CHAPTER TWELVE
Brick
I fucked another brother’s old lady. Something I’ve never done before. I rake my fingers through my hair, frustrated she withheld the truth. “Alive, dead, doesn’t matter, Starlet. You know the rules.”
“No,” she says meeting my gaze. “I don’t. No one ever gave me a choice. The tat on my shoulder didn’t go on easy, Brick. It took five grown men to hold me down, one of them force feeding me a bottle of whiskey. Don’t you dare judge me for something you don’t know anything about.”
I laugh. “Too little, too late,” I say. “But I’m willing to give you a chance to explain before I decide what to do.”
“Fine.” She walks across the room and opens a door. “My office.”
I follow her inside. There’s a couple candles burning and a lamp covered with a silk scarf. The walls are decorated with colorful tapestries of the sun, moon, and stars. There’s a table and four chairs and a leather sofa along the far wall. I squint to read the titles of the books crammed together on a single shelf—several about meditation and tarot cards. I gaze back at Starlet.
“You believe in all of this?”
She frowns at me. “I believe in fate. A higher power. And letting people live the lives they want. Are you going to sit down? I can’t concentrate with you standing over me like that.”
Whatever it takes to get her talking. Right now, I should call my prez and tell him what’s going on. I pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit. “Where’s home?”
“Alabama.”
“The Devil’s Crusaders have a charter in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, I know. I was born and raised in Holly Beach, I have family here, but never had anything to do with the Louisiana club.”
“And Juanita?”
“Ex old lady, too.”
Doesn’t surprise me, that bitch is tough as nails. “Why’d you leave Alabama?”
Starlet walks across the room and opens a mini fridge and pulls out two beers. “Want one?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I take pop the cap off. “Answer my question.”
“Are you really going to sit here all night and interrogate me like a cop? I don’t owe you anything.”
I take a long drink. “Bullshit. Sit down, Starlet.”
She shakes her head and studies my face. “I liked you.”
“I know.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“Yep.”
She chooses a spot on the sofa. “My father founded the Devil’s Crusaders.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I didn’t choose the life, Brick, I was born into it.”
That explains the DC royalty ink. She hasn’t told me anything that makes me want to help her. So daddy is hard core and she can’t handle it. “Cry me a fucking river.”
“I’m fresh out of tears,” she says. “And fresh out of patience if you’re going to talk down to me. If you have something you need to do, do it.” She stands, ready to challenge me.
“Sit down, Starlet,” I growl.
“Or what?”
I shoot up from my seat. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Where’s your father?”
“Dead.”
What is she, a goddamned black widow? All the significant males in her life are dead. “Who’s in charge of the charter?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Rules.”
“Rules?” she repeats, not believing me. “You’re a nomad—that means you shun rules, not follow them.”
“That’s a different set of laws, sweetheart. Sit your ass back down.”
She hesitates, her gaze shooting to the door.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn. “If Juanita points a gun at me again, I’ll put a round in her goddamned head.”
Her mouth drops open. “You’d shoot a woman?”
“If she threatens me with deadly force? Fuck, yeah.”
Starlet crosses her arms over her chest and sighs. “That shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“What? Self-defense? Act like a man, get treated like one. Act like a lady…”
“Okay.” She takes my advice and sits back down, crossing her long, sexy legs.
I can’t resist an admiring peek at her body. I follow the curves all the way up to her breasts, then stare at her mouth. Those full lips were wrapped around my dick a week ago.
“Really?” She cocks an eyebrow. “Thinking about a blow job at a time like this?”
The left side of my mouth kicks up into a half grin. “Can you blame me?”
“Yeah, I can.”
“Right … Juanita said something about me being just another asshole who targets vulnerable women for a piece of ass. That I think with my dick and consider women disposable and not worth the price of my patches.”
Starlet covers her mouth with one hand, then laughs. “She said that to you?”
I nod. “She’s loyal.”
“Very.”
“Keep her around.”
“Depends on what you’re going to do with me, Brick.”
Yeah. What am I going to do? She’s fucking beautiful. And there’s no denying our chemistry. I’d like to undress her, clear the table off, spread her out, and fuck her again and again. I shake my head. I need to put all of that aside and focus on the real reason I’m here—to get answers. “Why are you on the run?”
“My father forced me into marriage at sixteen. Told me it was the best way to protect me, to keep control of the charter in the family. I’m an only child. My father was fifty when I was born. I never knew my mother, so I was raised one way—believing brothers were the law.”
“We are.”
She chuckles cynically. “In who’s world?”
“Ours.”
“Not mine,” she reminds me. “Sammy abused me on our wedding night.”
I swallow my anger. I’ve never hurt a woman. “I’m sorry, Starlet. Some men…”
“Deserve to die?”
I consider it, then nod. “Yeah. Some men deserve to die.” I mentally run through the names of all of the losers I’ve offed. Eighteen, maybe more. I lost count years ago, the dark moments blending together like days and nights on the road.
“I spent years waiting for him to get killed. The one perk being married to an MC president, a lot of people wanted him taken out.”
“Why didn’t you divorce him?”
“I tried.”
Never understood a man keeping a woman against her will—old lady or not. Variety is the spice of life.
“He beat me, had sex with me in front of the brothers, used me as a drug mule, and beat me some more.”
“Your father didn’t intervene?”
She snorts. “Give me a cigarette.”
I reach in my vest pocket, pull out two smokes, put them in my mouth, then light them both. I stand and cross the space, offering her one. She takes a deep drag, then blows a smoke ring. “Tastes horrible,” she complains but doesn’t put it out.
“You’re a lifer, Starlet. And if your husband and father are dead, that means the new president is responsible for your welfare.”
“Silver is a selfish sonofabitch. I’d rather stab myself in the eyes with forks than marry him.”
“Marry him?”
“That’s the plan,” she says, meeting my gaze. “I’ve been ordered to have babies.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I shouldn’t have asked the question—her scowl is answer enough.
“If your prez told you where to stick your cock, would you do it?”
“Depends on where he told me to put it.”
She looks like she wants to throw up. “That’s the very attitude I’m trying to escape. The sexism and violence.”
I look around the room. “And you think you’re safe here?”
“No necessarily,” she says. “If you found me, how long do you think it would take for a Devil’s Crusader to come blazing into town? I’ve found a piece of myself, though. And in time, maybe I’ll recover more of my shattered life. I don’t expect you to side with me, or even understand why I ran away. But can you just forget we ever met?”
Forget? That face? Those legs? That perfect, heart-shaped ass? Her smile? Our easy conversation, even when we’re sitting on opposite sides of a serious issue? Not a chance, Starlet. “No.”
“What?”
There’s an ashtray on the coffee table in front of the sofa. I rub my cigarette out and stare down at her. “Did I stutter?”
She extinguishes her smoke, too, then stands up. “I guess we’re done here.”
“Not even close.” I snap, pulling her into my arms, claiming that goddamned mouth. Our tongues roll together and she sighs, leaning into me. “That’s better,” I growl against her parted lips.
“Please…” she begs.
“Please, what?”
She pulls away and grabs a fistful of my cut. “Fuck me.”