of me as Deacon crossed his arms next to us, drawing Mr. White’s attention to the two men.

“I’m going to call the police,” he threatened, ducking back into his golf cart as his little white dog barked.  “You leave that stuff or I’m gonna have you arrested for theft.”

“I don’t think so,” Creed snarled, his boots thudding down the steps as Deacon ushered me down behind him.  “She can take whatever she wants.”  He stopped right in front of the cowering man.  “Someone has already been in there.  Was it you?”

Mr. White shook his head, trying to back up, but Creed continued to crowd him.

“I think you were or at least you know who was in there,” Creed rumbled, any hint of the caring guy I knew shed in an instant as he lived up to his reputation.  Deacon nudged me toward the truck and I went, stumbling as I tried to hear what Creed was asking him.

“Come on,” Deacon opened the door, lifting me inside.  “We need to be ready to roll.”  Something distracted him and he shouted, “We gotta ride.”  His words set Creed in motion as Deacon slammed the truck door closed and I craned my neck to see what had caught his attention.  Creed jumped in, starting the truck with a roar.

“Is there another exit besides the one we came in?”  He asked urgently and I nodded, pointing to the dumpster.

“Behind the dumpster there’s a dirt road that connects to the main road.  Most people avoid it because of the pot holes.”  Creed was already gunning the engine as Deacon stayed on his tail, gravel flying, and when I glanced back I saw what had made them move.  Flashing blue lights were just turning into the mobile home park, but it was the sight of the black town car that froze my blood.

I twisted back around, suddenly terrified we’d be run off the road and Creed would be killed.  “Your seatbelt,” I said frantically, reaching for him.  He tugged it over his chest, keeping the truck steady even as he sped toward the road.  He released it, letting me lock it into place, as my breath came in shuddering gasps. 

My own seatbelt locked as he tapped the brakes, spinning onto the dirt road.  I gasped as the seatbelt bit into my bruised side and his arm shot in front of me to keep me from going forward.

“He won’t touch you,” Creed swore, checking the rearview mirror to make sure Deacon followed.  “We won’t let him.”

“Why is he here?”  I cried, clenching my hands around Dad’s jacket.  “Hasn’t he done enough?”

“He won’t stop until he has you,” Creed snarled, observing my reaction with a sideways glance.  “He’s obsessed.”

“How do I stop him?”  My voice wavered embarrassingly and he reached over, grasping my hand.

“You don’t,” he corrected. “I’ll take care of him.”  His tone left no doubt what he meant by take care of and the idea should have terrified me as much as Grant’s pursuit, but it didn’t.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I whispered, my eyes closing as he accelerated, the memory of my mom doing the same thing washing over me. “Why are you doing this?”

His fingers tightened around my own and I wanted to tell him he should put both hands on the wheel, but I couldn’t bear to lose his touch.  “Because I can’t not do this,” he finally answered, the words almost inaudible, as we rocketed down the dirt road, our fingers knotted together.

 

***

 

“You see anything?”  Creed questioned Deacon when we finally stopped.

“Nah, nothing useful,” Deacon answered, tapping out a cigarette and offering it to Creed.  He accepted, lighting it and then positioning his hand so the smoke didn’t blow toward me.  “They didn’t follow us, but I couldn’t make out plates or anything else.”  Deacon nodded at me.  “Figured she was our priority.”

Creed tilted his head in agreement as Deacon blew smoke out the side of his mouth.  “She is.  We’ll get our chance at him,” Creed replied confidently.  “Until then, Jailbait’s safety is my number one.”

Deacon nodded, seeming unsurprised by the statement, and I lifted my hand, waving it at them.  “Hello?  I’m right here and I don’t agree.”  I crossed my arms over my chest once I had their attention and they both gave me blank stares.  “I’m not that important. I don’t want either of you risking your lives to save me or protect me.”  Creed lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed, and I huffed.  “Look, my mom talked about Grant, said he was important.” I glanced between them.  “I don’t want him to cause trouble for you or the club.  You’ve helped me more than I ever could have asked.”  I sucked in a deep breath, forcing the next words out. “You should leave me here. I can find my own way and y’all don’t have to worry about Grant.”

“Do we look worried about Grant?”  Creed questioned, bending down to meet my eyes, his fingers flicking the ashes of his cigarette without ever glancing away from me.  I shook my head.  “You don’t need to worry about us.  We good.”

“Ain’t no fat, white boy ever scared me,” Deacon chortled, white teeth flashing against dark skin.  “Well, I take that back now.  I wouldn’t want to get on Hank’s bad side.  That motherfucker could crush me.”

Creed chuckled, flashing him a look of agreement, and I stomped my foot impotently, drawing their attention once again.  “What if he hurts one of you or causes trouble for the club?  Hmmm?  Johnny would be pissed.”

“You’re club,” Creed responded, crushing the cigarette and flicking the stub into the back of the truck bed.  “We voted.” I opened my mouth but he kept talking.  “That means you have our protection no matter what and Johnny understands that.”  His eyes drilled into mine.  “Now, I don’t want to hear you talking about leaving or us leaving you again.  That’s not how it works, got me?”

Deacon had stepped back, giving us privacy, I noticed gratefully as I tried to form words under Creed’s gaze.  “I’m not worth it,” I choked out, caving under his hard stare.

“Not your decision,” Creed replied, his mouth softening slightly as he brushed his thumb along my cheekbone.  “Now, you ever gonna show me what was so important it was the only thing you wanted?”

I blinked at the change in subject and Deacon glanced over, his gaze curious.  “Um, my Dad’s jacket,” I replied, going to the truck and pulling out the worn black leather.  “It’s the only thing I have left of him.” I shook it out, showing them the old jacket, creased by time and wear.

Deacon whistled at the sight of it as Creed positioned it so he could see the design on the back.  “Your dad was club?”  I nodded, having memorized the club emblem years ago.  “I ain’t seen one of these in a decade or more.”  Creed fingered the fierce eagle, taking in the talons curled around a set of handlebars, and the words stitched across the wings.  “A flying eagle, I’ll be damned.  Johnny gonna shit himself when he sees this.”

I pulled the jacket back toward me protectively.  “What do you mean?”  Creed released it, shaking his head as he grinned at me.

“It’s not bad,” he promised.  “Not everything about Johnny is bad,” he informed me and I gave him a doubtful stare.  “Really,” he reiterated, holding his fingers up as he said, “Scout’s honor.”

“Somehow, I doubt you were ever a Scout,” I replied, my lips twitching as Deacon doubled over with laughter.  “Why would Johnny care about my Dad’s old jacket anyway?”

“Cause Johnny’s Dad was a Flying Eagle,” Creed answered, smirking at my surprise.  “Yep, your Dad was in the same club as Johnny’s Dad.”  His smile faded as he continued, “Johnny don’t talk about his old man much, but he was the reason Johnny and my Dad formed the Rebels.”

“I would have thought Johnny would have be an Eagle like his Dad,” I commented, and Deacon’s gaze flickered to Creed, clearly thinking the same thing.

Creed’s expression changed, growing uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Johnny wasn’t allowed to become an Eagle,” he admitted reluctantly.  “The club refused to take any new prospects.”

“Why?”  I asked, my curiosity piqued by Creed’s vagueness.  Mom never talked about Dad and I’d been so young when he died, I didn’t remember much.  This was the closest I’d ever come to finding out about my Dad’s life and I didn’t plan to let it go.

Creed exhaled, seeming to understand my need to know.  “They considered themselves cursed,” he answered bluntly.  “The club had a string of accidents and bad luck which killed several members.  Members became paranoid and they stopped allowing prospects.”

“You don’t think they were cursed,” I stated, taking in his stance as he spoke.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered.  “They believed.”  His gaze flickered over me.  “And there’s no denying they suffered losses.”

“My Dad couldn’t have been any older than Johnny,” I persisted. “Why was he a member and not Johnny?”

Creed shrugged as he shoved his hands in his pockets.  “I don’t know.  All I know is what Johnny told me on nights he drank more than he should.  You want to know more –”

“Talk to Johnny,” I concluded and he nodded sympathetically.  “I will,” I promised, hitching the soft leather over my arm.  “I need to know what happened.  What my mom never wanted to tell me.”

Creed rubbed his jaw.  “I don’t know how much Johnny would know about your Dad, but he kept in touch with the Flying Eagles. If any of them are left, he might be able to get you in contact.” He gave me a cautious glance.  “If you can get Johnny to talk to you about it.  Those aren’t happy memories for him.”

I forced a grim smile.  “You said he has a soft spot for teenage girls. Hopefully that will be a start.”  Creed eyed me with something resembling respect and I felt myself straighten in pride. I didn’t want to be a scared, little girl, not if I intended to stay, and I was starting to realize that’s exactly what I wanted.  To stay with Creed and this motley crew.

“Did you want to go back for a look see?”  Deacon interrupted my thoughts and my gaze shot to Creed to see what his answer would be.

He shook his head.  “Nah, don’t want to risk it.  Besides, we can shake it out of the owner.  It was no coincidence they showed up minutes after we did.”

“With cops,” Deacon grumbled, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out.  “He’s got friends.”

“So do we,” Creed responded grimly, a dark smile on his face as he gestured for me to get back in the truck.  “So do we.”

 

***

 

“Son of a bitch.”

I jerked awake, my head awkwardly caught on the seatbelt as I felt the truck skid to a stop, Creed cursing as he jumped out, leaving the motor running and me in the truck.  I craned my neck trying to see what had caused his reaction as Deacon rumbled to a stop next to the idling truck.

“Stay in the truck,” he barked, swinging his leg over the bike and slipping a gun into the back of his jeans.

“What’s going on?”  Deacon just shook his head at my question, hurrying after Creed with an exasperated expression.  “Okay, don’t answer me,” I muttered to myself as I looked around.  We were on a back road in the middle of nowhere I recognized, stopped in the middle of the road in front of a crappy old house with a couple of rusted out cars sitting on cinder blocks.

A flicker of motion caught my eye and I pressed my nose to the window to get a better look.  I gasped when I realized what I was seeing, and scrambled from the truck. I jumped the low ditch separating the road and house and made my way over to the dog chained in the hot sun.

Scars covered the dog’s face and one ear was partially missing as it laid in the dirt.  If it hadn’t been for that single flicker of movement, I would assume it was dead.  As I slowly crept closer with no sign of life, I started to wonder if maybe I’d imagined the movement and the dog really was dead.

“Hi,” I whispered, creeping closer and hoping it was friendly.  I noticed it was a girl when I came around the side and said, “Hey girl.”  She didn’t move, too tired or too far gone to bother, and I felt my throat tighten with tears.  I could count her ribs and the heavy chain around her throat limited her motion. I wasn’t sure she could even lift her head from the weight.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  I just want to help you,” I murmured softly, steadily getting closer as I spoke to her.  “You look hungry and thirsty.”  Her chest rose slightly and I let out a relieved sigh at the sign of life.  “You’re alive!  Good.  You can come home with me.  I’ll take care of you.”  I didn’t stop to think about the fact that I didn’t have a home or if Creed would allow me to bring her, I just knew I couldn’t leave her there to die, and that’s exactly what would happen.

I reached down to stroke her side and when my hand touched her, she twisted, her jaws snapping at my hand. I jerked away, heart hammering, as I held still.  She settled after a second, her energy sapped, and I whispered soothing nonsense as I tried again to touch her.  This time she let me, her eyes guarded as she watched me carefully. I kept my movements slow, petting her gently until her head dropped and she let out a sigh.

The sound of banging came from behind the house where Creed and Deacon had disappeared and I spared a glance over my shoulder, wondering what they were doing. I still wasn’t sure why we’d stopped, but I had already decided Maisy was coming home with us.

“Maisy,” her eye cracked open when I said her name and I smiled.  I had no idea what her name actually was but it was enough that she’d looked at me when I said it.  “You like the name, Maisy?”  I asked, stroking her gently and she pushed her nose into my hand.  “Yeah, I think you do, sweet girl.”

The slam of a screen door had me twisting around, my body awkwardly guarding Maisy.  “What the fuck are you doing with my dog, bitch?”  A man screamed at me, a potbelly hanging over his drooping jeans, as a scraggly beard dotted his face, with greasy hair tucked behind his ears.

“I’m taking her,” I informed him, my hand tugging at the chain wrapped too tightly around her neck.

“Like hell you are,” he roared, his hand going to the waist of his pants as he pulled a gun.  I scooted back, falling on my butt as Maisy leapt to her feet, growling, hackles raised as she stood next to me.  “Get off my property, bitch, before I kill you.”

Maisy growled deeper, snarling, as the man stomped closer and he waved the gun at her, shouting, “Shut up, you stupid dog, before I shoot you.”

“No,” I cried, scrambling to my knees, as I wrapped my arms around her protectively.  He swung the gun back at me as I panted, anger overriding my fear.

“You’re a horrible man,” I screamed at him.  “Chaining up a dog and starving it.  You should be shot.”

“I warned you to get off my property,” he threatened, cocking the gun.  “You should have listened, girlie.”

“Drop the gun before I blow your brains out,” Creed warned, coming up the side of the house, a gun steadied on the man.  “You don’t threaten her.”

The man laughed, barely glancing at Creed, as he continued to point the gun at me.  “And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?  You’re trespassing and I have the right to shoot you.”

“Not if you’re dead,” Creed answered, standing motionless, the gun trained on the man’s head as I kneeled in the dirt next to Maisy.

“You ain’t killing me,” the man boasted, “Not before I drop your girl –” his words cut off abruptly as a single shot rang out and I watched him crumple to the ground.

“Jailbait,” Creed called out and I made a noise, still staring at the man who’d just threatened me and now lay dead on the ground.  “You a’ight?”  A whimper escaped me and Maisy nuzzled my neck.  “Jailbait, talk to me,” Creed ordered, bypassing the dead man as he came to me and crouched down.  He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, holding his hands out in front of him loosely as Maisy growled protectively.  “Shhh, it’s alright, girl.  We’re on the same team. You protect my girl and you’re good in my book.” His voice took on a smooth, rolling cadence that immediately eased the hackles raised on Maisy’s back and I could feel it having a similar effect on me as I sucked in a breath.  “Jailbait, I’m sorry you had to see that, but I wasn’t going to let him get a shot off.  Not willing to risk you getting hurt.”

I nodded, my mind replaying the last few minutes as I hugged Maisy.  “It’s okay,” I whispered, “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you’re fine,” Creed disagreed, his hand hovering by my cheek and when I didn’t flinch away, he brushed his fingers along my jaw.  “But I do think you will be fine after a bit.  You’re strong and brave, Jailbait, no denying that.”

The compliment warmed me, making me realize that I was cold.  “He almost killed me,” I whimpered, sinking down as the thought crashed over me.  “You killed him to save me.”

“Yup,” Creed answered simply.  “If it makes you feel better, I probably would have killed him anyway for fighting dogs.”

“Creed,” Deacon called as he strode toward us, slowing when he saw the dead man.  “Shit, I was hoping that was a shot to scare him,” he muttered, shaking his head.  He shot Creed a troubled glance, “I got the locks open, but I don’t think most of them can be saved.”

I glanced between them, trying to figure out what they were talking about.  “I’ll go take a look, do what needs to be done,” Creed answered, standing in one fluid motion as his expression smoothed into a hardened mask.  “Get this chain off her and watch it, she’s protective of Jailbait.”  He left without another word, not even glancing at the dead guy as he went around the side of the house. I stared after him worriedly as Deacon approached and Maisy started growling a warning.

“Can you call off your other guard dog?”  Deacon asked, nodding to the growling Maisy and I jerked my attention back to them.  I stroked her head, whispering softly until she calmed.

“She’s not mine,” I replied, biting my lip as I said it. I wanted her to be mine, but it had started to dawn on me that I had nowhere to take her.  Somehow, I didn’t think Johnny would allow me to keep her at the club.

“Yeah, kinda like Creed isn’t yours,” Deacon muttered under his breath, his hands slow and steady as he worked to unravel the chain around Maisy.  “You are a definitely a match,” he continued, his words puzzling me as I watched him remove the heavy chain.  “I thought I told you to stay in the truck,” he reminded me and I ducked my head.  “Yeah, yeah, let me guess, you saw the dog and that was all she wrote.”

“Yeah,” I whispered softly since that was exactly what happened.  A gunshot caused me to jump and I glanced fearfully at the house, crying out as another gunshot rang out.

“It’s okay,” Deacon stopped me as I pushed to my feet, headed toward the back where Creed had gone and the gunshots came from.  “It’s Creed.”

I glanced down at Deacon as he got the last links off Maisy’s neck, my attention caught by the red, oozing wounds where it had been chafing her skin.  “Oh, baby girl,” I cried, gently examining the skin.  “I’m not sorry at all that Creed killed that man.”

More gunshots rang out, diverting my attention once again and I stared wide eyed at the house.  “What is he doing?”  I whispered, not sure I wanted to know.

“Putting them out of their misery,” Deacon answered shortly, tossing the chain aside in disgust.  “He,” he nodded to the dead guy, “Was a dog fighter.  Raised bait dogs and fighters, kept them caged in the back.  That’s why Creed stopped.”

“How did he know?”

Deacon pointed to a symbol spray painted on one of the rusted out cars.  “They use that symbol for bets in the dog fights.  Creed figured he might have dogs.”

Another shot caused me to jump and Maisy leaned her head on my legs.  “What’s he doing?”  I asked again, knowing now that I really didn’t want to know.

Deacon glanced at me sympathetically.  “He’s putting them down,” he answered as silence followed the last gunshot.  “Most were too far gone to be saved.”  My hand went to Maisy in concern and Deacon shook his head.  “He wouldn’t touch her.  She’s strong…like you.”  Deacon stepped back, patting his pockets, before pulling out a pack of cigarettes.  “Stay here,” he ordered, pointing at me.  “I mean it this time, Jailbait, you don’t want to see that,” his head jerked to the back as I shook my head frantically.  I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to think about it.  I sank to the ground, curling my fingers into Maisy’s buff colored fur and waited.

Several minutes later, a cop car pulled up to the house and Creed came around.  The cop who stepped out of the car seemed to know Creed as they exchanged a complicated handshake.  Creed gestured for me to come over and I brushed my jeans off as I walked over, Maisy following on my heels.

“Jailbait, this is Noah.  He’s a friend of the club.”

“He means honorary member,” Noah corrected, studying me.  His gaze was matter of fact, not a hint of creepiness, and he snorted when he saw Maisy.  “She’s definitely a match for you,” he said cryptically as he turned back to Creed.  “You had to kill him?”

“He pointed a gun at Jailbait,” Creed replied flatly.  “He got off easy.”  I shivered at the violence in Creed’s voice as Noah let out a sigh, nodding.  “What do you need from me?”

“Get out of here,” Noah answered, jerking his head to the truck still idling in the middle of the road.  “Take her and go. I’ll clean this up and come by the club when I’m finished.”  They exchanged a glance loaded with meaning I didn’t understand and Creed nodded as he reached for me, pausing when Maisy growled.

“She was mine first,” he grumbled, lowering his hand so she could sniff it, his finger delicately brushing over her muzzle.  “We’re on the same team,” he told her and she lowered her head, the motion so regal she could have been a queen giving a peasant a pardon.  He glanced at Noah as he took my arm.  “There are a couple of dogs in the back I plan to come back for,” he warned him.  “They’re going to need time and attention but they can be rehabilitated.  Deacon is getting them settled now.”

Noah lifted his chin in acknowledgement, his gaze following me curiously for a second before he yanked on a pair of latex gloves and headed over to the dead guy.  “You get a name before you shot him?”  He called over his shoulder and Creed shook his head.  “Great,” I heard Noah mutter as he crouched down and started digging into the guy’s pocket.

“Come on,” Creed tugged my arm encouragingly.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“What’s going to happen?”  I questioned, resisting him as I glanced back at Noah, who was snapping pictures of the scene.  I couldn’t believe we were just walking away from a crime scene when we were the reason for it.

“Noah will take care of it.  It was necessary,” Creed rumbled, guiding me to the truck.  “He understands, but it’s better if your name isn’t on any reports, okay?”

“Okay,” I said uncertainly.  “Deacon?”

“Will be right behind us. He’s just securing the dogs for transport,” Creed assured me as he helped me into the truck.  He lifted Maisy onto the floorboard and she rested her head against me with sigh.  “She’s definitely yours,” he murmured, a look of pride marking his expression as he shut the door.  He hustled around the truck, hopping into the still open door, and shifting into drive as he slammed it shut.  “We’ll get her settled back at the club,” he informed me and I stared at him hopefully.

“I can keep her?”  I couldn’t hide my incredulity and he shot me a surprised glance.

“You’d let me take her away?”  He questioned, a smile playing over his lips.

“No,” I answered instantly and his grin became full blown.

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, head bobbing.  “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”  His fingers strummed restlessly against the steering wheel as he drove us away.  “I can’t have you sleeping on the street with just a mutt to keep you safe.” Maisy let out a soft woof and he flashed her a grin.  “Not that you wouldn’t do a stand up job, old girl.”

“Johnny will let me keep her there?”  I asked doubtfully and Creed got a cagey look on his face.  “No,” I answered for him and he shot me an imploring glance.  “Creed, you already said I don’t need to get on his bad side.”

“You don’t and you won’t,” he responded instantly.

“I’m not giving her up,” I said stoutly.

“And you won’t have too,” he promised.  “We’re taking her to my house.”

“You have a house,” I stated and he shrugged.

“Technically, me, Crew, and Cord have a house,” he answered.

“The one with the electric bill,” I replied as understanding dawned.

“Yes, Crew and his mom live there now since Cord is in the military and I usually stay at the clubhouse,” he explained.  “Dad left the house to us boys when he died.”

“It’s nice of you to let Crew and his mom live there,” I mentioned, not sure what I was supposed to say. He shrugged.

“Strippers don’t make that much. At least not old ones,” he replied nonchalantly.  “At least this way I know Crew has roof over his head and I can keep an eye on him.”

  “And a place to bring strays,” I added, not just talking about Maisy anymore.  He shoot me a sidelong glance but didn’t deny my words.  “They won’t mind having a dog hanging around?”

“Nah, Crew is used to me bringing dogs there to rehab. I’ve got kennels and runs set up in the back yard. He’s good about feeding them and giving them attention when I’m not around.”

“What about his mom?  Nina, you said?”

“She won’t say anything,” Creed declared confidently.  “She knows better.”  I settled back in the seat with those words, my hands careful to avoid the open wounds on Maisy as I petted her.  Creed saw me and said, “We’ll get her bandaged up.  She’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”

“Will I be able to see her?”

“Yeah, of course.”  He reached over, petting Maisy, and bumping my arm.  “You can see her as often as you want.  The house is only a couple of blocks from the club.  You can walk over anytime.”

“Why don’t you live with Nina and Crew, if they’re so close?”

Creed grew quiet, his face inscrutable.  “It’s better this way,” he finally answered, flashing me a glance.  “Crew doesn’t appreciate me acting like an older brother.”

“You are his older brother,” I stated, confused.

“Yeah, but,” he hesitated for a moment, “I’m not Cord.”

“Cord is the oldest?” I questioned, remembering the picture I’d seen in Creed’s room, and the unsmiling guy who’d stood next to Creed.

“Yeah, he’s a year older than me,” Creed sighed.  “Him and Crew always got along, and when he left, it was hard on Crew. It was like losing Dad all over again.”

“Why did Cord leave?” I asked, puzzled.  “You said he’s in the military?”

He nodded, staying silent so long I wasn’t sure he was going to answer.  “He joined the Navy.  He had his reasons, but Crew was still young when he left and didn’t really understand.  I tried to step in, but he just saw it as me trying to take Cord’s place.”

“He didn’t appreciate it.”

“No,” Creed shook his head. “Not at all.”

“But you seem to get along now.”

“We get along, but its better we don’t live together.”

“Ah, but it’s okay to visit the dogs you rehabilitate together?”

“Something like that,” Creed shot me a glance as I hummed.  “Don’t make too much of it.”

“You know sometimes people don’t get along because they’re too much alike,” I mentioned, not glancing at him even when I felt his gaze boring into me.  “It’s hard to admit we share traits with someone we argue with.”

“You might be right,” Creed said slowly.  “But we also hurt the ones we love the most.”

My lower lip wobbled as I muttered, “Yeah,” as I remembered the fights I used to have with my mom.

“It gets better,” he said gruffly.  “You remember the good stuff instead of the bad.  You feel less guilty for all the stupid shit you said and did and remember the happy times.”  He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.  “It takes time, but I promise, it gets easier.”

I nodded wordlessly, my throat sealed, trapping anything I wanted to say behind a lump of tears I refused to shed. He didn’t seem to need an answer as he continued to run his thumb over my hand as he drove us home.

 

***

 

These time it was daylight and I was awake as we entered the town limits and I saw the sign announcing we were entering Friendly.  The old buildings were a little worn, but still maintained as we drove through.  People waved, seeming to recognize the old truck and the man driving it.  I watched curiously as we passed the now familiar club and turned down a street, making the block before turning again this time in to the driveway of an older white house, the shutters painted a cheery blue.  The yard was cut and an older car sat in the carport.

“Nina’s home,” Creed muttered, placing the truck in park.  “Crew’s probably still helping Clutch with that transmission.” He seemed a little uneasy as he spoke, but nodded for me to get out.  “We’ll go around back and get Maisy settled.”

I hopped out and Maisy gamely followed me.  She seemed to have a little more pep, her tail wagging as she padded after us.  The back yard was bigger than I pictured, with a large span of green grass and a huge covered kennel on one side.

“It’s heated and cooled,” Creed said, going to one side where a shed stood.  He opened it to reveal dog food and supplies stacked inside.  “We’ll get her a bowl of food and clean up those wounds.”

“Creed,” a voice cooed, in a tone I was starting to learn was a familiar one where Creed was concerned.  “What are you doing here?  You should have come up to the house. You know I always look forward to seeing you.”

Creed tensed and discomfort crawled up my spine at the implication in her voice. I glanced over my shoulder hoping this wasn’t Crew’s mother.  The woman who sashayed up had a great body, I admitted grudgingly, but time hadn’t been kind to her face. It looked like she had spent a little too much time in the sun or smoking.  Or both, I added mentally, when I saw the cigarette dangling from her fingertips.  She had on a pair of cutoffs that barely covered her ass and a halter top that did nothing to hide her boobs.  The dye job on her head clearly wasn’t Ronnie’s work, the red leaning closer to brassy orange, something I knew Ronnie would never allow.

“Nina,” Creed spoke reluctantly, shooting me an apologetic look as he turned and greeted her.  “I thought you’d be at work.”

“Oh, I haven’t been feeling well,” she simpered, walking right up to him and pressing her boobs against his chest as my eyebrows shot to the sky. I barely resisted the urge to shove her away from him, only controlling myself as Creed stepped back using a bowl as a shield.

“Crew mentioned you’d been sick,” he replied and she smiled in delight until he continued. “Said that was the reason you hadn’t paid the electric bill. You couldn’t work.”  His gaze skimmed over her doubtfully.  “Maybe I should put a call into Tony at the Crazy Horse.”

“No,” she exclaimed, the smile wiped from her face.  “You don’t need to call him.  I’m going in tonight.”  She barely glanced at me as she started to back up.  “In fact, I should be getting ready.”  She gave a breathless little laugh that sounded forced to me.  “You know your way around, Creed.”  I rolled my eyes at her implication and Creed caught the movement and grinned.  “You want anything, Creed, just give a holler.”

“No worries, Nina, I know exactly what I want,” Creed replied, never taking his eyes off me.  “Glad you’re feeling better.”  She didn’t miss the jab, huffing as she spun back toward the house.

I waited till I heard the back door slam before I jerked my thumb after her.  “That’s Crew’s mom?”  Creed nodded ruefully, reaching for the dog food to fill the bowl in his hand.  “I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t a….”  I hesitated, searching for the right term.

“Cougar?”  Creed said helpfully and I nodded.  “Yeah, she’s been after me since I was sixteen and before that it was Cord.  Hell, she’d make a sandwich of us if we allowed it.”

I winced at that visual and wiggled my finger, “You haven’t….with her?”

“Oh, God, no.”  Creed shuddered, giving me a wounded glance.  “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

“I don’t know!” I lifted my hands in the air.  “Maybe you were young and dumb.  She’s older and more experienced.”

“She’s Crew’s mom,” he enunciated, shaking his head.  “She had sex with my dad.”  He waved a broad hand in my face. “Just no.  I don’t do leftovers or my sibling’s moms.”

“Thank God for that,” I muttered, taking the bowl from his hand.  “I’d hate to think of you doing Cord’s mom.”

“Damn it, woman.”  He shot me a disgusted glance.  “You had to go there.”  A laugh bubbled out of me as I crouched in front of Maisy and she eagerly started eating.  When I glanced back up, Creed’s expression had transformed and as he continued to stare at me, my laughter died and I brushed at my face self-consciously.

“Do I have something?”  I questioned, flushing under his scrutiny.

“No,” he answered as he seemed to snap out of his trance.  “You look great.”  He filled a bowl with water and set it down next to Maisy, his gaze soft as it skimmed over my face.  “I think that cream Norah made is helping.”

I prodded the skin around my eye with the back of my knuckle.  “It doesn’t hurt as much,” I agreed, my gaze lowering under his intensity.

“You okay?”  He questioned, keeping his voice low.  “With everything that happened today?”

I nodded quickly, my hair falling forward as my head bobbed, and he tucked it back behind my ear in a feather light motion.  “Is it terrible that I’m more upset about you having to shoot the dogs?” I glanced up, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, as I tried to gauge his reaction to my words. I didn’t expect to find his gaze focused on my lips or the downward tilt of his head as my breath left me in a sigh.

“Creed,” a voice barked and he turned, shattering the moment, and I hurried to duck my head, my hands stroking Maisy to hide their trembling.

“Crew,” he answered, pushing himself up in a smooth motion.  “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Deacon came to the club, told us what happened, figured you might need a hand getting the dogs,” Crew replied, his steps slowing as he approached and saw me kneeling on the ground next to Maisy.  “You alright, Jailbait?”

I pressed my lips together at the damn nickname, but nodded to him, clearing my throat as I said, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“She likes to say she’s fine,” Creed interjected, glancing at his brother pointedly.  “But she had a rough day. I had to put four dogs down at the house and we almost had a run in with the guy who’s after her.”

“He’s not after me,” I protested instinctively, trying to make it true if I said it enough.  “There’s no reason for him to come after me. I don’t have anything he wants.”

Crew and Creed exchanged a glance over my head and Crew squatted down, coming to eye level and causing Maisy to growl a warning.  He stayed where he was, giving her space as he as he gazed at me sympathetically.  “Just being you is enough, Jailbait, and some guys don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

I dropped my gaze, not wanting to hear it because if it was true, then everything that had happened was my fault.

“You think you can ride back with Deacon and get the other two dogs?” Creed asked and I exhaled in relief at the reprieve.  Crew nodded as he stood up and stretched.  “You got that transmission done?  I don’t need another reason to have Johnny up my ass.”

Crew chuckled.  “Killing a guy and doing another a dog rescue isn’t enough?”  Creed shot a glare toward him but didn’t disagree.  “Did you manage to get Jailbait’s stuff?”

“I got what I wanted,” I butted in, not appreciating them talking about me while I was sitting there.  “I don’t care about anything else.”

Crew gave Creed a puzzled glance and I looked up in time to see rage flicker across Creed’s face.  “Someone,” he stated, his voice cold, “Had a good time with Jailbait’s stuff.”  He made a crude gesture with his hand to indicate what he meant and Crew’s expression grew icy.  “If I’d had the time I would have torched the damn place.”

“We can always go back,” Crew responded, his expression eager, and Creed looked like he was considering it before shaking his head.

“Maybe later,” he stated, shaking his head, “He’ll have to be taken care of, but first I need to clean up this mess I made.”

“Noah’s gonna take care of it,” Crew stated confidently and Creed nodded.

“He will, but you know his uncle is itching for a reason to take down the Rebels.  Johnny won’t appreciate the stunt I pulled today.”

“He’ll understand. The guy tried to hurt Jailbait.  We don’t let anyone hurt the club.”  Crew sounded so sure, like it was just that simple but I could see the worry in Creed’s eyes as he forced a smile toward Crew. 

“I took care of the electric bill,” he told him and Crew looked relieved.  “I also had a word with your mom when I got here.” 

Crew kicked the edge of the kennel, his expression quickly changing to one of irritation. “You didn’t need to do that.  She’s been sick.”

“That’s what she said. She also said she was working tonight,” Creed replied bluntly.  “I expect her to take care of you, not the other way around.  She keeps pulling this shit you need to tell me.”

“Yeah,” Crew said grudgingly, his face stubborn as my gaze bounced between them.  “I tell you and you take care of everything.  Everyone calls Creed to handle shit.”

“Exactly,” Creed responded without hesitation.  “And you’ll do the same.”  He reached for Crew’s shoulder but he jerked away.  “One day it’ll be you, little brother, who they call to take care of things.  No need to rush it.”

“If Cord was here, he’d let me prospect with the club,” Crew answered harshly.  “He’d trust me to handle my own shit.”

“He’s not here,” Creed said with more patience than I would have had.  “And it’s not about trusting you, Crew. It’s about the fact that you’re seventeen and you shouldn’t have to take care of shit. Not yet.”  Crew didn’t answer, fiddling with something on the rack as he refused to look at Creed.  “I trust you to go get those dogs, don’t I?”

“With Deacon,” Crew spit out.

“Yeah, with Deacon, because we always ride together,” Creed shouted in exasperation.  “Because we don’t ride alone. You know this.  Quit pouting like the child you keep insisting you aren’t.” 

Crew glared at him before grabbing two huge dog crates.  “I’m taking the truck and meeting Deacon,” he muttered, striding off before Creed could say anything.  We heard banging and then the truck starting.

“Wasn’t that our ride?” I asked, glancing up at Creed who had his fingers pinched over the bridge of his nose.  “I can walk,” I added, feeling bad for him all of a sudden.

“It was our ride, and now you see why Crew and I don’t live under the same roof,” Creed sighed, crouching next to me to clean Maisy’s wounds.  “Let’s get her settled and then head back to the club.  I want to get there before Noah does.”

We left Maisy on some old blankets, half asleep, but she still whimpered when I left the kennel and I paused, feeling guilty.  “She’ll be fine,” Creed reassured me. “I’ll show you the shortcut between here and the club so you can come visit her as often as you want.”  I nodded, my gaze lingering on her.

“I’ll be back soon,” I promised as I reluctantly left the kennel.  “You sure I can’t just stay here with her?” I asked Creed seriously, already dreading facing Johnny back at the club.  “It might be easier for everyone.”

“No,” Creed vetoed instantly.  “You want Johnny’s respect, you have to earn it.  That means facing him at his best and his worst.”

“He has a best?”

A laugh choked out of Creed and he shook his head at me.  “Come on, Jailbait. I know you ain’t scared of little ol’ Johnny.”

“I’m not scared of anyone,” I answered tartly.  “But that doesn’t mean I like subjecting myself to his presence.”

“But you did want to ask him about the Flying Eagles,” Creed reminded me, dangling that fact like a carrot stick in front of me.

I growled, stomping my feet a little as I followed Creed to the corner of the yard.  “You had to remind me,” I fussed before stopping short. “My Dad’s jacket,” I cried, tugging on Creed’s sleeve.  “It’s in the truck.”

“It’ll be fine,” he rushed to convince me.  “Crew won’t touch it and we’ll get it out when he comes back.”  His words didn’t have the desired effect on me and I watched as he fished his phone out of his pocket.  “I’ll call him.”  He held up the phone, and I watched anxiously as it rang.  I didn’t think Crew would answer since anytime I’d fought with my mom, the last thing I ever did was pick up when she called.  He proved me wrong though as Creed said, “Hey, there’s a jacket in the truck….yeah, the leather one.  It’s Jailbait’s.  It belonged to her dad.”  He paused.  “Just take care of it, okay?  Yeah, that’ll be fine.”  He hung up the phone and smiled at me.  “He’s going to leave it at the club.   He and Deacon haven’t left yet.”

“Oh, thank you,” I cried, impulsively reaching out to hug him. He held still as I wrapped my arms around his torso, and buried my face against him.  His chest lifted as he took a deep breath and I started to pull back, suddenly feeling awkward, when his arms came up and settled on my lower back.  He pressed me forward and I settled more firmly against him.  His scent surrounded me, leather mingled with sweat, as he held me securely, almost as if he knew how badly I needed to be hugged.

I pressed back against his hold, almost experimentally, and he loosened his grip reluctantly.  “We need to go back,” I whispered, slowly sliding my hands from his waist. He caught them right before I released him, his larger hands almost swallowing mine.

“Don’t ever be afraid to hug me,” he murmured, dipping his head so our eyes met.  “I may not be the best at it, but I’m always available.”

My lips curled up as I told him, “I’d say you’re pretty good at it.”  His head tilted back as a low laugh rumbled from him and he took my hand, guiding me to a break in the fence.

“Glad you think so, Jailbait.  Real glad.”

 

***

Nerves shot through me as we entered the dim club.  Thankfully, it was too early for most of the regulars but when my eyes adjusted I spotted Johnny in the corner, a familiar leather jacket laid out on the table in front of him.

“Guess I won’t have to ask after all,” I mentioned as Creed escorted me to the table where he sat.

“Don’t be so sure,” Creed muttered as he pulled a chair out for me.  “Johnny,” he greeted him, getting a grunt in reply.  “You heard.”

“You didn’t think I would?”  Johnny leaned back, a cigarette propped between his fingers as he eyed Creed.  “I’d ask what you were thinking but what would be the point?”  He slammed his fist on the table. “You weren’t thinking, you were reacting, and now we got a dead guy that needs cleaning up and scrutiny we don’t need.”  His voice cracked like a whip on the last word and I jumped, drawing his attention.  He rolled his tongue over his teeth, pushing my Dad’s jacket toward me with a single finger, as he said, “Did you find what you were looking for, Jailbait?  Was it worth it?”

There was no missing the fact that he blamed me for what happened, and honestly, I couldn’t deny it so I didn’t. “I did and yes….it was worth it,” I answered, lifting my chin as I met his eyes.  “You’d have done the same.”

“Don’t presume to think you know me,” he sneered in response and Creed leaned forward, ready to defend me, but a curt shake of Johnny’s head froze him.  “I would never put this club at risk because of my own personal desire.”  He stubbed his cigarette out against the leather of Dad’s jacket, watching me as the dying embers burned into the leather.  “You’d do well to remember that the next time you want something.”

“Goddamn it, Johnny,” Creed growled, jerking the jacket off the table and shoving it into my hands.   “It’s not like she asked or had anything to do with the guy today.”

“No, but someone came looking for her according to Deacon,” Johnny recollected.  “Seems to me you said her past wouldn’t be a problem.  When cops roll up it sounds like a problem to me.”  He flicked a hard stare at Creed.  “Or were you not going to mention that fact?”

Creed didn’t answer, locking gazes with Johnny, as my finger played with the hole in Dad’s jacket.  Regret burned through me, for wanting to go back for a damn jacket and for being the reason Creed had killed the man earlier.  I opened my mouth to speak when the bar door opened, breaking their stare down as they both glanced to see who’d come in.

“Glad you’re both here,” Noah said, walking straight to our table. His gaze flickered over me and I saw his mouth tighten almost imperceptibly.  He pulled a chair out, swinging it around to sit in it backwards.  “We’ve got a problem,” he announced and then his gaze swung to me.  “Two problems,” he amended, sending an apologetic glance to Creed.  “You have the gun?”

Creed nodded, his expression remote as he rolled an unlit cigarette between his fingers.  “I do.” I assumed they meant the gun he’d used to kill the dog fighting guy, but I wasn’t sure what it had to do with anything.

“Get rid of it,” Noah advised.  “Uncle showed up as I was clearing the scene.  He’s out for blood. Specifically, yours, and I’d rather not giving him a smoking gun.”

“Second problem?”  Johnny interrupted, pointedly not looking my way as he lit another cigarette.

Noah inhaled sharply, holding it for a minute, before exhaling in a rush as he said, “She has to go.” He stared at the table for a second before glancing over at me.  “I’m sorry, but there’s an APB out for you. You pissed off someone with powerful friends.”

“That Grant fucker,” Creed snarled, leaning his arms on the table.  “He’s the reason.  We can’t let him have her,” he declared, glancing at Johnny.  “She’s under club protection.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Johnny answered sharply.  “And club protection doesn’t mean she has to stay here.”  He sent a warning glare to Creed when he opened his mouth.  “Not when it puts the entire club at risk.”

“I can leave,” I interjected, my voice faint, as fear pooled in me at the idea of leaving.  Creed shook his head violently, crushing the cigarette in his hand as he roared, “No!”

“Grant Ericson,” Noah stated, keeping his voice low.  “That’s the name of the guy who filed a missing person’s report on Jailbait.  No mention of her mom.”

“No criminal charges?”  Johnny questioned and Noah shook his head.  “Then why the APB?  If she’s just a missing person.”

“He wants her bad enough that without some kind of protection it’ll only a matter of time until he gets her,” Noah answered bluntly.  “Add in the fact that she’s a minor….” He didn’t bother to finish, knowing we got the picture.  “She can’t be here.”

“How much time do we have?”  Creed asked and my head jerked toward him in surprise.  I hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly, even though I knew my being here put the club at risk.

Noah shook his head.  “Uncle doesn’t tell me much since he suspects we’re tight. It’s only a matter of when.” He glanced between them. “He could show up at any of your businesses so make sure everything is above board.”

“Yeah, we know the drill,” Johnny said dryly.  “We appreciate your help and any heads up you can give,” he mentioned and Noah nodded in acknowledgement.  “You should probably go before it gets back to your uncle that you were here.”

Noah shrugged ruefully.  “That’s implying he doesn’t already know.”  He stood up and Creed mimicked him.  Noah offered his hand to him and he took it, shaking it as he nodded his appreciation.  “I’m sorry,” Noah said again, his eyes darting to me for the barest second.  “Really sorry.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” Creed answered, refusing to glance at me.  “We’ll take care of it.”

I frowned, not liking him referring to me as it, like I was trash that needed to be taken out. I didn’t bother to say goodbye to Noah, keeping my hands buried in the jacket on my lap.  Creed waited until Noah had exited the bar before sitting back down.

“Jailbait and I can leave in the morning,” he announced and my head jerked up in surprise as a tenuous hope spread through me.  Johnny didn’t look the least bit surprised though, as he flicked a lighter on and off, the soft snick the only sound.  He shook two cigarettes out of a pack lying on the table and lit them, handing one to Creed who accepted it automatically.

“You don’t think that’ll look suspicious?”  Johnny finally asked and Creed shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping the table. 

“She’s my responsibility,” Creed replied.

“And the club isn’t?”

My eyes lowered at the silky question, knowing Johnny had neatly trapped Creed in his own words.  The club came first and I was a danger to the club.

“Don’t ask me to choose,” Creed answered, the words low and vicious, his eyes shooting a warning at Johnny as I sat there frozen at his insinuation.  Johnny’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze locking on to mine as we absorbed Creed’s meaning.  “It’ll be better for the club if I’m out of sight for a while.  Let some of the heat die down.  You know the Chief has it out for me more than the club.”  The words were a balm meant to soothe the bomb he’d just dropped, but as Johnny stared at me, I knew it wasn’t enough.  Creed had made his position clear and it was a choice neither of us had expected.

“Chief?”  I asked, trying to ease the tension that had developed.  “Who’s the Chief?”

“Chief of Police,” Creed answered.  “Noah’s uncle.”

“Oh,” I said faintly, nodding.  “So the Chief of Police has it out for you and he just happens to be Noah’s uncle.  And Noah just happens to help the club out?”  I couldn’t stop some of the doubt I felt from creeping into my question and Johnny’s eyebrow twitched.

“He’s loyal,” they answered in unison, ending any further questions I might have had.

“We have time,” Johnny commented, flicking his ashes into an overflowing ashtray.  “Jailbait is safe here for now.”  He stared at me.  “The Chief still has some respect for what the club has done for Friendly.”

“I won’t let her be put at risk,” Creed warned, tossing his still lit cigarette onto the pile of butts.

“Noted,” Johnny replied curtly, his gaze still locked on me. My head bowed under the weight of his stare and finally his attention shifted.  “Hide the gun,” Johnny ordered, his tone growing contemplative as he stated, “We might have a use for it later.”  From the corner of my eye, I saw Creed nod his agreement.  He glanced down at his phone and stood up.

“They’re on their way back with the dogs,” he informed us.  “I need to get over there and prepare the kennels.”  He eyed me, indecision on his face as he considered what to do with me.  “You want to come?”

I shook my head, startling him.  “No, I think I’ll stay here.”  He appeared reluctant and I forced a bright smile.  “I’ll be fine.  Won’t I, Johnny?”  His mouth twisted, but he nodded brusquely.  “See?  It’s fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” Creed responded, running his hand along the back of my chair as he went around.  Johnny rolled his eyes at the warning glance Creed gave him and tossed back the rest of his beer before lighting another cigarette.  He waited until Creed had left before bothering to look at me.

“What do you want, little girl?”  He drawled, head dipping as he blew smoke in my face.  “Think you can win me over with your pussy too?”

I couldn’t stop my lip from curling as I said, “Eww,” and a soft snort escaped him.  “That’s not why I’m here,” I informed him tartly.

“I’m noticing,” he replied idly.  “You’re not the usual.”  He spun his finger around in a circle, indicating the club and the women in it.  “Type,” he specified.

I lifted the jacket back onto the table and he sighed, but it didn’t stop my next words.   “I know nothing about him.  I don’t even have a picture.  Just a vague memory of a laughing man spinning me around.  You’re my last chance to know him.”

He sucked on his lower lip as he leaned forward.  “There’s a reason I’m not a Flying Eagle and the guys in here aren’t wearing that same jacket.”  He sniffed, nose twitching as he tapped the table.  “Maybe you don’t want to know about your daddy.”  His face came within a hairsbreadth of mine as he whispered, “You dance with the devil and you will get burned.”

“Jailbait,” a voice called and Johnny smiled mockingly, “Saved once again, little girl.”  He sat back in his chair as Clutch stepped up to the table.

“I could use a hand making dinner,” Clutch requested and I nodded as my need to know more solidified. 

Johnny nodded at the jacket in my arms.  “Keep that out of my sight or a cigarette burn will be the least of what happens to it.”

I didn’t bother to respond as I followed Clutch toward the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s gaze every step of the way.  “Why does he hate me?” I cried when we reached the privacy of the kitchen.  “I haven’t done anything to him.”

Clutch eyed me in disbelief.  “You challenged him.  In front of half the club no less. You’re lucky to still be alive.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said sullenly, plopping down on a wobbly bar stool as Clutch went to the sink and started washing his hands.  “Creed said Johnny wouldn’t let anything happen to me, but he’s not going out of his way to help me either.”  I gazed at Clutch speculatively as he set a skillet on the stove.  “Apparently, I remind Johnny of someone,” I fished, wondering if he’d take the bait.

Clutch glanced over his shoulder at me as he tugged an apron on over his heavily muscled chest.  “You do.”  He left it at that as he started to crack some eggs into a bowl and I gritted my teeth.

“Is it some big secret?” I finally asked and he slowed whisking the eggs.

“Not a secret,” he replied after a minute.  “But I doubt Johnny would want us talking about it.”  He dug around in the fridge as he asked, “What do you want in your omelet?”

“Whatever you’re having,” I replied with a shrug, my fingers picking at the hole Johnny had burned into the jacket.  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“So, you and Ronnie?”

He cast a sharp glance at me.  “Not talking about that either.”

“Then what can we talk about?” I gripped and he nodded to the jacket in my hands.

“Your mom,” he suggested and I swallowed hard.  “It’s got to be hard, losing her like that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I answered automatically, staring down at the counter in front of me.

“You’re never gonna want to talk about it,” he told me.  “But you should.”  He didn’t say anything more and as the silence lingered I could feel the words bubbling to the surface.

“She didn’t want to be buried.”

Clutch made an indecipherable hum, telling me he was listening without actually interrupting.

“She hated the idea of being put in the cold earth and covered with dirt.  She always said cremation was the better option.  Let her burn to dust.”  My eyes grew damp.  “She always wanted to go to the mountains for vacation but we never had the money.”  I swallowed down the lump in my throat.  “She never brought guys home…trying to protect me, I guess.  But she thought Grant was a good guy.”  I scrubbed my face, my throat closing and threatening to choke me.

“I never knew my dad,” Clutch mentioned casually, filling the silence I’d left.  “Never even knew who he was.”  He flipped the omelet using the skillet, distracting me when he caught it flawlessly.  “When Mom died, any chance of me ever finding out died with her.”

“Your mom died,” I repeated, starting to think this was a club of orphans.

“Yeah, cancer took her a few years back.”  He slid the omelet onto a plate and slid it in front of me.  “When we knew she wasn’t going to make it, I asked her who he was.”  His mouth twisted.  “She still wouldn’t tell me.”  He glanced over at me. “I know a little about regret and losing the only family you ever had.”

“You have the club,” I answered softly, cutting the omelet he’d made into little pieces.

“I do,” he agreed with a nod. “They saved me.  Johnny never let me forget I had a home here.  Creed,” Clutch paused with a chuckle, “He treated me like a brother.”  He waved a spatula at me. “You know I was friends with Cord first?”

I shook my head and he nodded.

“I was. I’m a few months older than him and God, we’ve been friends as long as I can remember.  After,” He hesitated and I glanced up from my omelet.  “When Cord left to join the Navy, Creed stepped into the best friend role.”

“Sounds like Creed did a lot of that when Cord left,” I observed, watching as Clutch plated his own omelet.  “It seems strange that Cord left,” I waved my fork, “That he isn’t a Rebel.”

“Cord was a Rebel,” Clutch corrected, straddling a bar stool as he shoveled half the omelet into his mouth.  “Probably a good idea if you don’t mention him around Johnny either.”

“He wouldn’t have anything to do with whoever I remind Johnny of, would he?”

A short laugh escaped Clutch and he shook his fork at me.  “That cleverness is going to get you in trouble, Jailbait” he replied and I shrugged, stabbing another piece of omelet.

“Maybe,” I hummed.  “Or maybe it’ll save us all.”

 

***

 

The next morning I was in the bathroom, trying not to make any noise as I hid behind the curtain and rubbed in the cream Norah had made for me.  I wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that I was hiding, but I’d successfully avoided any run ins with Candy or anyone else who’d witnessed our little showdown the previous morning and I was eager to keep it that way.

“Girl, I think you need to go to the doctor,” a hushed voice said and I shrank further into my little corner.  “He tore you up good.”

Someone whimpered and I winced in sympathy at the sound of their pain.  “I told the fat bastard to use lube,” they replied, hate in their voice.  “He didn’t give a shit, he never does. I hate him.”

“All the girls hate him, but this time he went too far,” the other woman answered.  “I really think you should go to the doctor. You can’t even sit down.”

I cringed, trying not to draw a mental picture of what must have happened, but it was impossible as they continued to talk.

“The way he likes to pound the asshole makes me think Fat Willy has a secret,” she scathed, her voice breathless with pain.  “Maybe he’s imagining Creed under him.”

My eyes almost popped out of my head as the other woman gasped.  “Oh God, Gloria, you didn’t say that to him did you?”

“Hell no, it was bad enough having him jam that hairy dick of his up my ass without a how do you do.  I can only imagine what he’d do if I questioned his manhood,” she mocked, moaning slightly.

“A doctor, Gloria,” the other woman repeated.

“I can’t afford a doctor and it’s not like I’m about to go ask Johnny for the money. He’d want to know why.”

“Maybe he should know why,” the other woman said sharply.

“Are you going to be the one to tell him?” Gloria asked and when silence met her question, she sighed.  “Exactly.  None of the girls want to say anything.  Johnny doesn’t have an old lady.  There’s no one to tell when one of the guys is being a dip shit or too rough.”

“I will,” I announced, wincing when I heard the words come out of my mouth.  I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut and my nose in my own business, but I was suddenly angry on their behalf.  I shuffled out from behind the curtain and met their stunned faces.  “I’ll tell him for you.”

“Jailbait will go tell Johnny about our problems,” Gloria laughed, the sound cutting off with a gasp as she stepped forward.  “Little girl –”

“You know I’m really getting tired of being called that,” I interrupted.  “I might be young, and maybe I’m naïve, some might even say dumb, but I’m not scared of anyone.  Especially not Johnny or some fat bastard named Fat Willy.”

They exchanged surprised glances and the other woman said, “She did threaten to pop Candy’s tits.”

“She did, and you know, I think she would go tell Johnny,” Gloria mused.  “What I want to know is why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you stand up for us?  We’re not your problem.  You’re not an old lady and you don’t owe us a damn thing.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t deserve to have your ass rammed without asking either,” I answered, swallowing uncomfortably.  “If one of the club guys is hurting you, hell if any guy is hurting you, then they need to be held accountable.  And if Johnny won’t do it, then I will.”  My bravado faltered for a second as I considered facing down a guy named Fat Willy, but as hope flickered over Gloria’s face I bolstered my courage.  They needed a champion and really I had nothing to lose.

“I think you’re crazy, Jailbait, brave as fuck, but crazy.”

“I’m good with that,” I replied, handing Norah’s cream to Gloria.  “Not really sure how much this will help, but it’s good on bruises,” I offered and she accepted it with a nod of thanks.  “I’m going to go talk to him,” I added, straightening my shoulders for a little extra courage when they gave me concerned stares.

I marched out of the bathroom and down the hall to the bar before turning around and heading straight for Creed’s room.  I knocked on his door, chewing on my thumb when he didn’t answer.  I tested the knob, surprised when it turned in my hand.  I poked my head inside, squinting through half closed eyes in case he happened to be shirtless or naked, but opened them when I didn’t see him.  I slipped inside, making my way to the bathroom, knocking again in case he’d been in the shower or something.

The door creaked open under the force of my knock, revealing an empty room.  My gaze caught on the sink and the little cup sitting there with a green and pink toothbrush sticking out of it.  My lips curled up at the realization that he hadn’t tossed my toothbrush and I wondered if he expected me to use it again.

I pursed my lips, scanning the room, but there was no sign of Creed.  I headed back to the hall, jumping when I almost ran into a scrawny guy hovering outside Creed’s door.

“Oh!”

“He’s not here,” the scrawny guy said, twitching under my gaze.  “He left early this morning with Clutch.  Club business.”

“Oh, okay,” I answered, my heart still racing at the unexpectedness of the guy’s arrival.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied automatically, his gaze avoiding my own.  “If you need anything, I’m supposed to get it for you.  You just need to ask.”

“That’s kind of you,” I said, unable to step out of the room since he was blocking my exit.  “Um, can I get by you?”  I gestured to the hall and he stared at me for a second before shifting aside.  “Thanks.”

“I’m Weasel.”

“I’m Sloan,” I introduced and he nodded rapidly.

“Jailbait.  I know who you are.”

“Yep, Jailbait.  That’s my name,” I stated ruefully.  “I guess I’ll go talk to Johnny then.”

“He’s in a meeting,” Weasel informed me helpfully.  “I wouldn’t interrupt him.”

“Good to know.” I looked at the skinny guy again, thinking.  “You know a lot, don’t you?”

“It’s my job to know things.  Little things, big things.  It’s why they call me Weasel,” he explained.

“You know where I can find a guy named Fat Willy?”

“Behind the bar,” Weasel said instantly.  “He’s the bartender.”  He eyed me cautiously.  “You don’t want to talk to him.  I don’t think Creed would like that.”

I smiled grimly, “I’m sure he wouldn’t.  I don’t want to talk to him, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Okay,” Weasel squeaked, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly.  “I should go,” he pointed down the hallway, his hand going to his pocket and I nodded before going in the opposite direction.

I hadn’t forgotten Gloria’s pained expression and I was determined to give Fat Willy a piece of my mind for being an inconsiderate jerk.

The guy standing behind the bar was fat, so fat I idly wondered where the hell his dick was that caused so much trouble?  Hidden somewhere under one of those rolls, I concluded, as I cleared my throat. He glanced at me and I smiled.  “Fat Willy?”

“Yeah,” he sneered, his gaze crawling over me as he licked his lips.

“You need to quit sticking your dick in unlubed assholes,” I told him bluntly.  “You’re hurting the girls.”

He stared at me for a second before throwing back his head and laughing.  “One of them bitches complained to you?” He scoffed, leaning on the bar.  “And you think you can come tell me what to do?  The littlest bitch of them all,” he laughed, his belly shaking grotesquely.  “Maybe you want to take their place,” he stated, the expression on his face changing as he contemplated me.  I shifted, not liking the look since it reminded me forcibly of how Grant had looked the day he’d come after me.  He came around the bar and I scrambled backwards, suddenly regretting my decision to talk to him instead of Johnny.  “Give you a good poke and show you what a real man feels like.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m your type,” I replied, waving my hand airily as I prepared to really piss him off.  “Since you like the ass so much, it seems like you might be craving a little dick of your own,”

It took a second but I knew when he’d caught my meaning because he came at me with a roar.  I braced myself for the blow coming my way since I’d managed to back myself into a wall and had nowhere to run.  It never came though, even when I heard his fist meet flesh, but it was a distinct click that had me opening my eyes.  Johnny stood there, a revolver resting against Fat Willy’s temple, the click the sound of the gun being cocked.

“Be grateful it was me instead of Creed,” he said icily, a terrifying smile creeping across his face.  “Otherwise, you’d already have a bullet in your brain.”

“I didn’t mean anything, Johnny. She said some shit,” Fat Willy pointed a shaking hand at me, clearly trying to shift the blame but he didn’t seem to comprehend that Johnny didn’t care.  Deacon stood in front of me and I realized it was his hand that had stopped Fat Willy’s fist from slamming into my face.

“We. Don’t. Hit. Women.”  Johnny enunciated.  “We don’t hit children.  Jailbait fits both categories.”  My eye twitched at that little pronouncement, but I wasn’t in any position to argue since he’d just saved my ass.  “I don’t care if she said you like dick. I don’t care if she poked your belly and expected you to giggle like the fucking Pillsbury dough boy,” he announced, the words lashing sharper than a whip.  “We don’t hit women.”

“Yeah, Johnny. Yeah.  Won’t happen again,” Fat Willy hurried to say, but the look he shot me promised retribution.

“I don’t like the look in your eyes,” Deacon snarled, bending Fat Willy’s wrist backwards. “It don’t match the words coming out of your mouth.”

Johnny nudged him with the gun.  “Let’s have a chat.”  Deacon shoved him away with a disgusted sneer, making sure he stayed between in front of me as Fat Willy glared at me impotently.

“You should call Creed,” Deacon muttered under his breath as he scanned me to make sure I was alright.  “So he doesn’t lose his shit any more than he already has.”

“You called him?”  I asked, my voice going up at the end and coming out as a squeak.  He shook his head.

“No, he called us,” Deacon revealed, eyeing me.  “What the hell made you decide to go toe to toe with Fat Willy?”

“He hurt Gloria and some of the other girls,” I answered with a shrug, digging my phone out of my pocket as it started to ring.  “No Bueno, you know?”

He shook his head, his expression one of horrified respect.  “You’re a little nuts, you know that?”

I didn’t answer him as I lifted the phone to my ear.  “Hey, Creed.”  I listened to him cuss loudly and creatively for a minute.  “I’m fine.  Thanks for asking,” I finally said, stopping the litany of cuss words.  “Did you have Weasel spy on me?”

“Yes,” he stated bluntly. “I prefer to call it keeping an eye on you but spying works.  You’re f-ing lucky he called me.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“That Fat Willy is a fat bastard and he needed to be told some things.”

“You didn’t think to wait till I came back?”

“I didn’t actually think he’d attack me,” I argued defensively and the line grew silent.  “Creed?”

“He attacked you?”  The question was calm, too calm, and I was suddenly worried I’d be indirectly responsible for Creed killing another man.

“He tried,” I said carefully.  “Deacon and Johnny stopped him.”

“Did he lay a fucking finger on you?”

“No,” I answered truthfully, holding my breath.

A loud breath gusted in my ear.  “You’re okay.” It was a statement but I nodded in agreement anyway before hurriedly responding, “Yes,” when he still didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be there in a couple of hours,” he informed me and I made a sound of agreement.  “It would be sooner but I’m literally two hours away.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.  Fat Willy not so much.”

“Fat Willy’s day is only going to get worse when I get there,” he promised, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

“Be careful,” I squeaked and a low chuckle met my ears.

“You be careful,” he murmured throatily.  “Try not to cause any more trouble before I get back.”