Chapter 5
I pull into the circle drive of my home. This is my home away from home. Fallen Angels clubhouse is where I sleep most days. When Schuyler agreed to hang out with me, I didn’t want to do it there. I’m not ashamed of my brotherhood; the exact opposite really. But I know it’s a lot to put onto one person at a time. The girls coming and going, the booze that never stops flowing, the people always partying. The one thing our house doesn’t have is drugs. Our Prez is a huge anti-drug advocate. It has something to do with him watching his dad do it for years, or something. I’m not too sure. All I know is if he ever catches someone trying to bring that shit into our house, I feel sorry for them. Well, maybe I wouldn’t.
I kick the kick stand down, and hold my hand out for Schuyler, to help her off my bike. When she doesn’t grab my hand, I look back.
“You okay, Schuyler?” I ask, but she says nothing.
I flip up her visor and her face is sheet white.
“Schuy? What’s the matter? I need you to talk to me,” I tell her as I remove her helmet.
She peers at me and just stares. Her eyes searching mine. For what? I don’t know. The answer to a million-dollar question? The cure for childhood cancer? I have no idea. All I know, something is wrong. And a foreign instinct of mine reared its ugly head and demanded I fix the problem.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks with a tinge of anger to her tone.
“Uh, yeah, you’re Schuyler Guiler. I’ve known that for months. You told me your name when I first started coming into the diner about five months or so ago,” I answer, baffled.
Her whole body relaxes and I stand there a bit confused.
“Oh, right.” She shakes her head as if she is shaking away a bad memory.
I hold my hand out again for her to dismount the bike and this time she does.
Once she’s off, she looks up at me again with those big brown eyes and long lashes.
“You probably think I’m crazy now, don’t you?” she asks, her voice light as a feather.
“Actually, no, I’m just confused,” I reply honestly.
I place my hand at her lower back and escort her up my walkway.
She laughs bitterly.
“Do you have secrets, Vice?” she asks me.
Hearing her call me Vice has my dick hard. She uses it in a way I can’t explain. She’s not calling me by my rank; she’s using it as a name.
“Of course I do. Who doesn’t?” I reply like that’s common knowledge.
We walk into my front door and I kick my shoes off, she follows my lead and does the same. Her feet are in mismatched socks. I smirk to myself. I can’t wait to find out all the quarks that make her, her. I will, with time.
She looks around my house, and for some reason I stand there waiting for her opinion of it. I usually don’t give a damn what people think, because it’s mine. However, her opinion matters the world to me.
“This place is incredible,” she tells me with a heart stopping smile on her face. Her perfect teeth, dimples on both cheeks, and the stretch of her lips is real. I could stand there looking at her all night.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I wink. “Follow me into the kitchen,” I say while nodding my head in that direction.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask.
“Just water, please,” she answers around a yawn.
I grab two bottles of water and walk back to her side and lead her through the French doors in my kitchen.
We walk out to my back deck and there is a wicker chaise. I walk over to it, and set the waters down on the matching side table.
“Come here, woman,” I tell her. Her eyes are vacant. Tired. Worn. And, if I’m not mistaken, scared.
She walks over and I grab her hand and pull her to the chaise. She scoots into the side and I lay down next to her. We are both on our backs, my arms under my head looking up at the sun rising over the horizon.
“This is a really pretty view out here.” Her eyes are sad almost.
“It is. The most stunning I’ve ever seen,” I reply while looking at her.
Her attention travel back to me and a deep blush tints her face.
“If I tell you a secret, will you tell me one in return?” she asks with so much hope in her voice.
“Will it help you tell me yours if I tell you mine?” I ask.
She nods her head while pushing a few strands of hair out of her big brown eyes.
“Okay well, I’ll go first then. That way you know I’ll stay true to my word,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“My mom is an addict,” I blurt out.
She lays there watching me. Her eyes searching mine for, something. I wait for the judging look to cross those beautiful eyes I can’t get enough of, but it never comes.
“Say something, please,” I say.
“I’m sorry for your mom, but why do you hold that as a secret? That’s not your fault,” she asks.
“I keep it close because people tend to judge me because of her actions.” I shrug.
“I can’t believe that, Vice. Why would they judge you because of someone else? That’s like judging a train for crashing when a track is broken. No way.”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. All I know is, I can’t seem to get the fuck away from her. She drags me down with her every single damn time.”
“Oh. I see now. That’s why you keep it a secret,” she says as she rolls over to her side and props her head up on her hand.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, you bail her out. Right?”
“I have to. She’s my fucking mom.”
“No, you don’t. Just like you said, she’s the parent, not you, Vice. You’re the son who takes care of his mom. It shouldn’t be that way. Not until she’s much older and can’t physically do stuff on her own,” she says with such compassion.
“I can’t explain it to you, Schuy. It’s not your mom,” I grumble, feeling like a child caught with my hands in the cookie jar. You can’t explain something like this to someone who just can’t understand.
“Hey,” she says, her voice soft, turning my face back to hers.
She looks at her hand on my chin and her eyes transfix at the connection. It feels so perfect to have her hands on me, even in this innocent way.
“I understand what it’s like to do the bidding for a parent,” she says. “That’s why I’m telling you, it isn’t your job.” She flicks her eyes back up to mine.
This woman is perfect in every single damn way. My eyes search hers. Looking for anything that tells me she doesn’t want my lips on hers.
I reach up and put my knuckles under her chin and pull her toward me. I hear her small intake of breath and something snaps inside of me.
When my lips touch hers, my whole body groans. The soft, exploring kiss turns into a desperate, needing kiss.
She’s sweeter than any candy you can buy. She angles her head back, allowing me to sip her lips deeper. I lick the seam of her lips, and she opens on a sigh. My tongue thrusts in, meeting hers. She moans causing my cock to strain against my zipper, begging to be set free from its confinements.
I end the kiss with an unforgiving tug of her lower lip. I lean back a little and my eyes never leave hers as I pull her body against mine. My thumb is still rubbing the small circles on her back as she rests her chin on my chest over my beating heart.
“Wow,” she breathes.
I know exactly what she means.
“You felt it too then?”
“To my toes.”
“I told you my secret, now it’s your turn,” I tell her to get my mind off her mouth. My dick wants release, but I’m not going to push her on that. She’s special. I can feel it. She’s not some curb monkey.
“Ugh. I don’t want to, Vice. I mean I really don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to then. baby. It’s not that big of a deal to me. I mean I want to know all of your secrets. The deepest ones you have, but I want you to be ready for them,” I tell her.
“I know, but this particular one, I’ll never be ready for. Ever. But something happened when we left your clubhouse. And, I think I better tell you now, or else you’ll find out soon enough. And call me crazy, but the feelings I have for you—they are screaming at me to tell you now, not to let you find out by someone else.” She takes a deep breath and then looks back at me with those deep brown eyes. “My name is Schuyler Guiler. But…” she breathes deep again, “that’s my mother’s name. Not my father's.” She says, her eyes pleading with mine to understand.
“Okay?” I drawl out. “And?”
“I took my mother’s maiden name because I didn’t want a damn thing to tie me to my father or his fucked up world, okay? So please keep that in mind.” She continues her plea.
“Alright, Schuy,” I say to soothe the fear on her face.
“My father’s name is Denton Stryker,” she says light as a feather.
My head snaps up at that name. Her eyes plead with me to understand. To not blow the fuck up, like I want to right now. Not to go bat shit fucking crazy.
I jump up out of the chaise and run my hands over my face.
“You mean to tell me your father is the goddamn president of the fucking Strykers MC!” I roar.
“Stop yelling at me right now, Stanton!” she yells back, standing up. She flings her hands to her hips and stands face to face with me. I see a fire in her eyes shining through.
“You have to understand, Schuy. Your father’s MC is a fucking rival of my Angels.” I blow out a breath. I have to calm myself down. It’s not her fault who fathered her. But, holy shit, if the brotherhood knew this information, who knows what they’d do.
“Like that’s my fucking fault!” she yells back at me, taking the thoughts out of my head.
“I know! But, Jesus, Schuy! The Angels are one percenters! We do good in this county. We do good in this state, but we are not fucking pussies. Nor are we saints! We do everything your dad does, minus the drugs! Do you know how fucking mad he is with Chris, our president, because we won’t run drugs, and we won’t let him run drugs?” I run my hands down my face again, trying to figure out what the fuck to say. Can I trust her? Can I tell her anything? Or is she put here by her father to dig into us?
My heart sinks at that idea. It hurts to even think of it, but it is possible. My gut says it’s not true.
“Fuck!” I yell into the air.
“Do you have a laptop?” she asks, her tone bitter and distant.
“Uh, yeah, why?” I ask dumbfounded. Why the laptop?
“Bring it to me, and I’ll show you,” she says as she sits down and shakes her head.
“Show me what exactly what?” I ask again not understanding her.
“That I’m not with him anymore,” she says, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking again.
I turn and go inside to my office. I grab my laptop from the desk and rip the cord out. What could she possibly show me to make me think she’s not in with her father anymore?